Somewhere in New York City...



“RAAAGH!� The crowd of unruly men roared as Logan smashed his fist into his opponents jaw, shattering the bone instantly. He swung again with his wrapped hands, catching his other side with his bare knuckles, this time fresh, scarlet blood spurting from the wound. The bandages were around his palms, but not his knuckles, the dry and calloused little nubs where left exposed to do there worst---something that this man was the best in his field at. But Logan hadn’t escaped without wounds himself from this fight, a badly swollen black eye on his right side and several weeping cuts about his toned body were testament to that. But he’d certainly come off the better in regards to the other man.


Ricky ‘the butterfly’ Totti crashed to the grubby, off-white floor of the boxing rink, a bloody mess. He writhed about the ‘mattress’ for a moment, in abject pain, his crumbled jaw-bone causing him unconscionable amounts of anguish. But despite his ‘effeminate’ nick-name, he was after all a bare-knuckle boxer and as such was made of stronger stuff than most. Ignoring the vomit-inducing levels of pain, the bulky, sun- tanned thirty year old Italian American pushed himself up from the floor, sweat and blood dripping to the ground as he did so. At first he needed the thick blue and red ropes of the rink to support him. But eventually he was able to support himself of his own volition. Despite the fact that his coach was shouting to him the whole time, in a thick Hell’s Kitchen ‘Italian’ accent, to stay the fuck down---he ignored him.


Logan smiled, his customary half sneer, half wry smirk, from beneath a menacingly arched brow. His blood was up and he was ready to finish this ‘young’ punk off. Of course, everyone seemed young to him, he’d been on the circuit for so long---too long. He ‘danced’ about on his toes, like a real pro---his fists up and rolling, just waiting for the other man to drop. But he didn’t and Logan knew that he had a stubborn fucker on his hands here; he was going to have to go for the true knock out---not a pretty sight in bare knuckle boxing.


Logan jabbed him a couple of times in quick succession, thick splatters of dark blood spurting from the other man’s face. Totti swayed---but didn’t quite fall, much to Logan’s annoyance. He didn’t want to kill this guy but the way he was going---he was heading in that direction. The crowd roared, just like a Roman gathering at a Gladiator fight, the men there bayed for blood---real blood. They wouldn’t stop until their appetite was satiated. Logan wasn’t above satisfying that need. But just as he thought, and the crowd of rowdy punters thought that that time was near ‘The Butterfly’ suddenly began to falter, stumbling from side to side. Logan stepped back, but he knew in the back of his mind that lesser fighters would have gone in for the kill at this point---but not him. No, he just watched as his feeble competitor fell to the ground, unable to take it anymore.


After a rather swift count down, the-poor-substitute-for-a-referee, an ex-cop who’d been kicked off the force for drunkenness, drug dealing, prostitution rings and much worse, waddled over to Logan, his grotesquely large beer-belly bulging over the top of his thick leather belt, a small section of filthy, hair covered fat was exposed just beneath the black and white stripped T-shirt, grasping at his hanging left wrist and hoisting it in the air. “The win goes to ‘Looogaaan the Wooolveeerrrrriiiine!’� He turned around in a slow circle, showing the latest ‘champ’ off to the baying crowd. But everyone knew that no-one really won in this game. It wasn’t a matter of skill---just brute force, and Logan had that in abundance.


Logan climbed out of the rink, the whole time the low chant of “Wolverine, Wolverine, Wolverine...� burning in his ears. He sloped off through the crowds alone as he had no trainer, enduring the good-natured back slaps as he pushed his way through. But the truth of it was that he wanted to get as far away from this ‘scum’ as he possibly could. As quickly as he could. Without making so much as the barest eye-contact with anyone in the small room, Logan left the fray.



* * *


Ororo was stood outside the old warehouse as hoards of drunken, shouting and cursing men filed out into the bitterly cold night. Scanning over the people, with their trashy attire, Confederation Flag baseball caps, tatty hard rock/heavy metal T-shirts in what looked like a ‘Hells Angels-Wannabe’ fashion parade, she looked for someone suitable, maybe some inebriated idiot who’d just won big on the fight and was flashing it about to all and sundry. So as the soft white flakes of snow began their lazy descent to earth from the heavens above, Ororo waited and waited and waited...


After around half an hour the cold, tired and hungry young woman was about to give up and go ‘home’, a dirty little squat in the worst area of the Bronx, that had no electricity or heating to speak of and whose water, when it deigned to make an appearance from the badly rusted taps, was an odd shade of Vermillion Red. Ororo blew into her cupped hands that were covered by the barest pair of ineffectual fingerless gloves the world had ever seen---but they did well for being able to dip into peoples pockets, and that, let us not forget, was the most important thing. The white-haired African immigrant was about to disappear off into the night when she spied one last person coming from the ‘venue’, although others were still milling around inside. He was tall and really quite handsome, not in the ‘classical-Greek-god, smooth golden skin, square-jawed, image-of-male-perfection type of way, but much more interesting than that. He had strong features---manly features that seemed to be set into a permanent but strangely sexy scowl, despite the black welt beneath his right eye and long nasty-looking cut that began at the bottom of his left ear lobe, ran the entire length of his appallingly unshaven cheek and disappeared off underneath his Kurt Douglas-esque chin. Digging into the pocket of his battered leather jacket the man retrieved a half-smoked cigar and quickly proceeded to light it but was disturbed half-way through his task when a short, pug-faced man came out of the large, black-painted wooden doors behind him. The tall man cast the shorter one a look of somewhat vague indifference before carrying on with lighting his stogie. The ugly little man came up to his side regardless and in hushed tones began to talk to him, or more over talk at him as the ‘bruiser’ didn’t seem all that interested in reciprocating the conversation. Then, without looking at what he was doing the shorter man’s podgy, gold-ringed finger delved into the pocket of his tweed jacket and pulled out a thick wad of green notes, rolled tightly. That was when the more attractive of the pair started to take notice, looking down intently as the other man unfurled the notes and quickly counted through them, but before he could finish his gentlemanly display of honesty the money was unceremoniously snatched from his grasp and stuffed into the inside left-hand pocket of the tatty leather.


Ororo made a careful note of that as she watched ‘Mr Bruised-But-Beautiful’ set off down the road and when she was satisfied at the distance between them, she followed.


*


Logan stopped suddenly about three blocks away from the warehouse, not missing the fact that the lightly treading foot steps behind, that had been trying ever-so-carefully not to make the compacted crunching sound that invariably comes with walking on snow, stopped also. He smirked darkly to himself as he continued with his long stride, instinctively feeling at the inline of his pocket for his switch-blade---sure enough it was there, as always, his trusty ever present companion.


Waiting until he’d gotten around fifty yards up the street and was stood outside a particularly rowdy sounding bar, from which the sounds of crashing furniture and smashing glass, cries of rage and cowardly screams, could be heard, Logan slowed his pace but so subtly that his ‘tail’ didn’t notice and then coming to an abrupt halt as soon as he felt they were close enough Logan span around. Swinging his left arm out as he turned with uncanny speed, he grabbed a chunk of damp, woolly, black coat, using the momentum to slam the person into the flaking, pebble-dashed wall of the noisy saloon at his side. With his forearm pressed tightly against their wide-pipe he was surprised to find that the strangled cry that came from them sounded quite feminine. That’s when he reached up with his other hand and grabbed at the red and green checked scarf that was wrapped around the bottom half of their face, finishing just below their big, wild brown eyes.


“Don’t hurt me!� The girl gasped, her accent sounding vaguely foreign.


Logan was thrown for a moment by what he saw before---he’d never seen anything like it. But quickly pushing such unexpected thoughts from his mind he pressed harder at the girls neck as he reached into his other pocket, but he didn’t take his weapon out immediately, he just felt it for reassurance as he hissed, “What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?� The girl shook her head from side to side frantically in reply, pursing her beautifully full lips as her silver mane fell about her face, framing its soft brown surface perfectly. Logan felt the edges of his lips twitching as he began to relax his arm from her throat, “I said, what the fuck did ya think you were doin’ sneaking around behind my like that kid?�


Suddenly indignant, she huffed at him and gained the confidence to try and push him from her, “I’m twenty four you stupid bastard!� She shot back quietly; her attempts to push him from her were quickly abandoned.


Logan felt that quiet twitch that had been dancing about the corner of his mouth pulling it up into something like a lop-sided grin, “Fine, woman, whatever---that doesn’t answer my question does it?�

“Idiot!� She hissed at him, taking out her anger at her own slackness on him, for the game was well and truly up, “You know exactly what I was doing---you just won big didn’t you, at the fight?�


He gave a sharp laugh, “Ya could say that, seen as I was one of the fighters an’ all.�


“Oh---right� Ororo said nervously, trust her to decide to rob a bare-knuckle boxer, she had thought that he was just one of the riff-raff, but then again the state of his ace should have told her something. Dropping her gaze, slightly embarrassed she looked down the street to see if there was anyone around that she could suddenly start calling for ‘help’ to, as this man seemed to have absolutely no intention of letting her go. The distraction would be enough for her to get away; it wasn’t as if she’d genuinely need anybodies assistance really. But there was no-one about and as she returned her chocolate eyes back up to the man she was surprised at the intensity with which he was looking back. His darkly, glittering hazel eyes held hers fast---the look of a predator moving in with glee once it had caught its pray. She swallowed down hard as her eyes began to shimmer, not with tears, but with---she didn’t know.


“What’s yer name darlin’?� He asked low and completely unexpectedly, his eyes gradually falling from hers as he let them trail her face leisurely only to return to her Doe-like orbs with THAT look. Her mouth began to tremble as she slowly opened her lips, but she didn’t know whether or not she was going to respond to his question---she simply couldn’t think of anything, her own name even, as the intensity of his of his gaze deepened. The sound of the noisy crowd in the bar behind fell away into the distance for both of them as the snow began to come down heavier, settling on the pair as they seemed to be frozen in time.


“Ma’am?� A thickly Brooklyn accented voice called from somewhere near by, Ororo was about to look over, momentarily extracted from this unexplainable spell, when something most unexpected happened. “Ma’ am, are you---?� Officer Levi was stopped in his tracks as the tall man that had appeared to be holding the woman against the wall, against her will, brought his mouth down on hers, ravishing it fiercely. “Oh, sorry for the intrusion.� The stocky NYPD lieutenant said sheepishly, inadvertently diverting his eyes, but the ‘couple’ ignored him as they continued to make out. He’d really thought the woman was in trouble for a moment there, it was embarrassing when you misjudged these things. The officer quickly forgot about the pair as he entered the bar, talking loudly into his walkie-talkie with a request for immediate back up and proceeding with his regular visit to the notorious trouble spot. “O. K. PEOPLE---LETS BREAK IT UP! COME ON!�


Finally coming up for air, long after the ‘threat’ had gone, Logan pulled back, looking down at her, her eyes were still closed, her glistening pink lips still parted. He was savouring every last bit of the taste of her but as soon as her eyelashes began to flutter, denoting the imminent opening of her pretty eyes, he cleared his face of any kind of pleasurable expression. It had been a spur of the moment reaction to catching the sight of the approaching police officer, he hadn’t really thought about what he was doing, but as he got into it---he’d enjoyed it---immensely.


Ororo looked up and found herself smiling at him, her heart was racing as her chest fell up and down underneath her thick layers of winter clothing in a steady but quicker rhythm than usual. Fighting not to appear too flustered by his rather passionate ‘diversion’, she began, “Now that was---.� But she was soon cut off as the officer that had just entered the bar stumbled back out clutching at his badly bleeding face, screaming in pain. He was quickly followed by a crowd of brawling revellers, the fight getting out of control and spilling out onto the snowy pavement. Before Logan or Ororo had chance to move two of large men, one held in a vicious headlock by the other, fell into the pair, knocking them to the ground. Logan found himself instinctively pulling Ororo to him to protect her as they lay sprawled out on the ground and the fight came closer to them. Just then the echoing sound of police sirens could be heard coming closer and closer until the noise was on top of them.


“Come on!� Logan said gruffly over the insane din of the fighting drinkers and now the shouting police officers as they emerged from their squad cars and riot vans, brandishing clear plastic riot shields, batons, plastic-bullet baring guns and tear gas canisters. As the law enforcement went to work on restoring order, swinging, hitting and firing at anything that came within their reach, Logan pulled Ororo up from the ground. He began to run before Ororo had fully found her footing, slipping and sliding about in the now slushy, yellow mess that passed for snow.


“W---Wait!� She shouted breathlessly at him, but he ignored her and continued to pull her from the fray, dodging miss placed blows from both sides of the law as he went. Eventually out of the throng, Logan carried on running, dragging Ororo along behind him off into the deserted streets of the industrial estate area. He didn’t know where he was going, why he was still running and certainly why he was taking this woman, who he’d only just met, who had just tried to rob him, along for the ride.


-TBC-

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Chapter.2.


The sounds of the fight were but a distant echo in the cold night air as they continued to run through the now heavy layer of snow. Their hearts racing, adrenaline pumping....Turning off into a dark little side street that ran down the length of an abandoned warehouse, which was once home to many an illegal rave party, they finally came to a halt. Or more over Logan did, Ororo crashed into the back of him, unable to stop herself in time. She was about to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, once she’d caught her breath, the freezing atmosphere and sudden strain on her lungs, burning her throat with every laboured in take of air, chest heaving.


Logan turned to her and with the tight grasp he still had on her hand yanked her in close to him, wrapping his other hand into her disarrayed, snow peppered hair, he pulled her head forwards as his came down, kissing her hard. His tongue thrust into her mouth without invitation or undue ceremony, smothering her weak yelps of surprise with passionate movements, giving her no choice but to return his attentions---but she didn’t mind, not really. Her heart was still thumping and somehow this seemed a great way to siphon off all that energy. So she let him continue without protest, giving herself over to it and beginning to return the kiss with more purposeful intent.


Logan didn’t know what had come over him, maybe it was the unexpected pleasure from that first taste of her...the left over buzz from his fight earlier...the rush of protecting her in the ruckus outside the bar a moment ago...Whatever it was, his blood was up, combined with his sudden intoxication with this complete stranger, desire stirred in him and he was never one to ignore his baser instincts. What his body called for, his body usually received and it was definitely calling right now, quite specifically in fact...He moved forwards, pushing the beauty, in the grip of both hands now, backwards, clumsily heading for the dirty brick wall at her back. Pinning her to it with his body, he pressed his hardening erection that pushed against his tight, faded jeans, to her body, pleased to find she responded in kind, bucking her hips into his. Moving one long leg forwards, he pushed it between hers, forcing her to part them and allowing him to come closer to her, as close as he could possibly get as his kiss became so fierce it was starting to hurt them both.


This was crazy...that was all Ororo could think, but it had gone so far that she didn’t want him to stop; her body burned hotter every second that passed. She’d never been so feckless before...it raised her excitement that much more. Before she could take time to consider what she was doing she was reaching up to take one of his hands from her hair and he willingly let her guide him. Pushing up the bottom of her long coat she thrust his hand down under the waist band of her jeans, then took hers away and let him do as he would. She gripped at the back of his neck as she felt his large, rough hand gain quick access into her undergarments and without pause for thought he’d rammed his middle three fingers into her. The action made her bite down on his bottom lip, causing him to growl and speed up the force and ferocity with which he was now plunging his digits in and out of her. His other hand left her tangled hair then and went to his own zip, fumbling for a second before pulling out his sizable member and in no time at all he had her hoisted up, her legs gripped about his waist, jeans and knickers far enough down to let him gain entry into her hot, wet space. Taking his fingers from inside her Logan used his freed hand to steady his penis as he pushed it to her opening. She gasped as she felt it nudging her clitoris, wrapping her arms tight around him, pulling back from their kiss and burying her head against his shoulder---thinking that somehow, if she closed her eyes tight enough it would block out the clear insanity of what she was doing with a man whose name she didn’t even know and leave her free to revel in the pure glorious sensation of it. # Just think of it like a man does# she told herself, # enjoy it and don’t worry about consequences! # With that mantra running through her head she let herself ‘lie back and enjoy the ride’ as it were, gritting her teeth to stop from screaming as his thick cock shunted into her again and again and again....


After a few moments and with one last final frantic round of upward thrusts, Logan made an odd strangled snarling sound low in his larynx, through gritted teeth as he came inside her, his whole body tensing against her as he savoured his release, his face turned to the heavens, eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavy, cloudy jets of cold air through his nose, into the blackness of the night sky. As for Ororo, although the experience had certainly been a pleasure, there had been no climatic ecstasy, no earth-shattering conclusion for her...no; she was left with the odd feeling of unfinished business that accompanies so many rushed sexual liaisons for the female of the species. She simply held onto him tightly as she felt his hot spunk flood her, having to be content that at least one of them had got what they wanted and be thankful.


Letting her back slide down the slimy wall, Logan set her down gently and immediately pulled away, arranging himself back into his pants as he did so, leaving Ororo to sort herself out hastily. Turning his back to her, he looked down the dark street vacantly as he rooted in his pocket for another cigar. Bringing it to his mouth and lighting it quickly in cupped hands, he turned to look at her over his shoulder, not really sure what to say to her. It wasn’t as if Logan hadn’t done this type of thing before, it was amazing how many free and easy ‘groupies’ hung around the bare-knuckle boxing scene...but this one wasn’t one of them, he’d known that from the off, she was...different. It hadn’t been her who’d initiated this, like so many of the free ‘whores’ he took advantage of when they appeared. But with that first impromptu kiss, something had tweaked in him, something that he hadn’t felt for so long that he no longer recognised it. It wasn’t emotion in the affectionate sense of the word, it was much more urgent than that, much more...raw.


He turned back to the face forwards when he heard Ororo shifting behind him and foot steps that seemed to be retreating. Spinning on his heal he called out, “Where do ya think yer going darlin’?� Ororo, whose back was to him, stopped but didn’t turn to face him. Biting down on her bottom lip, she tried to ignore the flushed feeling of guilt that coursed through her very veins---the feeling of being somehow...dirty.


“Home.� She replied, just loud enough for him to catch it. Continuing in the direction of the exit out onto the main street, she sped up when she heard his heavy foot steps starting after her, but as she got faster so did he until he was right on top of her, clutching her arm and turning her around to face him.


“Hey...hey,� He said, tipping her head up to make her look at him. “Why the rush?� Searching her face for an answer, he was questioning himself inside; why not just let her leave? What did it matter?


“What do you want now? A polite chit-chat?� She retorted frostily and tried to get round him, but he just yanked her back to where she’d been stood.


He chuckled lightly, “No, but...� He whispered as he leaned in for a kiss and at first Ororo let him, his touch renewing the buzz that still lingered from his last one and for a second she was lost in it all again...but she soon shoved him away. “What the fuck?!� Logan growled angrily after her as he watched her head for the main road again. But he soon cooled it as she neared the edge of the building, shouting hopefully, “Well ya can at least tell me yer name!�


Ororo stopped and looking over her shoulder at him as she wrapped her arms about herself, she replied, “Ororo.� Then she gave him a smile, she had no idea why, she just couldn’t help herself before slipping off into the quiet of the cold, snowy night. Logan stared at the spot she’d just vacated, licking off the last remnants of her from his lips, savouring the taste. He knew that would probably be the last time he saw her, so he stored it all to an empty place marked ‘pleasurable memories’ and headed off in the opposite direction.


* * *


Several days later...


Logan popped the last piece of his chilli-dog into his mouth, screwing up the serviette and tossing it carelessly aside as he scanned the crowd rushing down the street in the lunch time rush, with his cold greenish-hazel eyes. Pushing off the wall he’d been leaning his back on he decided to go home, walking with a purposeful stride as he thrust his hands in his pockets---this was completely pointless. He’d been at this for days now---searching for HER. At first he’d tried to ignore his impulse to do so, throwing himself into hard training for his next bout, battering the hell out of the punch bag that hung in the corner of his living room at his squalid abode, drinking like a trooper, well a lot more than usual which wasn’t saying much because he drank all the time anyway, and finding brief moments of fiery delight in the arms of women he met at his local bar. But they all seemed to pale into insignificance compared to the woman that he had, within the space of no more than twenty minutes; met, threatened, kissed and then fucked.


Ororo---O-R-O-R-O---she swam through his head, like a stubbornly persistent flu bug, he just couldn’t shake her from his system no matter what he took to rid himself of the ailment. Finally, he’d given into it and come to look for her. O.K, so New York was packed with a veritable cacophony of weirdos and eccentrics of all descriptions, so much so that people didn’t notice anymore; odd clothes, odd facial piercings and tattoos and hair colours...but surely a divine-looking black woman with clearly naturally white hair couldn’t be too hard to find? He’d had no joy so far, even after traipsing around this island two or three times. This was the third time Logan had come to this particular area now, but still no luck. He’d even asked around in stores and the occasional street vender, as they tended to remember everyone they ever came across, but nobody could give him anything.


Resolved to the fact that he’d never find her, Logan was about to head down into the tube station when he caught something at the corner of his eye---a shock of white against all the greys, blacks and browns of the drab winter street. He turned immediately, jogging back up the first few steps he’d just descended, his hand still on the iron railing. People walked into his view and he moved his head this way and that to try and get a clear look at what he’d just seen and sure enough as a particularly large man ambled his way across the pavement, Ororo was just behind him. Her thick, platinum hair was pulled up into a messy pony tail atop of her head with a length of scarlet material and she had on the same knee-length, woollen black coat that she’d worn on that night. Underneath that lay a flowing ankle-length skirt, not all that appropriate for this weather, the rapidly melting snow clung to its hem line, turning the rim of the light blue garment a dirty yellow colour. But Logan’s attention soon sifted emphasis when he noticed that she was stalking; she had that predatory stance about her, slow watchful movements, eyes trained on a target---he recognised it immediately.


He followed her eye-line and found that it rested on a tall, leggy woman, dressed in a sharp skirt-suite affair, long smartly tailored coat over the top, talking loudly into a small mobile that was pressed closely to her ear. But most importantly the dark-haired woman had a rather expensive looking Gucci bag hanging from her right shoulder, looking quite perilous, supported as it was by a simple, thin spaghetti-string strap. A dark smile came to Logan’s slightly chapped lips when he saw Ororo getting ready to move in for the ‘kill’, quickening her speed, making a bee-line for her prey. As she moved so did Logan, making his way through the bustling crowd with just as much intent as she.


*


Ororo was closing in on her now; the bag would be so easy to just tear away, that itty-bitty strap would give way with one sharp pull. When would well-off people ever learn; designer bags were shit for security---but if they were stupid enough to spend the equivalent of some house-holds entire monthly budget, on some piece of label tat, well...She was close now, so close that her fast pace was turning into a light jog, ready to speed up into a full-on sprint once the booty had been gained. Readying her hand to whip from her pocket, Ororo started to run, her eyes only seeing the prize, not for one second noticing the tall, dark man with stupidly wild hair heading for the mobile-toting yuppie also and with the stride of his long legs---he got there first.


“WHOA!�


“Urr, sorry Ma’am---wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’.� Logan lied as he tried to stop himself from laughing at the look he saw on Ororo’s face; a mixture of shock and fury at loosing her catch, and seeing who was responsible.


“For Christ’s sake!� The woman moaned as she bent down to pick up her phone and various things that had fallen from her bag. For a moment Logan motioned as if he was going to help her but soon stood back up again, muttering an apology over his shoulder as he pushed on through the throng, leaving her to attend to the clean up operation by herself.


“Well thanks a lot you jackass!� She screeched after him and then roughly started to stuff her belongings back into her bag.



*


Logan never let his eye fall from Ororo as he followed her through the hoards, not caring who was shunted out of his way during his pursuit of his prize. She kept on looking back at him every so often, but never once slowed. Grabbing at people to push herself through she tried to think of somewhere she could slip into slyly, but his tracking of her seemed relentless and she knew it was probably hopeless to try and lose him---although she was going to continue to try regardless. Spying a side street that she knew led into a busy shopping complex, Ororo ducked into it quickly, hoping she’d been quick enough to evade his eye as she weaved through discarded boxes and haphazardly scattered black bin bags.


“ORORO!� She came to a halt as he shouted her name from the far end of the ally and suddenly, she became angry. Why the hell was she running from this man? So they’d had a quick jump together, so what? She shouldn’t be running from him, she should have been asking him what the fuck he was playing at! Whizzing around Ororo stomped back towards him and as she neared him her hands shot out and she pushed him roughly in the chest.


“What the hell was that about?!� She slipped into her full-on African accent as she admonished him, shoving him again and nearly sending him flying backwards over an upturned box. “That was my rent for the next month you---!� Just as Ororo was about to push him again it seemed it was just one too many as Logan grabbed both her hands, swung her round and slammed her into the wall.


“I wouldn’t do that again if I was you darlin’.� He snarled in a menacingly low tone, close to her face. Mouth agape, staring up at him with shocked eyes she simply nodded, for a moment unable to speak. Slowly, Logan released her hands and stepped back from her a little and brought his cigar, which had been safely wedged in between his fingers during the pursuit, back to his mouth as he eyed her, feeling a distinct tightening in his crotch as he did so. “Sorry I lost you yer ‘mark’.� He said with a wry smirk and a cocked eyebrow.


Regaining some of her composure, Ororo narrowed her eyes at him for his insincere admission. Then yanking her coat back straight, she asked contemptuously, “So what are you going to give me to make up for it, asshole!�


Logan chuckled around his cigar before plucking it from his mouth as his dark eyes raked her heavily concealed body once more, thinking about how the brief taste he’d already gotten had only given him an appetite for more. “I’ll buy ya lunch,� he shrugged his shoulders, “It’s the least I can do.�


Ororo deliberated this proposition for a moment; after all she was starving not having eaten since yesterday---what harm could accepting one lousy meal do? “Fine.� She consented quietly and started off back towards the busy street, Logan following very closely behind her with his hand at her elbow.


* * *


“Your apartment.� Ororo said flatly as she followed Logan into the dingy space, that due to its only window facing the outside wall of the next building, needed to be lit artificially at all times of the day, at all times of the year.


“Very observant.� Logan replied sarcastically as he reached up and flipped the light switch on, tossing his keys with a noisy jangle into an empty glass fruit-bowl that sat on the coffee table. Turning around to face her as he pulled his leather off and threw it aside in the same manner as his keys he asked, “So what will it be?�


Ororo looked up at him confused for a second, before shaking her head dismissively and replying, “Oh---urr, anything. As long as it’s not meat.�


Logan cocked a mischievous eyebrow at her, “What’s wrong darlin’, don’t ya like meat?� Ororo gave him a slightly disgusted look for his double-entendre, then turned away from him and made her way to a sofa that looked about ready to collapse, sitting down on it tentatively as she shrugged out of her coat. The apartment was really quite stuffy despite the fact that it was the middle of a bitterly cruel New York winter. Looking around the room as Logan banged about in the kitchen she looked around the small room, her eyes coming to rest on the bunch-bag that hung in the corner, its stuffing spilling out from the various tears that marked its canvas covering. There were also stains all over it, dark stains that looked for all the world like---blood?


“Ready.� Ororo jumped as he shouted, startling her from her daydream state. He came back into the living room with a hastily made sorry excuse for a sandwich, dumping the already chipped plate on a small fold-out table that nestled in the corner of the room. She looked up at Logan, who was still smoking that stinking cigar, noticing for the first time that his black eye had reduced down to little more than a yellowish patch and the cut he’d received looked to be healing nicely too, not that she could make it out very well under at least four days worth of coarse black stubble. Also she didn’t fail to spot, with her naturally keen eye, the slight mound that was pressing against the worn fabric of his tight jeans. But the sight of it didn’t at all disturb Ororo; oddly enough it made her feel dangerously...excited? Certainly none of the quilt she had experienced on their first all too brief encounter. Taking her attention away from it quickly, she made her way over to the table, pulling out the one rickety looking and rusted metal-framed chair that sat next it and started to eat. She couldn’t quiet identify what it was that was between the two slices of slightly stale bread but she was so hungry that she no longer cared, taking huge, un-ladylike bites, not giving the previous one chance to go down before the other one was started.


Logan watched her like a hawk, every once in a while inhaling on his stogie but never breaking his gaze. Now that she’d taken that bulky black coat off he finally got a glimpse at what was hidden beneath and was more than delighted at what he saw. She had on a sleeveless, tight white T-shirt, plain with no logo, in spite of the weather and it was rather thin because he could clearly make out the line of her similarly white bra underneath and even her hard, pert nipples coming through that...Logan shifted on the arm of the chair that he was perching on, having to adjust his groin manually with his free hand, as his rapidly growing erection pressed against his clothing more ardently. He couldn’t get over how silky smooth her skin appeared, like ivory. Tracing the long graceful line of her exposed arm, noting the remarkable rich brown colour, completely flawless; she had the physique of an African Queen, noble neck and statuesque limbs. He couldn’t stop himself as he absently stumped his cigar out, into an already over-flowing ash-tray and made his way over to stand just behind her, needing to be near her...close enough to touch...


At first Ororo stopped eating, the last chunk of her meagre meal paused just in front of her ready and waiting mouth. Thoughts flashed through her mind about what he was doing, looming silently behind her, watching her eat but she pushed them away and finished the last piece of hard crust. Chewing on it slowly she turned her head round to look up at him but quickly faced the front again when she saw the way he was looking at her---knowing what he wanted, what he was almost waiting for. The thought of it caused a fierce heat to rip through her sex, throbbing with anticipation, need, want....Ororo closed her eyes as she simultaneously heard the quickening pace of his rumbling, gravelly breaths and felt him bending down gradually, until each arm was either side of her and that fast breath was stirring on the back of her long neck. She trembled as she closed her eyes and let out a sighing breath, only to be rewarded with the quickening of his lustful ones. They were lustful certainly, but also fierce and almost---threatening. Like an alpha-male wolf, Logan stood over his ‘mate’, readying himself to take her...his hand shot up to her hair, tearing away the scarlet ribbon that bound it, letting it fall restlessly about her, spreading its intoxicating vanilla odour; an odour that cried lust. But somehow, a passive lust...He thread his large, weathered hands into her hair deceptively slowly before clenching them into a fist amongst the sliver strands and yanking her head back without warning.


“Ahhh!� Ororo gasped with shock and shaded delight, her eyes still firmly shut, even more so in fact. She felt herself beginning to shake minutely as his lips descended on her inviting neck, the sharp sting of his teeth, as he bared them, plus the impossible stubble of his chin, causing her pleasure to multiply tenfold. Suddenly he ripped the chair from under her, throwing it across the room without a care, and to stop her from falling to the ground he shoved her, via the grip on her hair, over the table, bending her at the waist. Ororo’s hands splayed out as she fell forwards, knocking her plate to the ground, smashing it instantly, but neither seemed to care. Logan took his hand from her hair then, hooking his fingers under the base of her white top and hoisting it over her head. Immediately after, his hands stole down to her still covered, ample breasts, grabbing at them with an unhindered rough touch. After a few moments of ‘teenage’ grappling, he gripped at the edges of her bra and pulled it down until it hung around her slim waist like an ill-fitting belt, snapping one of the elastic straps in the process with a resounding ping. All the while Ororo could feel the pressure of his erection against her behind and an undeniable frustration at the layers, on both of them, that blocked its path to her body. A frustration that although was urgently felt, was not to last long as her impromptu lover shifted his grasp to her light-material skirt, ripping it from her body before tugging quickly at his own lower garments and taking out his eager, throbbing penis. Pulling at her knickers until they ripped also, Logan’s hand went back to Ororo’s hair, the other gripping her curving hip tightly as he pushed his dick between her legs. She parted them as soon as she felt his standing flesh searching its way toward her sex, rubbing its way along her increasingly wet opening.


“Urrrgh!� He groaned as he thrust his cock with quickening movements against Ororo’s slick vagina, exacerbating her desire for him to enter her as her fingers gripped at the far edge of the folded table. Her obvious need for him to fuck her---to take her---gave true rise to the predatory streak in him and he wasted no time then as he forced himself into her front orifice, in the proverbial doggy style, with one furious shunt, pushing her upper body down into the desk with undue force.


“Ahh---argh—fuc---!� Ororo cried, as his sizable penis began to roughly ram back and forth, the ferocity of his movements making the entire table shift with his rhythm, banging against the wall, her fingers drawing back quickly before they were trapped. But that left her with nothing to cling to as she clawed desperately at the smooth surface of the wood, unable to grab onto anything to steady herself as Logan fucked her with an unspoken verve. Her opening ached unbelievably as this man she barely knew, but found herself in an extremely compromising position with, for the second time now, slid his cock in and out of her with increasingly violent actions. She couldn’t quite articulate exactly why this almost brutish act excited her so, it was just the feeling...the feeling of giving herself over to someone after so long defending and taking care of herself, to relinquish herself to someone so...completely, it gave her a release of sorts.


That sense of release led to her orgasm building deep inside her, rising with all the force of a tidal wave, ready to consume her. Quite possibly the first orgasm she’d ever experienced---she’d been so close on their first encounter, but not close enough ,it turned out...Logan began to buck his hips as hard as he could into her, his frenzied passion needing to hear something, hear the words that would send him over the edge, “Scr---eam.� He commanded brokenly between fervent thrusting. Ororo let out a slight sound, hardly a sound at all really, finding it hard to catch her breath. “SCREAM!� He demanded now as his movements against her became so vicious that her hips were becoming bruised as they slammed into the hard edge of the table and her scalp stung with his torturing grip on her hair.


“AARRGH—URR—AAARGH, YES---Fuck---Fuck me! Please...fuck me, fuck me, fu...� The sound of those words drove him crazy, but he was determined to hold on until she had reached her climax, encouraging him to raise the game to impossible proportions, fucking her until she practically cried real tears. This was a trip he hadn’t felt in a long time, the used whores he usually went with were nothing but distant, pale memory compared to the insatiable buzz he felt being inside this African Queen, this goddess...


“AHH-HA—YES---FUCK, YES! YES!� Despite the pain of his peculiar infliction of pleasure, Ororo found herself grateful beyond belief as her cum flood from her, the accompanying orgasm spreading through her like wild fire. Logan continued to pump into her with a steady rhythm now, less harsh than before but it soon regained its pace when his own orgasm caused him to fill her vagina, with hot, spurting liquid.


“Fucking bitc—ahh, fuckin’, arrr---fuck, arrr---goddamn!� He finished his orgasm firmly inside her, feeling like he was filling her to breaking point, in fact a satisfied smile came to his panting, parted lips as he felt her spent juices dripping down her legs and by extension down his own, stinging his thighs where his jeans had chafed him. He kept his hand in her hair as she lay/was still pressed to the table, both panting to regain their breath, gradually returning it to normal. His hand that had been dug into her hip slid over her bare arse, caressing its smooth surface, before that self-same hand ran up her sweat drench back and closed around the back of her slender neck, instinctively gripping around it.


Through some strange extra sense, or...whatever, they both seemed to know that this was just the beginning...


-TBC-

Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


A/N: Thanks for all the great feed back on this story, I was getting a little unsure of it for a while there but, alas, I finally got my arse into gear to write chapter three! Hope you continue to enjoy, Mi'kosan7,xx


Chapter.3.


Several days later...


It had been a truly strange two-and-a-bit weeks for Ororo, and she was thinking about just how strange as she made her way down a grubby street littered with fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles. She walked with a large brown paper groceries bag tucked under her right arm, resting on her hip; she walked with a definite purpose, that purpose being, making a bee-line straight for Logan’s apartment.


*


At first, after their second ‘indiscretion’, Ororo had vowed never to see him again. Even as she was lay in his bed, knackered and sore, bathing in the after-glow of several hours of love-making, well love-making wasn’t really the correct verb for it...sex, raw animalistic sex was far more appropriate a term for what they did. Early that morning she’d thought about how, that after she’d done what she could with her ruined clothing in order to at least get home, that would be it, the end of it all...but something of her was left in that apartment when she crept out of it at the crack of dawn...she’d left an element of herself up there, with Logan. Ororo hadn’t noticed at first, but her mind kept on drifting back to the way he’d made her feel on that second encounter, helpless yet powerful in a way, at his mercy but in control, the control of making him feel that way. It was peculiar; she really couldn’t even begin to understand it; what was going on in her mind and most of all her body. And so she found after the first few days she couldn’t think of anything else but him, when she tried to ‘work’, eat or sleep; the nightly re-enactments of their passionate romps in her fevered dreams, giving her absolutely no rest, until she woke up soaked in a thick layer of sweat and screaming.


Unable to resist her urge anymore, Ororo had gone back to him again and again and again, until it became everyday that she would make the hour long subway journey to receive her welcome release. It was getting to the point where she couldn’t imagine a life without it, a life without what no other man had ever been able to give her before, but Logan was able to...and then some.


*


Ororo climbed the grey carpeted stair-well, that had several unidentifiable encrusted marks on it, up to the fifth floor where Logan’s apartment was situated, and when she came to the plain, hard-wood door with a dull brass ‘176’ screwed onto it, she didn’t bother to knock. It was three in the afternoon so she knew he’d be out for his run at this time; placing the food bag mindfully on the floor next to the door, Ororo reached up into her hair and removed a metal grip that was straight on one side and crinkled on the other. Fashioning it to her needs with some skilful twists and bends she slipped the thin piece of copper into the lock and rotated it a few times until she felt it give way; the door swinging open with a cringe-worthy creak. Picking up the paper bag she headed inside, kicking the heavy door shut behind her with a wayward swing of her right foot. She was about to walk over to the small kitchen that sat just off the living room, flicking the light switch on as she went; but her attention was caught by the rather sad looking geranium that she’d put on the window-sill to brighten the place up. Logan had given her nothing more than a quizzically raised eyebrow when she’d brought it in just two days ago, but had said nothing to protest. Placed right in the centre of the only spot of sunlight that deigned to make an appearance in the dark little room, even that had apparently not been enough to sustain its fragile life; its flower heads dropping pitifully, no longer able to support themselves.


With the food bag still placed firmly on her hip, Ororo fingered the dry, limp leaves regretfully; she hated to see things die. But she supposed, as she then moved into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter that was cluttered with dirty pots and overflowing ashtrays, that nothing could grow if it was not given the necessary means to do so. But that was life---full stop. She pulled off her dark brown duffel coat and placed it on a hook or more over a random nail that protruded from the rotting window-frame at the end of the long, narrow room. Taking items from the bag she stopped half way through the action of placing a can of tomato soup in a high, chip-board door cupboard as the front door was opened with the maximum amount of noise it seemed.


Logan was back early...


*


Throwing his keys down in the place he always lobbed them, Logan wasted no time in stripping off his sleeveless black cotton jogging top, practically having to peel the article from his drenched body. He threw it onto the sofa as he ran his other hand through his sweat-damp hair, slicking it back as much as he could, although in mere seconds it stood on end again, at funny angles. She was here---Logan didn’t need to hear her moving about on the echoing tiled kitchen floor to garner that much. She was always here these days, not that he was complaining in the slightest, it was just that he wasn’t used to routine, to coming home to find someone there, waiting for him. Not that he ever really stayed anywhere long enough for it to become ‘home’. But he hadn’t known enough of this type of attention in his life to know if he liked it or not yet. Logan was a loner by nature, he always had been and no woman had ever hung around long enough to become familiar to him, they’d never wanted too, and the fact that this one did was suspicion enough for him. Suspicion, but a definite curiosity too, as well as that mysterious ‘something else’...


“Hey.� Ororo turned to greet him as he came into the long narrow kitchen; she had a tin of chic-peas in one hand and a jar de-stoned green olives in the other. Logan first looked at them and then up at the open cupboard door, containing more food now than it had in the entire six month period that he’d been living in this over-priced cesspit.


“What the hell do ya think yer doin’?� His dry tone contained only the merest hint of humour.


“What does it look like I’m doing?!� She said through a laugh as she continued packing away the food, opting to reply to the humour rather than the more obvious flat annoyance. Logan didn’t answer, walking over to stand behind her and picking up one of the few tins that were left on the counter, turning it over in his hand a couple of times before dumping it back down. Ororo tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand but the wonderfully potent smell of the sweat from his run hung about him, turning her on instantly. She could even feel the heat emanating from his body, so close to hers now and when he laid his large hand on her abdomen, wrapping his arm about her slim waist she dropped the last item that was about to be put away down on the counter with a resounding bang. Turning in his arms to face him, a thrill ran through her as she spied THAT look in his, an increasingly familiar look. Gripping her hands on his shoulders, she leisurely let them trail down his huge biceps, briefly tracing the patterns of the tattoos that adorned them; the head of a grey wolf on the left one and a small ninja with ‘tiger claws’, she’d once heard the Japanese weapons called, three of them attached to each hand, the figures arms were crossed high over its chest in an ‘X’ shape. Dressed entirely in black, only its piercing dark eyes visible through a letter-box shaped slot.


“You’re back early.� She said in a vain attempt to start some kind of conversation because she knew what all this was inevitably leading to. Not that she minded....


“I didn’t realise I was keeping a schedule darlin’.� He said in the way people do when you know their mind is thinking about something completely different from what they’re saying. And his most definitely was...it was concentrating on the electric feeling of her soft hands that had by now found their way to his six-pack, brushing lightly over the ‘snail-trail’ of wispy dark hair that ran down the centre of his chest all the way down to his stomach. It was concentrating on the instant arousal that took him completely every time he was in any kind of proximity to her and the fact that he felt he had absolutely no control what-so-ever over it disturbed him greatly. But who really cared about that right now...Logan picked the African beauty up; clasping one hand tightly on her hip, the other finding a steady grip in her luscious, loose, flowing hair. As quick as a flash, Ororo wrapped her legs about his waist and her hands around his neck as she brought her mouth down to his, giving herself over to his hard, passionate kisses---‘painful’ kisses that she’d come to relish. She couldn’t help but smile through his ravaging of her lips, as she felt the impatient press of his erection between her parted legs. Then he started to move them from the kitchen, walking or more over shifting in an awkward kind of waddle with her in his arms, towards the bedroom; a destination they rarely made it to in time but today appeared to be one of those rare occasions as he threw her down onto the bed and stood over her.


Ororo let her long legs part further as Logan pushed his way closer, gazing down at her still with that damned look. But what a look; a smouldering lust mixed with something darker, an unreadable coldness that possibly did more to turn her on than anything else. It was almost like the man posed a threat, but it was a thoroughly safe threat somehow...it was difficult to explain, then again at this moment, articulating her reasons for attraction were the furthest thing from her mind. Letting her hands push her sky-blue coloured, cotton T-shirt upwards, almost of their own volition, in slow, inviting movements, she gasped as Logan suddenly reached down and started to yank off her jeans, which he did in no time at all before moving onto her top. Clearly her efforts to undress herself were not nearly quick enough to please him, so she had to lean her upper body forwards slightly as her T-shirt was discarded for her, until all that she remained in were her silky lilac bra and scant matching briefs, (stolen from Victoria’s secrets, initially for re-sale, but kept instead). He then shoved his mottled-grey joggers down, along with his boxers; all of this done in complete silence, save the sound of their fevered breathing, for there never seemed to be any recourse for words to pass between them at these moments, or any other in fact. Verbal communication was never really a priority for this couple, to use an old cliché; they let their bodies do the talkin’.


She dared a glance down at his penis, delighting in the sight of its huge upwards pose and eager to feel it inside of her. Logan suddenly grabbed her legs and hoisted them up so that her bent knees were tucked just beneath his arm pits and her back was once again flat on the bed. Reaching down, he tugged at the thin strips of material that held her knickers together over her hips, the silk giving way instantly and in the blink of an eye they were off and she was uncovered. Ororo prepared herself now by gripping at the bed sheets at either side off her head, biting down into her own lip before he’d even done anything but she knew what to expect. The sight of her doing that sent a rush through Logan, animal and ferocious, that look of submission, laying there waiting for him to enter her, to fuck her. She was just so beautiful...and she was giving herself to him. That was something Logan just couldn’t get his head around; no matter how many times the thought had come to him on the many occasions they’d done this. Why would this stunning creature want him? Because he knew he wanted her more than anything, his appetite for her had only increased over the last couple of weeks. At first he’d tried to ignore it and he certainly hadn’t shown her that he felt this enamoured with her, but there was no way she could possibly feel the same...was there? Never mind such thoughts now though, for all he wanted was to be inside her and so he shifted forwards, penetrating her slick sex in one move, pleased to see the breathtaking look of delighted anguish crease her angelic features.


“Urrr---urrr---urrr.� Her stifled moans slipped out through her almost closed mouth; top teeth still biting down on her bottom lip as he moved in and out of her. Each small noise of tortured pleasure coming in between Logan’s rough shunts which at first were slow, more attention being paid to their forcefulness until he could get into a rhythm that she would be able to match. Gradually the tempo rose, faster and faster his movements became, losing none of their power as he grunted in time with each penetration; his grip on her now rigid legs getting tighter until his fingers were digging into the supple flesh of her long calves so fervently it was a wonder they didn’t cut into the skin. Ororo grasped at the bed as well as the sheets now as she arched her back upwards, head pressing back into the mattress as she shifted back and forth with the rhythm of his ruts. Finally she was able to move her hips in time, lifting them in a rolling motion every time his cock rammed into her burning opening but just as she did this he began to move harder and faster. She was struggling to keep up now as he fucked her with a bloody-minded determination, exciting not just her clitoris it seemed, but almost her entire womb felt some kind of unearthly pleasure from this.


“Logan...Logan...Logan...Logan...� She chanted his name in her desire for him to give her the climax that was screaming for release from every part of her body at this point. But he would not go that final mile that would give her peace, give her the satisfaction that she ached for, not until he was ready. Logan was content to extend her divine torture until it suited him to end it and that made him feel powerful, he knew at these moments she was at his mercy, completely. The mere thought of that made it difficult for him to keep his own pleasure from peaking, the feel of her wet and pulsing vagina was driving him insane, not to mention hearing her crying out his name like that, it would make any man wild with passion. And so he continued...


“Logan yes! Logan...Logan...Logan please! Ahh, ahh, ahh...� Ororo was screaming openly now until her throat burned as the end game approached, her body already beginning to shake in anticipation of her orgasm. Without warning Logan released her legs to hold onto her hips instead as he pounded her harder and harder, his dick getting ready to pump her full. Locking her legs as tight as she could manage around his waist, her feet finding purchase in the small of his back, she then arched hers as high up as it would go and made one last attempt to hurry her climax with frantic upward thrusts of her lower body and it worked. The fire hit her full force sending her whole body into lust fuelled spasms that she had absolutely no control over, the force of them catching her breath in her throat robbing her of the ability to scream her ecstasy. Instead, tears spilt down the sides of her face, dripping down her neck and past her ears. Suddenly, like a she was emerging from water after a long time under, Ororo took in a lung full, filling them to capacity, finally allowing her to pant sounds of release, chest heaving quickly.


A low rumbling started somewhere in the centre of Logan’s chest, as he continued to ride her hard through her orgasm until his cum spilt forth and as it did, so did the raw sound that had been growing deep inside him; raw and beautifully abandoned. As soon as he’d finished filling her he let his hands slide off her sweat-silken hips; her lower body plonking back down to the springy mattress, bouncing a couple of times before coming to a rest. Still he said nothing, because he found he couldn’t. He’d thought it at this point of their unions before and he was sure he’d think it a million times again; she was just so...beautiful. Beautiful beyond compare...it was just making this all...so damn hard.


Ororo struggled to lean herself up on her elbows as Logan walked away from her, her brow creasing slightly, but knowing better than to bother trying to question him. She watched him carefully as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor as he departed the room, pulling them on as he went and then he was out of sight. Letting her back flop down onto the damp sheets, she flung her arms above her head and closed her heavy lidded eyes as she tried to stop herself from reading to much into his actions. All this, it was just...well she had no idea, but she knew enough not to expect anything more from him. Hell, she didn’t want anything more...or at least she thought she didn’t...her head was a mess. No-one had ever, EVER made her feel the way that this man did but she was growing increasingly uncertain as to whether that was a good thing or not.


She lay still; all she could hear were the sounds of her still slightly irregular breathing and the far off noise of Logan opening the fridge, a rattle and clank of bottles, the slam of the fridge door being shut, quickly followed by the hissing of a metal top popping off a beer to release gaseous liquid trapped inside. For a moment she thought about going to him but then thought that a rest might be better, as she removed her bra, tossing it to the floor, before crawling up the bed with exhausted, laboured movements; every ounce of her was tired beyond belief. So she edged herself beneath the sheets and promptly dropped into a well-deserved stupor.


*


When Ororo awoke, she turned over to face the window to see the light outside was a bluish-grey colour, that was rapidly fading into total blackness, so it must have been at least half four or five o’clock. The apartment was silent, no television buzzing, no music intruding on the peace; only the faint sound of sirens every so often, broke the state of play. She sat up, the cover falling from her breasts to rest on her lap as she gained her bearings; the periods of sleep that only lasted for an hour or two always seemed to be the ones that were the hardest shake yourself from and Ororo was experiencing that lethargy right now. In her half-sleep state, she reached back and pulled her long, thick hair into a pony tail high on her head, stretching her back as she did so, before letting it go; the white locks fanning over her dark, Venetian sculpted back like the feathers of a swan. The contrast in colour was startlingly beautiful in the mottled, faded light. Pushing the sheet from her naked body, Ororo swung her legs to the floor and lifting herself up from the bed, grabbed the nearest thing to her; a very baggy Toronto Maple Leaf ice hockey shirt. Pulling it on quickly, she went to look for her lover.


*


For some reason, Ororo found herself creeping across the living room, at pains to make any noise, as the atmosphere seemed to demand. Flicking her dark eyes around the room, nothing appeared to be out of sorts until she didn’t noticed that the door was open. THE door, the steel, grey door that she had no idea where it led to; the door that sat in a dark, avoided area of the living room, usually with a nest of tables in front of it and she’d never thought to ask about its function. Stepping towards it tentatively, Ororo laid her hand on its cold edge, swinging it minutely, as if to test it, looking up the concrete stairway that it led to. The distinctly cool breeze of the winter evening air hit her face, stirring her platinum hair and giving her a welcome invigoration. She looked up the open air steps suspiciously for a moment, unsure as to whether she should venture their unknown path, but curiosity got the better of her and she followed them despite her better judgement.


*


The breeze was truly bitter now that she was up on the roof, and for a second it had bothered Ororo, but when she had caught sight of him, the cold conditions where the furthest thing from her mind. Logan was stood in the middle of the barren roof top, jeans on, but no shoes, bare from the waist upwards, moving in slow, thoughtful motions. She didn’t know the exact name for it but she could tell that it was some of
Far Eastern exercise. His eyes were closed; his arms and legs gesticulating with measured movements, balance and constraint seemed to be of utmost importance. This was an absolute wonder to Ororo, never had she seen this man so relaxed and at one with himself, so much so that she found herself staring at him in amazement, not really paying much attention when she let the outside door fall shut unheeded, causing a resounding bang.


Logan span round, but never once showing surprise on his stern face, just annoyance at the intrusion. “What do’ya want?� He asked curtly. But then he happened to notice her attire, which was strangely alluring. Now he was thinking #Fuck, she looks gorgeous in that shirt! # hanging to her knees, falling loose about her stunning figure but clinging to every curve that mattered.


“I---I was just---I didn’t mean to intrude.� Ororo spluttered as she made a desperate grab for her wildly flaying hair, diverting her embarrassed gaze to the ground. For a moment none of them spoke; Logan continued to concentrate his dark and deeply penetrating eyes on her and she felt paralysed under their weight, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. “I’ll go, I didn’t---ARGuurmm...� Her initial startled gasp at seeing Logan practically leaping towards her was smothered by his hard kiss, an action that seemed to spring from nowhere and left her reeling. Ororo’s hands came up to his hair once they had found their feeling again, after hanging limply at her sides in shock as she began to return the kiss. And just as soon as the unexpected fiery passion had begun, it was over and Ororo found her self taking a few disorientated steps backwards; what the hell had just happened there?! But before she could get herself into any kind of coherent order, he’d scarpered back down the stairwell and into the apartment. It was becoming an increasingly annoying habit.


*


Logan didn’t know what the hell was going on with him; what was that all about? Shouting at her then grabbing her like some lust-starved fool. The fact-of-the-matter was that he didn’t know, every time he was near her, she sent him spinning. It was almost like her nervousness back there, the fact that she couldn’t even look him in the eye excited him. He couldn’t figure it out at all.


But as he pulled on a black sweater that had been laying idly over the back of the sofa his thoughts, for once, turned to other things. It was the Kowalski fight in a few hours and he hadn’t been preparing for it with the dedication and commitment that he should have. The distraction over the past few weeks had been welcome but very inconvenient; he really needed to win this bout, it was going to be a big earner. Roman Kowalski was one of the most infamous, ball-busting fighters on the bare-knuckle circuit. To beat him would be a real achievement and would mean that future stakes on him would go up, meaning more money would be bet, meaning more of a cut. It was a quarter past five, so he had four hours until he had to be down at the docks where the fight was to take place. Maybe he could go for a light run now, seen as his usual mode of preparation had been disrupted, then perhaps some weights to get the muscles lucid and the blood pumping.


“I’m sorry if I interrupted something Logan.� She was stood at the doorway with a regretful look on her face, her hands folded over one another like a guilty child. “It’s just,� She turned and waved a hand in the direction of the door, “it was open---and I didn’t know where it led to.�


“Look,� Logan began, suddenly feeling guilty for being so brash with her, “it doesn’t matter, ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong.� He disappeared into the bedroom, returning swiftly with a tatty rucksack with all his stuff for tonight already packed inside, not that he ever really needed much; he didn’t usually take anything at all.


“What’s that for?� Ororo asked quietly, from the chair that was next to the punch bag, her long legs folded up underneath her, fingering at the frayed hem of the polyester hockey shirt.


Logan glanced quickly at the bag that he’d just slung to the floor, next to the door in preparation for his departure and it dawned on him that he hadn’t told her about tonight. “I’m goin’ out.� And why should he?


“Where?� She inquired as she watched him go into the kitchen and raid the fridge for yet another beer, not expecting an answer. He came into the room, his head tipped back; gulping from the bottle, Adam’s apple shifting up and down in quick-time with each swallow and only coming up for air once half the contents had gone.


“Fight.� He mumbled with the bottle still close to his beer-wet lips, before he resumed drinking from the slim, brown piece of glass.


The short answer piqued Ororo’s interest greatly as she shifted forwards on the old chair, taking hold of the edge of the arm to do so. “Would you mind if I came along?� She asked hopefully.


Logan’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked at her over the edge of his almost finished beer, swallowing the last few dregs that consisted mainly of froth, before tossing the empty bottle into the metal waste-paper basket by the sofa, hitting it perfectly but sending into a perilous spinning motion as it threatened to topple over, though it was eventually saved by the steadying weight of the glass. “Yer jokin’, right?�


“No.� Ororo retorted, indignant at the implication that came with his words.


When Logan realised that she was indeed most serious about watching him fight, a much more real concern came over him and it shocked him that he felt this way; he really didn’t want her to see him fight and he REALLY didn’t want her to be mixing with the types of crowds that went to his fights. “Look, yer not comin’, ya wouldn’t like it O. K?�


Ororo slipped off the chair, truly annoyed by what she perceived to be patronising behaviour. “What do you think I am Logan, a girl scout?� She was right by him now and shoving her hands underneath his sweater, letting them run over his perfectly formed abs. “I think we both know that’s not the case.�


#Fuck!# He bellowed in his mind as he felt himself growing hard again. Wanting so much to tell her no, but her touch clouding his judgment, Logan conceded to this beguiling witch’s request. “Fine, come if ya want.� He grumbled, annoyed with himself for giving in so easily. “Dock 19, it starts at nine. I’ll mention ya to Calvin on the door.�


“Good.� She gazed up at him with a satisfied smile, at last she was getting her way with him and she felt that by watching him fight, it might help her understand him that bit more, help her work out the intriguing puzzle that was Logan. Because she felt she needed to know, any man that had ensnared her to the extent that this one had needed to be fathomed out and seeing him fight might just help her realise what made him tick. To hell with not wanting anything more from him, she knew now that she did...


-TBC-

(Toronto Maple Leaves, that is a team isn’t it? Feel free to tell me if I’ve royally fucked up there!)

Disclaimer: don’t own, don’t sue. This is all for fun.


Thanks once again for the great feedback and sorry it took so long to update, I’ve been trying to get my other stories finished, which with the exception of one I haven’t quite managed! To answer a question for a wonderful reviewer: Not English but Welsh. (British at the end of the day I suppose!) And to the reviewer who asked me to e-mail them when I updated, unfortunately your address didn’t come up on the review page, so if you send it to me at: Marikosan_7@hotmail.com, I’ll be more than happy to let you know when chapter five is up. Loads-a-luv, M’ikosan, xx


Chapter.4.


Dock 19, a rowdy crowd in a disused warehouse...


Ororo had gotten into the fight quite easily; Logan had, as promised, told the door security (Calvin turned out to be an impossibly large, bald Costa Rican man in a black bomber jacket, who was sweating profusely despite the time of year ) to expect her and she’d been let in with no fuss. And at this moment she was being chaperoned by a much slimmer man, through the crowds to the ‘dressing room’, which was nothing more than a broom cupboard in truth, at her request to see her lover before the fight began.


As Ororo entered the tiny room; that contained a backless bench no longer than five foot, a few over used coat hooks on the south wall and one truly horrid looking sink, whose taps never stopped dripping, Logan took his attention from wrapping his hands in off-white, gauze bandages for only a second, flashed her a none to convincing smile and then kept his attention on wrapping his hands.


“How’s it going?� She asked distractedly as she removed her coat and let her eyes rake longingly over his exposed upper body; the angle at which his back was leant against the breeze-block wall emphasizing his toned stomach to stunning effect.


“Fine.� He finished wrapping the last piece of gauze, bringing the small length of excess material up to his mouth and ripping it off with his sharp teeth. “You O.K bein’ here?� It didn’t sound too genuine but he really was concerned about her being here, these weren’t nice people that came to these events and there where other things he’d really rather she never see. But Ororo simply smiled down at him as she stepped closer, placing her bag down carefully on a short piece of ply wood that served as some kind of sideboard next to the brown-stained sink.


“Yes.� She laughed, still amused at his almost-but-not-quite chivalrous concern for her. Stood right in front of him with her legs quite far part, calves fantastically defined by the four inch heels she was sporting; Logan couldn’t help but admire the way the entirely inappropriate light cotton knee-length dress clung to her delicate hips but flared out as it ran down to caress her just above the knee and its sky blue colour was fantastically almost see-through. He just wanted to grab the hem and slip his hands up those long, silky legs, pushing the dress up in the process to expose her to him, because he could see that she was sans underwear due to the lack of a visible pantie line.


Ororo didn’t need to be a genius to tell what was running through his mind, the way those wonderfully dangerous eyes where undressing her, making her feel an excitement between her thighs that were still parted in a stance that screamed; I’m open and ready. “Careful Logan,� she began with mock warning, “You’re dangerously close to showing me some genuine affection.� Those words snapped his attention back up to her face, looking at her with his habitual scowl and it made her laugh as she stepped ever closer, hitching her dress up so that she could straddle his jean clad thighs with her bare ones. Enveloping her arms around his neck, Ororo thought a change in the topic might be in order. “So who’s this Fowalski guy you’re fighting?�


“Kowalski.� Logan corrected as his hands settled over the smooth curve of her rear, his eyes dropping down to her bosom, which was generously exposed by her plunging v-neckline.


“Kowalski, right. This man, I heard them saying he was tough.� She shifted forwards, placing herself on his growing erection; a gruff rumble, like distant, angry thunder catching in his throat. “The guy who brought me to you said he’s never lost a fight.�


“No, he hasn’t.� He gripped at her arse as she moved on his by now fully standing penis, but soon released his grasp when he remembered that he had to cool it, doing this just before a fight was never a good idea. Ororo got the message as she moved back a bit but she continued with her questions.


“So, what are your chances?�


“Depends what you mean.� He answered cryptically, “Do’ya mean my chances o’ winnin’, losin’ or endin’ up in a body bag?� He smiled wickedly at the horrified look that came across her face.


“Don’t say things like that.� She warned half seriously as she gave him a playful slap on the chest.


He laughed, “Hey, it’s a possibility ya know---this isn’t a game of musical fuckin’ bumps where playin’ here!�


“I know---just don’t say things like that O.K?� Now it was her turn to scowl, but with concern more than anything else.


“Hey, look! Now whose showin’ genuine affection!� His teasing earned him another good natured slap. Then she gripped his neck with a force that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but passion, taking her hot space back to his erection, moving her moist lips close to his.

“Do you enjoy it?� She asked out of the blue as she brushed her full, smooth mouth against his, but refrained from kissing him.


“Enjoy what?� His words breathy and full with want and desire, not concentrating on her question one jot.


“Fighting.� She moved her hips against him. The question and the action causing nothing more than a growl from him as his mind focused on the physical sensations that flooded his body. “Do you enjoy fighting?� she repeated, just as breathy as him; her sex throbbing against his upright penis.


Logan didn’t really think about his reply before he rasped the word, “Yes.� Bringing his hot mouth down onto her nipple that was straining through her cotton dress, rising to her sexual taunts without a second thought. Her head lulled back as he ravished her pert nub and then took a good part of her breast into his hungry mouth as she plunged her hands deep into his wiry hair, gripping at it fiercely. But she had to pull back.


“‘Ro?� he groaned disappointedly as he took his head back from her retreating body, only to be greeted with a mischievously smiling face looking up at him. She never took her sultry gaze from him as she slipped from his strong thighs, dropping between his parted legs, and immediately Logan knew what she wanted to do. Her slim, nimble fingers unbuttoned his flies, carefully pulling his already erect and rather large cock from his pants. He let his head lull back as he felt Ororo placing his hard dick into her warm, wet mouth. “Oh fuck...� He gasped with a shaky voice as he felt her mouth closing tightly around him; the tip touching at the back of her throat and then her head began to move in an up and down motion, sucking him with a thoughtful rhythm, as if she perfectly and cruelly aware of the ‘painful’ pleasure that she was dishing out. “Oh baby...oh fuck...’Ro...� Logan crooned as his hand gripped at the back of her hair, messing it up without a thought as he used his grasp to join her rhythm with increasingly forceful movements, making her suck him quicker and harder; almost pushing her onto him. Before long he was close, painfully fucking close to coming and that’s when Ororo pushed herself free, making him release his tight grasp on her thick, loose hair. Sitting back on her haunches, looking up at him, she was none too surprised at the expression of disappointment she saw on his face; disappointment and aborted ecstasy, small streams of sweat ran down his glistening forehead.


“You’ll get the rest when you’ve won the fight.� She promised him, staring directly and intently into his eyes; she was adamantly serious. It was a buzz to feel that she was the one in power now, a sexual buzz that she could definitely get used to.


A slanted grin crept onto his face, creating a cute dimple in his right cheek. This girl was evil, pure fucking evil, but he was more than willing to play along for now, fully aware that the torture played both ways and he couldn’t wait to administer his ‘revenge’.


*DING! DING! DING!* that was the bell to tell them that the fight was almost upon them. He stood up, without even a glance in Ororo’s direction, striding over to the door, placing his quickly fading erection back into his boxers and zipping himself up. She followed him with her eyes, calling out once he’d gotten to the door way, “Good luck!�


“I don’t need it.� Came his cocky reply from somewhere down the echoing hallway. Then the sound of the large, swinging double-doors that sat at the end far the corridor being pushed open reached her, letting the noise of a crowd in rapture, that had always been there in the distance, like a train trundling up rusty tracks burst into full bloom and then it was gone again as the doors slammed back shut.



* * *


“Woo-Hoo! Look at the hottie fellas!� The grotesque trucker-looking bloke hollered as Ororo tried to push her way past him and his gaggle of equally detestable drunk friends. A chorus of whooping and cat-calls went up as she forged ahead to get as close as she could to the ‘ring’ side, trying her best not to make eye contact with any of them, but it was no use.


“Hey honey,� piped up another one of the creatures, with a slurred Texan accent, “Why don’t you jus’ sit your tasty ass right down here with us, huh?� He made a grab for her arm, she managed to dodge the first attempt but that left her open to fall into the clutches of the scum that was stood behind her.


“Pretty little thing like you don’t wanna be in a place like this all alone sweetheart.� He pulled her close to his chest so that her back was pressed against him, his mouth close to the side of her face, making her nose wrinkle with the stench of rotten food caught between teeth and cheap liquor as his breath bore down on her.


“Get off me, you shit!� She wrenched herself free for a moment, only to be grabbed again, harder this time, his fingers pinching into her skin. Glancing around quickly; people were seeing what was going on, they were smack-bang in the middle of a thousand-strong crowd, but nobody seemed to give a flying fuck, much to her annoyance. So Ororo did the only thing a ‘vulnerable’ girl could do in these circumstances; she swung her stilettoed foot backwards, its spike catching the man straight in the left side of his ball-bag.


“FUCK!� He cupped his damaged manhood in his hands as he fell backwards into the group of men behind them; his sozzled companions falling about in fits of laughter at their friend’s misfortune. But the laughter didn’t last for long as the burly looking men he’d fallen upon didn’t take to kindly to it and began to lay into him, kicking him whilst he was still on the ground. A mini scuffle began between the two testosterone-high groups, but thankfully Ororo was already on her way by the time it all kicked off. So Logan hadn’t been exaggerating after all...unfortunately. By the time she had got close to the front, about three rows back, the fighters where just getting into the ring. She felt a bit better now as she took her seat; she didn’t like crowds at the best of times, especially not touchy-feely ones that eyed her with lascivious looks but she had been the one to ask to come here, so she couldn’t very well complain. Placing her coat across her lap, Ororo tried to get comfortable as butterflies churned up her stomach with excited anticipation; she’d never been to anything like this before and wasn’t sure of what to expect, she hadn’t really thought about it in any depth until now. With Logan’s teasing about ‘ending up in a body bag’ still running through her mind, she was rapidly beginning to wish she wasn’t here...and then Logan came across to her side of the ring; all thoughts of leaving fell from her head.


It was clear to Ororo that he hadn’t noticed her, but that was a good thing, the last thing she wanted was for him to be distracted. No, she was content to get the chance to admire him from afar, without reciprocation. Admire the sleek strength of his well defined form; he really was quite stunning, but she had more reason to appreciate that body than most. The things it did to her were almost...beyond measure.


*


The referee called the two men over for a quiet word before the match began; apparently there were no big announcements like with a traditional boxing match. The fighters banged fists, the referee stepped away, a bell rang and they were off. For the longest time they circled one another, waiting for the prime moment to make the first move, draw first blood. Roman Kowalski was at least half a foot taller than Logan and much broader, (with a face that looked like it had seen the wrong end of a good kicking a few too many times), what he lacked in pace and movement he was sure to make up for in power. Kowalski made a swift, short jab but Logan dogged it expertly, replying with the first punch of the fight to reach its target. With a dull, hard thud, Logan’s knuckles on his right hand smashed into his opponent’s cheek bone to the rapturous delight of the suddenly deafening, cheering crowd. But the larger, older man was quick to counter, with a smart upper cut, throwing Logan’s head backwards as a spray of red spurted from between quickly clenched teeth.


Ororo winced at the blow to her lover, feeling she may have seriously underestimated how much it would affect her to see him doing this but at the same time she couldn’t deny the peculiar feeling of...excitement? Especially when Logan bounced back from the shot, looking more determined and bloody-minded than ever. With at least four swift blows in succession, he had Kowalski rocking back on his leather-booted heals and for a spilt second it almost seemed he would fall, but he did not. The stocky man, with a thick layering of dark, dark hair on his chest stood fast before lunging back at Logan opponent. But he dodged the rather clumsy, lumbering attempt with a natural yet humble deftness, adding another blow to the side of Kowalski’s head for good measure.


It all fit somehow; the bloodlust, the supply of blood, cascading like so many tumultuous rivers; the fierce roar of a male crowd, stunted and impotent with their own repressed rage, the sweat slicked thuds of every punch pulled, the small sounds being carried on the backs of the shouting men, amplified into the cathedralesque lofty ceiling of the dock hanger. It was monstrous in all truth, truly monstrous. But Ororo couldn’t help feeling under her most certain disgust at what was transpiring, the flow of something that incited a guilty pleasure somewhere inside, burning through her very blood...


Another hit and another; the forceful punches were exchanged freely between the men, each one causing yet another welt, another instantaneous bruise, another hideous gash that bled eagerly. Logan was suffering from several by now, a gaping cut above his left eye that let the blood stem freely downwards, filling that eye, forcing him to keep it closed for now and staining his cheek, as well as several smaller ones about his torso. The bruises too, mapped across his glistening skin like tiny purple and red veined islands. But he was certainly giving as good as he got, more so in fact as Roman Kowalski’s body was similarly marked but the patterns of damaged where much more dense. After only four minutes of fighting, it was obvious that at the level at which they were inflicting the injuries that this was not going to be a long one...


The referee called a brief stop to the proceedings, he didn’t have to if didn’t want to, it wasn’t as if this was legitimate boxing, the normal rules did not apply, save for eye gouging, which was an unspoken no-no. The small man struggled to pull the pair apart as they fell into a half tussle, half supportive hug and Ororo felt the relief flood to every part of her when he eventually managed to; she hadn’t realised how rigidly she’d been holding her back straight until it curved forwards slightly and relaxed. She hoped this would all end quickly, she really did...but there was something about it...


No sooner had each man sat in their respective corners than they were called back again, to start the fray once more, in what would surely be the ultimate round, despite it only being the second.


“O.K boys, LETS GET IT ON!� The ref released their hands again and four quick punches followed. They may have been swift but all packed a power that the people who were voyeuristically watching could only imagine in their worst nightmares. A right hook, a left hook, and not one but two viciously hard upper cuts; one of them would have been enough to make anyone fall to the canvas, so that Logan managed to take all four before he succumbed was nothing short of a minor miracle.


Ororo had to stop herself from calling out to him by roughly biting her lower lip as she watched him fall, hitting the rough calico surface of the ring like a ton of bricks, making the sound of a wet smack. He didn’t move for a moment and the crowd jeered with the ungrateful glee of witnessing someone else’s downfall. Kowalski also seemed certain in his victory, peering down at the back of his fallen opponent, with a look of triumph. But it wasn’t as smug as one would expect it to be, he was still cautious; he’d been in to many of these fights to take anything for granted. And his caution turned out to be correctly judged.


Logan moved, the slight shift not being missed by the crowds concentrating eye, whose need for more violence clearly outweighed their lust to see defeat...for the time being. Pushing himself up by his balled fists, Logan shook the cloudiness from his head, the sudden movement unleashing a river of blood from the newly reopened cut above his eye, creating a sizable pool on the canvas in a matter of seconds. He spat onto the ground and that was filled with more blood than saliva. Ororo couldn’t get a good view at first; the berk in front of her, who had all the fashion sense of an office clerk on his day off, having jumped up in his frenzy, blocking Logan from her sight. But moving to the left a little, she could see perfectly now---but what she saw frightened her. The Logan that was raising slowly back to his feet was not the one she recognised; she felt a kind of fear when she looked at him now; a fear of what he could do, of what this man was capable of....


Logan may have been slow to come back up off the floor, but he was certainly not once he was up there. Punch after wild punch was swung at Kowalski, brutal and unrelenting. Even over the bustling crowd’s renewed vocal rigour, Logan’s animalistic snarls were apparent as he pummelled Roman like a man possessed; not letting up until he’d backed him all the way into the far left-hand corner. Once Kowalski had reached the point so far back that he could go no further, all he could do was desperately hold his forearms up, bent at the elbow, to try and cover his body and face as best he could. But too little avail as Logan’s unstoppable punches found their way in, connecting so hard the whole room could almost hear every bone crack as the fractures were inflicted. Ororo watched as Roman Kowalski slump, a bloodied mess to the floor, hanging haphazardly on the ropes like a side of beef strung up in a butcher’s window. But still Logan didn’t stop...it was like he couldn’t...


*


*DING, DING, DING, DING, DING...* The usually piercing sound of the frantically ringing bell was muffled to Logan’s ears, fighting for prominence over the raging sound of rushing blood. The rage that had gripped him like wildfire began to melt away and it was only then that he became conscious of being restrained by at least two men, pulling him off Roman Kowalski, trying to pin his arms behind him. He became aware of one of them, he wasn’t sure which, repeating the word; “...easy, easy, easy now, easy...� in some kind of attempt to placate him.


Finally he did calm down, breaking free of the hold that the referee and some random fight organiser, who’d stepped in to help, had on him. They hovered near Logan for a moment, wary of a renewed attack, but when he simply walked away from the half-conscious, blood-gurgling Kowalski, they stepped back too. Then, two men climbed into the ring, grabbed him underneath his huge arms and hoisted the large man over their shoulders, taking him back through the parted ropes quickly.


Logan didn’t watch the half dead man being taken away, he still felt a little dazed---it was not often that he went crazy like that and now he was berating himself for having done it tonight of all nights, when she was here. This was the thing he’d dreaded the most about her being here, he knew when he fought tough opponents, he was apt to give in to the fury that bubble beneath the surface almost constantly. The last thing he wanted was for Ororo to see that, she was beginning to mean far too much to him. Trying to block out the shrill sound of the referee enthusiastically announcing his victory and the sanguinary cheers of the crowds, Logan lent on the ropes and quickly scanned for Ororo, he couldn’t see her anywhere and it wasn’t as if she was going to be too difficult to spot in a crowd like this. Then he spied the empty chair near the front.


* * *


Ororo stood in the tiny room, wondering if she were doing the right thing. Maybe she should have headed for the nearest exit. But she stayed and she couldn’t for the life of her work out why. What had happened back there? She wasn’t naive, she’d known what to expect, she’d seen her fair share of street fights, hell, she’d even been involved in few back in Cairo but what she saw in that ring had been different. Ororo may not have known Logan for very long, but for all his surly bravado, she would never have suspected that he could be...like that...The doors at the far end of the corridor clattered open and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway outside and Ororo felt something spring up in her stomach, a strange tingling mingled with a fearful anticipation. Soft lips parted just a little and her eyes were wide and shone like polished precious stone. Her hand absently stole up to her chest, her thumb and index finger clasping lightly at the base of her neck as she stared at the door, the speeding beat of her pulse hammering her palm. The feeling in her stomach leapt up into her chest, crawling up her throat; an uneasy exhilaration filling her mouth with an odd taste. The door began to open and she swallowed down hard, trying to extinguish it.


Logan came in, still dressed in blood stained jeans, with a once-white towel, now nearly all blotchy red and pink, slunk over his bear shoulders. His hair was slicked back as much as it could be, still the two unruly points won out at the back, mirroring the wolf’s ears of his tattoo. He looked over at Ororo; his cut and bruised face a mask, locking with her glittering eyes until she averted them, turning from him altogether. Logan suppressed a sigh; he’d tried to warn her but she wouldn’t listen. He watched as she fiddled idly with something, pretending to gather her things together, though in truth she only really had her bag with her. Walking over, he stood at her back, but didn’t touch---not a sound passing between them, the only noise in the room was the synthetic buzz of the fluorescent strip light above and the dripping tap in the corner.


After an age, in the still, artificial silence, Logan asked in a quiet and strangely neutral voice, “‘You alright, darlin’?� He could have kicked himself; he hadn’t meant to sound so cold.


Ororo took her teeth from her bottom lip, an awful habit she was developing of late, placing the tip of her tongue on it lightly and briefly instead. She slowly turned her head in order to look over her shoulder at him, a large bang of white falling down to block her face. A sharp breath whistled into her mouth as Logan brought his hand up moved the thick lock out of the way, tucking behind her ear. As he did so, running his hand down behind her ear, he let his finger trail down her jaw line until it came to her chin. Once there, he clasped its small curve, turning her head upwards and with it drawing her round to face him.


“Darlin’?� he questioned, when after mere seconds she averted her eyes once more, looking anywhere but at him.


Ororo didn’t answer him; she simply closed her eyes, her beautiful mouth still semi open, letting out light but increasing breaths. She couldn’t believe this, but the closeness of him, his body heat, even after all she’d seen him do, caused the familiar pounding heat between her legs. All the mock feelings of danger she had been turned on by previously had, in fact, come true on this night but still, she wanted him more than anything, much against her better judgement. But she couldn’t stop herself, her body just wouldn’t let her and worst of all, by now, Logan could see it too. Their natural chemistry was unlike anything either of them had experienced before. His touch, that had been supremely hesitant at first, suddenly became more confidant and firm. The hand that had held Ororo’s chin lightly moved round, over her silky jaw once more to grasp at her hair and curve round the base of her skull, tenderly though, not at all as aggressively as it would have done in the past. His other hand clutched at her hip, pulling her towards his groin, so that she instantly pressed up against his quickly found erection. Her head jerked back compulsively as if in the exaggerated throws of ecstasy, pulling in that harsh breath of pleasure. All this was in response to his hand fumbling up her body from her hip to grip possessively at her breast until she parted her legs to let him come further into her space. Linking her hands in a tight grasp at the back of his neck, Ororo pushed her body into his as Logan bore down on her neck, pulling it to him with the hand at the back of her head. Dry, cut lips grazed over her skin, his breath lustful and hot as his erection pressed ever harder to her through her thin cotton dress. He didn’t kiss the chocolate skin; merely let his lips glide over her neck, up its elegant length, over the graceful curve of her chin and up to her mouth as her head came forwards again.


Letting out a shuddering sigh, the wistful sound was stifled as Logan kissed her, softly at first and then harder as he lost himself in her, until he found himself not only kissing but biting at her lips passionately. Ororo did reciprocate, enjoying the ferocity of it all but she quickly remembered herself, bringing her hands down to push against his shoulders and breaking from their clinch. But Logan wouldn’t allow her completely; holding her to him at the waste. Forcing her to hold his hazel gaze he asked, “What’s the matter?�


Ororo couldn’t bring herself to break the firm hold his eyes had on her but nor could she say anything because she didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t know how she felt. The fear was still there to an extent but her lust for him was overriding it, taking over any reasonable facility, but why should she be surprised by that? It was, after all, the pattern of their relationship so far.


“‘Ro, I warned you.� He looked at her darkly, his brow creased. “I told ya, you probably wouldn’t like what ya saw.� Studying her face for a reaction, he was met with uncertainty.


Placing her hand’s that had previously pushed, gently over his shoulders, so that the bloody towel that had nestled there fell to the ground, Ororo bore a look of consideration, her eyes down until the dark orbs flipped up suddenly to meet his steadily at last. “I know what you told me Logan, and at first it did not bother me---well, I admit, it did a little, but---.� She looked down again and she’d taken to biting her lip almost coyly, but as soon as she realised what she was doing she stopped. Only he could make her this nervous and that fact bothered her too.


“But what?� He reached up to under her chin and tipped her head, moving his face closer to hers.


“I didn’t recognise you Logan.� She told him earnestly, with a certain amount of bewilderment. Letting out a short, incredulous laugh, she added, “What was going on with you out there, I’ve never seen you like---.�


“Like what?� He countered quickly before she even had chance to finish the sentence.


“Like---.�


He cut in again. “You don’t even know me all that well darlin’, who are you to judge?� The moment he’d said the words, he regretted them. Defensiveness was just his way.


Ororo was about to make an indignant retort until she considered the truth of his words. Logan was right; she didn’t know him well at all really and to ever think she did had been folly. “No, I don’t, you’re right---so why don’t you tell me?�


“What?�


“Why you do it?�


“What? Fighting?---The same reason your a street thief I suppose.� He snapped. “Because it’s the one thing I’m good at.� As soon as he finished, Ororo got free of him, prying his arms from off of her body and heading for the door, but he caught her left arm and spun her back round. “What’s the matter darlin’, don’t like to hear the truth?�


Resisting the suddenly overwhelming urge to slap him, she spat back, “It’s got nothing to do with that, I don’t care that you’re a fighter---what bothers me is that you don’t seem too able to control yourself when you do it for goddess sake!�


Logan would have questioned her use of the word ‘goddess’, a term he’d never heard her use before, but that was the furthest concern from his mind right now. He didn’t know how to answer her because he couldn’t explain to her what had happened in the fight; he couldn’t even rationalise it to himself. “I told you,� he repeated, bereft of an alternative answer, “...you wouldn’t like what you saw.� His paused as his jaw tightened “So don’t pretend you expected to see anything else.� Nothing happened for a while then, each lost for words, too proud to give way. So naturally, there was only one thing for it; he yanked her to him and they picked up where they had left off.


Logan’s hands stole up to grab at her hair as they kissed in fervour as Ororo grasped at his shoulders once again, lost in the passion of it. His hard-on was still very much present as he backed her towards the door, and once she was pressed to it he lifted up the hem of her dress until it was rested about her hips. Hoisting her long thighs over his hips so that she instinctively clutched her lower legs around his waste, he used her self leverage to free his hands so that he could unzip his fly and quickly release his penis. Her weight pressed firmly against the door, balanced between him and it, he held one hand at her waste as the other held his cock steady as he guided it in.


Ororo gasped as his dick penetrated her, no matter how many times he’d entered her; it was still as source of pleasant surprise. He began to rut roughly, her already slick opening allowing him thorough access; there was no need to tease or cajole. She let out a series of uniform moans as he fucked her, the general sound of any woman in mildly arousing sex. Logan didn’t miss it; she was feeling pleasure that was certain, but it was circumspect. They’d slept together enough times for him to realise when she was truly enjoying herself or not, he had the funny feeling that she was holding back right now. So, catching a firm grip around her pert buttocks as her legs remained tightly wrapped about him, he took her from the door, carrying her over to the bench that was fixed to the breeze block wall. Withdrawing from her as she relinquished her grip with her legs, Logan quickly flipped her over, forcing her to hold tightly onto the slats of the bench as he positioned himself behind her.


Ororo gasped when she felt Logan’s finger teasing her clitoris, working her open again for him. Thus far, this seemed to be his favourite position with her. Inserting two more fingers, he continued to manipulate her sex ever roughly, until she gave a ragged gasp that sounded more like a cry of agony than gratification.


“You O.K darlin’?� he was courteous enough to ask as he removed his fingers and instead pushed his cock in and entered her ruthlessly. When she only made a slight noise in response he took it in lieu of an actual answer and began to pump rhythmically in and out of her, holding fast to her smooth hips. Ororo enjoyed this position as much Logan now, the sensation not only exciting her physically but the feeling of power he had over her making it an even more potent aphrodisiac. She tried to put the memory of his earlier brutishness out of her mind as he fucked her from behind, losing herself in it, giving herself to the orgasm that was building in her...



“Argh, argh, argh...� Ororo let out with the same rhythmic precession that he was pumping his sizable dick into her. The sounds of her rising peek of pleasure being matched only by Logan’s grunts, his fingers digging into her hip as he hit her harder and harder and harder...


She seized the length of thin wood, gripping it fervently as he rammed himself into her with more and more pace. “Argh, Logan.....ah, ah, ah, harder! Har---har--- Harder!� It was as if he had to hit the point when the satisfying pain was no longer digestible before she could climax. But without warning, Logan withdrew again, turning her around as he placed her on the floor, its tiles cold and hard against her back. Reaching up, he pulled her dress down from her breasts, ripping the straps without a care. As he took one breast in his eager mouth he plunged his cock into her, fucking her with a bestial, rolling stroke. Ororo pulled at his hair as he screwed her vigorously, the clammy wetness of the sweat bleeding into her fingers.


“Ah-huh, ah....yes Logan......please, ah, ah......harder, yes, yes, yes, yes arghhhhhhh!� As she came she clenched her legs tight, keeping him deep inside her; Logan’s own climax being born from a snarling sound emitted through clenched teeth; the final few thrusts hitting home hard as he grasped at her thighs.


Ororo made the sound of a final orgasm as he finished; spending himself inside her with pants of exhaustion, panting harshly into her ear. They held onto each other, the heat between them like a furnace, moisture melding the hot bodies together. As their breathing slowed, eventually Logan took his head from her shoulder, moving his face above her; the pair stared into each others eyes. An unspoken communication passed from rich brown orbs to hazel dashed with green ones. But, just as he went to take his mouth down to her soft, moist lips, she turned her head to the side.


A solitary tear slipped down Ororo’s face, spilling onto the cold, tiled floor, her white hair splayed underneath and above her like a sea nymph as she focused on the banal sight of the light coming through the gap at the bottom of the door and listened to the cloaked sound of men screaming with bloodlust at the next fight that was transpiring just up the hall.


-TBC-

Disclaimer: Don’t own don’t sue


Thank-you to my reviewers.


Chapter.5.


“What’s that...?� Ororo whispered absently to herself as she sat up on the bed, spying a silver chain hanging out the side of an over-stuffed chest-of-draws. Its chunky rounded links caught and reflected the light of the bare bulb that shone its raw, stark one hundred watt glare, emphasising the sparseness of the room. She’d lain in here, on Logan’s bed, whilst he sat in the living room, for close to two hours now, such were the relations between the pair of late. Things, like the weather outside, had turned distinctly frosty between Ororo and Logan. She was no longer as eager to go over to his place to see him, staying away for two or three days at a time on occasion. Two weeks had passed since the fight and all was not well. But it was not for the reason he suspected. The---situation--- had changed on that night, and she wasn’t sure she liked where they were headed.


But she was here tonight; though she saw little point in the endeavour at the moment. Slipping off the edge of the bed, Ororo padded over to the draws, pulling at the exposed chain. The metal was cold in her warm hand and made an ungainly racket as it dragged against the chipped and splintered edges of the old, pine draw. Eventually, it was out and Ororo held its ‘crown jewel’ up in front of her; dangling it before her eye line like it were an object of infinite fascination. Lowering the small, oblong plates into her cupped palm, she studied the inscription on their back. Embossed into the thin, pale metal was the word ‘WOLVERINE’ and a serial number underneath: 78631542. Ororo then held them up in the light, for there were two of them, absolutely identical in execution. She recognised what they were; nobody who’d been exposed to the long arm of American cinema could have failed to realise that they were military identification tags. And the name, ‘Wolverine’; it came back to her now that when she’d forced her way through the crowds of sweaty and inexplicably irate men at the fight last week in order to get to the dressing room, in the mire of shouts and screaming male voices she’d heard that word several times. Although she had not been concentrating and paid its mention no particular attention at the time. Now it caused a definite, if a little baffled, curiosity. Running her finger over the raised word like brail, she wondered about their origin.



The couple’s emotional alienation from one another had become compounded ever since the fight and maybe, she thought to herself, just maybe this was a way to bridge the gap. At least it would be something of a conversation stimulator as their verbal exchanges had become even fewer and further between than they were before. But at times, over the past week, Ororo was thankful for that. She could barely stand to acknowledge the thoughts that were running through her head to herself, never mind making Logan privy to them.


But she had decided; she would take the ‘dog tags’ now and ask him about them. He could go crazy on her or he could fob her off in his usual unbecoming manner and say nothing at all. Anything was better than the static state they found themselves in right now. And so, Ororo strode over to the door, with the tags clutched tightly in her hand and went into the lounge.


* * *


Logan looked down at the object that Ororo had just dumped in his lap, tinkling as it fell until it hit his jeans with a blunt thud. Bending forwards he rested the bottle of beer he’d been drinking from, by his feet and when he lent back again into the high backed chair, he picked up the tags. He studied them, almost as intently as Ororo had; almost as if he’d never seen them before. Then in one swift movement he swung the metal plates and chain upwards so as to clutch them into his fist, shifted forwards and rammed them in the back pocket of his trousers. Scooping up his recently deposited Carlsberg, he took a long swig from the cold, wet green glass bottle, blanking her completely.


It was a straw, not quite the last but certainly close. Ororo had always been known to those who were close to her, back in Africa as understanding, but this was almost too much. This...relationship was unlike anything she’d ever had before and it was beginning to take its toll.


For a moment, she tried to think of something to say but then it came to her---what was the point? And if she stayed here a minute longer she might say something she regretted. So, without a word, she picked up her bag and then grabbed her coat that was hanging over the chair that was tucked underneath the dinner table. Then she left, letting the door slam shut behind her.


*


After Ororo had gone, Logan looked over at the front door and it pained him on the inside even if it didn’t on the outside. Finishing off the last of his beer, he stood and headed for the kitchen to get another. But on his way there he stopped at the window as something scratched at his left arm. The dried and dead leaf of the geranium had caught his arm as he passed it. He looked at it now; its pitifully shrivelled leaves and once brightly coloured flower heads, their once proud stance nothing more than ‘burnt offerings’, littering the dry soil of the plant pot beneath.


Moving past it, Logan carried on into the kitchen.




* * *


Three weeks later...



A high pitched whistle pierced the relative quiet of the candle-lit squat, startling Ororo from her almost meditative state. The rumbling sound of the old-fashioned tin kettle coming to a boil over the camper-style gas stove filled the dingy room until she’d taken it off its elevated stand with a dish cloth to protect her hand. Setting the steaming hot pot of water down on the low table next door to it, Ororo kneeled down in front of it, picking up the kettle once more, again with the dish cloth in hand and poured the scorching liquid into the old and chipped-about-the-edges cup beneath; the water infusing with the dried tea leaves, instantly turning it’s pure clarity a dark terracotta colour. The cloudy bellows of the steam rose up into Ororo’s face, making her close her eyes. But far from being a cause of discomfort to her, moreover they warmed her up, cutting through the frost-bitten night. With a few quick stirs and disposing of the thin paper bag, the tea was done; clasping the hot cup in both fingerless gloved hands, she shuffled over to the chair near the fire place. Curling up on it, pulling her thick duffle coat tightly around her, Ororo gazed into the small, dancing flames of the fire whilst she blew lightly over the edge of her cup before taking a tiny sip.


This was the third week in a row that she’d sat in this small, dank room alone. But she wasn’t alone really, for she was never alone in her thoughts, she was never away from him in her mind. He was just...there. As one is always with oneself, Logan, it seemed, was always with Ororo. And it wasn’t that she resented this fact, it was more that she was uncomfortable with the idea of such a man having a potent hold over her. In all of her life, Ororo Munroe had never, EVER depended on anyone. But there was an attachment here...a definite attachment that she could not shake. It had become deeper than what one would normally term love. There was something much more...unsettling about it than that. For what she feared from the events of the night of the fight was not Logan and his capacity for violence---his seemingly uncontrolled capacity---but her reaction to it. It had repulsed her yes, his unrelenting attack on his opponent, but something had made her go to the ‘dressing room’, something had made her stay there when he came in, something had made her fuck him...she did not have to. It was not simply love, for she did love him she now realised, but it wasn’t the kind of love one was led by Disney, through their saccharine perceptions, to believe was the acceptable mode of love. Ororo was a powerful woman, but Logan was equally as powerful. She had willingly submitted to him, and the shame of that had made her feel a certain kind of guilt and caused her to flee from him, by gradual---little steps. If she had not been aware of it before, the events after the fight had shown her this in the clearest of lights. But she did still love him, she really did...but still, to simply call it by that overused four letter word would be to belittle its strength.


Suddenly there were three thunderous knocks at the door, but Ororo remained were she was, sipping carefully at her tea. It was advisable never to open your door to anyone when your abode was an illegal squat---the result when one did invariably led to trouble. So she sat, and she stared into the dying flames in the old, cast iron set fireplace; it’s dancing orange lights flaying greedily for the oxygen that would sustain further life. Then the three thunderous knocks came again but this time accompanied by a familiar voice.


“‘Ro?�


The cup stopped halfway up to Ororo’s lips as her heart leapt into her mouth. How’d he found her? She’d never told him were she lived.


“‘Ro?� Logan’s muffled voice came again but this time he tested the doorknob as well. Ororo stared at the dull brass ball as it twisted this way and that a few times. The door did not budge and so he called out again. “‘Ro, I know yer in there, so just open up.� Still, she remained were she was, only moving forwards to set her cup onto the hearth. Then, she receded back onto her chair, pulling her legs into her. The banging on the door resumed, with more force this time as he bellowed, “I’m not movin’ darlin’, until you open this door and talk to me!� This continued for a few minutes more; intermittent shouting and pounding on the door. It was fortunate that she had no neighbours. When it seemed he would continue all night unless she let him in, Ororo relented, slipping off her chair and taking down the blank of wood that, resting on two nails either side of the door, served as her lock. She said nothing to him as she opened the door, turning around and immediately heading back to curl up on her chair.


Logan stood on the threshold, suddenly unsure as to whether he wanted to enter or not. But eventually, he did. Meandering into the small room, eyeing the place almost critically. Ororo caught the look and Logan abandoned it quickly. His place wasn’t exactly a palace. But to be fair, this was significantly worse. It was getting dark outside and the windows of the squat were partially boarded to keep out the drafts so that the only light was coming from the fire. He stood more or less in the centre of the room, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. After all the shouting, he was suddenly at a loss at what to do or say next. Until Ororo solved the problem for him.


“How did you find me?� She interned quietly, looking at the fire and not him.


A slightly furtive guilt suddenly came over Logan when he realised that he’d have to admit that he’d followed her for most of the day to ascertain her location. At first he shrugged, one of those inexplicable knee jerk reactions to ‘being found out’, before saying, with an unerring unapologetic tone, “I followed you.�



“You...followed me.� She echoed his words as she looked up at him, at once unnerved and stirred by the predatory actions those words implied. But she had not the heart to contest him on the matter, simply turning from him once more. Then she abruptly stood up, snatching a lighter from the mantle piece as she went and proceeded to light the dozen or so candles that were strewn about the room, shedding at least a little more light on the subject. Whilst she went about this, Logan pulled out a stool and sat down. Delving into his pocket he pulled out a cigar and his Zippo, lighting up.


Ororo went back over to the fireplace but preferred to stand this time around as she cut through the thickness of the cold silence that was starting to prevail, “So, are you going to ask me?�


“Ask you what?�


Ororo was only too perfectly aware of the game they were entering. “Ask me why I have stayed away.� But she entered it none-the-less.


He shrugged again, inhaling deeply on his thick cigar, and in a wafting cloud of smoke replied, “O.K, so why’d you stay away?�


And like most situations in the game of honesty, Ororo found herself stumped at the first post, unable to provide him with an answer, despite initiating the scenario. She stood in silence, acutely aware of Logan’s intense gaze being fixed on her as he chuffed away on his stogie. “It---I can not---It isn’t simple enough to---“


“To what?�


“To---to---to explain, after the fight, I---.�


“You what?� Logan blurted as he stood from his stool, taking the cigar from the corner of his mouth and nestling it between two fingers, the defensiveness kicking in again. The fact that she hadn’t fled from him immediately after the fight had indicated to him that maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d feared they’d be. And then, after the incident with the dog tags, she’d disappeared from his life. But she really did have no idea how he had felt since that night and the awkward weeks since. He’d felt like the vilest creature alive. An animal, in fact. Not being one to have ever been proud of the violent tendencies he exhibited in the ring, her shirking of him had not made it any easier to deal with. The natural conclusion he had come to was that that was the reason she was being so distant with him. And to lose her now, it was just...unthinkable. But he could only take so much. So if she were to end it, he’d rather cut his losses right now than cling on desperately, his damnable pride gave him that particular instinct. But he needed to be certain; he needed to be really sure that she wanted to end things. That was why he’d come here tonight, to make it clear one way or another.


Ororo shook her head slightly, a mild look of bewilderment on her face. “You have no idea, do you?� He didn’t answer. “This whole---whatever it is we’ve been doing---the fact that I have not been to see you, it did not really have anything to do with the fight, I just can not---.� She turned from him, inhaling deeply with her frustration at not being able to explain or articulate her confused feelings. Closing her eyes, she tensed as she sensed him coming close to her; instantly desperate for his touch and apprehensive of the further confusion it would occasion. So, she adopted a pre-emptive reaction, at once heading of the situation and changing the course of the conversation. As he came up to the side of her she reached to him and plunged her hand under the crew cut T-shirt he was wearing and grasped at the dog tags that for a reason known only to him, he’d chosen to where tonight. Ororo had noticed their distinctive chain peaking out from beneath the crew-cut collar the moment he’d come in. “These for instance,� she launched into her distractive argument, “you said that I did not really know you---then why not tell me?!� Releasing the tags from the clenched fist she’d made around them, she brought them up to his eye level in proof of her accusation. If only she’d done that when she’d first confronted him with them. All this may have been avoided or at least confronted sooner, so not as to prolong the hurt and agonising for both parties. But lovers can never be so practical.


Logan snatched the flat, metalic panels from Ororo’s grasp, “These ain’t got nothing to do with what’s going on between us.� He muttered as he stuffed them back underneath the collar of his T-shirt.


“But don’t you see Logan, it has---I never know where I stand with you.� She stated quietly. At that he made a face and went back over to the stool. “At times---at times I get a glimpse into you that is so...different from the way you are most of the time.�


Logan wanted to say he felt the same, that he too felt like he was on the outside looking in at her but he was never one for grand emotional proclamations, the whole situation only served to make him uncomfortable and caused him to clam up even more. But maybe that was just something he’d have to learn to change. He looked up at her now, the platinum of her hair shone like strands of silver in the gentle orange of the flames, creating a glowing outline. It was times like these that caught him off guard and suddenly Ororo wasn’t someone he’d just been sleeping with, but she was now a being with an unearthly beauty, something that simply took his breath away. And he felt a retched fool for thinking he could ever possess such a thing. But all it would take would be for her to say those words, to say that she wanted him and he would be hers completely. Everything would be different.


Ororo crossed the room and kneeled down at the side of him, her hands clasped over one another, resting comfortably on his thigh. She looked up at him as he stared straight ahead, but she’d stay were she was until he faced her. Eventually, he did and then all she needed was some encouragement from him, some sign that her love was not being wasted, that he did feel more for her than the passionate sexual desire that had dragged them into each others lives. “Logan...� She whispered as he brought his hand up the her face, at first running one outstretched finger down her cheek, turning it so it slipped across her full, soft bottom lip. He could feel the warm, light gust of her sweet breath that sighed through her barely parted lips, caressing his finger as it trailed across them. A sound almost like a whimper escaped her mouth as she closed her doe-brown eyes.


“Maybe yer right darlin’.� He said so softly she almost didn’t catch it.


“Right about what?� She replied, enjoying the feel of his light and gentle touch, something she hadn’t felt enough of.


“You were right to stay away from me.�


“Logan, I’ve told you, it wasn’t about the fight...well not in the way you think.�


“What does that mean?�


“It doesn’t matter.� She replied; her voice being little more than a noise on a breeze.


“Ororo?� He nudged her chin up and their eyes met; holding their communion for the longest time. And at that moment, gazing into her soul almost, he just had to say it, the words that boiled inside of him like a latent volcano, apt to erupt at any moment, he simply had to... “Sometimes, at night, when you’re with me, I lie at yer side and watch you sleep.� He paused, looking down at his own finger as the rough digit traced its intimate pattern back along the dipping curve of her bottom lip, “...just watching...and it frightens me how much I want you.� Taking his hand away, Logan turned his face from her, not wanting to see her reaction to his declaration.


Ororo was left reeling as he got up from the stool, almost tipping it over in the process before striding to the door and left, without hesitation or a glance behind him.



~TBC~

Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


Thank-you to my reviewers once again.


Chapter.6.



A month had passed, if not more...



The sun shone brightly but it was moreover stark than the warming beams of a late, hazy summer. Its cutting rays only served to compound the crispness of the cold air. The clear-cut flawless blue skies expanded over a Manhattan that gloried in the clean air feel of late March. Ones breath created jets of steam so that the crowded, bustling streets looked more akin to the smoky skyline of an industrial-period London for all the white vapour. But there was something most satisfying in that. It was invigorating; everything was pure and cool and with the first few buds of green appearing on the empty branches of the trees that lined the pavements of the concrete structures, it felt as if new life were abound and the city, like all Metropolises in the Northern Hemisphere, was thankful to be approaching warmer times. Winter always seems that much more drab in those parts than in the countryside, where at least something of its beauty can be appreciated.


But as Ororo gazed up into the skies, shielding and squinting her big, almond eyes into small slits in order to ward off the worst of the sun’s glare, she hankered for the sun that she had known in Cairo. Indubitably, it was the same warming orb, but to one used to Saharan temperatures and more, it was a pale substitute. Although, having said that, she had developed something of a predilection for the cooler climate and this present melancholy had more to do with homesickness and loneliness perhaps, rather than feeling that she was out of place here or out of synch with Winter. She huddled now, on a bench at the edge of Central Park. Sitting with her hands tucked alternately into each sleeve of her thick, black duffle coat, like some kind of makeshift muff, she observed the passers by, assessing which would be ripe for the picking. All the while trying to keep any word that started with a capital L, or any which may have ventured into the further tricky minefield of Lo---whether it be the four letter or five letter variation as either word was just as troubling---from the front of her mind. Not only was this current pursuit necessary to her survival but also a welcome distraction. She hadn’t had too much luck in it lately in all truth, and she feared that she may have been loosing the knack. But the last two runs had been fairly fruitful and so her confidence in her almost instinctive ability to steal (an instinct born of living in a constant environment of a struggle to survive), had returned. So now she sat and at a chance, her next target passed the bench, completely oblivious.


Ororo waited for what seemed to her a fairly long time, but was only around twenty seconds before she started her move. Her keen eyes focused, as they always did, on her target; the fawn coloured fleece worn by the early thirty-something, trend seeking yuppie with the fashionably spiked hair, cross-the-shoulder-and-chest-bag, expensive mobile and wallet no doubt placed somewhere entirely inappropriate. Heading towards him, she quickened her pace; intending a swift ‘search and lift’ operation. And, indeed so it took place. She brushed past him with the minimum of fuss; all the time keeping her eye on those around her, or moreover those in front and to he sides, as well as her immediate target, although that may have proved to be her most prudent mistake. Her nimble hand delved undetected into the back of his insecure satchel and sure enough, a hefty brown leather wallet was all at once procured and stowed safely in her cavernous front pocket, as they are apt to be on duffel coats. Or so she thought...Ororo had only made it a few yards down the road from her victim, a small increase in step being sufficient, when she felt a strong hand grip her upper arm and pull her to a most definite stop.


If it had been Mr-thirty-something-yuppie, then no qualms; she had to give it to him that he was not nearly as gullible as she had thought him to be. But when she turned around to see that the owner of the rather painful grip was none other than own of New York’s very own finest---then the panic set in.


“Right Miss, if you’d care to come with me.� The pug dog looking officer intoned in a quite tired manner, as if he’d said it near to a thousand times on this day alone. “And---.� He added tersely as he felt her trying to pull away, “don’ even think about tryin’ to run lady.�


But Ororo tried once more to pull away from the portly man, tugging so vigorously as to attract the momentary attention of the really quite disinterested passers by. But that only irritated the as of now restrained officer, and without verbal warning he whipped his cuffs from his belt and clapped them around Ororo’s slender wrists. He was so swift in fact that she didn’t have the chance to perform her usual escape manoeuvre in such circumstances, normally executed at the moment the officer grabbed for the metal restraints, leaving only one inept hand t hold the crafty thief. There were not the oft heard words which accompany arrests; he simply started to shove her forwards through the mass of people, towards the edge of the pavement where his squad car was at once ready and waiting.


This was the position Ororo had been fatally dreading ever since landing on these shores; falling into the hands of the authorities. And she could only be angry at herself at the end of the day, for she had let obvious distractions cloud her usual through checking and deft attention, namely, it would have also been a good idea to check behind her!


As the officer, placed his free hand on her head and guided her safely into the car she knew, with a terminal foreboding that she was going to be in it--- and deep.


* * *


The cell was cramped, unbelievably so. Several of the inmates were clearly elsewhere on whatever narcotics were their particular fancy and the others, (which made the number of detained women, including Ororo, up to at least fourteen in a space no more than ten foot by twelve) were agitated to the point that the slightest thing would set them off into a violent outburst. For nearly three hours now the women chatted, provoked and sniped amongst themselves, minor scuffles and skirmishes breaking out from time to time that threatened to become something more.


Ororo sat in the corner, on the edge of the thin wooden seating that was suspended from either end by two somewhat rusted chains. But she most definitely did not cower; she much too proud for that, but she feared no matter how inconspicuous she attempted to be that, like on the occasions that she had found herself incarcerated in Cairo, she would attract attention. Her ‘exotic’ appearance dictated it. And it was not long before the most burly and vocal of the prisoners commented on it.


They started by grouping in the far corner, four or five of them who clearly knew each other, convened after a short bitch fight with one of the frailer, drug-addled occupants of the cell, leaving young girl with a severely bloodied nose. Of course, the guarding officers took no notice of the incident; what happened to their detainees whilst they were on remand didn’t matter to them all that much. As they conversed they kept on looking over their shoulders at the young black woman with the oddly natural white hair. Ororo’s stomach did a minor flip when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the large, greatly tattooed woman, whom seemed to be the ring leader, stride over to her. She stood at Ororo’s side without a word, her thick arms folded over her large protruding belly, menacingly. The ‘co-conspirators’ weren’t far behind her, waiting for their ring-leader to make her move. And after no more than a minute of silent imposition, she did just that. Unfolding her immense arms, the woman, Carla Elliot, reached down and lifted into her stubby fingers a lock of Ororo’s ‘unusual’, long hair. Letting it fall slowly from her short digits she asked, “Is this real?�


Ororo said nothing, staring blankly straight ahead of her, although after she had let the silent seconds of her non-answer tick by she knew that was a mistake; it would have been better to answer her shortly and promptly. The reticence appeared insolent and therefore an invitation for unnecessary conflict.


“What’s wrong?� Carla snarled, to the sniggers of her cronies, “You deaf or somethin’?� After she spoke, she turned to look at her supporters over her broad shoulder with a knowing look, which prolonged their spiteful laughter.



So Ororo determined to answer her. In short yet low, clipped tones, she replied, “No, I heard you perfectly.� It was an answer, but an answer that could only provoke the bristling hostility.


Picking up on the distinct foreignness of her accent, Carla decided to milk it in the most infantile way possible. “What’s the matter, you no speaka de English?� She shouted the words close to Ororo’s ear, sending small, puerile jets of spit through her hair as she did so. The women behind her, and some of the others who were fearful of her too, howled with laughter.


Ororo simply sucked her teeth in order to hold her tongue. The obvious stupidity of the comment gnawed at her, given she’d just spoken to her in perfect English, but she didn’t want to cause any more trouble than was necessary; she was in enough as it was. As soon as the officials in the station discovered she had no legal papers, there could only be one conclusion. She’d spend the rest of her time in America in captivity until she was deported as an illegal immigrant.


“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you bitch!� The bully hollered at her, but just before she made the vicious lunge that was sure to come, Lt. Kelly Smith happened to be passing by the cell.


Not wanting to get into a physical altercation with this vile woman (though if she had of, Ororo knew she would have licked the floor with her), instead she went over to the vertical iron bars, grabbing at them, she shouted to the police woman, “Hey!� At first she didn’t stop, so another shout was called for, “HEY!� The Lieutenant stopped then, in that lingering way that suggested that you’d just put them out. Casually, the mocha skinned officer turned, and slowly walked over to the cell. Eyeing Ororo like she was a piece of dirt from her shoe, she went in front of the ‘cage’ and stood, hands indignantly placed on hips, staring negligently at the white-haired Kenyan woman.


Ororo swallowed but tried not the make the gesture obvious. Then, with only the weight of popular myth behind her, asked, “I am entitled to one telephone call, yes?�


“Yes.� The Lt replied almost begrudgingly.


“Then I’d like to make it---now if possible.�


* * *


Logan got off his motorbike outside the station, looking up at the blackened façade and absently cracking his knuckles on each hand. Then, plucking out the half finished cigar from his mouth he threw it to the floor and ground out its life with the heel of his boot. Maybe it was a risk pulling up at a police station without a helmet on, but he’d never really been one to care for petty rules like, say, the law. He ran briskly up the dozen or so stone steps that led up to the blue painted double doors of the entrance. Just as he got to the threshold he stopped again, running the palm of his right and over the stubble of his cheeks and chin. When he’d got the phone call earlier, disrupting a particularly vigorous work out on the clapped-out bunch bag in his living room, the voice on the other end was one he feared he’d never hear again. But for all the complication this ‘reunion’, as it were, might cause, he was willing to give it a go. If only it was to bail her out of trouble, then it was the least he could do. Just to see her one last time, it would be enough.


*


“Munroe!� Ororo looked up at the iron bars to see that it was the officer she’d spoken to previously that was calling her. “Munroe!� Her nasal voice hollered again, ringing in the ears of the cells occupants.


“Yes?� Clamouring from the bench, Ororo rushed over to the door, wrapping her hands around the bars and peering out at her jailor with a wide eyed hope.


Lt. Smith said nothing; she only looked down at Ororo condescendingly from beneath her stiff rimmed cap, its jutting form casting a deep dark shadow over the top half of her face. She just stood there, her expression blank save for the brief look of smugness that made itself known on the odd occasion. If there was any pleasure she could get out of this job, it was certainly the feeling of power she had over these women; a sensation that was more often than not its own reward. It wasn’t a sadistic person who came into a job like this but more often than not that is exactly what it would make of them. She raised her hand up, bending her fingers forwards and running the long fingernail of her thumb underneath the fingernail of her middle finger, in a pointless effort to emphasis her position; to make her sweat that little bit longer. Then letting her hand fall back down to her side, she pulled her head up a little, turning her face at a slight angle. “Your husbands just posted your bail.�


Ororo was, it’s safe to say, a little taken-a-back. “My wha---.� But she trailed off, suddenly realising that that sentence would be best left unsaid. Stepping back from the door as Smith put the key in the lock with a resounding, grinding and clunking noise, Ororo folded her arms about her like she was cold. Her dark, mocha eyes held a far off look as she thought about the fact that he’d actually come hear to get her. For a while there, she had to admit she’d wondered if he would. Although she had become loath to rely on him, her last few weeks of ‘independence’ being a case in point, she’d desperately wanted him to come to her now but judging on the abrupt phone call, it seemed destined that he wouldn’t. When she had asked him to help her, he’d grumbled something that she didn’t quite catch and then said he’d try and get down there, but he didn’t sound all that convincing. So based on the perhaps, seven or so other words he’d muttered during their short conversation, she wasn’t all that hopeful. But it appeared that her cynicism was misguided.


“Come on.� Smith barked gruffly as she caught hold of Ororo’s left arm and more-or-less yanked her from the cell. Sliding her hand down from its grip at the top, she got a strong hold of the middle of her forearm as she took her cuffs from her belt and slapped one end around Ororo’s bared wrist and then attached the other end to her own. Then she proceeded to guide her down the corridor, not before locking the other inmates safely back in.


As they made their way down the strip-lighted corridor, prisoner and jailor, Carla Elliot rushed to the black bars, grasping at them and pushing her face up against them. Shouting through there gaps, the violent woman screeched quite psychotically, “I ever see you again bitch! I’ll fuckin’ do you---ya here!�


Ororo paid no mind, she didn’t feel the inclination to look round at the woman; in fact she couldn’t help but smirk a little. Just like all the greatest bullies, her biggest threats were spoken once Ororo was out of the cell. She’d met her kind before and doubtless would many times again. They no longer bothered her. It wasn’t long before the solid iron door at the far end of the corridor had been opened and they were headed into the main area of the station.


* * *


“Hey buddy!� Logan stopped half-way down the steps and seen as he had his right hand gripped around Ororo’s arm, she found it necessary to stop also. Turning just enough to look at the Officer that had granted bail, he gave him a dark stare, waiting for him to issue the derogatory comment that was sure to follow.


“What?�


“I’d keep a closer eye on yer Missus from now on---we can’t have respectfully ‘married’ women goin’ out thievin’ now can we?� As he cast a sly smile down at the pair, he chewed on the stick of gum in his mouth constantly, emphasising his smugness before he turned around, thumbs tucked into the belt loops of his dark trousers. Pushing his way shoulder first through the swing-hinged double doors, he didn’t bother to look back as Logan kept up the dark look, even as the doors clattered gradually shut.


“Come on.� He muttered; low and monotone, then continued down the steps; Ororo more-or-less being pulled behind him. There maintained an uneasy silence between the pair as they stopped at Logan’s bike. Ororo stood and waited, pulling her coat tightly around her in the face of the bitterly cold night, watching as he took a helmet from its safety straps on the back of the bike. “Here.� He handed her the black helmet with two red stripes along each side, without really looking at her. “Put it on.� He ordered as he swung his long leg over the seat, kicking the safety stand as it came round on the other side.


Ororo didn’t move, she merely studied the object in her hand before looking up at him; sat ready and waiting for her to get on the back of the bike. Running a finger along the direction of one of the stripes on the helmet she finally decided to ask him the question that was swimming around in her mind and hand been fro the last twenty minutes. “Why did you tell them that I was your wife?� She watched her finger as it slowly came to the end of the stripe before shifting her gaze up to him, though as he was now sat on the bike he had his back faced to her, so she was addressing her question to the back of his head.


He reached down and twisted the key in the ignition as he simultaneously twisted the handle, making the bike roar into life. He cast her a quick look over his shoulder, noting for the hundredth time since he’d clapped eyes on her again, just how unconscionably beautiful she in fact was. “Look, I know ain’t even supposed ta be in this country, I’m not that fuckin’ stupid that I couldn’t work that out.� He turned to her again, “If I said we were married, at least they couldn’t pull ya up on it, that’s all. Now get on the bike.�


It was simple and logical enough. In all honesty she knew that was the reason but she just wanted to hear him say it. But the mere fact that he’d gone to that much trouble heartened her to some degree. And now that he was here for her, she realised just how much she’d missed him...


Just as she was about to place the helmet over her loose silvery locks, a thought hit her. “Where’s yours?�


“Where’s my what?� He replied, becoming a little impatient and eager to get going.


“This?� She said, gesticulating towards the crash helmet.


“I don’t wear one---just put it on and get on the bike.�


A small smile crept onto her lips and she shook her head slightly. ‘Rebel-without-a-cause’, that is what he fancied himself as she thought bemusedly. But there was no real harm in it. It was just one of the many little things that she loved about him. And so she placed the helmet on and swung over onto the back of the bike. It had been a long time since she’d been on one of these things, but the fact that Logan was driving it made her feel safe. Hitching her legs around his body, she clasped them tightly as she gripped with her arms around his waist, locking them together at his stomach.

Feeling that she was safely on the bike, Logan revved the engine a couple more times before leaning it to the side, pulling his boots up to the feet rests and then set off. Roaring down the more-or-less empty street, the ferocious sound echoing of the tall, granite buildings all around.


* * *


They got into the flat and Logan threw his keys into he bowl full of pennies on the table as he usually did. He flicked on the light switch; the bare bulb spluttering into life with a series of irritating flickers before illuminating the room completely. It was just as dank as she remembered it to be but oddly enough, it felt comfortable...it almost felt like home.


It was one o’clock in the morning and with the day she’d had, all Ororo wanted to do now was sleep. She was absolutely shattered; mentally and physically and the last thing she wanted was another frank and deep discussion with Logan. They hadn’t seen each other for quite a while, so it was perhaps natural to assume they’d want to talk about how things had turned out. The last time they’d spoken hadn’t exactly brought things to a resounding conclusion. But neither said anything as Ororo sat down in the chair closest to the metal door that led onto the roof, pulling off her thick coat and Logan went, without explanation into the bedroom. She could here rustling about coming from that room but was far too tired to think about what he was doing. Her eyelids were becoming heavy with fatigue after such a trying day and all she wanted to do right now was sleep. Her head began to loll to the side, coming to a gradual rest on the high side of the chair. It was only when Logan came back into the room again that she quickly forced herself out of her creeping slumber. Jerking herself up so that she was sat straight, her eyes, which still felt as if they’d been lined with lead, flicked over to him as he came further into the room. He stopped close to her chair and if she hadn’t been watching him carefully, she would have thought herself mistaken. But to Ororo, it did appear that he was looking down at her almost...tenderly. So much so that she was coaxed into a small smile. But suddenly, she felt awkward about the gesture after everything that had happened and the absence between the two. There was nothing for it but to cover it up with another reason.


“Thank-you.� She offered demurely. Logan’s brow furrowed a little and he bore a confused smile just at the corners of his lips. With a slight shake of his head, he was about to dismiss the great favour he’d done her as nothing special, but she cut in before he could. “Thank-you for what you did---it meant a lot to me that you did that.�


He gave another small shake of his head again, “You asked me darlin’,� he shrugged, “What was I supposed to do? Leave ya there to rot?� The darkly humoured tone of his reply made her chuckle and it hit her that over the time they’d been together (after a fashion), it was that sense of something a bit softer under the painfully hard exterior that had made her love him in the first place. It became clear that even from the earliest days, she’d seen something in him that indicated that he had not always been the man he was now. That sudden realisation seemed quiet sad to her and it must have shown on her face.


“What’s wrong?�


This time she smiled and she did it wholeheartedly. “Nothing.� She shook her head and a lock of thick white hair fell into her face. To her inward surprise, Logan reached down and brushed it back, letting his hand stay on her cheek a fraction of a second longer than it needed to. It may not have been long, but to Ororo, it felt like much more and the feelings were stirred.


“Yer tired.� He stated quite categorically as he leant back from her, straightening up his back. Then he seemed to want to look anywhere but at her. “You should get some sleep. We’ll figure something out about this mess with the police tomorrow, O.K?�


She didn’t nod nor did she reply. Standing up from the chair, brushing at that lock of hair, she fixed her eyes on him and stepped closer. At first it seemed as if she were going to walk past him and go directly to the bedroom. Logan turned slowly, following her trajectory from where he stood. But as she got to the other side, she turned to face him. They did nothing at first; Logan unsure of what was going on and Ororo trying to reconcile herself to the fact that this is what she really wanted.


After what seemed to both to be an age, Ororo leisurely raised her right arm. Logan watched it coming upwards, concentrating intensely as her hand came up to around his chest level. At first it was closed; the long dark caramel fingers folded inwards, but with a beautifully slow kind of grace, she unfurled her hand to him, like a flower bud opening to the life giving rays of the sun. Her light palm was now offered to him and everything that came with it and everything that that suggested.


Placing his large, rough and calloused hand into hers, it had taken him not more than a flash to make the decision. He wrapped his much larger hand around hers and she led them into his bedroom. Truly, at this moment in time, there was no need for words...


-TBC-

Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


Thanks again for the kind reviews.


Chapter.7.


Carefully, ever so carefully, he peeled her ivory cotton top from her shoulders, edging it downwards as he stood behind her. He revealed the smooth curve of her dark flesh to himself gradually, enjoying the way the light from the street that filtered through the window, caught the sheen; her whole body affecting an ephemeral glow. All he could hear was the sound of her breathing, growing deeper and harsher, but still quite slow like the wind weaving through crisp autumnal branches. Joining the sound was rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain that had just started; beating steadily and comfortingly on the bedroom window; tiny drum beats that made one feel safe inside, warm. Logan could tell her eyes were shut tight as he lowered his lips to her neck, but refrained from kissing as his right hand searched forwards, tracing two fingers along either side of her collar bone. It wasn’t long before it dipped down under the lace trimmed collar of her top, running swiftly but softly over her right breast before coming back up. Her turned her around to face him and was pleased inside that for once, she looked him straight in the eyes as he proceeded to undress her. With movements quicker than before, he removed her top from the bottom up. Delighted to see that she was already bare underneath his head swooped down to her breast, taking as much as he could into his mouth as he tugged at the laced up front of her skirt letting it fall to the ground about her long legs with barely a sound.


Ororo thrust her hands into his wild, dark hair as he kissed at her breast passionately yet tenderly, holding him to her. With his sizable hands firmly about her slim waist he laid her on the bed behind her and gently got on top of her; his already bare chest pressing against her unclothed abdomen. All the while he still had her breast to his mouth but now that they were on the bed he slowly withdrew from it until just her nipple was caught between his teeth. But he only teased the mocha nub for a moment, in which Ororo’s first gasps of ecstasy escaped her lips. Already, they were wickedly full and ripe, though he’d barely done anything to her, barely started with the love making. Taking his mouth away from her breast completely, Logan issued a few kisses about her torso and chest before he went to her mouth, kissing her lips softly; truly ‘tasting’ them for the first time. He continued like this for a while before slipping his tongue in, exciting a tender exploration between them that felt like none other previous to it. After lying there, enjoying the gentle simplicity of this sexual act, Logan eventually started to move them up the bed with a steady arm firm around her mid-riff; resting Ororo’s head on the pillows at the headboard. She had hooked her legs high up about his waist but as he pulled back, breaking their searching kiss, he reached behind him and unhooked them from his body. Quickly, he reached back down and began to tease her knickers down.


She closed her eyes again as she threw her hands up about her head; her arms crossed over one another and gripping at the edge of the pillow beneath her. It was elation itself to feel his soft kisses down her body as he followed and caressed with his lips each inch of skin that came after her black underwear. He’d started at the top of her thigh as he gradually made his way down her long legs, delivering kisses like warm summer rain to her faultless skin until he came to end of her long limb and the lacy negligee was removed. She was bare to him utterly now, in more ways than one. He, in turn, took the remainder of his own clothes off. The clicking of his belt buckle coming undone; the dull pop, pop, pop of buttons being unbuttoned. Kneeling between her endless supple legs he looked down upon her and felt a wave of emotion unlike any other he had ever experienced. Truly as if he were seeing her with fresh eyes yet ingrained with a passion that had always been. A passion immemorial. What he’d said to her on that strange night that seemed so long ago now, was unequivocally true. It did frighten him how much he wanted her and now even more so. Bringing himself back down on her body, he grasped both her hands on the way down, interlocking his fingers with hers, holding them down at either side of her head.


Ororo brushed her lips against his as he came close and she couldn’t help but whimper as she felt his rock hard erection against the inside of her thigh, and with a movement of his body brushing it against the lips of her vagina, intentional or not. Her body was aflame with a type of desire that she had not experienced before for she knew already that this would be different. She didn’t hook her legs around him this time; only laid them further apart, spreading her feet and letting her knees fall apart so they almost touched the mattress at either side. It heightened the heat betwixt her thighs as she spread for him and the anticipation of his entrance reached its peak. In all this he’d been kissing her, willing mouth again and then down to her neck, uttering his own small moans as he caressed and bit at it, but in a manner which could only suggest an un-containable love. A love so fierce that he couldn’t control himself in the face of it.


She moved her body against Logan’s in her aching; each lover squeezing tightly at the other’s locked hands in their mutual violent craving. Ororo thought she would burst her dams if he didn’t fulfil her soon. He began to move against her with the same rhythm as she was against him; his penis urgent to enter her, but feeling abated by the imminence of the act. But just as he was moving to plunge into her hot opening, another passion seized him and taking his head down to her shoulder he uttered, in a breathless but somehow full, strong voice, “I love you...Ororo, I love you so much...so goddamn much...� Just after he spoke the absolute truth to her he thrust himself into her forcefully, making her erupt with cries of abandoned ecstasy. But in truth she was also enraptured and at once spinning from his words. The words she had longed to hear forever; words that she felt with equal ferocity.


Holding onto her hands even tighter, he began to move in and out of her, rolling his hips with hers. For despite the passionate entrance, he began to make love to her, in the truest sense of the expression. He delved into her with deep, penetrating strokes, all the while kissing at her neck, her defined jaw line, her luscious lips and smooth as silk cheeks. This was how he’d wanted her for so long now and to finally be here, at this moment felt like pure bliss. To finally be himself for her; a self that was once lost but now was found. It tempered a heart that had been to long violent, empty and alone. This act felt to him an exorcism and a new beginning all in one. Time had taken long to deliver to him the right person, his angel. “Ororo...� He rasped in her ear after kissing the lobe and then taking the fleshy part in his teeth; alternately sucking and nipping at it.


As he made love to her, Ororo clasped her thighs tighter and tighter as she bit down on his shoulder and then on his neck and then again on his shoulder; feeling her that undeniable ecstasy coming near, the white heat about to fill her. Even with her mouth down on his toned shoulder, she couldn’t stop the cries from slipping out; loud, fierce and longing. Throwing her head back, she gripped at his hands, but then pulled them from his grasp and reached down to hold onto his back; her hands slipping over his shoulder blades and hard muscles. She dug her nails in just as her fevered moans became uncontrollable, causing him to rut against her harder. Her eyes stung with tears of joy, blurring the vision of the soft light in the room coming from the street lamps outside. “Logan---argh---ahh...Logan...I love you...I love you...I love you...� Her hands ceased to claw at him, sliding up his back and into his hair as she moved her head back and caught his lips, initiating the kiss. Again it was hot and hard, turning into the kind of kiss where pain was the joy and an outpouring of love was the result.


Logan emitted what could only be described as an asbestos-coated growl, deep from his chest and fighting its way from his throat as his thrusts neared their end point and he felt his orgasm begin. But Ororo’s was too as her sex pulsed around his and her moans between kisses rose and rose and rose...higher and higher. And then the white heat that had boiled near the surface made itself known to both of them; tearing through the writhing bodies. Even Logan cried out as he wrapped his arms around her, taking her head into his hands; fingers threaded through her hair, holding her tight against him as he convulsed and came inside her.


Ororo quivered from head to toe, the heat, the fire pulsing from tip to tip. Her legs were right up around his body, so high that her knees were level with his shoulder blades. She panted and gasped and laughed and cried all at once it seemed as she gripped at his shoulder and his hair. Her body would not stop shaking as she lay there, never wanting this moment to end.


Logan suddenly released a breath that sounded as if he’d been holding it as he took his head from where it had been resting against her shoulder; wisps of his sweat clumped hair falling into his eyes. He moved into her vision, waiting for her to open her eyes and when she did, he held them with his; it was the first time after the act that he’d done so and Ororo noticed that they shimmered. As did hers she noticed; a ghost of their reflection catching on the moist surface of his hazel orbs. She smiled, delicate and soft; her chest still heaving to a degree, as was his.


“I love you.� He repeated quietly and in a manner that suggested a disbelief at how easy it was to say. Once he’d spoken the words, it seemed he never wanted to stop telling her. “I love you.� This time it was barely a whisper close to her waiting lips, waiting for him to devour them once more. And that he did; slow and tender. Sweet like the spread of warm honey, she returned it to him. Now the kiss had become a lover’s vow as they clung, in damp sheets, to warm moist bodies. Lost forever, in each other. Violent and soft; ferocious and loving; painful and passionate; possessive and free; torturous and tender. All that their love was, for good and ill, was realised in the lovers now. No aspect of it could be denied. Like a force of nature, it was at once cruel and life-giving...necessary. They accepted, as they kissed and caressed, limbs entangled, that it always would be...


* * *


The hours had passed with hardly a flash; the ticking of the clock on the wall melting, seconds and minutes into one another in a slipstream flow that had passed early morning darkness into cold blue pre-dawn light. No sleep had been had by Ororo nor Logan as they lay, naked and uncovered on the bed. Her head rested on his chest; her arms wrapped beneath and above the muscular barrel of his torso as her hand on top played idly with the fine hair that gathered close to the centre, over his steadily beating heart. She had one leg slipped between his, pressing firmly against him as did her flat belly and rounded breasts; warmth connecting with warmth. He had one leg raised at the knee and his hands linked together high near her right shoulder as his strong arms enveloped her body. His chin rested lightly on the top of her head, the scent of her soft tussled hair and the musk of their love making still floating around her like an invisible silk cloak despite the lapse in time.


They were facing the window and though the view did not count for much, the mesmerising regularity of the still beating rain caught the eyes interest. The lovers watched as the endless stream of water ran down the relatively clear pane of glass, creating rivers and streams, brooks and lakes through the remnants of city dirt that blocked the view in places like frost in winter, leaving patches like islands. The trickling and beating sound was soothing and again made them feel warm; being on the inside, in each others loving, safe arms.


This was peace, this was bliss, this...was heaven.


Logan shifted slightly, holding her tighter with this left hand as he ran his fore finger down the side of her face, with a touch like a downy feather. He tilted his head to the side to see if she was still awake as her hand had ceased to stir the wisps of hair and the patterned regular rhythm of her breathing suggested she had fallen into a peaceful slumber. But she looked up at him as she sensed his eyes on her; her eyes full of the warm glow that had been stoked in them, her lids heavy with content. She was the first to break the sound of silence; her low pleasant voice sounding, to his ears, comforting like a thick woollen blanket in the cold morning light. “I wish we could stay like this forever,� her hand started the stroke at his chest again, “...alone...together, in this peace.�


“Me too darlin’.� He said as he breathed in the scent once more; the musk from the love making seeming to refresh as she stirred, resting her chin on his chest so that she could look up at him properly. He moved too, shifting so that he was completely beneath her; her entire body resting on his. As they moved the unused sheet gave up its desperate clinging and fell from the edge of the bed with a prolonged swishing sound before landing in a crumpled heap. “Ya know---I’ve been thinking.�


“About what?� She asked before planting several small kisses on his chest; she too was enjoying the love making scent that came from his body.


“About what we should do now---.� He paused, hating to bring the subject up after so many hours of undisturbed perfection. “We can’t stay here ‘Ro.�


Ororo laid her cheek down on his chest again, a look of sadness taking over the content for just a moment. Her hand rubbed along absently as she said, “I know.� She knew, had known from the moment she was arrested that she would have to leave and at that time it didn’t bother her. She hadn’t had reason to think of it after she’d returned here with Logan; the thought was mercifully out of mind in her utter happiness. But now it returned like an ugly black storm-cloud on the horizon; bitter and oppressing.


“So where are we gonna go?�


Ororo jerked her head up quickly, a note of surprise in her features, although there was nothing to really be surprised about. “We?� She asked anyway, just to hear it, hear him confirm it.


“Yes ‘we’.� He gave a brief laugh but it was silent, beneath the surface as it were and it made her think about how she’d never seen him so relaxed, at ease with himself and with her. “Besides, yer about to jump bail and it ain’t as if I’ve got a nine-ta-five or anythin’.� This time Ororo laughed, before resting her head back down again, enjoying the warmth against her cheek and the blanket of his soft thin hair on her skin. “I’ve been thinkin’ of going back up North for a few years now.� He said more to himself than to her. Articulating a private thought that had been locked in solitude for some time.


“Up North?� She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about casual geographical terms in this part of the world.


“Canada.�


“Why there?� She asked, though she could see the logic. Leaving the country completely would probably be the smartest move. But there seemed more to it than that.


Logan hesitated; he gazed down at her as she turned her head up to look at him and then he peered over to the window. The rain was pouring heavier than ever now but the blue light was becoming orange at the edges; the sun starting to rise, but the room was still cloaked in a cold darkness. “It’s where I grew up.� He finally said, his eyes fixed on the rivers and streams cutting through the islands. “I haven’t been there for years.�


Ororo didn’t ask why; she didn’t push to know more; he would tell her about himself as time went on. She realised that now. He would do it in his own time; all she had to do was be there. After all, there was much he didn’t know about her also. They were enigmas to each other and as with any other intriguing puzzle they would reveal their secrets slowly. “It sounds like a good idea.� was all she said.


“But I warn ya, it’s cold.� There was a hint of a jest.


“I am beginning to enjoy the cold.� She countered, smiling.


“And there’re bears.�


“Well, what animal could be any wilder than the one I’m with?!� She countered again, laughing this time, albeit sleepily.


“Hey! Watch it!� Suddenly, he lurched forwards and rolled them over so that he was on top of her. Ororo’s laughs became hearty now, the surprise movement knocking the sleepiness out of her immediately. But the laughs were stifled by the meeting of lips. She moaned against his mouth, almost wistfully as she parted her legs for him. Hitching them up and folding her arms tight about him; holding to his back, she felt him becoming erect once more and welcomed it, pressing pleasantly against her sex.


Briefly, Logan pulled back, “Canada it is then---tonight.�


“Tonight.� She sighed, like echoing a promise. And their lips met again and they held onto each other. Once more, they made love in the cold darkness, in the blue light tinged with growing orange and the pitter-patter and the rivers and streams; brooks and lakes cutting through the soot black islands. With the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock, and the passing of the seconds and the minutes and the hours...


~TBC~

O.k, so you've talked me into it ToughSpirit!!I'm going to extend the story!!M'ikosan,xx

Disclaimer: Same as before.


I’ve got to dedicate this chapter to Tough Spirit, for without her enthusiasm, it wouldn’t even exist. So I raise my glass to you! M’ikosan, xx


Chapter.8.


Ororo ran down the granite steps of her building with the bundle of her things in an old black hold-all. It wasn’t all that much to show for an entire life, to be so easily packed into such a small space, but that didn’t matter anymore. Logan was waiting on the bike in front of the stoop, his backpack already secured tightly onto the back of the bike with several elaborately tied knots in two lengths of oil-stained white rope. He got off the bike as she neared him, kicking the stand into place and walking round to meet her at the last step.


“‘That everythin’?� He asked as he took the bag from her, simultaneously leaning down to give her a quick kiss. She nodded in reply to his inquiry as she pulled back and then looked over her shoulder at the building behind her that was now shrouded in darkness and neon yellow. One last look at the place she’d called ‘home’ since arriving. There was no regret or nostalgia that can sometimes take hold when even the most miserable circumstances are coming to an end. She would be glad to see the back of it and sincerely wouldn’t care if she never laid eyes on it again. “Come on, let’s get goin’.� Logan’s call startled Ororo out of her dawdling; she turned around with a slight smile and jogged lightly over to the bike that Logan had already remounted. He was holding out the black with the red stripe helmet to her and she took it. But she didn’t put it on until she’d given him an affectionate peck on the cheek. Climbing onto the back with ease, she pulled the rough black strap under her chin tightly, tucking the excess into the steel buckle, before wrapping her arms securely about Logan’s waist.


Feeling she was safely on, he turned the key and revved the bike, making the engine burst into life with an angry yet reassuring growl. They hadn’t talked about where in Canada they would be heading, leaving it more to chance; taking the risk on what life would throw up. And so they headed off for places unseen and un-thought of under the cover of night.


* * *


It had been five days of hard travelling but the pair where content. They were speeding along a wide curving road now that ran the length of a lake on the right side. The vast expanse of water looked like a sheet of beaten lead with its little chinks that caught the light, reflecting the silvers, greys and powder blues as they whizzed by. Patches of the lake mirrored the delicate pure-white clouds that drifted gracefully in the early evening sky, adding a slight shimmer to its surface. On either side, it was flanked by dense forestry; a thick, upright blanket of deep green fur trees that rose steeply and then was lost in the distance. The wind blew in the rider’s faces as they continued along the smooth winding road, moving from side to side with the grace and flow of the bike. At the moment Logan was at the helm but only an hour previous Ororo had literally been in the driving seat; taking them from Montréal through Joliette and past Mt Tremblant. Logan had taken over after they’d stopped for a day at Mont-Laurier and right now they were still on the path Northwards with the aim of getting to the province of Ontario within a day or so. And from there? Who knows?


The isolated path suddenly turned off from the lake and wound in an upward slope into the forest. Ororo clung tighter to Logan’s leather as they leaned into the swerve of the branching road. The density of the trees cut out the light even from above, creating an artificial darkness. There was a rusted orange and white sign up ahead on there left hand side, advertising McCormick’s gas station two miles up the road. Logan took his eyes from the road for a second, glancing down at the petrol metre. It was just under half full, but seen as how they didn’t know when the next opportunity to refuel would arise, it was better to stop of and get a full tank than risk running out of juice in the middle of nowhere.



*


They came to a clearing two miles up the road as indicated and nestled right at the back of it, almost undercover of the trees sat a somewhat dilapidated looking McCormick’s. It was positioned in such a way that if a driver had happened to be looking the other way as they were driving past, they would have missed it completely. Logan turned into the forecourt quickly, not reducing his speed until the last second; bringing the bike to a screeching halt at one of the three green and rusted petrol pumps that ran in a parallel line to the shop front. They both lurched forwards slightly as the bike stopped but Logan had a strong grip of the handlebars and Ororo still had a tight grip of him. They both got off the bike at the same time; Logan kicking the safety into place as Ororo removed her helmet and gave a quick shake of her head to loosen her hair. She hooked it onto the left handlebar as she idly looked around. It appeared it was a self-service station, in fact, nobody else seemed to be about at all. A breeze whistled through the trees, shaking their lofty tops before sweeping down and rustling some dry dirt from the caramel coloured ground into a mini sandstorm. Logan went around the bike and unhooked a pump; twisting off the black cap at the rear of the bike and slotting the curved steel pipe into the gas tank. Ororo was still looking around, turning in a slow circle with her hands tucked in the pockets of her leather jacket she’d ‘picked-up’ in a bar in Montréal. It was about two sizes too big and she didn’t care too much for the rather ‘charming’ leggy blonde design on the back but it was warm. She looked over at the shop front with its large dirty windows that were blocked by shelving and hoarded products that no-one was ever going to buy, their boxes half collapsed, damp or faded by the sun. There was a small decked porch that ran the length of the white washed shop front with three steps that led up to it. The screen door was open but brightly coloured tassels, like a shredded circus tent hung down in front of the opening instead. They were sucked into the shop and then blown out again as the wind went through the open door and then found its way back out again in a soft exhale, making a fluttering sound as they went. A small metal and wood wind-chime tinkled and clinked as it hung from the slopping roof of the porch adding a note of discordant music to the sound of the breeze flying through the trees.


“Do you want anythin’? Drink? Somethin’ ta eat?� Logan asked as he rattled the hose around in the tank to knock off the excess drips of fuel before hanging it back up on the pump.


“Pardon?...uh, no. I’m fine.� She replied, a little dazed; she’d been so lost in examining her surroundings because something caught her eye, pocking out from around the corner of the shop. “I’ll wait out here with the bike.�


Logan narrowed his eyes at her slightly as he wiped his hands on his jacket, rubbing off the greasy feel he’d gotten from the handle of the pump. He was only suspicious because she was still craning her neck back, looking at something that was around the back of the shop. “What’re you up to?� He asked with a note of playful caution that still managed to have a dark edge to it.


She looked back at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Shrugging her shoulders she shook her head, trying to appear as non-plus as possible, “Nothing.� She smiled at him and then walked over to the bike and leant against it, looking down at the ground as she absently kicked the dusty ground with her boot. Logan wasn’t at all convinced; he raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head with a wry smile. She was so sneaky at times, he could never tell what she was planning. But at least he’d become aware of the signs. Just one more little detail that endeared her to him. He turned around and jogged up the steps, making a swathe in the door tassels with his hands and ducking in.


Ororo stood by the bike a couple of seconds more before heading off around the back; glancing back at the shop once before rounding the corner. The ground dipped slightly at the side revealing white mesh boards that blocked off the underside of the building. There was a shed doubling as a mechanics behind the main garage and just in front of it was parked a small, white domestic pick up truck; the back end of which Ororo had spied from the front. The garage seemed to be as deserted as the shop but various tools and oily rags were laid about as if someone had up and left in the middle of a job. A motorbike was standing half in and half out the wide open front, its post-mortem not yet finish; break linings and engine pistons on the dirt with the rags and tools. She first went to the front of the truck and peered into the cabin. Its seats were covered with garishly themed mohair blankets and the dashboard was littered with disposed toffee papers, crumpled receipts and lose change. Unusually, it was right-hand drive. Then she went slowly to the back of the truck, running her hand along its edge as she looked it over. As she walked along the right side she peered over into the back. At the bottom were four parallel ridges and the whole of it was covered with brick dust and long dried globs cement. Coming around to the back there was a latch on the side, hooked into a metal loop. Ororo fingered it in exploration before getting her thumb underneath it and lifting it off. The whole back panel came down with a noisy clang and then a muffled bang as it hit the ground, stirring up the dirt even more as it created a ramp. Ororo swept her hair back from her face as it whipped about in the wind and crouched down, balancing on the balls off her feet as she checked how sturdy the hinges were.


“It’s not fer sale.�


Ororo looked over her shoulder to see the owner of the dark husky voice; a portly man in grubby blue overalls coming towards her, rubbing his oily hands with an already blackened cloth. He had a baseball cap on, its peak steeping the top half of his face in shadow. As she looked at him Ororo couldn’t tell whether his five o’clock shadow was created by oil or lack of shaving. She stood up, bring the back up as she did so and swinging the latch back into place securely. The man walked straight past her and over to the bike, throwing his rag down and picking up one of the pistons, examining it like it were the most interesting object in the world. Ororo stood by the truck for a little while longer, noting the rusting on the arches above the wheels, in one spot so bad that it had eaten right through, creating a gaping whole over the left wheel at the back. It wasn’t exactly worth buying, but then again, who said anything about buying?


The mechanic paid Ororo no more attention as he was now fiddling with something inside the body of the bike. After a moment more (that was splattered with half muttered expletives) he stood up, throwing the piston down to the floor with a dull thud and took the bike by the handlebars, wheeling it into the dark cavernous space of the garage. As soon as he was out of sight, Ororo quickly unlatched the back again, supporting it as it came down so that it didn’t make an ungainly racket. Then she ran swiftly back up the incline.


*


Logan went straight to the counter, walking through the centre of two aisles of shelves that held all manner of mainly tinned foods and various motoring paraphernalia that were apparently mixed together with no rhyme or reason. Behind the counter was a large glass case that covered almost the entire wall. Inside were displayed at least fifty different forms of fire arms, mainly shotguns and semi automatics. In a smaller cabinet underneath all the bullets were kept. Hundreds and hundreds of boxes lined up; ready and waiting. Logan stood patiently for a moment, but that virtue was never his strong point. He wrapped on the counter a couple of times with his hard knuckles that were now red and cracked from riding without gloves. There was a brief sound of shuffling from somewhere behind the wall with the glass cabinet but then there was silence. Just as Logan was about to knock again the shuffling started up and from the arched doorway that was covered with the same red, green, blue and yellow strips as the main door, emerged a large, ambling woman. The floral dress she was wearing was more a smock and her grey and white hair was pulled up tight in a scruffy bun arrangement atop of her head. She continued to shuffle over to the counter, dragging her swollen slipper-clad feet across the red lino flooring. The scratching noise grated on Logan as he pulled his worn brown leather wallet from his left pocket; a sound like two pieces of rough sandpaper being scraped together incessantly.


“Pump one.� He said dryly and put down onto the hardboard counter the amount he’d just taken from his wallet.


The woman peered up at him over the top of her horn-rimmed glass, pulling them down her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Her face had worn a constant look of distain since she’d emerged from out back but now her look was positively hostile. She eyed Logan and then the money before checking her pump register and then the money again. In all that time Logan was becoming aware of a fusty, musty kind of smell. The shop had smelled damp when he’d come in but it was getting worse and it was then he realised the stench was coming from her. Without a word the sour looking old woman took the money from the counter and punched the amount into the till. It was an old fashioned large monster with the numbers that popped up on cards under a glass dome on top and it made a ringing noise as each type-writer style key was pressed; two old bells clanking together from somewhere inside the mechanism.


“Thanks.� He said with more than a hint of sarcasm as he turned and made his way to the door.


Now, as he stepped out into the breezy air he suddenly had to take in several different happenings at once, not quite having enough time to process them separately. Number one; the bike was gone, number two; Ororo was gone, number three; there was a sudden screeching of tires and revving of a clapped-out sounding engine and last of all, a white pick-up came hurtling around the corner and Ororo was in the driving seat.


“Hurry up, get in!� She hollered at him as she leant across to the passenger door and flung it open.


“What the hell! Wher---.�


“Just get in!� She shouted with a laughing tone and beaming smile. Logan shook his head and did what he was told, running over to the truck, taking note that the bike had been loaded onto the back. As he grabbed hold of the underside of the roof and the wide open door, Ororo shifted the gear, which made a terrible dragging and clanking noise and started to move off at full speed before he was properly inside. Once in, he took two attempts to slam the door shut behind him (its hinges were beyond rusty) and then they were off, going full throttle down the road, leaving a trail of dust behind them.


*


Ororo couldn’t stop laughing as they raced down the forest path, the adrenaline coursing through her. She never got tired of this buzz. They were about half a mile away by now but she hadn’t let up on the speed they were travelling at; whizzing around the bends and turns with an assurance that made it look like she’d been driving along these roads all her life.


By now Logan was laughing too, at the sheer gall of the woman if nothing else. For a person who was sailing pretty damn close to the wind, she didn’t care too much about getting into more trouble. “You’re freakin’ crazy, ya know that?!� He said as he turned to her; a half bewildered and half bemused look on his face. She glanced at him and then burst into robust laughter again, throwing her head back in the process, not giving two hoots about taking her eyes off the road. It hit Logan how incredibly beautiful she looked in this rhapsody. The danger, the adrenaline, the rush; it was like the first night they’d met. That fire hadn’t dimmed and right now it was suddenly raging. He leant over and began nuzzling at her neck, unable to help himself; pressing his lips against her hard. She responded immediately to his ravaging kisses, the heat of his raged breathing and the scratch of his stubble on her skin. Taking one hand from the wheel she ran her fingers into his hair, taking tight hold of it as his kisses became more insistent. She was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the road as he suddenly growled against her neck like he had a throat full of gravel, “Pull over.�


Just a few yards up the road, Ororo gathered herself together enough to notice a small muddy lay-by cut into the bank that led up to the dense pack trees that still lined the road on both sides. As he pushed his hand down the front of her top, grasping at her right breast, squeezing at it roughly and with little care, she swerved into the spot, bringing the truck to a jerking stop. The hand-break was quickly pulled up into place and no sooner had she done it than Logan was all over her. Kissing and biting hard at her neck and the top of her chest, he took his hand from her breast and pulled the oversized leather jacket from her; taking it off in a series of violent desperate yanks. Ororo in turn moved herself downwards and brought her legs up onto Logan’s seat as he moved to push between them. Her back was still half leaning on the door, the handle for the window digging uncomfortably into the space between her shoulder blades, as with fevered breathing she fumbled with the zip on her jeans and he struggled with his too. Finally, she had it down and Logan gave up on his own in his haste to uncover her; grabbing at the waistband and pulling them right down past her knees. She managed, with yet more struggle to peel them off completely with her feet; edging them to the end of her boots and then kicking out until they flung off; the zip clattering against the window. Getting one foot firmly on the dashboard, knocking off half the rubbish piled there in the process whilst she hooked her other foot over the back of the seat. She grabbed at his back, pulling him to her, desperately wanting the heat between her thighs to be satisfied. She groaned as she felt him hard against her, sending a spark through her entire body.


Logan had now got his jeans open and had quickly pulled out completely erect penis; his sizable member slapping against the inside of her trembling thigh. He kissed at her mouth savagely, making her lips feel raw as he grabbed at the half wound down window to lever his body up as his other hand guided his cock toward her sex.


“Ahh...yes...� Ororo moaned with a harsh whisper as she felt it pressing against her, eager for it to fill her. Then taking his hand to join his other on the window he used the grip to shunt forwards, entering her in one hard movement. She cried out with the pleasure and pain; her foot on the dash kicked out involuntarily, smashing into the windshield so forcefully it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. Quickly, he began to move against her; holding tight to the window he gave a gruff pant with every rut. Ororo couldn’t stop herself from screaming out even louder now as he fucked her, harder and harder, picking up pace so that the truck rocked slightly with the rhythm. She grasped at his hair, his jacket, the back of the seat and the window behind her, the steering wheel at her side; desperately needing to cling to something. Anybody could have driven past and seen them; given that they’d just stolen the vehicle and weren’t that far away from the crime scene, they were taking a pretty big risk. But that was half the fun...


He was perilously close now and so was she; the excitement of the situation making their blood course through their veins like wild fire. It was the type of illicit sex that couldn’t last for long. But it didn’t matter as the satisfaction was tenfold. Ororo could barely catch her breath now and her throat stung from the odd lungful of cold air she’d greedily taken in when she could do nothing but scream almost mournfully. Her mouth was barely open, her lips quivering as she screwed her eyes shut tight in the face of the coming tide. Her head and shoulders thumped in a swift motion against the door; the handle digging into her back more viciously. But she hardly felt the pain of it anymore as other sensations began to swallow her whole. The satisfaction had to come soon, it had to, it just had to...


Logan pumped into her faster as he moved one hand over to the dash board; gripping it until his sore, red knuckles turned white. An explosion of heat hit him from the back of his head, rapidly filling his skull and then racing down his throat, into his chest and then down the rest of his body; his muscular frame coming to a blistering halt. As he came inside her she was almost ready too, but not quite. She was forced to roll her hips against him for just a few seconds more before her orgasm racked her body into helpless spasm; her back arched as much as it could in the cramped conditions and her leg kicked out at the glass once more as they both heaved for breath. They held each other or rather, Ororo continued to grip at his jacket and the steering wheel whilst Logan still had his hands firmly of the dash and windows respectively.


As soon as she’d gained enough breath to, Ororo couldn’t help but chuckle. She slowly relinquished her grasp on the steering wheel and sunk her subtly trembling fingers into his hair. His head was still at her shoulder; his hot, bristly cheek pressed against her smooth one whilst the sound of his gravelly exhales filled her ear and was warm on it, like the flow of bath water. She tugged gently on his hair, urging him to pull his head put from her body whereupon she kissed him as if starved of affection; biting at his lips hungrily. “Do you think,� she gasped between kisses, “we’d better make a move?�


“Yeah.� He agreed merrily, but continuing to kiss her regardless, just as firm and cruelly and wildly as she was him. There was the sharp metalic taste of blood somewhere in that kiss, under the moist warmth. They both laughed as they kissed, neither wanting to move, content to stay whether someone happened to come by or not. After a while, Logan did pull back, withdrawing from her before taking hold of her arms at the elbow and bringing her upright with him. He ran his hands down her back, underneath her lose tussled hair, holding her body to his. Kissing her again as he wrapped his arms around her torso, he relished her body heat, the feel of her heart pounding against his chest, in time with his. The last thing he wanted was to let go.


* * *


Logan squeezed his stinging eyes shut briefly as he shifted in the driver’s seat and readjusted the one hand he had on the steering wheel; warding off the lethargy brought on by a monotonous driving route. Dusk had fallen and the road ahead was cloaked in navy blue, making the trees all around look black as coal. He tried to concentrate on the headlight beams that cut two wide conical shaped florescent yellow lines along the matted grey of the tar in order to stay awake after five hours of non-stop driving. Ororo nestled against his side, her eyelids heavy too, but she fought to stay awake as she rested her head on his shoulder with her arms lazily looped around him; enjoying the comforting pressure of his free arm draped over her left shoulder. The quiet of the countryside and the soft rumble of the engine attempted to lure her into slumber but she fought against it, shifting as he had, only to settle into the same comfy position as before. The night had turned distinctly cool and the windows had been drawn up, sealed tightly to block the cold wind.


Snuggling up to him again so that her hands were clasped about his right shoulder, she suggested sleepily, “Maybe we should stop---rest for a while.� Afterwards, she yawned, stretching her legs out against the underside of the dash, before dropping them back to the tinny metal of the truck floor.


“The next place we come to sweetheart, I promise.� He squeezed her to him as if for reassurance as two cars drove by in the opposite direction, dipping their bright beams as they flew past.


And so they drove on, ever Northwards in the burgeoning night. As Ororo rested on Logan, she found she couldn’t fight the urge to sleep any longer; her eyelids refusing to stay open as her mind felt as vacant and light as autumn air. It was not long until the heavy blanket had shrouded her completely and she drifted off into dreams. Logan could feel that she was sleeping the gently flow of her chest up and down, up and down, up and down, told him that much. The mellow sound of her rhythmic breathing made him feel at ease and the uncomfortable feeling he’d had from being back in Canada after so long passed...for a time at least. Concentrating on her made him forget all else. The years had flown by since he’d last set foot on the soil of his homeland; ten, perhaps twelve even. So much had happened that he’d lost track; old memories buried for the sake of his sanity if nothing else. Despite his misgiving that he could never talk to anyone about, even Ororo, (they had broken through a wall that much was true, but there was still a long road to travel) this felt like the right time to return home. But still, something nagged away at the back of his mind, a constant torment that ate away at his newfound ‘peace’. And the closer they edged towards it, the worse it became. He’d allowed himself to be distracted thus far and having her with him had helped. But even now, he couldn’t really open up to her, not truly. He supposed, as he drove along this dark road with only his thoughts for company, as he had been accustomed to for many years, that they’d always be a part of him that would forever be kept in the dark, even to those he allowed to get close to him, which was few and far between. Few and far between? Ororo was the first since...he didn’t want to dwell on it.


He glanced down at Ororo as he rounded the next bend; her white hair glowed in the navy of the early night. The sudden urge overcame him to plant a kiss on top of her head as she slept; the need to feel the silk of her tresses under his lips and have its soft scent close to his face. Logan drank this all in and strangely, things didn’t seem all that bad. But for how long that feeling would last, he knew not.


-TBC-

Was it O.K? Let me know, xx.

Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.

Sorry this took a bit longer than I thought it was going to. I really got into the two other stories I’m writing and the impetus for this one just kind of dropped off for a while. But, alas, it’s back. The plot is sorted, so hopefully I’ll be a bit quicker with updates in future! M’ikosan7, xx

P.S. Thanks to all those who reviewed in the meantime.



Chapter.9.


By now the night was pitch black making it difficult to distinguish road from the embankments that lined it. The large fur trees had long since disappeared, about thirty miles back and all around was mainly fields with the odd cluster of oaks or furs here and there between the occasional farmhouse; but they’d only past three of those at most. Other than that the landscape had become fairly desolate; a thin layer of crisp white frost cloaking it like a pie crust as the night time temperatures plummeted. Ororo still dozed contentedly on Logan’s shoulder; every now and then she’d shift and rub her noise, uttering a little whimper each time before snuggling to him once more. As he kept a steady speed along the highway Logan found he was no longer all that tired, having gone past that stage and gone firmly into that twilight zone of being neither awake or asleep. A thin line of red rimmed the bottom edge of his hazel eyes that had ceased to sting now the initial tiredness had passed but felt like solid glass in his sockets. The radio was tuned in to no station in particular, picking up whatever local frequencies were in its range. Right now, the soft voices of three French-Canadian’s having a debate were flowing through the badly scratched and dented mesh grill that was fixed to the dashboard underneath the tuner dials and display panel. Logan couldn’t understand a word, though if Ororo were awake, she could have translated, having exhibited an expertly fluent knowledge of the language during their quick stop-over in Montréal. But it was of no consequence, all he really needed was some background noise to keep his mind alert.


The road started on a small incline that suddenly became a rather steep one as the hither to flat fields sloped upwards too and the isolated clusters of trees became dense again. As the truck neared the top of the hill it began to curve around as the ground to the right of the road just seemed to drop away into a sheer cliff face. Logan rounded the corner and was greeted by the sight, way down below, in what appeared to be a valley, of a small group of twinkling orange lights. A small township nestled at the base of the valley. The road they were currently on wound its way down to run straight through the little pocket of civilisation. So he drove down towards it, hoping they’d find somewhere that was still open to stop at as the night drew on.


*


Ororo woke up with a start as Logan switched off the engine; in response to which the old and worn piece of machinery spluttered and growled angrily, resisting until the last of its power had drained away. She sat up and wiped at her eyes, her pretty face baring the slightly perplexed and clammy complexion that usually follows sleep. She tried to gaze out of the window to orientate herself but was only met with the reflection of the interior of the cabin against a wall of black. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust and refocus. Only then, as she attempted to stifle a yawn, did she notice that they were parked outside an all-night bar.


“What time is it?� She asked as she stretched her arms above her head, straightened out her aching back and yawned yet again.


Logan reached over to her and as he gently wiped away some sleep from the outside corner of her left eye, he said, “Three.�


Ororo looked outside again at the front of the bar that was made to look like a log cabin and had a huge neon blue sign in jagged, naive writing that read ‘Lumberjack’s’. Next to it was a crudely drawn man, melded from the same lighting tubes as the name, made out to look like the namesake of the tavern with a rolled at the rim woollen hat, plaid shirt and high workmen’s boots that came up to the knees. “A bar? This is your idea of a rest?� She asked as she turned to him; her eyebrow raised in a sardonic fashion.


He gave a brief shrug of his shoulders and laughed his short, low-key laugh; his mouth barely twitching as he looked out of the window up at the harsh lighting of the sign. Then he turned to her as he draped one arm across the steering wheel. “You said we should stop,� he gave a short flick of his hand that hung off the other side of the wheel in the direction of the bar as he glanced at it quickly, “This is the first place we’ve come across since you fell asleep.�


“Surely not?� She said rhetorically as she looked out the window again, trying to calculate how long she must have slept for. It must have been at least six hours, perhaps even seven. Not a single other motel or hamlet in all that time? Absently she cupped her hands to her mouth and blew in them, only just becoming aware that they felt like ice. Vigorously she then rubbed them together. “I suppose it’s as good a place as any.� Her breath hung visibly in the air as she spoke.


“Yep,� he concurred before leaning over to give her a quick sly kiss, “an’ it gives me the perfect excuse ta grab a whiskey.� He was up and out of the truck before Ororo could say anything, leaving her to shake her head in mock dismay. Then she too opened her door, swinging her legs over the side, dangling them of the edge as she zipped up her jacket. She dropped down to the ground where on the frost covered gravel crunched even more so than usual, the quiet of the night making the sound echo even further making it sound as if she were walking on dry, crisp leaves. A couple of sharp cramp pains ran up her legs intermittently and she did her best to try and shake them off but they were persistent, ripping through her limbs like a particularly vicious bout of pins and needles.


Logan came around to her side of the truck, taking a cigar out of the pocket of the denim jacket that he wore beneath his leather one. Lighting it under cover of cupped hands he took an ‘inhale’, immediately letting the smoke below back out and then parked the stogie in the corner of his mouth. “You alright?�


Ororo was still shaking her legs one at a time on and off. She nodded, “Cramp.� Then she winced.


“Come on, let’s get ya inside.� He put his arm around her, tucking it under her left arm that was furthest from him and closing his hand around the side of her waist as they walked together towards the pub. “Maybe you should have a little whiskey as well, warm ya up.�


“I don’t think so,� she scoffed, “I can not stand the stuff!� She laughed as she looked up at him, giving him that beautiful full smile of hers; intoxicating enough to induce him to lean in and quickly kiss her as they came up to the double wooden doors of Lumberjack’s.


*


Ororo settled into the shaded corner of the bar as she waited for Logan to return with the drinks. Her eyes fell over the room which was in fact two, separated by a stone-clad archway, like an old-fashioned fireplace and chimney breast, of which there was one very large one near to the bar. The whole place was styled to look like a log-cabin, homey and earthy, but it had a curious smell; the aroma of old damp wood from the beer soaked floorboards permeated through-out the building. There was something distinctly comforting about that and it made Ororo want to snuggle up in her cosily dark corner and drop back to sleep. But she was jolted from her docile contemplations, her head tipping up slightly to take in the sight of her lover returning to the table, a rather large whiskey in one hand, a mug of something steaming and hot in the other.


“Ya should o’ seen the look the bar keep gave me.� He said as he slid her coffee over to her and set his short whiskey glass down in front of him. She smiled as she folded her half covered hands around the hot tan coloured porcelain mug.


“Why?� She asked with a small note of amusement, lifting the cup with both hands to her lips, adding with a hint of sarcasm, “Do people not drink coffee in Canada?�


He raised an eyebrow at her as he picked up his glass, the ice clinking against the sides, “Not in joints like this they don’t darlin’.� Casting a quick eye around the cliental, he turned to her with a little wink.


Looking around again, Ororo could appreciate his point. The place looked like a working man’s club; groups of tired and haggard-looking men, in loose groups or sat alone after twelve hour shifts, pouring over the comforting presence of hard liquor amongst the rickety tables and plaque mounted animal heads on the walls. This certainly didn’t look like the type of place in which one drank coffee. She smiled as she cupped the mug with both hand again and took a careful sip. “Whereabouts are we now?� She inquired casually for it didn’t really matter.


Logan took a sip of his drink as his eyes became vacant as if he were trying to work the answer to the question out in his head. When he put the class back down, half of its strong contents gone in that one gulp, he said, “We’re probably about a days drive from Ontario.�


“And when we get there, what happens then?�


He shrugged, trying not to think about it, “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.� Quickly he finished the remaining amount of whisky, throwing his head back and letting gravity do the rest. The amber liquid hardly touched the sides and no sooner had he finished than he was getting up from his chair and heading back to the bar behind him. “Put another one in there would’ya.� He dropped the glass back down onto the wooden bar with a high-pitched clack and then pulled out a ten dollar bill, throwing it down at side.


“Sure thing ‘Mac’.� The bar tender said absently as he pushed off the low down shelf he was leaning on, placed the glass he was cleaning back on the rack. Logan paid no attention to the man as he went about his task, instead taking a quick look around at how was near by. There was a lone man on a stool further down the bar, staring into his pint glass with glazed red rimmed eyes, just behind him sat a group of four older men, all conversing amiably in Canadian dialect French. But then a conversation to his left caught his ear.


“...yeah, ya should o’ seen the size o’ this guy.� The men that sat around the one holding court all laughed dismissively, to which the exasperated speaker tried to plead his case. “No, no, I’m tellin’ ya---this guy was huge, an’ I mean fuckin’ enormous.� He waved his hand fleetingly in order to keep their attention.


“Whatever ya say Jonny,� The man to his left said as he chewed on a match parked in the corner of his mouth and chuckled towards the rest of the group, “Just like ya said the guy at the roadhouse was big---.�


“He was!� He interrupted in protest.


“And,� the other man continued, raising his voice for emphasis, “Ya got us ta lay out good fer him. An’ what happened?� He turned to the man named Jonny with look of mock accusation and with a slightly drunken slur, added, “The puny little bastard got pasted Jonny, that’s what!� The whole group erupted into riotous laughter, “I lost a hundred goddamn bucks that night!� That simply made the four other men laugh harder. All except the poor beleaguered Jonny.


Logan would have picked up his now ready and waiting drink and gone back to his table had it not been for the next sentence that held his attention. “No, he’s right.� One of the other men, who’d watched all the exchanges fairly silently until now spoke up, “I saw him too---one of the best I’ve seen in a long while.� His voice was thoughtful and deliberate, though whether that was through the wisdom of age or liquor was anyone’s guess. “But he don’t travel, he ain’t on the circuit---he just happened ta be local to the area.�


“Oh yeah, where?�


“Alberta---this place called Zama City, up in the North.� Logan looked over, all pretence at subtly of over listening in on there conversation gone. “Yeah,� The man continued as if musing over things, “Toughest bastard I’ve ever seen an’ no mistake.� All the other men made thoughtful nodding motions then as if the words of this particular drinking partner were gospel.


There was a brief hush before the conversation moved to something else. The ‘sage’ didn’t join in with the younger men, instead taking a slow sip from his bottle of beer, letting his eyes wonder. It was only a matter of time before they found Logan. He took another swig of his Bud before placing it down on the table in front of him, letting his hand slip down the wet, brown bottle. His eyes regarded Logan for a long while before he spoke. “Somethin’ the matter buddy?�


Logan stayed silent, his face set with his habitual darkness of expression. Slowly he turned back to the bar and took up his glass. In one swift movement he downed the entire drink, slammed the glass back down and then scooped up his change and shoved it back into his pocket. Ororo watched him as he came back over, her smile dropping as she noticed the sudden change in him. “C’mon---we’re goin’.�


“But we’ve only just got---.�


“We’re goin’.� There was a certain amount of finality in the way he said it. Not threatening just...final. She gave him a look that made it clear that she wasn’t at all happy and then slipped her jacket back on, only having shrugged out of it a moment of two ago. Without a word or so much as an exchanged glance, they left the bar. Half of a hot cup of coffee steaming away on the empty table sat by itself---abandoned.



* * *


Logan awoke with a start, his elbow banging into the side door as he suddenly realised that he was in the cramped front cabin of the pick-up. He automatically effected the position most people do when they wake up and can’t remember where precisely they are; that of a Mere-cat on watch, looking this way and that with sharp, sudden movements of the head. As he got a clue to his surroundings he let out a sighing grumble in lieu of a yawn as he stretched his body as best he could. He squinted at the light that poured through the windows at all four sides of him. It was bright, moreover stark. He glanced at his watch, the brown leather strap and large silver set face clamped around his left wrist. It was five o’clock---he could only presume that was five pm the next day not am. The sky indicated that it could very well have been either, with its pre-or-post dawn ambiguity. The truck had been parked next to yet another lake, the Canadian landscape being full of them, although Logan had no idea which one, as after they’d left Lumberjack’s Ororo had gotten into the drivers seat without a word and had drove whilst he took his turn to sleep.


He shoved himself into a sitting position with some difficulty, trying to circumnavigate the hand-break and gear stick. As he sat upright he put his hand to the back of his neck, easing it to the left and right to rid it of the momentary crick born of leaning his head at an awkward angle against the door as he slept.


A splashing sound from outside took his weary attention to the lake but there was nothing there that he could immediately make out. It appeared to be as peaceful and calm as it had been when he first looked out at its glassy surface. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter...Ororo’s laughter. It was only at that point that he became aware of the fact that she wasn’t there. He’d been on his own for so long that it always took him a few moments to register when she wasn’t by his side. Then the splash came again accompanied by an unself-conscious reel of laughter that almost made the ‘old dog’ smile. Running his hand over his face in a scrubbing motion to force off the last of the tiredness he got out of the car; grabbing his leather jacket with the three stripes, on the way out. Dropping down to the ground he slammed the door shut behind him and then pulled on the tattered old leather over his denim jacket, breathing in deep so that the fresh cool air woke him completely.


The wet gravel crunched under foot as he made his way down to the edge of the lake. As the clear water lapped at the shingle of the shore, creating a noise like the waves of the ocean he stood at its boundary, watching with a certain sense of wander as Ororo cavorted in the still lake, without a care in the world. Her long, pale hair was slicked back, clinging to her body as she emerged from the water for breath; spurting out a fountain of clear liquid like a statue of antiquity. For a brief moment she bobbed up and down as she tried to sustain her buoyancy, creating a gentle movement of ripples to disturb the tranquil of the flat surface. As Logan watched her pitch up and dive back down again, her naked supple form cutting through to submerge itself like a playful nymph, a thought came to him of how it looked like she was swimming in the clouds. The fluffy white and grey forms reflected with such mirror perfection on the lake that it really did look like she were playing amongst the feathery vacant masses that dotted the sky. An indescribable feeling rose in his chest as he observed her---one which he couldn’t help but think himself foolish for acknowledging, being the type of man that he was. And it scared him; scared him in the same way that it scared him every time he thought about that last night in his apartment. He’d meant every last word he’d said on that cathartic night; a heavy weight had been lifted from his heart and his mind but in the cold light of day his words still had the power to...frighten him almost. Whilst he gazed upon her now she looked so free, so at peace with herself---it only served to remind him of the demons that haunted his soul, demons that would never allow him a respite from their torment. Especially after last night...Maybe it was a sign that it was time to stop running.


“Come and join me!� Ororo had finally emerged long enough to notice that Logan was stood on the lake edge.


“Are you crazy?� He called, his voice reverberating across the entire expanse. “It’s damn cold out here---ya wanna catch yer death?�


She laughed at him as she splayed her arms in rhythmic circles horizontally just beneath the waters surface to keep her self afloat. “It is wonderful in here!� She exclaimed joyfully, “Don’t be such a coward!� At that he cocked an eyebrow at her and then with a lopsided grin thought,# Ta hell with it.# and began to inch off his leather and denim jackets at the same time.


*


With a loving care Ororo filled her handful of water and spilled it over his shoulder before laying her hand on his skin and brushing it all the way down his muscular arm. As she sat behind him in the shallows of the water, her long legs wrapped around his midriff, her shapely calves tucked over his thighs so that her feet rested together between them, she repeated the motion. Scooping up another generous amount of vaguely chilly water, some of it seeped through the tiny gaps that were left as she poured it this time over his hair. It didn’t saturate its thick mass immediately, most droplets running straight off like oil resisting water, but then she did it again and this time the liquid took. She slicked his hair down, letting her hands run right down the back of his head and then move onto his back;, flowing them over it like she were modelling a sculpture, her deep doe eyes holding a air of fascinated concentration.


Logan closed his eyes to the fading light and the distant snow capped mountains as he gave himself to the sensations of her hands ‘washing’ his body. With the delicate but unknown song that she hummed melodiously yet absently, what she was doing had a certain sense of ritual about it. He was feeling much more relaxed; all thought that had previously began to trouble him again melting away into the ether at the simple caress of her hands. The humming slowly became more purposeful until it morphed into a true tune, soon after its soothing strength was followed by the addition of words. They were words he had utterly no comprehension of, but the way she sang them, with a soft yet powerful dipping lilt in a lullaby tempo, somehow made sense of them.


Malaika, nakupenda Malaika

Malaika, nakupenda Malaika

Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio,

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

As she sung the words in a tender and wistful voice she too closed her eyes, her head inclined to the side and tipped back slightly; her hands continuing to collect up the clear cool liquid and bathe her lover with measured, graceful caresses...


Ningekuoa Malaika

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa Malaika


Pesa zasumbua roho yangu

Pesa zasumbua roho yangu

Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio,

Ningekuoa Malaika

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningekuoa Malaika


Kidege, hukuwaza kidege

Kidege, hukuwaza kidege

Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio,

Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Ningkuoa kidege

Nashindwa na mali sina, we

Ningekuoa kidege....


The last words trailed off quietly, morphing back into the gentle lull of her former humming. It was a while before he was roused to ask, having been pulled into the same kind of vague trance by the song that she seemed to have fallen into singing it. But eventually he asked, his voice sounding alien and soft in his ears after such a stretch of ‘silence’, “What was that?�


The humming broke off and he could tell she was smiling from the sound of her voice. “It is a song from Kenya.�


“What---some kinda traditional song?�


“No,� she shook her head as she ran her hands over each of his arms, tracing flaccidly at his tattoos before stretching so that she reached all the way down to his thick wrists, “it is quite old, but it’s not tribal. I am not sure who it is from.�


“How did you learn it?� It was the first time he’d felt comfortable enough to begin to ask her about her past. Even after over a week on the road together they still hadn’t really talked all that much; not about each other at any rate. But this felt like the right time...a natural flow almost.


After a brief silence she replied, “My mother used to sing it to me when I was very young.� Her hands became still suddenly and her eyes held a far off look like she was reminiscing. “She used to sing it all the time,� She started again suddenly and with an obvious fondness, “when she was cooking or doing things around the house, or when we went to the lake for swimming. She....� The words faded on Ororo’s lips as she leant her cheek against his damp back; the water from Logan’s now soaked hair running down it in streams, some of it catching on her face as she pressed to him with a bitter-sweet look in her eyes. Her arms wrapped around his torso as she rested against him; feeling a sense of comfort as he took hold of her forearms with a strong and steady grip. “It’s been so long that I can not even remember what most of it means...just the sound of the words. That’s all.� She admitted regretfully.


Logan held her arms that bit tighter and kind of made to turn his head to look at her but didn’t. Instead he brought her arms up from his body and kissed her hand before laying them back down to where they were. This time he could feel her smile; her beautiful lips curving between his shoulder blades, near the top. “What words can you remember?� He encouraged with a rare quietness.


Ororo pulled her head back and thought for a moment, only one or two of the lines coming to her from distant buried memories. The sound of that pretty and familiar voice filling her ears whilst pots and dished clanked in the sink and soapy water sloshed and slopped about. “‘Angel’...� She started uncertainly, “‘Angel, I love you Angel...’�She paused again, trying to recall the next line, “‘What should I do, your lover?’ ‘I would marry you, Angel’---something---something ‘is troubling my soul’. I can’t remember the word that goes there.� She thought again for a moment as she idly let her hands rub up and down his torso slightly, dipping in and out of the water with soft splashes, but it wouldn’t come to her. “Then there is something like,� She recited the part of the song that she was trying to recall next in a silent whisper, just her lips moving in mimic of it, then continued, “It’s something like- ‘Little...bird, I always dream of you, little bird.’ The other words are a loss to me.� She conceded finally with a small shrug and then planted a kiss between his shoulder blades where her cheek had previously been resting.


A contented silence settled in which neither of them did or said anything, just held each other in the water. There was so much unsaid but so much time to say it in. It seemed strange to know someone with such an intense intimacy but in truth not know them at all. They could be together for hours without a word and still feel closer than most people---trivial facts were not needed here. They were linked by essence...a bond much more infinite. It was something they’d both come to recognise over the past week...not consciously but instinctively. But reality still had to be contended with...unfortunately.


“We should get goin’ soon.� His words didn’t seem to break the peace.


“Why?� She whispered lazily; her eyes closed and her head pressed to him once more.


“We’ve gotta get to Zama City.�


Ororo opened her eyes and pulled her head back, tilting it as if to try and look round at his face, “Why there?� She thought of last night when they’d talked about where they were going and he was so non-committal about heading up to Ontario. But something had happened in that bar; something that she had not bothered to question him about. She’d learnt fast that to push him about something was to have him clam up, and that wasn’t what she wanted. The workings of his mind were slowly starting to make sense to her. Though she asked ‘why?’ at this point because she thought it was safe to. Something had obviously past last night to make him so certain.


“I overheard some guys at the bar last night---I think there’s some good fightin’ goin’ on up there.�


Ororo fought not to grimace at the mention or betray to him how she felt about that. Memories of the night on Dock 19 coming back at a most unwelcome time. “Okay.� She said simply and then stood from the shin-deep water.


Logan turned to look up at her but he felt she was distinctly avoiding his eye as she turned toward the close shore and wading back to the shingle. He watched her closely as she picked up her heaped clothes from the ground and made her way over to the truck to put them back on. But he remained where he was for the moment--- questioning himself. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing or not and realised that he had much to lose if he was making an error of judgment. Right now she was pissed that he wanted to fight again, or that’s as much as he could tell, but his own misgivings ran much deeper than that so he could cope with that assumption.


As he turned to face the expanse of steely water again, a small current of waves lapping at his body, he tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. He loved Ororo whether he was scared of his ‘pillow talk’ confession or not and couldn’t be without her now, couldn’t imagine it for the life of him. He’d gone some way to giving himself over for the first time in years but he could never give wholly if he didn’t confront his past. He knew that now---always had really. The risk was great, but she was worth it. As he got up from the water and looked over to where she was stood next to the rusting pick-up truck, pulling on her loose T-shirt over still damp skin he knew she’d always be worth it, always...


-TBC-

Disclaimer: Entirely Marvel and 20th Century Fox’s---nowt ta do with me.


A/N; I forgot to credit the Swahili song I used in the last chapter. It was called ‘Malaika’ (Angel) and it was written by Fadhili William, although there is a bit of a dispute over whether or not he wrote it apparently, but hey, that’s not my concern...


Thank-you to Pookie, Tough Spirit, Missi, Jezabel, JamesGirl0512, Penpal, Saki, TigerStorm, Anon and thewinderider278! xx


Chapter.10.


A roadhouse outside of Zama City, northern Alberta Province, eight days later...


The crowd was familiar. The noise was familiar. The smell was familiar...everything about this cramped roadhouse with a high barn-like roof left Ororo with a distinctly odd feeling. She blended into the thronging mass with ease this time round as she waited for the fighters to come out. A woolly sailor’s ‘roll’ hat covered up her distinctive ‘barnet’, and a thick black jacket covered most of her body from view, having ditched her leather a couple of days ago for something a little warmer. There was a fight going on in the ring presently but she was paying no attention to it, more immediate things on her mind. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets, holding loosely onto the booty she’d already managed to collect from the drunken hoard. It was really quite amazing how easy it was to fleece these mugs; so easy that she almost felt sorry for them---almost. Slipping past one man, about even or eight loose rows from the front, she deftly slipped her hand into the pocket of his padded plaid jacket and there was yet another easy catch in the bag. To use a lazy cliché it really was like taking the proverbial candy from the baby. It was the best nights ‘work’ in a long time. Perhaps accompanying Logan to fights wouldn’t be so bad after all if there were going to be such rich pickings all the time.


A tremendous roar went up from the crowd as one half of the unfortunate losers face practically splattered across the grubby canvas of the ring. With a wet thump he landed onto the rough off-white surface. Ororo spared the spectacle no more than a fleeting glance as he moved on to the next ‘pay-check’, only briefly pondering how easily one could become desensitised to these things. Her hand found the next victim...


*


Logan watched from the side lines as the heavily bleeding man was pulled from the ring---not blanching at the sight for a second. It was like water off a duck’s back as the saying goes. Two men had the defeated fighter by each arm, more-or-less dragging the bloodied and bruised mess from the ring, down the steps and out of the small room without much care for the man’s obvious injuries. Logan followed their with his hard hazel eyes until the man disappeared out of sight, through the fire-doors at the back and then turned back to the ring; probably the last time he would ever see him and not a thought spared from now on. He’d seen hundreds of defeated men in his time and they’d all sort of blurred into on big mesh of blood and bruises—even the ones he’d put in that state. His mind instantly focused on the man still in the ring. That was what was important now.


This fight was a free-for-all and any one who wanted to could get into the ring if they’d signed up---they were the rules. It was the way that Logan himself had first got into fighting, after he’d left the army; taken a pasting or two like that in his time as well in the early days, if his memory served him correctly. But his mind wasn’t on that right now, he was waiting in the wings, absently balling his fists into each palm alternately; the gauze that Ororo had strapped on earlier still wrapped as tight as when she’d first wound it around. He tugged at their ends that peaked out from beneath the secure bindings, just to make sure that they wouldn’t come lose as one of he fight organisers made his way over to him, barging his way shoulder first through the throng.


“Yer up next buddy.� The short---exceptionally short---red haired man with rather pronounced jowls and fair freckled skin called as he neared Logan. “Ya ready?� Logan nodded curtly and then followed the organiser over to the ring as he pushed the punters out of his way without fear of reprisal, cutting a clear path through. “Move it will ya!� He bellowed at the last unfortunate in his way, shoving the rather unsteady elderly man to the side without a care. He hopped up into the ring deftly and held the blue and red ropes open in order for Logan to climb through.


Logan did just that, hoisting himself up via the blue top rope and quickly making his way over to face up to his opponent. They were evenly matched at a casual glance; same build and height. There was really nothing between them. No announcements, no pomp—no contest, Logan thought wryly. With a thundering punch the fight began amid the blood stained canvas.


*


*THWACK!*


With one last ‘wet’ bone grinding punch, Ororo watched impassively as the man went down, connecting most ungracefully with the ground. That was the fourth one in the space of just over half-an-hour and Logan was showing no signs of tiring. But no sooner had the last unfortunate been taken half-conscious from the fray than the next one was wheeled in to take the punishment. The last one having been downed by a well placed blow to the left side of his jaw that rattled his entire skull like it had been placed in a soda stream machine.


Not wanting to push her luck, she decided it was about time they bailed. Slowly, so as not to grab any unwanted attention, she sidled her way over to the doorway that led into the normal bar area, away from gnashing teeth and baying shouts. As she leant as casually as-you-like against the splintered frame, hands in her pockets, she made certain she was in Logan’s line of vision as he came around the other side of the latest ‘chancer’ to push his luck.


Logan’s ever watchful attention picked her up immediately. He didn’t need to fix her for any length of time, the merest glance and the faint, unassuming nod from her told him all he needed to know. Quickly he looked back up at his opponent, a pug-ugly bruiser, built like a brick-shit house. There were worse things than conceding a fight to someone like him, he mused nobly. On the strength of his recent performances at least it would appear convincing. It looked like it was this loser’s lucky day.


*WHUMP* A astonishingly powerful punch on the right side of his face sent Logan spinning around and clumsily into the springing ropes of the ring. Now he was pissed---that had taken him by surprise; a turn of events that never—never happened. Not to him anyway. There was no way he could let that one lie.


With all his body weight behind him, Logan pushed himself back up right, using the buoyancy of the ropes to give him extra leverage as he came up swinging; a sweet right hook catching the other guy in the jaw. It threw him off balance sure enough, but didn’t quite have the impact Logan was hoping for. No matter.


*BAM*, *BAM*. Two lightening fast sucker punches to the stomach, left then right, had pug-boy doubled over and staggering backwards.


Wiping away a thin trickle of blood that had started from the small gash just on his cheek bone Logan was sportsman enough to wait for the other man to disentangle his arms from blue and red to right himself before he landed one last blow, square on the guy’s---prominent, to say the least, nose. That was enough, Logan thought as he pulled back and waited for reprisal, showing some restraint finally. If that hadn’t riled him enough to lie a truly convincing punch on him then there was no way he was going down to this fucker.


And...*WHAM!* Logan was down; suppressing a wince at the keen slap of the bottom of the ring against the side of his face as he connected with it. His immediate instinct told him to get the hell up and sock it to him but he fought against it---the rage in his blood much less rife these days, though still there. Instead he let the roar of the crowd deafen him, his eyes closed and he allowed his body to go limp. It was only now that he realised that his head was in fact pounding and there was a sharp pain in his jaw accompanied by the familiar metalic taste. He subtly tongued his back teeth on the left side of his mouth. The bastard had chipped a damn tooth.


Suddenly, amid the shouting of the ginger man with jowls calling for the next contestant to be brought forth, Logan felt himself being hoisted up by two people at each side of him, slinging his arms over their shoulders. He opened his eyes just barely, allowing them to squint. His misty focus glided over the sea of shaded heads, covered by a cloak of smoky blackness over to the doorway, where she stood waiting still. Even with her scarf pulled up so that it more-or-less covered her mouth like it had on that first night, months ago, he could tell from her eyes that she was smirking; impressed by his Oscar-esque performance. He let his eyes shut again as he was dragged from the ring and manoeuvred through the ropes.


*


“Fifty, hundred, one fifty, two hundred, two fifty, three hundred, three fifty,� and with a flamboyant rise of tone he slapped the last note down on top of the others Logan held in his out stretched palm and declared, “four hundred. That’s a hundred bucks per fight.�


Logan didn’t offer thanks; he simply rolled the notes up and put them in the breast pocket of his denim beneath his leather, buttoning the pocket shut once he’d done so.


“They were some good fights.� the man on the other side of the desk said almost thoughtfully. Logan regarded him with dark features set in stone, finding it impossible not to consider everything that strangers said to him as having ulterior motives. It was the type of sentence that begged to foster a conversation on the back of it. “What did you say yer name was again?�


“I didn’t.�


“Funny guy.� The bar-owner said flatly ad then looked down at the signing-up sheet on his desk that detailed which fighter had won what. You had to last at least two fights in a row to win anything and then it was one hundred per fight after that point. “Urr---,� he ran his finger down the list, “Logan right?�


“Right.�


The balding man scratched at his white whiskered chin as his eyes rolled to the ceiling in the universal pose for; I’m thinking. “You---you been in New York lately?�


“Yeah,� Logan shrugged, his hands in his pockets, “What’s it to ya?�


“The Kowalski fight,� He smiled knowingly up at Logan from his desk jammed in the corner of the box room that he classed an office, “That you?---the ‘Wolverine’?� Logan remained stubbornly silent and the man erupted into a husky laughter that soon burst into a chesty cough. “That was you, wasn’t it?� He said hoarsely, balling his fist near to his mouth ready for a renewed coughing fit, but none came. “Damn---Ricky told me about that.� He laughed, albeit a little more placidly this time, “You know Ricky Thomas?�


“I’ve met him---few years back.�


The bar-owner carried on like he hadn’t registered his answer, “Yeah, I saw him at a fight a couple o’ weeks back---he said it was a helluva fight, said you damn near ripped the guy apart.� This fact the man seemed to find particularly amusing, a broad smile on his red face. “Ya know he’s still got his jaw wired shut?�


“No. I didn’t.� He didn’t especially feel anything on finding this out. In fact, Logan hadn’t really thought about the guy at all since that night. No conscience, no regret---not so far as Kowalski was concerned, at least.


“Hell yeah,� the man shook his head and looked down, his eyes focused on something unseen, then he looked up at Logan again, “it’ll be awhile until he gets back on the merry-go-round, that’s fer sure.�


That was it for the chit-chat, Logan had heard enough of this bull-shit for one night. He made to leave, until another question held him there, “Ricky said you ain’t been ‘round after that---just kinda fell off the radar.� He gave him a quizzical look, “Woulda thought after gettin’ a notch that big you’da been chalkin’ up the fights, huh?�


“Something came up.� Logan muttered gruffly, like it was any of his goddamn business anyway.


“What---urr---brings you up inta this neck of the woods anyhow?�


“Stuff.�


The white whiskered man raised an eyebrow, “Conversational fella ain’t ya?�


“What’s it to ya?� This was getting increasingly irritating, but then it came to him that he could be asking one or two questions of his own. He shifted slightly, his hand coming from his pocket and absently ghosting over the gash that had formed into a bruised bump. Changing tack, he asked, “You get many locals fightin’ in here, bub?�


The man nodded, leaning forwards on his desk and lacing his rough fingers together, “Yeah, plenty.�


“What about guy’s from outside the area?�


“What? Ya mean passin’ through?�


“Logan shook his head, “No. I mean the surroundin’ area---Steen River? Chateh?� then added, his voice remaining low yet casual, “Bistcho?�


The bar-owner leant back, taking himself out of the bright pool of pale yellow light that cascaded down from the lamp on the shelf next to the desk, “Sure, why not.� Casually waving his hand to the side he said, “We get people from all over comin’ in here on open fight nights---what the hell else can a guy do fer kicks on a weekend out here?�


Logan nodded, but his whole demeanour seemed like he was somewhere far off, away from this dank little room with it’s over flowing ashtray and smell of damp carpet. Pulling back to the moment, he muttered a quiet “Thanks� and then left.


“Sure thing.� He said quietly to the back of the now closed door, his brow furrowed. But brushing the stranger from his mind with a dismissive shake of his head he looked down at his signing-up sheet to see who was to be paid next.


* * *


Ororo’s eyes smiled above the checked scarf and she yanked it down from over her mouth as Logan came over to the car. She was leant back against the passenger door, waiting for him to emerge from the roadhouse. “Did you get it?�


“Yeah.�


“Did he suspect?� She asked with the naughty enthusiasm of a school kid asking their friend if they’d just had a ticking off after being summoned to the headmaster’s office.


He shook his head, “Nah.� He stated with a slight grin. “What about you---catch anythin’?� She reached into her pockets and held out three wallets in each hand, a devilish smile on her lips as she peered up at him from beneath lusciously long, dark lashes. “That’s my girl.� He remarked and then caught those curving lips with his, quick and hard, pressing her back against the car. She almost dropped the contents in her hands as her grip slackened in light of the kiss, weakening not just her knees but her entire body. A sigh of disappointment elicited from her mouth, turning quickly into a thick stream of vapour as he pulled away. “Let’s get outta here.� Putting the wallets away they both got into the car.


*


As they sped down the dark highway in the maroon Sudan, the pick-up truck (and much to Logan’s chagrin, his bike too) having been dumped in a lay-by somewhere Saskatchewan, Ororo opened up the wallets one by one. She flipped open the third, a rough black leather affair, and pulled out all the papers that were stuffed into the back of it. Quickly she sorted through them separating the green from the rest of the crap and then threw the useless paper and the wallet out of the window, only glancing behind quickly as the discarded items bounced down the road and scuttle around in the back draft of the car until they were blotted out by night.


Logan looked at her, taking his eyes off the road for a moment as she repeated the action with the next wallet; watching briefly as with a flurry of whipping paper; a small chunk of someone’s life flying out into the night. Turning back to the road he gave a small shake of his head, a knowing, feral smile on his face. “You got no mores?�


Ororo made an incredulous noise, “Why? Have you?� She used the slim plastic handle to wind the window back up.


He shook his head again and concentrated on the road. “How much we got there anyways?


Ororo flicked through the notes quickly and then bunched them all together neatly, curving them in the middle. “Five hundred and sixty eight.� She relayed proudly, “Plus your four hundred and thhhhat’s...nine hundred and sixty eight. Not bad for an hours work.�


“Beats waitin’ tables,� He sniffed, “You sure know how ta pick ‘em ‘Ro, I’ll give you that.�


“It’s called practice my love,� she told him boldly, “practice.�


“Oh yeah? So what made you pick me that night?�


Ororo gave an embarrassed laugh and feigned shyness, hiding her face beneath her loose silver locks. Pulling her head back up sharply, she inclined it towards him, “You really want to know?�


“Yeah sure,� he said lightly, placing his right hand on her slim jean clad thigh, squeezing firmly, “why not?�


“I found you attractive.� She admitted rather coyly, “despite the black eye.�


“Hmph! Sounds a very methodical way ta choose yer marks darlin’.� He said bemused, rubbing the hand that lay on her leg back and forth a few times; relishing the firm, lithe feel of it.


“Well let’s just say I had a---.� She turned her eyes skywards as she thought, “moment of madness.� She concluded finally. “That, plus I saw that wad the short man gave you, remember? That was incentive enough.�


He gave a placid sound of amusement, then after a moment of silence said, “I’m glad ya did beautiful...I’m real glad ya did.�


“So am I.� She said wistfully, placing her creamy, dusky hand over his as it moved slowly to rest at the very top of her thigh, almost touching her crotch. The hard, rough texture of it beneath her soft palm and the reassuring heat felt gorgeous to her. Then it sparked a familiar thought, “I think we should find somewhere to stay.�


“Motel?�


“Yes.� She replied as she took her hand from his and then and ran it through his untameable hair. Then she let her had run down, lightly brushing the tips of two fingers over the cut on his cheek bone that didn’t look too bad now that the blood had been wiped away from it, although it was starting to swell and a purple shadow was starting all around it. “Does it hurt?�


There was no answer; he was staring straight ahead as if he was in a world entirely of his own suddenly. “ Logan?� Still nothing. “Logan?� A little louder.


“Yeah darlin’?�


“You were a million miles away then.� She laughed uncertainly.


“Sorry babe,� He squeezed her thigh again, “I was in a world of my own, what did you say?�


Ororo shook her head as she eyed him carefully, “It doesn’t matter.� She replied quietly and then turned back to the front. A silence settled then as small flakes of snow started outside, rushing towards the windshield of the car like stars speeding past in light-years. They were few and far between at first until more and more joined the fray, bouncing of the large maroon bonnet and into the windshield, rapidly reducing visibility.


“I think there’s a motel in about a mile from here.� Logan said quietly. Though, he didn’t think, he knew...His dark eyes flicked to the left hand side of the road as a sign gradually became illuminated it the pools of the car’s headlamps.


‘Welcome to Bistcho.’...


-TBC-


Sorry this one was a bit short, the next one will probably be much longer and with a bit more...heat!

Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


Cheers to all my readers and reviewers---see, I can be quick when I want to be, lol!


Chapter.11.


As they came up underneath the slopping porch roof of room twenty two, Ororo reached up and fleetingly brushed a few stray snowflakes from Logan’s hair whilst he unlocked the door. Once inside, he flicked on the lights, which turned on the two lamps at the side of the bed, and threw the key with its large red plastic tag onto the nearest convenient surface. The motel room wasn’t too bad; simply and unattractively furnished but clean. In fact it looked like something of a time capsule from circa.1968.


Ororo threw her bag down, unbuttoned and shrugged off her coat and sat down at the foot of the bed; making it bounce up and down furiously on its weak springs. She leant back slightly, supporting herself with the flats of her palms as she looked up at Logan, stood directly across from her as he pulled off his jackets too. “Logan.�


“What?�


“The cut on your cheek---it’s bleeding.� She got up from the bed and went over to him.


Logan touched his hand to his face, instantly feeling a warm sticky texture beneath his fingers. He pulled them away and looked at the tips of his index and middle; covered with a dash of bright scarlet. Rubbing his thumb through the red liquid he made an unsurprised noise, “So it is.� He said flatly, throwing his coats down carelessly.


“Let me see.� She practically whispered as all her attention concentrated on the weeping gash. Touching tentatively at the area, she told him, “You know---you may need stitches in this.�


At that Logan snorted laughter and reached up to take her hand away, “Look darlin’, I’ve done worse things shavin’.�


Ororo chuckled whilst giving him a tight look, “Well, at least let me clean it up for you.�


He sighed, a little exaggeratedly, “Alright, alright,� he gave in, “if you insist.� Watching her as she went over to the tiny en-suite bathroom, he took his jackets off and sat down on the gaudily flowery bed spread, more-or-less where Ororo had been sitting before. He never took his eyes from her as she pulled the long white cord and the small room flooded with flickering bright light that took a while to steady itself. Once it had, its stark presence illuminated her perfectly, clad in tight light jeans and a snowy white sleeveless blouse that made her hair seem a little creamy by comparison. Or maybe that was just the light. He watched her with a keen eye as she was wringing out a cloth she’d been hold beneath the cold tap; her long slim arms tensing slightly as she twisted the dark blue flannel in her hands. The excess water dripped into the white porcelain of the small sink basin below; the heavy yet vacant sound echoing from inside the bowl and off the tiled walls of the closet sized room.


As she came back into the room, Ororo snapped the light cord off again and then flapped the wet flannel out before scrunching it back into a lose ball. “It’s cold,� She said as she gently wiped at the thin trickle of blood that ran down his face, getting lost in his dark whiskers, “but it should help to keep the swelling down.�


Logan let his legs part so that she could come in closer to him as her attentions moved onto the cut itself. Dabbing as light as she dared, she smiled a little as she felt hard, strong hands close around the tops of her thighs. She could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into her but she refused to meet his eye, concentrating instead on taking away the congealed blood on the gash. All was silent as she felt herself being pulled that little bit closer, a millimetre at a time until the end of his tilted back chin touched her torso beneath her breasts, just barely...The soft scent of her long hair wafted into his face, its very tips managing to brush against it as she leant over him. He inhaled deeply, letting out a low growl deep from in his chest as he slowly exhaled. Ororo’s mouth opened slightly in a silent gasp, partly at the sound that always started the heat in her but mostly because of the his hands gripped at her legs tighter. But she continued to administer her care most gently, refusing to be distracted by his touch, for now at least...Though soon enough he gave her little or no choice in the matter...


She gasped for real this time as he suddenly snatched the damp, chilly cloth from her hand and threw it aside. They both stayed motionless for a moment that seemed an eternity as finally Ororo met his gaze; fierce and hot in its smouldering desire. She pushed on of her legs forwards slowly until the top of her shin touched against his crotch. Instantly she felt the hardness of his erection pressing there and couldn’t help but teasingly rub her leg against it. Back and forth, back and forth---his growl was much more pronounced this time, its unknown, deep ferocity making Ororo’s stomach tighten and her sex tingle...Her hands dropped down to his shoulders as Logan pressed his face to her body, burying himself in the coolness of her light shirt and being immersed in the feel and aroma of her as she continued to move her leg against his groin---daring him into action. She could feel the heat of his ragged breaths on her skin even through her shirt.


He closed his eyes whilst resting on her and gradually moved his hands up her body, skimming over her arse and then bunching up the hem of her shirt at the back. After he’d pushed it upwards he slipped his hands underneath, growling again at the soft warm feel of her skin but this time passion overtook him as it oft had before and he caused Ororo to cry out as he leant back from her, quickly shifting his hands around to the front of her body and tearing open her shirt, ripping off every button in the process.


Yet another item of her clothing ruined through his primitive lust, but Ororo neither minded nor cared as he bore down on her breast, punishing her with biting more than kissing. She groaned erratically, stuttering out the passionate noises as her legs started to buckle beneath her and she sagged down, her knees catching on the edge of the bed just between his legs as he moved backwards and caught her to him. But not once did he break his attentions on her breast. It was only when he moved onto the other one that he was willing to do that. She gripped at his shirt and shut her eyes tight as she suffered the exquisite pain, desperately trying not to scream her ecstasy at his rough touch. In New York nobody ever paid any attention to her often blood-curdling screams but out here she felt sure they’d be noticed. So she tried to curtail them as best she could---but she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it for long as his hands moved from where they’d held tightly to her bare back and forcefully yank open her jeans, almost busting the zip.


Finally he took himself from her breasts and stood up with her in his arms, turning her down onto the bed or moreover throwing her down. He reached for the waist line of her jeans and ripped them from her legs in one violent pull; the force of it taking her trainers off too, falling back to earth with a muffled thud. After he’d pulled his shirt off he gave her a dangerously feral smile as he dropped down onto his knees in between her legs. Taking hold of her hips, he dragged her down the bed towards him. Quickly removing her knickers he took hold of her legs and hooked them over his shoulders before taking tight hold of her hips once more.


Ororo knew exactly what Logan was intending to do and she moaned breathlessly in anticipation of it but even more so as she felt his nipping kisses working their way down the inside of her thigh. She gripped at the bed spread, the quickening sound of her breaths the only sound in the room as he travelled higher and higher and higher...


“Logan...� She moaned softly as she felt his tongue flick out, lightly running over the rapidly wet lips of her vagina. Her hand stole down to grip at his hair and the other continued to fist wildly at the bed cover as he delved his tongue in deeper, quickly locating the clitoris. He swirled his tongue around it, whipping up her ardent frenzy, making her cry out breathlessly. She was in serious danger of climaxing there and then but he didn’t stop, instead drawing her erect clitoris forwards and taking it lightly in his teeth before sucking on it and then letting it go.


For a moment he withdrew his tongue---“No!---don’t stop...oh Logan don’t stop, don’t stop...� Ororo continued to whisper the mantra as she turned her head to the sheets at the feel of Logan resuming his attentions. He kept it up for a while longer, until she was fairly crying euphoria. But then, the action all of a blur to her in her blissful state, he’d withdrawn again pulled her down the bed and turned her body over so that she was bent over at the waist with him behind her. For a moment she tried to turn her head round to look at him over her shoulder but was stopped from doing so as she felt his hand roughly close around the back of her neck and pushed her back down so that she was laid with her cheek pressing down onto the bed---trapped between him and it. She remained motionless as she heard the tinkling of his belt buckle being loosened and the shift of fabric as his jeans fell down from his body.


Ororo sighed out a ragged sob as she felt his body pressing against hers---the hardness of his cock lying, for a moment, against her vagina as she ached to be filled by it. But instead it was rudely taken away and she felt the harsh penetration of two fingers and then three. Her lustful cries were muffled by the bed cover as he shoved them in and out of her, not taking long to get her back to the point where she was before. Her legs trembled and her hands dug further into the sheets as he cajoled her once more, every now and then letting the slick fingers slip out and caress her anus causing her another delight. Eventually the fingers stopped entering her sex and fondled only at the space between her firm buttocks. She was perfectly aware of what he wanted to do and felt the sudden urge to press herself against him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to.


But she didn’t need to a slowly Logan pushed at first one finger into her anus and when he’d manipulated it enough pushed another one in too. He wanted her to be dilated enough to take him that way. When he felt she was ready, he took his two fingers from the hole he held steadily to her hip whilst the other hand remained at her neck and gradually began to push himself into her.


Ororo held her breath as her body adjusted, the fact that she was still slick helping to ease him in. But once he’d taken his cock as far as it would go. Her entire body shuddered as she exhaled; her attempts to bite back a cry utterly useless. Slowly Logan began to pull back and then push forwards again; when her only reactions where positive moans of joy he began to fuck her harder. Holding firmly to her hip he pumped into her, the tightness of her anus and her more than obvious pleasure making it hard for him to hold on. He let out a furious growl through gritted teeth simultaneously taking hold of her long pale hair and yanking her head up from the bed.


Ororo fought to stop her legs from collapsing from under her as the pressure of her orgasm built inside her---her moans turning into virtual sobs as she screwed her eyes shut. The excruciatingly tight grasp he had on her hair, his fingers digging into her slender hip, the curious and wonderful sensation of this position...it all overwhelmed her and the moans didn’t take long too turn into screams. Full on screams that she had promised herself she would suppress but found herself powerless to, prompting Logan to let go of her hair---the expectedness of which almost caused her to topple forwards---but he caught her by clapping his large hand over her mouth to smother her cries. Cries of such abandon that they had caused him to forget about taking it easy and began to fuck her with untold ferociousness.


The sweat ran in rivers down both of their bodies and the point of no return seemed to be just around the corner on two counts. But Logan wasn’t finished yet---the paasion not quenched. Taking his hand from over Ororo’s mouth he put it to her other hip as he pulled his throbbing dick from her arse. This time she did collapse onto the bed; breathless and panting in a dizzy mess of tangled hair sticking to her sticky shoulders and face. The respite did not last for long though as he pulled her up from the bed and then hoisted her into his muscular arms compelling her to wrap her long legs about his waist. For the first time they kissed; clumsily and longingly---biting and fierce. As she felt him entering her once more---his thick cock pushing up into her hot, slick vagina---she bit his lip, causing him to make a passionately guttural sound.

Ororo felt the cold, hard slap of a solid surface against her backside as she found herself being sat on one of the bedside cabinets that where attached to the plain white headboard. The simple orange shaded lamp that had been there was knocked carelessly to the ground---shattering its bulb and extinguishing its light instantly. Both of their groans where smothered by their on-going kiss as Logan took hold of her thighs, lifting them up high about his midriff and began to shunt forwards quickly. As he fucked her again with little mercy, she at first grabbed onto his hair and then at his shoulders, finally settling on gripping at the thick calico curtains that hung down behind her, almost pulling them from their brackets in the process. She tried frantically to block out the sound of the entire headboard smashing against the wall violently; the lamp that sat at the other side rocking perilously on its stand and threatening to join the other in bedside-lamp heaven.


“Fuck---ah fuck!� It was the first thing Logan had said and even that was almost unintelligible it was ground out with such a throaty, low manner.



With her mouth still close to his she issued him with a breathy challenge, “Ahh---harder---har---.� She paused and bit her lip, moaning through it before repeating, “Harder Logan---harder---please, h-harder...� Never one to refuse his lover anything he quickly obliged, pounding her so hard that it shook the whole bed, made the banging of the headboard sound like a jackhammer drilling the road and caused Ororo to rip part of the curtain from its bracket for real this time with a loud rendering sound. With a series of last frenzied ruts the lamp at the other end of headboard finally gave in to the gyration and fell to the ground with a clattering smash which left them both crying out into the darkness as their orgasms finally tore through their bodies. Thunderous explosions ripped their worlds asunder as for a moment in time the only thing they where aware of was the sensation of each others bodies hot and wet, pressed together and for all they cared there could have been nobody else on the planet---and they would have been happy...


*


Logan moved finally, lifting his forehead from her chest, kissing at it lightly before pulling back and slipping his hands from her still shaking thighs up around her narrow waist. She was completely limp as a ragged doll in his arms as he rolled them onto the waiting bed, though she was still surprisingly light despite becoming a dead-weight in her pliability. He collapsed back against the cool cotton cover as she lay over him; both still panting despite the passing of more than five minutes since they’d finished fucking.


In a mixture of tangled, sleek limbs they listened to each others breathing, feeling concrete weights vying for control of their eyelids as their bodies continued to coarse with post-coition heat; throbbing and reeling in physical sensation. Slowly, Ororo moved soundlessly off Logan and down to his side, whereon he pulled her into the nook of his arm. Resting her cheek on his chest that had ceased to heave so much, she let herself be lulled to sleep by the feel and sound of his heart pounding; gradually getting slower and slower and slower...until her eyes fell shut and the true darkness took hold of her...


* * *


The moonlight cast everything in blue as he opened his eyes to see the round kitchen clock that had its numbers denoted by pictures of fruit instead of figures. He couldn’t make out what time it was even with the cold light that was illuminating the large kitchen fairly well. He moved and it was only then that he realised that he was sitting at the breakfast island that cut the kitchen roughly down the centre, dividing the cooking area from the space that housed the large oak table. Looking across at it he could discern a stack of old newspapers, curled up at their edges and tied up with white string, ready to be thrown out. There was a chopping board on there too; on it an apple that had been cut in half, only one of those halves remaining on the board. A long full kit bag sat next to that, its stiff looped handles sagging in on one another, offering meagre support.


He started to move again, pushing both hands against the edge of the island and slipping off the stool slowly. At the moment his mind was a blank as he focused on his surroundings rendered in black, midnight-blue and silver. His heavy boots tapped on the tiled floor as he moved at it cause him to stop suddenly in his tracks---he looked down at his feet. The gleaming Para-boots felt extremely light as he’d taken those few steps but he knew they were heavy---they should have been heavy...


In an instant he forgot them as he continued on, walking slowly past the large fifties-style refrigerator towards the open doorway at its side. He glanced back quickly over his shoulder at the silent room he was leaving behind; the windows where frosted up---it was cold; really freezing---but he couldn’t feel it. So he turned again and went through the doorway to find himself in the hallway. The stairs that hugged the wall to the right stood directly opposite him. A thick swirl patterned runner went directly up their centre, exposing a little white painted step at either side, glowing in the dark like beacons. He looked to the left of them; there was another door off down the wallpapered hall but it was closed. Thinking for a moment, he soon remembered that it led into the dinning room. There was no need for him to go in there---he had to go upstairs, that’s where he knew he had to be...


Without realising that he’d been moving he found himself at their foot, his hand poised on the large, rounded knob at the bottom on the balustrade. His eyes traced a lazy path up the staircase, following the line of the white wainscoting that was between the steps and the wall that had dark panelling until around halfway up whereon it turned into the wallpaper that covered the rest of the hall. Raising a tentative foot he stepped onto the first step---the sound it made echoed in the stillness causing him to hesitate and look up at his destination. He could see nothing though; it was as pitch at the top of those stairs as a moonless night. But the moon was out tonight...

The boots felt heavy now, as they should have been as he knew they were...As he made his way up his eyes dropped back down to the wainscoting, his concentration on it making him unaware of his progress and making him feel that he’d been traipsing this staircase forever---it felt as if he where walking an escalator that was going in the wrong direction, forever fighting against the tide. So he was surprised by the fact that when he did look up he was at the top. He turned and looked back down; their steepness suddenly looking like the terrain of a mountain. He pulled away from them quickly then, an abrupt dizziness overtaking him for a moment, forcing him to close his eyes. Lurching forwards he felt the steadying presence of a wall and promptly leant against it. He eventually turned his back to it and tilted his head backwards to rest against it. His breaths were coming in pants for some reason and it panicked him slightly for he had no idea as to why. A jingling sound started, far away at first until it came closer and closer...When he opened his eyes again to see what it was that he presumed was coming towards him he found that the hall was now lit by the same stark moonlight that had lit downstairs, but he could see nobody near him or coming up the stairs despite the continuation of the high-pitched noise as if someone where rattling a bunch of keys.


He forced his breathing to slow until it almost stopped and so did the noise too. Suddenly he felt compelled to look down at his chest---two silver dog-tags glinted back up at him. When he let out his breath they clattered against other, sounding for all the world like keys smashing together. Still staring down at them he pushed himself off the wall and instinctively looked down the hallway to the left of him. Briskly now he made his way to the door but stopped just short of opening it. His hand began to reach out, but he found he couldn’t touch the brass knob. As his hand hovered close to the dull round metal it started to shake, at first slightly and then as it crept towards the handle tremendously. He had to take hold of his wrist with his other hand in order to stop it. Finally he felt the cold touch of smooth metal touch his palm and began to twist, but as he did, the creaking sound of the door filling his ears everything faded into black...


*


He awoke from the darkness with a fierce start; a sharp growl escaping his lips. There was something soft at his back which he soon came to realise was the edge of the bed. He found himself sat on the floor, his legs spread flat in front of him and his hands resting at his sides; the rough texture of the carpet feeling prickly against them. But he could feel something else too...Looking up sharply there was a framed picture on the wall, a painting that he slowly came to realise he recognised; a woman and her child walking through a vast poppy field with another pair echoing them in diagonal symmetry further up the hill, somewhere close to Paris...Soft moonlight shone across it like a powdery veil at an angle, just missing the dresser table’s vacant top. The bulky dark piece of furniture was against the wall; a solid plinth below the picture.


The damp feel of old sweat being joined by new beads clung to his forehead. He moved his hand in a motion to wipe them away but stopped short as it came past his line of vision on the way up. Holding it in front of him, inches from his face a salty smell assaulted him so fiercely he wanted to retch and his hand was covered in patches of...black. Taking his other hand from the carpet he held that up with the other; that too was covered with the same conspicuous marks. Bending his fingers inwards in brushed them over each palm. They left light marks of bare skin in their wake; making two long lines through the dark...it was sticky and wet. That’s when he became aware that the rest of his body felt like that too---or at least the upper half. For a moment he dared not look down but eventually he began to...the wet darkness was there too...


*Drip...drip...drip...* The sound of a tap leaking onto carpet started on his right hand side. Feeling hot beads breaking out from every pore and on every surface he started to look to the side; his neck felt like it were made of stone as he tried to turn it. First he saw that the light bed sheets were dark too in random splotches, like massive ink blots and their wetness made them shine in the blue light.


* Drip...drip...drip...* First he concentrated on the black tears drops hitting the carpet below with a deliberate regularity; a fountain pen left to leak for the edge of a desk. Then just the tips of the long slender fingers; perfect nails stained---a hand held in a pensive frozen state...but it wasn’t pensive at all, because to have that is to have muscle tension and that can’t exists in dead flesh...


It flowed and it flowed, the drips became worse not better as he stared at her hand, hanging from the edge of the bed, her skin so drained that even in this light he could tell that it had paled. He wanted to look but he couldn’t---he couldn’t get past her hand. Her beautiful, graceful hand, stiff and lifeless...the blood wouldn’t stop dripping, it just...wouldn’t...stop...


* * *


Logan shot up from the bed growling with each laboured inhale. He ran his hand over his face, this time taking the beads away as they drenched him but more came in their stead so he left them. He leant his arms over his hitched up knees and looked down to his side. Ororo slept soundly at his side, curled into a foetal position, her hair in separated clumps, splayed over her and the flowery decorated pillow of the bed. He pushed forwards, feet hitting the carpet with muffled sound. It was only when he tried to stand up that he realised how much he was shaking. He waited for a moment, by the side of the bed, hands balled into fists sinking into the mattress at his sides, until he felt sure that his legs would carry him. Eventually, he ventured forwards, making his way around to the foot of the bed where his clothes were strewn over the floor. Quickly he pulled them on, and then took up his denim jacket, leaving his leather on the carpet.


Heading straight for the door, snatching up the keys, Logan suddenly stopped---hesitating close to it, his hand on the handle. He pursed his eyes as he ran his free hand over his face. Looking back over his shoulder he struggled to take his eyes to her. When he finally did he found he couldn’t keep his gaze on her for long. The defined, curving, continuous line of her glistening body, partially wrapped, sari-like, in the whiteness of the under sheet. He turned quickly, and shook his head as his face became consumed by a bitter pain that stabbed ice-cold tendrils straight through his heart. Before it overtook him completely he pulled open the door and then yanked it closed behind him, not caring, at that split second, whether it woke Ororo or not.


-TBC-

A/N; You’ll notice some universe blending (or character thieving—depends which way you look at it, lol! I was getting a bit lazy on the OC front.) from this point on but only some minor ones. A couple of comic characters will make appearances—of sorts. But rest assured—no Jean! Or any other X-Men for that matter...But don't worry, it won't affect the tone of the story.

Thank-you again to everyone who reviewed---as always your response to the story inspires the writing. BIG virtual hug from me, M’iko, xx


Chapter.12.


It took a while for Smitty to register that the banging was for real and not in his half-waking imagination. Sitting up in his bed he scratched idly at his bare chest and yawned loudly; fingers ploughing through the smattering of greying hair. The banging came once more and this time he could make out the distinct rattle of the frosted glass in the kitchen door. He yawned again, more stifled this time before rubbing both his hands over his face as if washing himself awake.


“That damn mine.� He grumbled under his breath as he swung off the edge of his bed; the feel of the floor boards cold under his bare feet. Whenever even the slightest thing went wrong up at the coal mine---the most stupidly insignificant thing---he had some guy coming down, waking him up at the most annoying times of the night. He may have been the foreman but half of the crap they came to him with they could sort it out by themselves, he was sure. Bone-fucking-idle, that’s what they were, every last one of them.


Leaving the bedroom, Smitty scratched sleepily at his crotch as he made his way down the stairs; left arm lucid and swinging at his side like it was lame. The door rattled again with three pounding bangs that resonated through-out the large house. “If that’s you Kevin,� He shouted gruffly, “I’m gonna kick yer ass!� By now he was in the spacious kitchen and heading for the door but he could tell at a glance that the dark figure distorted and mottled through the frosted glass wasn’t his deputy foreman from the mine. He stopped for a moment, running a hand through his longish greying hair as he ponder who it could be; considering asking who was out there before opening up. But instead, he told himself not to be so paranoid as he simply flicked on the kitchen light and unlocked the door. The figure on the other side turned away from it as it began to whine open on its aged hinges, back out into the night, as if he were about to leave; dark, thick hair plastered down to his scalp with the weight of the miserable weather.


Smitty pulled the stiff door open fully, the toggle from the rolled up cotton blind hitting the glass in a quick rhythm. He was greeted with a blast of cold and the wet, heavy flakes that had turned to icy sleet that had wetted the unexpected stranger through to the bone. But the man was no stranger...“Logan?�


His back was still turned, the hard sleet smacking without mercy into his unprotected face---stinging like nettles and turning the already somewhat coarse skin an aggravated red. “Logan? Izzat you?� He pivoted slowly, as if reluctant to reveal himself to his old friend. Facing the doorway he looked up from his step; the brawny form a black nothingness against the acid yellow that flooded out of the room and illuminated the front porch. He looked up at him but said nothing.


“Why you sonovabitch!� Smitty bellowed with friendly insult and a healthy measure of disbelief as he reached out and wrapped Logan in a bear hug, pulling him half into the light and relative warmth of the kitchen, “It is you!� He patted his back with manly gruffness before pulling back, his hands gripped about each of Logan’s arms as he held him at arms length and looked over him as if trying to discern whether it was really him. Perhaps he believed his eyes deceived him; a ghost in his midst. “Goddamn,� He said quietly, “Goddamn...I never thought I’d see you again---c’mon, come in.�


Not uttering a single word Logan stepped over the threshold.


*


With a pop and a fizz, Smitty opened the two bottles of beer. He closed the fridge door by hooking his foot around it and kicking it shut and then made his way back over to the table where Logan sat, rubbing a white towel quickly through his hair restoring it to its former haphazard disorder that it was accustomed to.

“Thanks.� He took the slim brown bottle that Smitty offered out to him and hung the now damp towel over the back of the chair at his left-hand side.

Smitty took up the chair opposite and with a loud exhale leant back into the wooden slatted back-support, placing his beer on the table but keeping his hand around its neck, his arm outstretched. “So.� He began, a simple word said in the stead of all else that needed to be spoken. Just one word that held so much; its banks bursting.


“So.� Logan said back with a half sardonic smile before crushing the curved rim of the bottle against it and gulping down the bitter bubbles.


“Twelve years Logan---it’s a helluva long time.� Smitty looked across the table thoughtfully and then took a sip of his beer too.


Logan nodded as he leant forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on the table; one hand still on the neck of the bottle the other pulling half-heartedly at the soggy corner of the red label as it began to peel off; the white glue resisting the water. “Just thought it was time to come back here---I dunno,� He shrugged and then took a small sip, “Sort some things out in may head.� The beer sounded like a stone plopping into a well as it sloshed up the sides and then fell back down onto itself with its thick weight.


“Ya know, you could’ve phoned---sent a letter, whatever, just ta let us know--.�


“Us?---Do’ya think anyone would’ve cared?� Logan cut in darkly, looking up and the other man before dropping his gaze back down to the bottle in his grasp.


“We cared, bub.� Was the dry, matter-of-fact reply.


Logan looked up at him again, the beginnings of a thankful smile, but not quite. “Appreciate it.� He said shifting in his chair, straightening up a little; their where small pools of wet where his elbows had been resting, turning the wood a slightly darker colour than the rest of the table. “Where is Rose anyhow—sleepin’?�


Smitty shook his head. “No.� He answered quietly, the question piquing something in him that was so well contained even Logan missed it; he that usually can be relied on to notice anything and everything.


“What? She leave you? Again?� Logan half jested, knowing the history of the notoriously on again-off again marriage of his two oldest and closest friends. But he stopped short of taking another mouthful of beer when he noticed the look that ran through Smitty’s grizzled features; unable to hide it efficiently this time round. The bottle held pensively close to his lips, he asked, “What is it Smitty?� He felt an icy droplet from his hair hit the back of his neck, running down slowly, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away, letting it run beneath his collar, “Smitty?�


Smitty shifted, running his hand over his bottom lip once or twice before holding it there. Taking in a deep breath, he let his calloused hand drop from his face; laying it lightly on the table. “She died----a few years back.� There was a brief silence---a painful blankness. “Five years this fall.� He stated and then took a drink of bitter hops---blocking out the need for further words.


Logan gazed vacantly for a moment, his eyes lost in nothingness. Finally, he moved himself to speak. “Jesus Smitt---I’m sorry.� He shook his head and met the eyes of his friend, “I didn’t know, bub---I’m real sorry.�


Smitty raised a dismissive hand and then leant forwards on the table in mirror of Logan’s stance. “It ain’t yer fault---you weren’t ta know.� He sniffed casually, quickly running a finger along the under side of his nose. “It was the Big C.� He told him quietly, “Breast cancer.�


Logan nodded in the way people do when there is simply nothing to be said; just the cold hard facts of the mundane truth of mortality, staring one in the face.


“Well,� Smitty said after a time of just the hitting of slick sleet against the window and the background buzz of the refrigerator engine being the only sounds of life to pass through the room, “It was a while ago now---you get used to her not bein’ around. Sounds callous I know, but ya do.� He gave a short laugh under his breath but it was more wry than self-pitying, as was his way. “Don’t stop me from missin’ her like hell though.� He added, almost bitter-sweetly.


“No...I don’t suppose it would.�


“They say times a healer, an all that bullshit---but what do you think?� He tipped the neck of his bottle towards his friend and raised a questioning eyebrow. “S’that right?�


Logan grinned, lop-sided and downed the last of his beer. The bottom of the bottle made a dull thud as he replaced the empty vessel down and shook his head slowing the mouthful of mainly froth. The bubbles popped in his mouth and all the way down his throat. “I wouldn’t know anythin’ about that.�


“Would’ya not?� He asked sceptically, “What’s this about ‘sortin’ some things out in yer head’ then bub? I’m sure you didn’t come all the way up here just ta say hello to a few ol’ faces around the neighbourhood.�


“Nah—they’d sooner stick a rusty damn knife in my gut than look at me.� He laughed bitterly.


“Alright, forget about why yer back,� Smitty stood from his chair and went back to the fridge behind him, taking out two more cold bottles of beer and bringing them and the opener back over to the table. “Tell me what you’ve been doin’ with yerself then the past twelve years.� He uncapped them and handed one across the table. “For a start,� He briefly pointed a finger at Logan, looking at a particular point on his face, “where’d ya got that shiner?---that’s a damn beauty, I’ll give you that.�


Logan self consciously ran a bent finger over the bruised cut, turning slowly into a purple colour, lined with a hint of sallow. “Been doin’ a little fightin’.� He muttered, perhaps slightly ashamed but he wouldn’t admit that to himself or anyone else. The way he saw it; he did what he had to do.


“Boxin’? Or do’ya mean cage stuff?� Smitty asked, quite surprised at first and then when he thought about it for a moment, no---not really that unexpected at all. If anyone could handle himself with that kind of shit then it was Logan.


“Sort of,� Logan replied and took his first swig from his fresh beer, “---got inta the circuit—bare knuckle crap. It’s a fucked up life---but it’s a livin’.�


Smitty shook his head, somewhat bemused, “You been doin’ that ever since ya left?�


“More-or-less---it beat livin’ rough, I’ll tell ya that much.�


“I’ll bet.� The grizzled veteran miner intoned quietly as he watched his friend carefully---what was he hiding behind those often cold, dark eyes? He knew the man perhaps better than anyone and what everything he went through, so long ago now, did to him. But what about these missing years? Who knew what the hell had been going on in his life? He was probably more fucked-up now than he had been when he left Bistcho for all he knew. “What else ya been up to?�


“Wound up in Japan fer a while---few years back now, mind.� He threw out casually to a man whose idea of travelling far and wide meant crossing the boarder south into the U.S.


“Japan?!�


They chatted for a while longer, falling back into the easy way of years gone by; a few more beers drunk one or two cigars smoked, the conversation kept light. They talked about old times, old friends, old fights but avoided old loves---only the matter of new ones barraging in of its own accord.


“Listen, I should get outta here,� Logan said as he exhaled one last lungful of dense yellowish smoke and stubbed out the spent cigar in the black thick plastic ashtray. “It’s nearly five---yer gonna have t’ be at the mine in an hour.�


Smitty made a nonchalant face and waved a dismissive hand---the early morning beer having much more of an effect than he’d anticipated. “Don’t worry about it---what the hell if I’m late.� He laughed, the drunkenness showing through, “Those boy’s couldn’t mine their way out of a paper bag whether I’m their or not,� He threw his hands up, “So what’s the fucking point?� Both man laughed.


“Anyway Smitt, I’d better get goin’.� Logan went to stand up and as he did so he felt the full force of the early morning beer buzz too.


“Hey, what’s the rush.� Smitty enthused.


“I’d love to stay but I gotta get back,� He moved behind his chair and took his denim jacket from the back of it. Pulling it on it was deathly cold from the soaking it had earlier, enthused with a deep chill. But at least it was no longer wet, that was one small mercy. “‘Ro’ll wake up and wonder where the hell I am.� He mentioned her without thinking.


“‘Ro?� His interest was piqued, “Who’s ‘Ro?�


Logan slowly sat back down, a kind of reluctant reaction that he didn’t even realise he was doing until his arse hit the seat again. “She’s---.� Suddenly he realised he didn’t know what to say...in all the months, this would be the first time he’d ever spoken to anyone about her. Where to begin? He thought to himself. There was so much to say in truth and not the words to express it all. He picked up the beer he’d intended to leave half finished and downed a quarter of it in one great gulp, leaving his lips with a wet sheen. “She’s someone I met in New York a few months back.� He looked into the middle of nowhere, “Ororo—that’s her name. Ororo Munroe.�


Smitty smiled; Logan’s attempts to act casual completely defunct. He could read the man like a book. Even after all this time. There were certain things about people that never changed, no matter what they’d been through...


“So how’d you meet her?�


Logan laughed and bowed his head---it was a general enough question, but the details of the answer were best kept to himself. “After a fight.� He told the other man simply. It was the truth after all.


“Strange place to be picking up girls, huh?� Smitty raised a playfully suspicious thick dark grey eyebrow.


“You’d be surprised.� Logan muttered in reply with a puckish grin.


Smitty shook his head and started to gather up some of the empties from the table, taking them over to the bin by the back door, tucked into an alcove in the kitchen unit, under the marble effect counter. He stepped on the small black peddle, the lid flipping open noisily, bashing against the wall behind it. With the high pitched chink of breaking glass he threw the eight clear brown bottles into the waiting hollow below. “So, why’d she come up here with you?� He pried. “It serious with you two?�


Logan nodded, not needing to think about it. “Yeah...yeah it is.� He took another sip.


“Love?� Smitty smirked and cocked his greying eyebrow once more.


Logan ran his finger around the rim of his bottle thoughtfully, tracing the hard ridge from the mould, feeling it digging into the skin. “Yeah.� He practically whispered and then drank some more; it was rather flat and warm on his tongue.


“Good fer you, bub---,� Smitty nodded, “Good fer you.� He could see it, right there in his eyes, beneath the hardened exterior. “You got somethin’ good with this girl, you hold onto it, bub.�


“I intend to Smitt,� he said earnestly, his mind far off and thinking of her, every eternally potent aspect of her; her scent, her touch, her taste... “I’m gonna try anyway.�


“Where are you stayin’?� He asked suddenly.


“That motel---Country House, up on the old highway.� Logan motioned his head in the general westerly direction of the place.


“Oh yeah, John’s old place.� He scratched at his beard as if he were thinking, “He sold up a couple of years ago---went with Maggie to retire in Florida.�


“The smart move on his part.� Logan muttered against his bottle, continuingly questioning himself for coming back here. It had only been six hours and already he was itching to leave, although he was glad to have seen Smitty again. “ I’m gonna shoot off,� He turned to look out the window behind him, the sky coloured a rich royal blue, “it’s been good ta see ya Smitt.� He said genuinely as he stood from the table again and tucked his chair back under. For the last couple of hours at least, past guilt had been pushed from the mind and a sense of relief had been allowed to prevail. Perhaps he had it in him to do this after all. Maybe this wasn’t a monumental mistake on his part. Whatever. All he wanted now was to get back to the hotel and Ororo. Just to lie against her...



Smitty stood too and made his way over to Logan’s side of the table, holding out his hand. Logan took it in a firm grip. “How long’re you thinkin’ o’ stayin’?


“Not sure yet.�


“Well, you bring Ororo up here one day before you leave.� Smitty told him, releasing Logan’s hand.


“No worries,� Logan said amiably, “We’ll come back ta see you before we go.�


“You’d better.� He replied in playful threat. Then his countenance became serious. “I admire yer nerve fer comin’ back kid---if there’s anythin’ you need, just come straight to me, you got that?�


In lieu of a verbal answer, Logan slapped Smitty on the back, comrade-like and then started for the door. He felt refreshed as the early morning cold hit him through the open door, the sleet having stopped an hour or so ago, leaving nothing more than sludgy puddles of melting snow in its wake. He went quickly down the few steps that led from the small porch and away from the white clapboard house, heading back for the motel as Smitty watched from the door; finally turning back into the kitchen and flicking off the light once Logan had disappeared around the bare cusp of trees at the bottom of his driveway.


* * *


Pulling the sheet about her naked body, Ororo walked towards the dresser---blank of items except for a travel kettle and a tray with two small coffee cups and some miniature single serving milk and sugar packets. She picked up the kettle, unplugging it at its base, and then took it over to the small bathroom at the other side of the room. Turning on the cold tap she watched absently as the water ran in; loud and frothing white in its pressure.


Her body was still buzzing from earlier; she could feel him in the places he had been; touched, kissed, penetrated...as if he were still there. The hot throb, the left over pleasure, the aching desire in his imperishably possessive touch...It had come as no surprise to her when she’d woken up and Logan wasn’t in the bed next to her. In fact, she respected and cherished the space---they were both solitary creatures at heart. His return was in no doubt to her.


The kettle was full and she closed the tap with a simple twist; the pipes clanking loudly somewhere behind the wall. She crossed the dark room---unable to switch the lights on due to their prior destruction---and re-plugged the tiny white plastic kettle into the rubber insulated lead. Going back over to the bed she waited for it to boil, idly running her hands through her long hair, untangling the gentle knots and sweat-induced clumps; straw bales in the wind. Closing her eyes she lost herself for a moment, falling into the incendiary after affects of Logan’s presence in her body. She ran her hand down her chest, letting it push down the white sheet about her breast in order for her hand to trail over them, accentuating the memory of his mouth on them, his teeth biting into them in desperate hunger, the moist, hot trail of his tongue...Her other hand stole down between her legs---the mere remembrance, physical and imaged, of his attentions enough to renew the fervour betwixt them. She pressed her hand to her sex through the sheet, forcing herself to calm the sultry sensation as she pulled the top of the sheet back up over her exposed breasts.


A low rumble started on the dresser top, water bubbling to a frenzy within the confines of the plastic container. A hot jet of steam arose, buffeting against the Artex ceiling as the on switch clicked off audibly. Clumped whitish swirls bathed in clear hot beads. But now it was ready, she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted a drink at all, going about the motions in order to pass the time. She went over to the window and pushed back the half hanging curtain to witness the royal blue light; the only source available to her at present. But it was enough. Dark clouds drifted like loners across the rich canvas; separate in their journey, in between the persistent presence of one or two night diamonds, reluctant to leave, masking themselves by the daylight. It was so tranquil here---every moment they’d resided in this country had been bliss compared to the chaos of New York.


Leaning against the window frame, Ororo began to hum to herself quietly, the familiar tune. Second nature in her mind---a life long gone by.


“Malaika, nakupenda Malaika...� Murmured soft as a summer breeze...


She could feel the arctic temperature from the glass of the window, like a conductor, falling over the areas of exposed skin. It cooled her desire---made her longing sedate. It was a relief to feel that she could contrive to exist without him, no matter how short a time. This was something she would have to train herself in, she realised. A smile touched her lips and she bowed her head, touching against the glass; her finger drawing a crude pattern in the condensation on the window. She knew that there was no chance---the fire would always burn bright, the need would never die...


Turning from the window, she went back to the bed. Perhaps she should get more sleep. Her body warranted it after all. As she shuffled over, clasping the sheet about her, trying not to tread on its trailing corners, she noticed his leather jacket still on the floor. Something of him for her to be near. Bending down, Ororo gathered the heavy item from the floor and took it over to the bed with her. She climbed up onto the malleable mattress, tucking her legs underneath her body and pulling the blanket up over her legs, up to her hips. Her bare arms remained chilled though. She reached for the old jacket that she’d laid on the bed as she’d covered up the rest of her prone body with it. Pulling it up to her face with both hands, she inhaled deeply---that beautiful smell of used leather, the left over aroma of cigar smoke and public houses, the scent of him...Whipping it around her body she slipped the coat on---half to guard her against cold, half to have the feel of him near her, touching her skin by proxy. She snuggled into it, getting comfortable in its shell, adjusting to its texture. Almost instantly, Ororo felt at home...safe.


Leaning back, she slipped her slender hands into its pockets, snuggling down, for once content...


“Oww!� The surprised yelp disturbed the quiet of the room as she quickly withdrew her right hand from the pocket of Logan’s jacket. Bringing it up into her line of vision she held the finger with her other hand, a large globule of dark emerging from the tip. She squeezed it slightly, hastening the flow of blood so that the black bead broke from its rounded form and spilt down her finger, dripping onto the sheet below. It spread across it, reaching out with a slow yearning. The finger stung like hell, but she was determined to find out what it was that had cut her. Reaching across with her left hand, her right one still held in an upwards position to stem the flow, she carefully delved in. There was something hard in it, covered by the thin layer of the silky smooth black cotton lining. Searching up, she found a tear, just above the seam, frayed at the edges. She entered it with some trepidation but also curiosity as her hand closed around something, hard, heavy and cold. By the feel of it she knew instantly what it was...when she pulled her hand out she also took out a ridged black plastic handle. Holding it up in front of her, she examined it; just above its flat top there was a small, shiny point, just barely peeking its way above the black.


Ororo ran her thumb down the bumpy black body until she came to a raised square. Her digit hovered over it for a moment---her mind aware of what would emerge once she pressed it. Even so, she jumped slightly as with a sharp *snikt* a sliver blade shot out from its housing. She turned it slowly, this way and then that, so that it caught what light there was, gleaming distinctly, casting a light over her dark skin. Its precise point appeared a steeple in the moon light...but she found no beauty in its presence.


Touching her thumb to the small button once more, the blade disguised itself, cowering into its shell, only the very point daring out. Quickly, Ororo placed the knife back where she’d found it and then lay down on her side, pulling the leather tighter around her, suddenly cold against her skin---mocha eyes looking out blankly into the burgeoning morning.


-TBC-

Disclaimer; don’t own don’t sue.


Thank-you to all the reviewers (and extra love goes out to NemB and Tough Spirit, who let me chew their ears off when I was freakin’ out! Always appreciated, my good friends, M’iko, xx!)


Chapter.13.




Logan traipsed back to the motel room; the quiet of the morning having an adverse affect on him, making him...uneasy. His talk with Smitty had been like a great weight off his shoulders; a relief to talk to someone from his old life at last---but perhaps that had raised more questions than it did answers. He unlocked the catch on the door to room twenty two, stepping soundlessly in, hoping that the way he’d left hours before had not broken her slumber. His eyes travelled, heat-seeking, to where she was laid out on the bed, but now the sheets, though the thick blanket was now heaped at her feet, a mountain terrain, covered her entirely except for the bright crop of snowy hair. Her dark face was turned too far down into the pillow to be visible from where he stood; masked by the deadly nightshade of white.


Yanking lose the liquorice black laces before toeing off his boots that shone from the slick layer of wet that came from the snow and latterly sleet, he padded across the room, making up the relatively short distance to the bed. At first he simply sat on the edge; the soft mattress sinking slowly with an aged creak as his weight lowered onto it. He sat still for a moment, his glittering gaze intent on the way that the thin white sheet hung from the perfect curve of her body, that soft landscape, making the cheap polyester look like the finest muslin, just by the act of touching her.


He reached down and laid his left hand on her hip, lightly at first before closing his thick, arctic fingers over it; red and dry from the bitter weather outside. The firm against the yielding; the sheet against the line of her body felt so good beneath his palm, so good...She felt hot to touch, that constant ember. The contact compelled him to climb onto the bed, resting down close against her.


“Huh!� Ororo awoke with a sudden start, rolling out the side of the bed and clamouring to her feet. But the haste with which she’d exited from his side made her pitch back awkwardly. The whip of cloth, a sudden crack and then a crunching sound quickly followed by another surprised exclamation from the sable beauty, “Oww!�


“Shit!---what’s wrong?� Logan asked hastily as he kneeled up on the bed, looking at Ororo with a mixture of concern and confusion in the dull light of the sun’s slow rising.


But she wasn’t paying any attention to him as she half-sat, perched on the bedside table and brought her leg up so that her right calf lay horizontally across her bent left knee. Her hands held her foot; long white tresses covering her face as she studied its pale fleshy sole. “Damn light bulb,� she hissed to herself as she tried to pull a concaved shard of imbedded glass from her foot, covered in the ruddy ooze. She pinched at the small amount that was still protruding out with her thumb and forefinger, attempting to get a grip but it wouldn’t come out; the severe stinging sensation making her eyes water as a thick trickle of crimson ran along her skin, coursing ever downwards until it dripped down to the floor with the punctuality of the hand of a clock.


Logan froze for a moment, transfixed by the slow movement of the blood as it ran down, flowing into the pale creases of her foot like they were gullies. He swallowed; only when he had tried to do so did he realise how dry his mouth and throat had become; a starved river bed. So much so that his voice sounded distinctly raspy as he was finally compelled to say, “Let me have a look.�


He roused himself to move, coughing very much consciously as he walked ploddingly on his knees to the other side of the bed before bring his legs from beneath him and perching on its very edge beside her. “C’mere,� he motioned his hand towards him with two quick flicks of his fingers and then held the palm out, ready to take hold of her foot.


But in all her ineffable stubbornness, she tried once again to remove it herself; her teeth gritted, her lips drawn back as she sucked in a breath at the sides of her mouth. “Ahh---damn!� she gasped in equal amounts of pain and frustration as her grip slipped from the bloodied piece of glass; it was stuck like ice and just as smarting. Little tendrils like static shock crept up, shooting through her lower leg.


This time Logan didn’t bother to ask, he simply reached over and took her foot from her grasp, laying it on his lap. He looked up at her curiously as he tried to locate the shard beneath the dark flow by touch alone. She wasn’t looking at him tough, her attention focused on the wound too---perhaps a little too focused. Diverting his gaze back down, he finally found the offending object and gripped at it firmly.


“Where were you?� she asked out of the blue; casual not nagging.


Logan looked up sharply, only the perceived coldness in her voice making him do so. It was strange, he thought suddenly, how he could hear that now; the slightest inflection in her voice, the near missable change in subtle tone. He could hear what no-one else could. “Just out,� he stated and then yanked at the glass; it came out instantly. “I needed some air,� he added to appease.


Ororo took in a sharp breath through her teeth as the burning sting ripped through her foot, slowly forming into an aching throb of its own accord. She pulled the limb from his hands, taking it back into her own and wrapping it into the loose corner of the sheet that covered her body. A dark patch quickly bled through it; the scarlet blotch spreading with impunity.


Logan straightened up, drawing himself back as if in readiness for confrontation, despite the fact there was none to be had. “Why’d you jump outta yer skin?�


“You startled me.� She finally looked up at him, her irises looking dense as soot, unemotional. A lock of hair fell down into her face as she inclined her head back down at her foot, briefly pulling the makeshift dressing away before placing it back over, holding it tight to apply pressure and stem the bleeding that still came. The wilderness’ silence filtered through the room, the icy blue azure of the light adding emphasis to the cold. After a short while Ororo removed the sheet again and the blood had ceased to flow, congealing darkly over the cut. Carefully she placed her foot back on the ground, making sure she avoided the shattered glass that littered it; it had the oddly elegant look of a broken diamond. As she stepped around it her eyes fell upon Logan’s leather that she’d placed on the floor as it lay in a crumpled heap next to the bed. Quickly she pulled it up from the floor and reached into the pocket, or rather the rip in the seam of the left pocket. The handle of the blade seemed larger in her palm, heavier, as she let the jacket fall back to the ground with a dull thud. She held it up for him to see, her eyes waiting for an answer to an unspoken question.


Logan focused on the black handle; the image of Ororo blurred behind it. She threw it down onto the bed on his left side; the bouncing thud an accusation. “What?� he asked simply as he looked down at it and then back up at her.


“Why...why’d you have it?� she replied uncertainly to his question, countering it with one of her own. With all her might she tried to stop the images...a hot and dusty night in Cairo, clamouring into her mind; the vicious and intrusive as a stab.


“I’ve had it fer years,� he shrugged, not seeing the problem. It was only a knife. But she was obviously spooked. He picked it up, turning it over once in his hands before laying down on the bedside cabinet on his right. The hard clunk was resonant. “C’mere.� Suddenly he needed to hold her, feel her warm insistence against him again. When she didn’t move he reached out to her, still within arms length, all the while holding her eyes with his. She didn’t make any attempt to come to him but willingly allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. Coming to a rest sideways on his lap, the chill that came from him wrapped her body within its cocoon; the cool moisture was as sure as the caress of his hands as he held one about her waist and the other around her exposed thigh with tight possessiveness.


“Does it bother you?� Logan asked quietly, close to her lips.


“No...� she sighed as the roughness of his fingers slid up her thigh in welcome distraction. Free white strands rustled about her face and shoulders as she shook her head, for a moment uncertain as to whether the notion was against the question or his actions. But she allowed him to anyway; the cold grate of his hand reached over onto the inside of her thigh as it pushed further up, in encroaching territorial action---reaction.


“Then what is it?� His lips half kissed her as he spoke into her mouth, their chapped surface scrapping across in their initial lightness, not giving her the chance to respond as he pressed to her lips in earnest then, encouraged by the unyielding grip of her hands at his wet, saturated collar. Shifting his hands to the bold curve of her hips, Logan turned her down onto the bed, moving back to take hold of her thighs and spread her legs for him. Coming in close, his sure weight bore down on her; a colossus incumbent for her and her only.


Ororo submitted with pleasure, wanting to lose herself and all thought in physical sensation; her mind flitting from the still smarting sting in her foot, an acid burn, to the sting of three long, thick fingers plunging into her without recourse for warning. She gasped in a breath, being compelled to half cover her mouth with the back of her hand, a brief barrier between them as they drew out halfway and then plunged into her sex again, refreshing the memory of their earlier encounter; the primal spirit of all that had gone before it. Taking her hand from shelter, greedily she kissed at his mouth, biting softly and then hard as his fingers became quicker; opening up a small cut on his bottom lip that heralded the mark from the previous violence, allowing her to lap up the metalic tang. She dug her fingers into the back of his neck, beneath the thin wisps of hair at the nape, replying to his pain by administering equivalent of her own. Her teeth burrowed and tongue tasted; savage and real.


As the deep scratch of her nails tore in, Logan quickly withdrew his fingers, grabbing at her legs just in the gentle pit of her knee, the membrane soft and thin to his touch, hitching them up. She could feel the warm, thick moisture from her on his right hand cover that fragile layer in the swooping curve and the press of his erection through his jeans---taking her mercifully further away from thought. A person no-more but a lover---moving to their plane; the interlacing of bodily contact remained tempestuous in control and yielding; their forms serpentine in their aspect against one another.


Pulling his head away and breaking her attentions on his mouth he moved his lips down to her breast plate; his kisses without doubt against its solidity. He continued to smatter them and his fleshy bites as he felt her fumblingly, opening his belt and then his zip, hurriedly trying to push the jeans away; her desperation to feel him inside her almost driving him insane. His hot breaths were frantic as they scrambled from him to blast against her body; the cigars and beer that mingled being oddly comforting to her.


They were both running, this they knew...Further and further as they delved into one another; a mutual oblivion by unspoken consent. This was the body he dived into to be swallowed whole like the claiming mania of a raging ocean, fruitless in his efforts to assert over it once and for all. His submission to it wonderfully incongruous, as they sought the same thing from each other; alternately giving and taking but it was never enough...never enough...


As soon as his penis was free Logan pushed forwards immediately, shaken by the sure feel of her hand around it, guiding it into her quickly. His fingers dug into her legs, threatening to break that membrane as he drove in, pulled back and then drove in again, lifting her lower body from the bed so that the sheet that wrapped her fell higher up about her waist, exposing her lower half totally. There were no cries, just the fast, exerting breaths of each of them as their bodies settled into a quick rhythm; the tinkle of a belt buckle, the sharp slap of skin against skin. He concentrated hard, manically, on everything that was her; the dream was lost in each space, in each pitch that pierced the internal and external silence. His silence. The quickening pace of his heart, her heart, dragged it further back, kicking and screaming as it lost its hold over his mind, his soul...


Ororo pushed herself up on her elbows, high enough to meet with his face and began to kiss him again with matching ardency. One hand flew up to settle on his face, gripping around the chin, climbing up his cheek, through the stubble, the strong bone structure and soft red and purple swell above like an outcrop, not shrinking back at the pain she caused. Curious fingers almost delved into his mouth with her tongue as the kiss ravaged them both and his ruts became harder. She elicited a long, mean groan through the swift rasping breaths, tailing off to an almost pitiful sound as her hand moved down to his back, gripping around it near to the neat hard dip of its small as he pumped into her. Lower bodies began to lift from the bed as they smashed violently into each other as if in competition. Her hand lay on him almost like her assurance, holding him there, making certain that he would not stop. Her hips snapped upwards ever swifter, meeting every thrust as her other hand left the security of the bed’s surface and joined her right at his back, forcing Logan to fling an arm down to the mattress to support both of their bodies against falling.


The bed trembled with the frantic movements of their bodies; him moving so hard and quickly against her that he hardly left her anymore and the smart slaps seemed to have merged into one long sound. Ororo gripped at his arse, her back arching, head falling back, smiling at the rough feel of his lips going straight to the bent length of her neck, unable to resist what was so deliciously served up for his leisurely consumption. And there...there she lost herself completely, finally nothing but him remained.


Her pleasure, her pain, her escape from all...


She knew instantly, before the first touch, kiss and this intimate game, that it was the same for him too. They used each other like a vehicle. Moving far from a pain they didn’t realise they shared, but knew instinctively that the other understood.


His cock pushed against her clitoris again and again and the inside of her thighs ached with the smash of his body against them, forcing them into a near impossible wideness; their bodies shifting back and forth on the mattress, the beds tenor rumble threatening. She moved her head forwards as she felt herself reaching her endpoint, its forceful inevitability making her whimper, a strangely tender, bruised sound as she moved her lips back to his.


A breathless cry into his mouth and her entire body jack-knifed, trembling with the force of release as she felt the wet flood down from her sex. The finality of it almost drew a line beneath all. Suddenly Logan stopped too, pouring himself rapidly into her, some of it spilling out with her own flood, covering them both. A wet, glistening pool stained the bedspread beneath them, intermingled together. With a hoarse, stuttering groan; he let them fall back then, into the space where the coming sun made an oblong of light on the bed, like a window to a blissful realm; a sharp yellow warmth in the blue grey of the bottom sheet, rudely encroaching on its mournful shadow. He wrapped his arms around her, their exhausted weakness disguised by the sheer strength of his need to enfold her, encompass her frail, shaking form. His face pressed to her left shoulder, his cock still inside her, his body still moving slightly, like he didn’t want it to end. The act of their love-making was a story that never finished, played out merely in acts; each one opened their eyes, revealed a new place to them.


She slid her hands up his back, pushing up the damp shirt as they travelled over hot skin, settling close to the shoulder blades. “I want to go with you,� she stated in her broken coarse voice, whispering into his ear, taking the lobe between her teeth, the light lick of her tongue a moist balm to the bite.


“Where?� he didn’t move from his place high on her shoulder, his voice a rumble against her collar bone. His teeth made a brief nip over it, folding over each side as it stood out against the skin laid over it, masking it from his hungry eyes, his devouring intentions.


“To wherever it is you’re going....the reason we’re here.�


He pulled his head back, taking his teeth from their light clamp around her collar bone, hovering his face over hers, their noses barely touching, a hairs breadth between them. He hadn’t needed to tell her and so he had no fear of agreeing. “Alright,� her foot rubbed up his back and down again, the sweat searing into her wound that hadn’t ceased to weep, the scarlet smear she left on his skin dispersing outwards in the shimmer. It was pure pigment dropped into water, floundering for a way to go. She would carefully wipe her brand from him later, under the cascade of the shower, fascinated by it as the cloth removed all trace of her from his body.


They held each other for a while longer as the light in the room grew, flooding through the thin curtains before he began to move within her again, breaths panting, their bodies never parting, fingers travelling well known paths. Blind, they could find their way through each other, of that there was no worry.


* * *


They’d walked all the way here in silence; skirting around the edge of the sizable mining community to get to the outer reaches on the east side of town. All around were mounds of black coal, lining up like tall artificial mountains; devilish mountains, coarse and ominous. Ororo could not imagine what it would be like to grow up around such sombre surroundings after having experienced such wide beautiful ochre planes as she had---there gloom evident in everything here. But every now and then the sun would glint down, streaming through the clouds in their ever present battle for infiltration, bouncing against the mat surface, for a second making it shine like black pearl. Even with the wind, coal dust hung in the air; an invisible invader until it settled on the light clapboarding and vinyl siding of people’s houses, the cheap, convenient shops and on the pavements and roads. Everything looked dirty, adding a strange nobility to the appearance of the large but remote, sprawling township, tucked in the furthest corner of the Alberta province.


As they ascended the hill, along the dirt track, Logan became aware of the smooth trace of her hand slipping into his. He closed his fingers tighter, affirming its grip; their walk slowing as like a megalith, the house came into view; their preset destination at last in sight. He halted and it engulfed him. As she had earlier, as the terror, the blue funk of dreams in the mist of memory had threatened to overtake him. The battle had been fought, he’d been fighting them for years but the war had not been won. A lead weight settled in his chest, woven into the fabric of his being, encasing his ribs, resting unbearably atop of his heart. The sensation of it seemed to sink within him, dragged him down---he could swear he was falling, collapsing to the earth below. But it wasn’t there, the earth had gone. Its constant presence had broken apart too, crumbing under foot leaving him no certainty to anchor himself to. But her hand was still there...He roused himself to move again, the sprightliness of the midmorning air sharp against his face, the injuries of the previous night’s fights with the scrappers at the roadhouse and then his lover, telling on every nerve end. The lead solidified. He couldn’t do this...he truly couldn’t...


“What’s wrong, my love?�


He hesitated, unable to look at her as the question washed over him, the only sanity in the whirlpool of his metal landscape. He wanted to answer, tried his hardest to form the words, but it wouldn’t let him. It taunted him there, before his very eyes for the first time in years---this towering accusation, this silent punishment. An informal question mark over everything he was then and had since become.


“This was a mistake.� he growled under his breath, his blank, empty eyes fixed on the house. The plain white suffused with the veil of grey murk on the clapboarded building made it a beacon, in so many ways. It stood alone, without companion, no formal garden to speak of, just the endless open space of its setting; dark hillocks in the distance, an uneven green carpet of new grass beneath it, overgrown close to its proximity, the place that acted like a yard. Many of the houses in Bistcho stood like this, disjointed from all around, as if sprung from the earth haphazardly, no thought for order. It was odd for one to feel that so much could be tied up in so impersonal, inconsequential products of the human hand. A house---that he could associate all that pain with its four walls, its simple architecture...everything that had chained him.


“We can go back to the motel, if you want?�


The sound of her was as temporary as a passing breeze for in his minds eye he was inside the house now, imaging all as it was. The patterned runner in the downstairs hallway, the pristine line of the wainscoting, even the quirky kitchen clock. He couldn’t entertain that any of it would have changed since that last time he saw it. Even as he gazed at the outer shell it was as if his eyes didn’t register the expansive of boards, dismantled fruit crates plugging up doorways and windows to intruders or vagrants. All he could see was the house as it was for him; the years spent living there, the regular lick of paint it received every spring after winters rapture had taken its toll, keeping it in check. A family home. But not all scars could be erased so easily, white-washed so thoroughly---would it were that simple.


The porch swing that had always moved, constantly pitching, an annoying background noise as it banged subtly against the side of the house, hung lamely from one chain now, broken, defeated. Last autumns deathly brittle leaves were trapped in a pile beneath it, despite the fact that it was now very late spring, advancing rapidly into early summer. The fruit tree outside the kitchen window twisted and decrepit, riddled with disease, incapable of ever producing anything ever again. But he could see the fruit still there---the perfectly round apples that could be plucked through that window whenever one wanted. This place of his past was irreparably broken down, surrendered like he was, to everything that had destroyed it. Here it was, staring him brutally in the face---a literal picture of everything he had become, at his core, his unknowable centre, deep inside. He had thought he could beat it, thought he could unburden himself from it...


They were close to the building, right by the porch steps---Logan unaware that they hadn’t ceased advancing on it until he was right there, able to reach out and touch his past. He could smell it, the history of his years here summoned up in one breath; the scent of an entire life. He almost couldn’t bear it...


“Logan?� Ororo was almost afraid to utter his name. The pallid complexion of his face, this ghastly pale form frightened her. His hold on her hand was getting to the point of hurting her. Slowly, gently she eased out of it. She wanted to say something but knew not what. She was woefully out of place here and she knew it---this, the atmosphere that surrounded it...it was no place for her. It was the Logan she did not know and maybe she did not want too. A little selfish perhaps, but something she understood only too well. Would she ever have the strength to confront her demons too? She envied that in him at least. But maybe he didn’t want her too be here either, not really---there were things for them both that they had to individually draw a line beneath. Baggage that had no place within what defined them.


As if their connection ran that deep, he articulated just that, “I...� He shook his head, bereft, his brow creased at some inner turmoil. “...I shouldn’t o’ brought you here...this ain’t...� For the first time he turned to her, acknowledged her fully as being in his presence. “You should go back to the motel darlin’.� he said seriously, catching her eye unnervingly.


She shook her head, contradicting him, contradicting her first instincts, acting on something baser. She had come this far, therefore she would stay. “I don’t think I should Logan.� she replied lightly, but with her subtle force that usually he could not resist. “This place,� She glanced up at the derelict building, an unknown element of it frightening her. Why? She couldn’t say. “...whatever it means to you---it obviously still has an effect on you, still...hurts you.� She reached up and touched his face, stroking at the side lovingly, her dark eyes held an unexpected sadness as she regarded him, her head inclined. “I don’t pretend to know what happened to you but...my love,� she whispered tenderly, her smile bitter-sweet as she paused for what seemed forever. Her brow creased with a melancholy concern as she said, “You...you look so...pale, so...�


“Don’t!� he told her edgily; his voice sonorous but not loud, shocking her even more by the accompanying action of pushing her hand away from its contact with him.


“Logan!� she exclaimed, too confused to be incredulous, “I only---.�


“I said...don’t.� he confirmed gravely as she tried to reach to him again, that look of emotionless steel she had seen often in their fledgling months together, so far away from them now, making an unwelcome return. He stepped away from her and then back again, loosely meandering like a stumbling drunk. He scratched at the back of his head; he looked confused, lost---as if being here was too much for him, driving him to brink of somewhere she cared not to dwell on. Taking a seat on bottom step that lead up to the porch, that curved smoothly in its centre, the wood smooth and indented from years of service, he tried to steady himself; stop the topsy-turvy sway. It felt so familiar to him, this old seat, that against all the odds it almost made him smile. For a moment he held his head in his hands, fingers laced in the tussle of dark hair, before running them back down his face and propping his chin up on his fists, elbows resting on his knees. “This is---,� he started sharply, like it hurt to say the words, made him angry even. “This---was---my house...but you’ve probably figured that one out by now.� He scratched his forehead distractedly, then stood up once more, agitated. Pulling in a coal tinted bleak breath, he wandered away from her, over to the west side of the three story house. His hands in his pockets, then out again and then in again.


Ororo moved to take up the place where he’d formerly been sitting, lowering down, never taking her eyes from him. Her hands rubbed slowly over her raised knees in mirror of each other, a subconscious action. She didn’t know what to do, watching him struggle through his own internal torture hurt her more than she ever thought it could---hurt her more than her own. His lost countenance, his confused manner. But she didn’t know what to do, she simply did not know...In truth, there was nothing she could. She couldn’t ask him anything, she had no words to offer, she was caught in an unfathomable limbo.


“Logan...� She called fragile, unable to stop the break in her voice. He didn’t respond, didn’t return to face her. “Hold me...�


He did turn, “What?�


“Hold me?� A choked sob threatened, from where she didn’t know. “Just...hold me.�


Logan strode over, suddenly a purposefulness back in his manner, coming back from the place he’d been stranded in, against his will. He was in a near run by the time he came to her, as she practically flung herself from the porch step, into his body and he did exactly as she bade him to. Embracing her manically, crushing her too him, he didn’t care how hard.


“I want us to go...we should go. This---this isn’t you, it isn’t you anymore...� She tripped over the words, scaring herself, let alone him, by her sudden compulsion. Almost like she knew what had taken place here...Her face lay buried hard in his shoulder, against the frosty leather, her voice muffled. “Why did you bring us here?� She shook her head quickly, rubbing against his jacket, asking the question in a near accusing tone, “Why?�


He felt her sagging within his grasp, wilting away; a lily killed by winter’s benign cruelty. Why did he return? Why did he bring her to this place? All good intentions seemed to have disappeared in the mire, null and void. “I...I don’t know...� He stared blankly over her head, refusing to notice anything beyond the realm of her silver mane, cupped by his hand. She didn’t need to see this, what this place made of him. He cursed himself for his selfishness. Perhaps, deep down, he felt her knowledge would mean his absolution. Who knows...? She had sang to him, sang to him that he was her angel on the lake and many times since...he wanted so desperately for it to be the other way around he’d blinded himself to what he was doing, what he was risking.


“I want to leave.� he heard her say faintly, she pulled her head back to look up at him, managing somehow to smile, but it soon crumpled, “I don’t want to know Logan...whatever happened here, I don’t want it. It’s not you, it’s not the Logan I love,� her hands crept to the straight collar of his leather, gripping to the thick weather proof material. “I just want you...not what you used to be...�


Her words brought a painful realisation, he bit at the inside of his cheek; molars grinding, “But...don’t ya see,� he couldn’t look at her, staring past her again to the black mountains, “It is me---no matter...no matter how hard I run, how hard I try ta fucking escape, it’s always there, it’ll always be there,� he banged his hand, fingers first, into his left temple, more-or-less hitting it, “Always fucking in here!� It was the first time he’d raised his voice; his frustration, the stored anger apparent.


“You think you’re the only one...� she said, almost to herself, her head titling down; a bitter laugh slipped out with her breath.


“This was a mistake.� he reiterated quietly, not hearing her or at any rate not acknowledging her words. He took hold of her at the upper arms as if bracing her, “I’m sorry ‘Ro...I dunno...I’m just---I’m just sorry, okay?�


Ororo backed away from him, hitching her arms to urge him to let go of her, which he did summarily. “I’m going back to the motel,� she spoke sullenly to the ground, “You stay here if you wish. But I’m---I’m going.� She walked past him, folding her arms protectively about herself as she started back down the hill, back in the direction that they had come.


“‘Ro...� He didn’t go after her, simply watched her determine retreat; the minor limp in her step from the damage on the sole of her foot. “I’ll be there in a while.� He called to her and this time she stopped, seeming to hesitate before turning, looking at him over her shoulder, not caring about her hair whipping wildly about her face, masking her view for most of the time.


“Fine.� she replied plainly, “Do...whatever it is that you need to do. I will see you there.�


Hazel eyes tracked after her, that predators scowl that came so naturally to him, until she were no more than a speck on the horizon, vanishing around the curve in the crude dirt road that brought them up here; the sky a laden mask of lead, blank. It would snow again soon, he thought to himself as he looked up at it; bleak...just like everything else. And now he was alone.


As it should be. The eaves whistled and rattled, their unheard whisper there for him to hear, and none but him. The past had an awful trick, a heinous way, to trap a person. And that trap was isolation. It was always the hardest part to bear. But to shelter her, Ororo, his love...Logan would bear anything. He began his ascent up the porch steps, the low empty thud of his boot on the wood, the creak and grumble of the old house plaintive.


-TBC-


A/N; Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoyed anyway. Just a note about the town of Bistcho. I know that there is a Lake Bistcho and that’s the place I named the town after but I’m not sure whether or not such a town really exists. So if it does, I just wanted to say that my descriptions are purely artistic interpretation.

Thank-you to my reviewers, Saki, Nem, Toughie, Penpal...luv ya all :) Not too sure about this chapter, but hey....


Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


Chapter.14.


Three hours and she had barely moved a muscle. She sat in silence, in the wicker bedroom chair that nestled covertly in the shadiest corner of the plain small room that became like a prison to her; an outer shell of entrapment to her coursing mind. Her head ached, her eyes were sore and full, but no tears yet shed. Her damp duffle coat still sheathed her, checked scarf loosely draped about her neck; she had not moved yet to rid herself of these things despite the fact that they were rapidly making the cold set in. Even her shoes, those ineffectual trainers that had let the sludgy puddles seep into their gaps, continued to cover her feet, spreading a chill up her but she cared not. The smooth handle of the switch blade was still heavy in her hand. Her thumb intermittently traced the two brass screws on its flank, the brass plate it affixed steamed with the body heat and left the spiralling print of her digit every time she pressed it down onto it. But in its ephemeral nature, it disappeared no sooner than it had been made.


She’d forced herself to pick it up from the bed, after gazing across the dark space at it, where it had lain, next to them on the sheet where they had made love. And so she had taken it into her hand; steady fingers clasped around and now she sat. The murky afternoon sky was still heavy; the snow shower had come and gone. Everything was consistent in its temporality and in its temporality alone.


The girl with the knife....She had been right here all along. No matter how far, how fast she ran...SHE would always be with Ororo; her malignant spirit. For the first time she wished to be anywhere but here---rued the fact that they had ridden so steadfastly, so blindly towards this. But they hadn’t been blind had they, at least not he...He had brought them here knowing that it could only lead to one place. A road with no turn off routes, no place for refuge and that angered her. It made her furious at him. She didn’t stop to consider the curious absurdity of blaming this place for stoking the sleeping demons within her, the past that she had tied with a ball of string, locked away in the attic. It would have come back to her at some time---but now, at this juncture, it almost seemed...prophetic.


The weeks behind them, their journey up this vast country, their journey into each other had been a wonderful dream. To believe that all else had been left, stowed in those dank lonely rooms in New York City had been folly. Escaping from who they used to be would not be so easy. It wasn’t like the shed of an outer skin, the change of familiar clothes, and perhaps, she began to realise, one couldn’t even find it in the arms of a lover. A fresh start was much easier in hypothesis than real life.


The knife handle slipped through her thumb and forefinger deftly, cold on the brass, palm warmed on the solid moulding of the black plastic. She swung it around, repeated the motion again---and again until her thumb stopped over the button at the top. She rubbed over it, circling in gentle pattern, tempting it, but withdrew. It cradled in her palm once more, her long warm cocoa fingers folding in to cover over it. She would hold it longer, the solid proof to remind her that just like Logan, she could run no more. Maybe she could understand after all...Her eyes blurred hot, she stared for as long as she could, putting off the blink until she could bear it no longer; the drops spilled over, falling off her chin, lost in the darkness of her scarf as greedily, it dragged the salty liquid in.


A car engine revved somewhere close, followed by the dawdling crackle of the gravel as it pulled away from the hotel and off onto the main road. But another came before the sound of that one left, the gritty rumble over lapping one another as another vehicle pulled in. There was nothing but Ororo and her pained silence until footsteps on the boardwalk disturbed it. Her chair was tucked in such a way that she couldn’t see out of the front window as she was practically underneath it, but she could hear everything; two male voices, exchanging it a meaningless banter, one aged the other gruff. Not naturally gruff, but born of years that had seen much...too much. She could tell just by the few snippets that came through the thin glass. The footfall stopped, that goaded her into concentration; a platitude of thanks was heard and then a heavy knock; a heavy knock on the door of room twenty two.


She stayed where she was, not even making the effort to move. She’d been still for so long she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her. The rhythmic thwacks came again, three uniformed in a row, the doors cheapness telling just from the sound; high and hollow. The knife was laid down on the thin arm of the essentially decorative chair, but still she didn’t move, only stared straight ahead.


“Logan---you there?�


That roused her. She shifted forwards, gripping to the sloped edges of the arms to push herself to its end. She perched tentatively, like she was waiting for the next knock before she would rise completely. But it wasn’t long before it came and along with the swifter, curter knocks the second call from the gruff voice. “Logan?�


She pushed up and off the chair then, getting to the door quickly but still, she hesitated to open when she reached it. A quick swipe at each cheek in identical time made sure that no moisture rested there or stained her skin. As lightly on her feet as she could, she tip-toed right up to its fiery red surface, one hand splayed gently on it whilst the other took hold of the handle. Should she ask first and then open? To hell with it---she twisted the handle and pulled back, but only enough to create a shard of space for her to glimpse through.


The owner of that bass, ravaged voice peered through at her; a man pushing the latter stages of middle age, greying hair, sharp greying bristles in his beard leaving an oddly distinguished look; his weathered eyes kind. “Ororo? I’m guessin’.�


Ororo stared through the gap at him, even more confused than before, her doe-eyes devoid of their softness. “Who are you?� she asked rather too sharply, her mangled accent sounding thick even to her ears. It was like a normal defensive reaction, especially when someone seemed to know who she was when she’d never laid eyes on them before in her life. Of course, it was not helped by the fact that her nerves couldn’t be anymore on edge right now if she tried.


The man gave a somewhat nervous laugh, “Urr I’m Smitt. Smitty?� he tested the water but no, no spark of recognition, she clearly had no idea who he was. “I’m an old friend o’ Logan’s---he came over, last night,� he laughed, again with that uncertain edge to it, “Or should I say this mornin’.� Her face, pretty as it was, never-the-less remained stony to his reception.


He was about to speak again when she cut in before he had chance, “He isn’t here.�


Ever the intuitive man, Smitty could guess exactly where Logan would be. The fool that man could sometimes be, he rued privately. But wilful too, all the reasoning in the world wouldn’t change his path if it was set. “D’you know when he’ll be back?� he tried, seeing if he could broach any ground.


“No---I’m sorry,� she answered more cordially this time, getting a check on herself. “You can wait for him, if you want?�


“Well, thanks,� he smiled politely; a strangers smile. “That’s if I’m not interruptin’ you ‘Ro?�


She couldn’t help but respond kindly to his instant familiarity, using the clipped nickname, “Of course,� she pulled the door right open, “Come in.�


“Thanks.�


Smitty meandered into the room, coming to a stop just at the foot of the double bed as Ororo shut the door, instantly cutting out the draft that was creeping in and then quickly rushed to the bed herself, flattening out the roughly strewn over blanket that had been stripped of its soiled cover.


“Sit.� She held her hand out, offering the bed in lieu of a formal seat.


The older man uttered the platitude again as he took to the offered bed, settling by the bottom, casually slumping his weight forwards as his work-worn and weathered hands clasped loosely between his parted knees. As all people do, his eyes, encased with their crows feet and dull pits swooping below, Smitty idly cast them around the room, Ororo naturally following their progress as a lull in the casual conversation of first time acquaintance passed. Inevitably he came to a stop on the shattered lamp, destitute on the carpet as it was; no attempt made to gather its remnants up. And nor was there now as she simply watched him gazing down at the mess and then trekked back to her dark little corner; sheltered and safe. She didn’t feel the need to explain that or the half hanging curtain that he now inspected curiously.


“So,� Ororo began, half a room away from him, “You are an old friend of Logan’s,� she first reconfirmed his earlier statement to him, before asking, “How long have you known him?�


“Heh! Since he was knee-high to a grass hopper,� he replied fondly, “I Knew his folks way back when, his father and I worked the mines together.�


Odd---Ororo thought. She knew that the notion seemed ridiculous but she’d never thought of Logan as somebody with parents. It was stupid, she realised, but never once had she even pondered about that kind of past for him, never once wondered if he’d grown up with his family or guessed a what they have been like. Lone wolves tend to exude an air of primal force, as if nothing like them had existed before and nothing would since, not precisely. But he wasn’t ‘lone’ anymore...Now that this—Smitty—had thrown her a scrap, unwittingly given her the first piece of the puzzle, she suddenly found herself yearning for more. “You have known him for a long time then?�


“Yeah, ages. Save for these last few years he’s been...away, o’ course,� he shook his head, the fact that he was even here perhaps not as sunken in as he had thought it. “I tell ya, it shocked the hell outta me to find on my doorstep last night. Twelve years is a long time not to hear or see hide nor hair o’ someone.�


Ororo muttered that numeration of time to herself, her fingers brushing at her lips as she mouthed it. Not even his age. She would have laughed had she not felt so grave. The simplest most basic fact about someone—she knew not even his age. Had this other worldly life they’d been leading removed them from reality so much? Months and she was beginning to see, talking to this absolute stranger, how little they had moved on at all...


“Ororo?�


She broke from her glassed box, not being conscious of the fact that she had completely phased out for a moment there.


“Are you alright?� Smitty questioned, subconsciously straightening up a little in his concern.

“Yes, yes,� she assured him with a quick nod of the head, “I was just thinking, that’s all. Trying to work out how long he would have been in the army.� It was an underhand thing to do, she would freely admit, but despite her reservations she felt the need to know more---like a particularly fascinating car-crash can not be ignored, no matter how much one wants to, or know you should avert your gaze...Anything she would hear pass from this man’s lips would not be too bad, she was sure. It was the safer things she wished to find comfort in now.


“Jeeze, now yer askin’!� He puffed his cheeks out as he retreated back in thought, trying to work it out; the kept-in air jetting out long and loud. “You’ll have to forgive me, the mind ain’t quiet what it used ta be.� She smiled, but the gesture didn’t show in her eyes. “He would o’ been eighteen, an’ he joined in the fall, so...� The gruff voice of man whose lungs lived and breathed coal dust turned to an oddly smooth whisper as he articulated his mental calculations, scratching at his chin, “Nineteen...eighty six, I guess. O’ course he worked the mines fer a while, but that life---it was never fer him. � He sniffed indeterminately, “Wasn’t much o’ a surprise when he announced he was headin’ down t’ Vancouver.�


Fortunately for Ororo, mental arithmetic was one of her strong points where it clearly left Smitty lacking and as soon as he’d unwittingly revealed to her for the first time that Logan had joined up at the age of eighteen, it took her mere seconds to work out how old he was. Thirty six.


At the same time, as another natural moment of silence came to them, Smitty regarded the young woman. First impressions don’t always tell the whole story, he was perfectly aware---maybe she was more reserved than spiky as he had first taken her. And the way she spoke, with an unfamiliar yet gently rolling lilt that he just couldn’t place. He was curious, just as she was, but for him, he was curious as to what kind of woman Logan had fallen for. But first, he had to ask.


“If ya don’t mind me askin’,� He hitched himself forwards slightly, perching even closer to the edge, “where’s that accent from?�


“A little Nairobi, a little Cairo.�


“Just a hint o’ USA,� he ventured with a grin.


Ororo smiled despite not feeling much like doing so, “Yes, I suppose.� She had relaxed somewhat now, Smitty’s comfortable manner having put her at ease.


* * *


Consumed by the obscurity of this familiar place, he waited. The kitchen was as far as Logan had been able to venture. Nothing had been quelled the horror that this place brought to him, nothing had been sated. The house...whispered. He sat on the dirty ground, his back leaning against the sure support of the breakfast island at the rooms centre. His knees hitched up, casually---dejectedly---parted, one arm hung limply over, its look bleak as the outdoors. All around wires hung exposed from the wall where once stood the gas stove, the fridge---the whole room was strangely desolate without all the things that showed human presence. Something scratched about inside the walls to his left, the sound amplified, but it didn’t move him to look its way. For the house continued to whisper...He felt as if he were caught between times, between light and dark, day and night, this world and that. Within the confines of this place that dripped black and blue with bruised remembrance, he waited, but remained uncertain of what he waited for. The great swathes of un-forgiven blackness rested heavy on him; like the weight of lead that still troubled him, compounded on his lungs and strapped him to an artificial doom. A doom of his own making...perhaps not.


Carnivorous shadows set to devouring this former home all around him; quiet taunts reverberating in his skull that steadily pounded with last nights damage. But he was used to that, the pain could be faded to the background, ignored without undue concentration. The ghosts of voices, the echoed sounds of those people long gone---the people who defined a life lived long ago. A life he had long left, like rotting carrion littering this bleak landscape. And all this time, again and again and again, Logan asked himself, berated himself---why come back to this place? There was no easy answer to comfort himself with...simply a compulsion...



This house, this whole place had a smell to it, the scent of a lost chapter was written on every inch of wall, every shred of peeling, dampened wall paper, each half wrenched out fitting. Like the un-concluded theory, this house had soaked in all that was possible for it to take on board, absorbed it in to saturation point. But Logan wished it were that it had taken in nothing and at this moment wanted nothing more than to tear the wreck down to its very foundations. He stood sharply from the ground, standing so quickly he almost over balanced and tumbled forwards. In his head he could see his escape route; through the near-empty living room with its ransacked floorboards and mouse-fodder sofa, stuffing stolen as bedding, to burst through into the clarity and sanity of the outside world. But as he suspected, he found that his feet would not move him that way. He was stuck...lodged in this emotional quagmire.


Finally he willed himself to move, in complete somnambulism, each footstep requiring noting short of complete devotion to the simple action. The frosty crackle under the tread of his boots lessened in its density as he headed away from the cracked tiled surface. Following that path that he had walked nightly for a time, in dreams, nightmares, less frequently as the years had trundled on in a myriad of wilful blood-letting, having given him an unlikely out for his rage; that consuming monster. And then they had gone, vanquished upon his chance meeting with a petty street thief. Until hours ago, he had not been plagued by the dreams at all, not for months. He had at last found a respite from horror...But now he fund himself, of his own volition, back at their root source...


Through to the hallway he slipped in preternatural silence. The odd scuffle was heard, but it was of no consequence. He encroached, cautiously, on the staircase---all passing by him in slow motion; all save the strike of his heart. Like his adrenaline fuelled, feverous madness that took him with impunity, it pounded like a cheetah breaking loose into impossible speed across the Serengeti plane. But he had no quarry to chase save for those found within...Furrowed hazel eyes traced upwards, lingering every few steps where missing boards on the staircase before him created black-holes, rotted through wit years of damp They looked as if they would cave in on themselves at the slightest pressure. Logan started up its precarious path.


*


It came out from the bedroom wall at a jaunting angle, he didn’t think once about why it was still here after so long, why no-one had taken it down. Still held up by the very same string, almost eaten through it belied its look, containing the strength to stop the heavy gilded frame from falling to the ground. It was the only thing left in that room---Logan approached it slowly, a portentous air pervaded the entire space.


He could smell it. After all this time, that sharp oxidation, metal and salt. The scent was one a man like him had encountered on most days of his life, but this was different. Something that had never left him all these years, months, days, hours...the scent that was specific to her. Something he wished never to be close to again and now that he was here, he realised why... One he’d never experienced before or since, imprinted on his memory for now and forever more. Her...


He stopped; the darker line on the floorboards where the dresser once stood like a natural barrier, un-faded by the strong sunlight that seeped once through the wide expansive windows now only seeping through the gaps in the planks that blocked them; the ghost of its familiar presence still there in his mind, where their clothes had lain, neatly folded, side by side. The impassive layer of dust, like thick grey ash settled after a fire, muffled the picture within its frame, the vivid red of the poppies on the lush green sloping down, barely seen and partly guarded his reflection from the glass; a splinter of muted light falling upon it...He stood stock still and stared, the fragments came to him, the make up of a face forming from the blur that he barely recognised anymore. His eyes held a lifelessness that even he could see, the cold mask of his features. Seething and brutal, his fingers curled into his palm, short badly bitten nails digging into the flesh; the fist snapped out like lightening, the shatter was instantaneous. The splintered shards of glass over the picture fragmented his image into a hundred pieces, all looking back at him over the top of the wedding present...their wedding present....The one he remembered so vividly from his dream. He didn’t move, he simply remained there, staring...


The wet dripped hotly from his split knuckles but he let it run. Drip, drip, drip to the floor... Small sparkles of glass glittered in the scarlet of the gashes as the abrupt rush took its time to die down in his ears; his entire head filled with it, overwrought with it. The roaring adrenaline of a fight, his primal rage reared its ugly head as it had threatened earlier and would not retreat quietly. Heart hammering, he struggled to calm his erratic breathing, barely making growls as each slipped through. There ran a tremor through-out his body; one he came to realise was informed only by his anger; an anger he’d carried with him for more years than he cared to think. A life wasted, nearly consumed by it. His scowl was as black as night. His anger caused by and directed at her...at them...Them. Even now, after everything he couldn’t forgive her. And as for him—HIM—the need to hunt him down remained. But no...what was the point? It would cost him more than he’d lost already. And what he had now, he wasn’t about to jeopardise, for anything. He wouldn’t give either of them the satisfaction. His life had been destroyed once, he wouldn’t let them do it to him again...


* * *


Half-an-hour had come and gone with barely a whisper and the conversation had weaved comfortably between the pair. Smitty’s obvious friendship with Logan had, by now, completely disarmed Ororo’s defensiveness; a trait that had aided her survival for years. But still she was retreated in that dark corner, taking it all in from a distance. Little scraps, small pieces of information he threw to her unknowingly and she caught them, every last one; devoured and deduced from them what she could. Though the talk had mainly centred around the town, and general facts, Ororo found it fascinating, like he was building a picture for her of a person she didn’t at all know. With friends, family---a whole other life that bore no relation to the man she had come to love. This insular loner.


She slipped off her wicker chair as she listened to him talk, her eyes never leaving him; the muffled movement of his lips as she settled onto the carpet, her legs beneath her like a child getting comfortable for story time. With the inwardly bending leg of the chair pushed between her shoulder blades, tales regaled her of Smitty’s time with Logan’s father, working the mines...all under complete presumption, of course.



“Yeah John,� he smiled, remembering, “John Howlett was the best damn foreman that mine ever had. Could certainly keep a better check on those lazy bastards than I’ve ever been able to,� he said self deprecatingly, adding, as a mute point, “Excuse my French.�


Ororo waved her hand and laughed it off as she shifted on the ground; a twinge of pain from her foot catching her sharply. Before Smitty got chance to question the stifled wince he saw, she said, “John? So that was his father’s name. You know, he doesn’t really talk much about his family.�



“Really?� Smitty suddenly felt apprehensive, fearing perhaps he’d said too much, though in truth he hadn’t told her anything of great consequence. But he had just assumed...she seemed to react with a disarming familiarity to everything he’d said.


“He’s spoken of them,� Ororo replied quickly; lying to appease him. She felt awful for doing so and for doing this but she couldn’t help herself. “---just a little light on the details, that’s all.�


“Yeah, well,� he balled his fist close to his mouth as he hacked a nasty cough; too many cigars last night. “---S’cuse me---it’s not really surprisin’. It was a damn shame that John died when he did...An’ I never did think much of his step-daddy.� He went quiet then, deciding that it was best to hold his tongue he turned to gaze at the blank sky through the window opposite.


Ororo accepted it, not questioning further, not wanting to push it too far. She moved on the floor, shifting into a kneeling position. The ticking of the clock became suddenly ominous. She shivered a little, the temperature of the room having steadily dropped as the hours had past.


Smitty cleared his throat awkwardly, giving another cough, but much lighter. “Did, urr, did Logan say where he was going?� Anything would do to break the hush that had descended. He hated silence, even if she would only confirm what he already knew...


“That house,� Ororo replied quietly, aware of the goose-pimples that broke out on her skin on speaking of it, “His old house, on the hill.�


Smitty simply nodded for he understood. And in that one gesture Ororo saw that he understood more than she possibly ever would, ever could. That made her feel a certain regret, a regret nestled somewhere deep inside. Everything suddenly seemed to her so...sombre, desolate. Again, she wished to be anywhere but here. She rubbed her arms, hoping to remove the chill that seeped now straight through to the bone; her damp discarded coat and scarf lay in a slovenly lump right next to where she sat. She reached out and fingered the hood slowly, the course weave a curious texture, her brown eyes gazing at it as if it had become unquestionably interesting within the last few moments.


Perhaps she knew.... “You know, he was talkin’ about you last night.� He was glad to see that brought a shade of a smile to her face. She was pretty when she smiled; Logan had discovered himself a real find. He only hoped he could hold onto her for she’d obviously done him wonders already. Just the way he seemed to change, that subtle shift, when he spoke of her. Maybe he’d finally found the contentment he’d craved for so long... “He seems real...smitten,� he grinned at the dark flush in her cheeks; a dusky rose. “I’m sure he won’t mind me sayin’ that.�


Ororo brushed her cheek, as if to rid the ruddy blush, “At times,� she hitched a shoulder, “I wouldn’t know,� she practically muttered, wishing she’d said nothing even as the words formed.


Smitty moved, as if suddenly uncomfortable, perhaps feeling he’d spoken out of turn, but having passed through that point enough to bid him to continue; one of those odd times, where a stranger seems familiar through association. An association he felt surrogate to. “Look, tell me if I’m over steppin’ the mark here,� he pre-empted, holding a hand out, “I don’t pretend ta know what’s goin’ on between you two, or why he’s brought ya up here, but all I know is that Logan doesn’t love in half measures, he’s,� he shook his head as if stuck for words, “he’s...the real deal---he’s a good man.�


It felt peculiar for somebody else to be telling her this, something that had been set into herself for so long or else in her heart of hearts, she would not have seen this through. But it offered a certain comfort to hear this from someone who knew him, really knew him; a bizarre comfort, but a comfort none-the-less. She knew...she knew he loved her but sometimes, love just wasn’t enough...In that way, it offered scant consolation. She simply needed to speak, needed to voice...something...�It’s...it is just so difficult sometimes, I don’t know what to do...�


Smitty felt distinctly awkward, a general reaction, one that he overcame quickly enough. “I admire the fact that you’ve come back here with him, most---.�


“Why?� she asked sharply; not in peevishness more haste.


He paused for a moment, his countenance slightly sheepish, “Well, it---it takes a certain kind of person to come back here with him, to...�


“To what?� she whispered; try as she might, the glisten in her eyes was still there.


“After Fox, and everything that happened, I can only say I was surprised that he’d ever wanna set foot in Alberta ever again.�


Fox? Ororo’s mind reeled, she shifted awkwardly on the ground, inadvertently huffing a breath, “Who is Fox?�


“Silver?...you mean, he never told you about Silver?� Smitty wished a great crevice would open up and swallow him whole, nothing would have been finer at this point.


“No,� she fairly quivered, “He has never said anything about somebody called ‘Silver’,� she took on what could only be described as a fretful look, “Or Fox.�


Smitty stood up, running his hand distractedly under his nose, “I should go really---I’ve gotta get down to the mine---.�


“Who is she?� Ororo asked gravely, her dark eyes almost black as she fixed him intensely, “Please...just tell me.� He may have been crossing the boundaries but she had to know. Forsake friendships, he had said too much.


“I’m sorry Ororo,� he said then muttered something in what appeared to be self-chastisement under his breath, “It really isn’t for me ta say anythin’---I just thought you would have known.�


“Well I didn’t,� she said numbly, her eyes far off before switching back to the man in front of her, the man she barely knew but was now waiting on to tell her something that could change everything. “...please. I know you are Logan’s friend, but---if there is something I should know...tell me.� She didn’t plead; there was too much nobility in the face of her for that. No, moreover she was earnest in her request to him, of him. An earnest sensibility that he recognised well, and found instantly, he could not refuse to satisfy.


Never-the-less he headed for the door, appearing to make his exit, but soon stopped close to it. “Silver---,� he looked piqued, as if struck by an attack of conscience, whilst recognising that telling her was right too, “I’m sure he would have told you soon---Silver is Logan’s wife.�


The fast strike of a rocklike fist square into Ororo’s chest. It knocked the breath from her lungs, fairly induced her to retch. She only had strength enough left to utter one inquiry. “Is...?�


Smitty looked grave, his brow contorting, peevish, and said only one word in reply, in correction. “Was.�


* * *


Hours later....


He eyed the sludgy footprints that stopped just before the red veneer of room twenty-two. There were two sets, melting in the dirt stained transient snow; the large imprints of ridge-soled boots. He stood on the boardwalk for a moment and wondered. Out of cautious habit he looked both ways before entering the room; the dull yellow lights set underneath the small log-structured awning highlighting the quiet desolate nature of the evening. There didn’t seem to be anyone in any of the other rooms at either side of them, or in the rest of the motel for that matter. Only the distant sound of false crowd laughter from the television in the reception across the courtyard indicated any other presence. Not even the light in their room was on. Slowly, with reluctance, he entered...


*


She sat on the stripped bed. Her coat was balled and nestled at her feet that were tucked close to her, like a dutiful pet. She had put it on and taken it off so many times in the hours since Smitty had left she simply became comforted that it was near, at hand. Should she leave or shouldn’t she?...


Logan swallowed down hard on seeing her, but somehow remained impassive, as detached as usual. There was a left over sent of stale smoke in the air, but he couldn’t place it. It seemed a little too strong to be the remnants of is own cigar this morning. He let the distraction pass as he edged towards the bed, stopping at its foot, hands in his pockets. Even in the near total dark, the red rims about her eyes where evident; accentuated by the mild puffiness that beset them, she was practically illuminated by the brightness of her hair that almost gave off its own incandescence. But it wasn’t this that caused a pang, a rare feeling of what he could only describe to himself as fear. It was the utter vacuousness of her face—an expressionless visage of the woman he loved.


What he did not realise, as they silently regarded each other from across the bare expanse of the bed, unflinching in their hard eye contact, was that she thought the same of him.


-TBC-


R’s always appreciated—spur me on with the last couple of chapters :),.....so close ;), M’iko, xx

Thank-you for the reviews, and your patience, M’iko, xx


Disclaimer; I did not own any of the X-Men then and still do not now.


Chapter.15.


Bumbling cotton wool fuzz hung heavily in the sky, shifting awkwardly, slowly, its darkened led appearance turning mid afternoon into a post sun-set darkness. Even what little light escaped through seemed subdued and reluctant to flaunt its wears. Bistcho was a good day and a halves drive behind them now. They’d left like thieves in the night, Logan not even staying long enough to offer one final good-buy to Smitty. He knew it was the last time...The car glided carefully along the clear asphalt road as Ororo stared blankly out of the window. The landscape that had once inspired her on first glimpse now only stultified her—it seemed empty and cold to her; drab and almost soulless; the endless constant rise and fall, the obstinate isolation. The bitter edge to the cold agitated her now, whereas before, she barely noticed the grim temperature at all. It niggled at her, made her permanently miserable as her mind dwelled on it and made her snuggle down into her coat as if it were a great bear skin, offering life against the sheer cold of death. She longed to be anywhere but where she currently was. It crowded around her as New York eventually had—a place at first the symbol of her escape turned quickly into another sort of prison, with trappings all of its own. Life was not so easily escaped. The freedom she craved would not be so readily obtained after all. She tried to suppress the sigh that came at that thought, heavy and sullen, steaming up the window with a pearly opaque cloud. The glass, that rattled loosely in its rubber-sealed frame with the vibration of the vehicle, pressed to her cheek, she was so close to it; cold and sharp.


She felt as an island—all over again.


Not knowing where they were or where they were heading, she seriously doubted if he knew either, but as they’d barely shared a word for hours, it didn’t matter. It was as if they were propelling themselves to the end of the world, to abject oblivion and neither seemed to mind much. Where else was there left to go if everything had finished? The drab loneliness and physical isolation seemed appropriate; to figures condemned to their own form of purgatory. Who knows, perhaps they both deserved it. She shuddered at the thought...


The sound of the car’s heater blared furiously, almost drowning out the dim growl of the rough, unconditioned engine. What little warmth it offered had little or no effect—the noise of it filled the void of their mutual silence, the radio having no signal at all for the past couple of days now, just the occasional rattle of a local station and then static. Every so often Ororo felt the stern force of Logan’s gaze as they came to a straight length of road, but she didn’t yield to it, refusing doggedly to acknowledge it. Perhaps, she thought once or twice, she’d see how far she could go before he snapped, gave in and challenged her, though that wasn’t her reason. She simply couldn’t find it within her right now, the will, the strength, to interact with him. It seemed an odd thing to feel, but at times, it was just so...draining, just too much, the last thing she needed—and so was a fierce confrontation. Though one was patently unavoidable—the tension palpable, like a build up of toxic fumes, rising higher and higher until one was choked and became consumed by them.


Again the heavy weight of his gaze was upon her, full rich hazel eyes that held an accusatory note and this time...this time Ororo had to return it. She couldn’t help it


“What?� she asked lightly; a controlled calm in her voice.


Logan admired that control usually, was comforted by her often unflappable, steady nature. But other times it vexed him, her ability to remove herself at will, as if she existed on another plane—her ice-like serenity terminable. It made the monster lurking inside all the more visible, to him if no-one else. “Are you gonna say what you wanna say?� he asked, clearly trying to curb the irritated edge to his tone, “Or is this it fer the next few days—weeks,� he added flatly, taking his eyes back to the road ahead.


Ororo looked at him for a moment, and then, with nothing more the subtly dismissive shake of her head, pressed back to the icy class of the window as it continued to reverberate on her cheek. The rise and fall, rise and fall, the constant black rise and fall set against deep grey skies. How much longer could this go on?


He shifted in his seat, giving off a dark sigh as he adjusted his hands on the camel-coloured leather covered steering-wheel; he could feel the clamminess beneath his palms despite the temperature. The warning was crystal clear...he forced himself to take a breath of calm; measured and deliberate, before he tried again. “‘Ro—darlin’—what’s wrong?�


She bit at the inside of her cheek in a desperate attempt to hold her tongue, but it was utterly futile, her tongue ran away with itself regardless. “When were you planning on telling me?�


“Tellin’ you what?� he replied, almost drolly it seemed.


To that Ororo gave an incredulous snort, a gesture that sounded alien coming from her, not being naturally given to such things, “Don’t play games with me Logan,� she warned and then finally turned to face him, “You took great pains to bring me all the way up here—you must have wanted me to know.�


For a split second a stab of panic hit him; what did she know? How much and from whom? These and many more questions flew like rapid fire at him until he couldn’t distinguish between each, lost in the mire. But then, suddenly, a point clarity, the footprints... “Wanted you to know what?� he ventured, some part of him dreading the answer, another inexplicably angry.


“I’m not playing this game,� Ororo half muttered to herself as she again turned to face the window, her words almost lost as she hitched her legs up onto the seat, cocooned with her coat. “Not anymore...� she added belatedly in a near whisper.


“Goddamn it Ororo!� His voice was so loud and the outburst so unexpected that the shock of it literally made her jump in her seat, her pulse hammering maddeningly in her throat. It brought back in a lightening quick memory of the way she’d felt on that first night; his arm pressed to her throat, the menacing fear that had pumped through her. Perhaps there was an edge of that feeling that would never go away...ever. “You said you didn’t wanna know,� he carried on firmly, having got a grip on his sudden anger, but obviously struggling to keep it. “That’s what you told me...� he mumbled. It was only then, saying that aloud, that he realised how bitter he was about that; somewhere inside, he almost felt it a rejection.


“Well maybe I changed my mind,� she said, but the expressed bitterness of it not at all allaying his initial feelings as he might have expected hearing those words to. Now they were nothing more than an added sprinkle of salt into an already stinging wound; a searing insult. But not quite, until...�You should have told me about her sooner...�


He didn’t miss the quiver in Ororo’s voice at the word ‘her’. His entire body stiffened immediately; pensive in its unintentional reserve. The idea...the mere idea of her, his love, referring to...her. He hadn’t anticipated the cold jab, the quicksilver it would cause within in him; these unfamiliar nervous reactions jumpstarting the defensive in him, the one who would lash out at the slightest of provocation. He knew nothing else but. “What did you want me to say Ororo?�


“That you were married!� she shot back, “That she lived there! That Silver Fox—!� The screeching halt of the car stopped her in her tracks as she nearly pitched straight off her seat and into the dashboard, the seat belt chaffing; the abrupt swerve to the side of the road, slipping a little on the layer of ice, genuinely frightening her. But not half as much as the look she observed on his face; his temples pulsing a vivid red. She now regretted she’d said anything at all; flinching automatically at the prospect of his anger.


He hadn’t thought it possible, but he needed to stop the car now or he feared what would happen should he continue to drive. The sweat beneath his palms had become such that they were literally slipping down its sleek surface, leaving dark streaks along the dulled patent material as he lost his formerly stern grip. The recognisable pounding racked his entire body it seemed to him; amplified ten-fold. He tensed himself to hold it in, struggling with every fibre of his being.


Ororo sat back cautiously in her seat, turning slightly towards him. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t hurt her, she knew him well enough by now to appreciate that. But she couldn’t deny that the unknowable that lurked beneath the surface like a second presence—another person that sat between them; their own personal pariah...“I’m sorry,� she offered quietly, not precisely sure why she was apologising but feeling instinctively that she should, but swiftly annoyed at her own acquiescence. His jaw twitched; teeth clenched. But he didn’t respond...Her own anger felt strangely redundant now as she continued tentatively, her own shame at submission too for perhaps whatever it was she had dredged up had genuinely wounded him in ways she could not imagine. “Logan...I did not mean to—it’s just—I’m sorry okay. I didn’t mean to hurt--.�


“JUST SHUT UP, OKAY?!�


Her heart leapt into her mouth, and held there for what felt to her an eternity. But still she had pride enough to feel a certain indignity, a gut refusal to feel any true fear.


Immediately after venting in such an explosive manner, Logan regretted it, berating himself for losing it so easily, though at the same time still fuming. But it wasn’t at her, not really, he knew perfectly well that it was directed at himself—this way was simply easier. As usual, he was outside his anger, but at least now, he had a measure of control, where she was concerned. It hadn’t always been that way... “Look darlin’,� he began with a new calm, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that--.�


“No, you shouldn’t!� she seethed back at him with latent anger and started to fumble abortively with the car door handle; her growing madness making agile hands clumsy. Finally she got a grip on the shining silver and the door opened a half inch before a dry, wind-reddened hand reached over and pulled it forcefully back shut.


“Please darlin’, wait--.�


“Don’t you touch me!� she spat back, every ounce of callousness in her being ploughed into the command. He withdrew his hand from the door handle and his arm from where it lay, unintentionally imposing, across her body. As soon as that barrier was out of the way Ororo pushed the door open hard, letting it snap back loudly. As she climbed out of the car, her face feeling flushed and hot, her hair flailed in the mild wind like an indication of her inner confusion; she had no idea what she was doing or where she was going—she just had to get out of that car...away from him.


She started to walk, the crunch of her cheap running shoes on the rough ground at the side of the road gradually getting louder in her ears, even as she heard the opening and slamming of the car door, and quickening footsteps in pursuit. She carried on...carried on as the crisp step of his boots became quicker too, and her pace speeded up accordingly. “Leave me alone!�


“‘Ro darlin’, what’re you doin’?�


She ignored him—in all honesty she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. They were in the middle of nowhere, she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d seen another car pass them; three hours at least and all their cash was in the car, she had not a scent or a personal belonging. But still she walked. Away from him...away from him...that was all that mattered.


Logan caught up with her fairly easily, taking hold of her arm lightly to try to halt her. “Ororo, please. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.� The only response was her quick jerk, urging him to let go of her arm as she burst into her swiftest walk, almost a jog. Another moment, another attempt to halt her and she’d be positively running from him.


“I’m not being stupid Logan,� she countered eventually, pulling her coat tighter about her as she stared stock straight ahead into the bleak yet sweeping landscape, “Just let me alone.� Her steel faltered for just a second.


“An’ where the hell do’ya think you’re goin’?� he called to her as he slowed to a stop, unwilling to go any further, standing his ground, “—I know this area, there’s nothin’ around fer miles darlin’ and you’ve got nothin’ but what yer standin’ up in.�


“I’ll take my chances,� Ororo’s voice echoed back across the open country, marrying with the cry of some bird swooping over head, as she insisted on pursing this pointless line, despite the fact that she knew that she would ultimately have to turn back and get in that car, but right now she was too mad, too agitated; too plain pig-headed. Perhaps somewhere in her she simply wanted to make him suffer for his flare-up...just that bit longer. As far as she was currently concerned, in the midst of a distorting irrationality, her anger clouding any reasoning she initially felt, there was only one person in the wrong here...although, was she right? It was only that flash of self-doubt that made her slow a little. Gradually, she submitted to a stop. But this didn’t stop her resentment at his belligerence. Confusion reigned in her, supplementing her feelings. If he had an ex-wife living in that town, why not tell her, why feel the need to travel all that way to see her and their old home? She simply couldn’t make sense of it—it was preposterous. Why would he do that? Was he truly that insensitive that he didn’t believe it would hurt her? And again her indignity arose. If he had ghosts to lay to rest then he should have done it alone. But now she would ask him, challenge him, he owed her the truth now if nothing else. She turned around; sweeping back a lock of hair that obscured her view with her forearm. Letting it rest, raised, at the side of her head in suspended animation, she asked, “Did you see her?�


“What?�


“Did you see her?� Ororo repeated with simmering annoyance. But she soon let go of that when she saw the colour drain from his face; a positively ashen aspect came to him.


“No,� he stated. She didn’t know...she truly didn’t know...Of course she didn’t, or why would she have spoken of it? He turned away from her, walking determinedly back to the car, feeling he had to put all of his concentration into such a simple act.


Ororo’s brow creased in confusion as she watched Logan’s retreat and as if drawn by invisible thread, she moved back too, heading towards the car, though with much more reluctance. Once at the maroon Sudan she climbed sullenly back in, plonking back into her seat heavily, shaking the old car on its rickety suspension. Before the silence had chance to solidify, as it often did between these most obstinately stubborn of people, Logan spoke...


“She...,� the lolloping movement of his Adam’s apple made a fabulously vocal noise as he swallowed down, his throat suddenly dry and sore, “...she’s dead.�


-TBC-


Sorry that this chapter is so short, I’m trying to work out a few things with the course of the rest of the plot and as I hadn’t posted for a while I felt that this section was ready enough for publication.

And a double sorry for taking so long to get a new chapter out. Thanks once again for your patience. This story will get finished, I promise. :)

Toughie, Nem, Pookie, Saki and Rhapsody81...your feedback was cherished!


Disclaimer; I did not own any of the X-Men then and still do not now.


Chapter.16.


It had to be around here somewhere. It had stood for fifty years before he was born and would no doubt stand for countless more. He concentrated on the familiar line of the trees, looking carefully for that secluded turn-off. At any rate it kept his mind from Ororo’s tense posture in the seat next to him—her desperately apologetic air without wanting to say anything. Perhaps she feared he’d vent at her again, which he would not, but had not the heart to say anything yet to allay that worry. Or maybe, just maybe the humility was genuine. Genuine...that was a trait he was still coming to terms with, still learning to accept after all of theses years....The silence was best kept for now—the time for talk would be soon at hand. It was inevitable, one way or the other.


A sudden rip in the thick gigantic ruddy coloured age-old bodies like a torn leaf and there they were, cutting through the trees, heading to a destiny, of sorts. It would do for now. He couldn’t go any further—the old hunter’s shack he remembered from hunting trips in this area would do for tonight. Ororo looked out of the window with a careful eye as the car rolled up to the log shack with its rusted corrugated iron roof that curled like dog-eared paper at the edges. She didn’t ask anything about it, she simply got out of the car as soon as it halted, seconds before the engine chugged out; a hot dying breath in the cold air, in the silence of the inert. It was a stagnation that surrounded them completely. Not a single noise stirred in forest at first as if it contained no life whatsoever. But the full-blooded echo of a wood pigeon soon shattered through that; its earthy call appropriate to its name. It called once or twice, the waves of that cooing voice lasting beyond its expiry, stirring other inhabitants to life in the thickening dimness; an owl here, an indistinct mammal cry there, rustling along the damp and sodden earth. Ororo walked resolutely, her feet wading through the old foliage on the ground as she stared down at her dirty white trainers intermittently through the mass, absently kicking at fallen twigs and leaves. Through all of this fallen death something struck her; this all had to stop. It simply had to...The slam of the other car door echoed through the trees; her feet stilled.


Logan walked up to and past her, eyeing over the old shack, not looking at her once; expectant that Ororo would follow with out complaint or inquiry. He hadn’t seen this place in more years than he cared to remember. He’d almost forgotten that it existed until they happened upon the turning—distant memory coming into shocking Technicolor. It was a long time ago, another era. It was another lifetime...something and someone un-relatable to who he now was. Coming up here, as a kid, getting up to all sorts, living a carefree life he now imagined was nothing more than a fantasy...He wouldn’t have thought it possible but a wistful smile almost graced his lips...but not quite. Nothing from his past here could ever erase the grim times, the ruinous memories. He took stock and moved on. He didn’t wait for her to follow as he advanced on the small building, but he could sense her stillness, her statuesque form.


Ororo hesitated for a moment, intrigued if nothing else. This was the type of place that had significance to a person, just like the lake back home had for her. She studied its moss laden roof, the slapdash guttering hanging on by a thread, its damp infested log sidings. It was a place that had survived through love, the attention paid by untold amounts passing through it as home and shelter, comfort and refuge. She hoped for a second the significance would be more favourable than Bistcho, the association sweeter. But she knew that would be a futile endeavour. She had little energy left now, for anything. And so she followed after him, resigned to it.


*


“It’s funny isn’t it,� Ororo said as she stared absently ahead of her, “...in a way.�


“What is?� Logan poked at the flame in the old-fashioned boiler a couple of times to keep it going, not looking back at her as he spoke flatly.


“Life, I guess.� Her face creased a little with hidden concern as she spoke, “You never know what will happen...you just take your chances and see what comes.�


Logan threw the metal rod he was using as a make-shift poker onto the ground, not caring where it skittered to, lost amongst the natural and man made debris on the two-roomed huts floor. There was a bare mattress on the floor in the corner, covered with dead leaves, the iron boiler in the opposite corner and the chair that Ororo was now perched on and that was it. Time and neglect had ravaged the once pleasant place, like everything else...They were probably the first people to grace it in untold years; a crop of badly rusted and almost indistinguishable beer cans the only evidence of its last occupants. What little light was afforded through the trees this close to nightfall came through the small window behind where she sitting. As Logan turned around to face her, all he saw was a guarded silhouette with a glowing edge of white about the head.


“I guess...� he answered her finally and then turned back to the small fire he was crouched in front of. It would be unbelievably cold in here tonight; he knew what it could get like, even at this time of year. This far north, it could feel at times that it was perpetual winter. It simply never let up, never gave a respite. As if in answer, as he turned to Ororo once more she shivered. She was clearly trying to stifle the gesture as not to draw his enquiry, but failed hopelessly.


“You alright darlin’?� he asked softly.


Ororo nodded, a little too vigorously, “Yeah.� She sniffed loudly as she pulled her coat tighter, indicating the absolute contrary of her words.


Logan pushed himself up from the dirty floor, making up the short distance over to her, absently kicking away the cluster of crumpled acid orange tins and the leaves and bits of splintered joists fallen from the roof that surrounded them. “You’re cold,� he stated; no room for argument and none offered. He made to take one of his own jackets off in an unusually singular act of conventional chivalry, but she brought the action to a swift halt.


“I’m okay,� she told him, gazing up at him in front of her, feeling strangely awkward at the sudden eye contact. It prompted her to look away quickly; not even bothering to introduce subtly to the action. There was no need...She didn’t quite catch the frown that marred his features for a moment, but somehow she felt its presence. As he moved off from her, intending to do what, who knows, she looked up sharply, “...How?�


He stood still, ridged as an ice sculpture...just as arctic. Such a simple word. One word. Imbued with so many complexities it was too difficult to count. He felt his throat tighten, his natural reaction of anger, nothing more than a defensive wall. “I...� the silence passed with aching slowness... “I’ll get that blanket from the car for you. I don’t want you gettin’ ill,� he said quickly as he vacated the hut before Ororo could say anything. She sighed. It verged on a mournful sob.


*


It was heavy on her shoulders and she couldn’t be sure if the mattress beneath her was damp or just cold. But then again, she really didn’t care, one way or the other. Their eyes had barely met for the past hour. The thick swirls of cigar smoke cut across the navy dulcetness of the tiny space, lit only by the small fire that still crackled, lending a small raw sienna patch of light and throwing out deep, deep shadows of pure black. But it was enough...they didn’t need more...


He sat on the floor, at the end of the old mattress, his head leant back against the log rounded wall –just the way nature had left them apart from being striped of their rough reddish bark. His weary eyes were lightly closed to what little light there was, as if he were waiting. Waiting and waiting, until... “I had to face it,� he said quietly; the sound of his sonorous rough-edged voice seeming odd in the solid silence that existed between them. “Do you understand?� He opened his eyes and let his head roll to the side, still against the wall so as to look straight at her with an unreadable edge to his sudden concentration.


Ororo regarded him for a moment, her dark eyes soft like mist in the fires glow; she didn’t think her lips would move even if she wanted to answer him, halted by that strange paralysis that exists in the mind rather than in reality. Eventually she nodded, just a little, but then as her voice returned to her she contradicted that, “No...no, I don’t. What is there for me to understand?�


Logan shifted with a scrapping sound and a crease of leather as he turned his body to her slightly, “I...I dunno,� he leant back again, his head thumping heavily against the tanned stripped logs, as if defeated, staring off into the middle distance at nothing, the metaphorical void. After another seamless stream of silence where he battled internally with the flow of everything, trying and failing to pull things into some semblance of cognitive order, he eventually spoke once more, “I can’t explain it...� he unexpectedly laughed, but the sound was utterly without humour or warmth; it had an undeniably bitter edge in fact, “...how can I expect you to understand it...when I don’t myself.�


Ororo tucked herself deeper into the rug-like blanket, curling into a tight ball. She didn’t want to hear any more of his riddles, the tattered pieces he was prepared to throw her. This...this all had to end...one way or another. That phrase roamed around within her like a mantra; it all had to end. They’d been fooling themselves for too long now...


“What happened to her?� As she said the words she wondered for a minute whether or not they had been spoken aloud at all. But a furtive glance over to him told her she had. There was no real reaction, no true change in his demeanour, but she could just tell... “How did she...� She trailed off, feeling a keen intrusiveness. None-the-less he promptly responded.


“I don’t really...I can’t remember much,� Logan said quietly, slowly, as though he was pondering over the words as he was saying them, “Only coming back, from leave—and she...� He trailed off, shifting his position stiffly.


Ororo was torn between the two things, the two avenues open. She knew which one she wanted to venture but was compelled towards the other out of mercy. She’d never seen him so...on the brink as he appeared now, the turmoil of time beneath the surface, fighting, pushing its way back through like an unstoppable tide. She could do nothing but watch as the shifts in that cruel tide made themselves apparent on his face; a sudden crease of melancholy, a held back sigh, a flinch of nervous anger. A minute passed in abject silence, then another, and another in which the light from the fire appeared to dim, ever-so-slightly, until it seemed an age since he’d last spoken. But then, suddenly, it felt like no time at all...


“I can’t even remember where it was I came back from anymore—a mission, somewhere...I know I hadn’t seen her for two months, somethin’ like that. It was late—real late—I remember that. It was winter an’ the sky around here turns black like you wouldn’t believe— real thick—real inky. But the moon was shinnin’ that night, enough to light the house. That’s why I didn’t even bother to turn any of the lights on when I got in. We—she—was livin’ in my Mom’s house...well, her and Thom’s house. She stayed there whenever I was away, in Vancouver or wherever—said she didn’t like bein’ left alone at ours. Said it was too far out, too isolated.� He laughed again with that short bitterness, “I would have thought bein’ out there woulda suited her more...cause bein in that house—with her in-laws—even that didn’t stop her...,� the words pushed forwards, he couldn’t stop them even if he wished to... “...it didn’t stop her bein’—bein...when I wasn’t around. She...she didn’t know...they had no idea that I knew, an’ even if they did, I don’t think they’d have given a damn shit—.� He stopped short, his jaw twitching with obvious mirth as he got to his feet. Words he had not said for years, things he had not spoken of to anyone renewing everything he’d tried so hard to run from, to forget...or not as the case may be for there were certain things he’d have given anything to remember but could not and knew he never would. The very things that would perhaps give his soul peace or, plunge him over the edge into the abyss forever; it was all a game of Devil’s Advocate when it came down to it, the fear of what card would be drawn from the pack next. Were there things that he would be better living his whole life never knowing, he thought to himself often, very often. He was becoming rapidly convinced of that fact now that grey, bleak little town was far behind them...in body if not in spirit. In spirit that mournful little place was always there. Maybe there were some things one was better off being ignorant of? But it had all gone too far now, with Ororo, with himself. There was no escaping this, not anymore...Like distorted pools, disturbed by the flow of ripples, things came in waves, in pieces...Being by the room—their room at his parents house—that is what he remembered. But it was not real to him, it only ever felt like it belonged in the dream state, the physical detachment of it. He thought this but did not say it, slipping into a disconcerting state of reticence, only to pick up where his mental line had left off, inexplicable to Ororo as she attempted to follow what he was saying, disjointed as it was.


“These--,� Logan reached over the softly greyed crew neck of his white t-shirt and the open collar of the plaid over-shirt, taking the two somewhat dulled tags into his hands, holding them before him, letting them fall like trickling sand down from one hand to another, one way and then the other, up and down, pouring them as he subtly tilted his palms in idle examination of something so well known as to become alien, “I always hear them...I can hear them when I breath, like a small bell, tinklin’...just a little bit.� He grasped them close to their tops, at the very bottom of the chain and shook them almost experimentally shaking them, letting them clash together with that high brittle reverberation. “...but I ferget—I always ferget what it is until the last minute,� he shook them again, briefly before closing his fingers tight over them, squeezing them into his palm so tensely that his reddened knuckles turned a mottled, sallow tinged white with the pressure, caught quickly in the light before descending into shadow as he released them. The sound sharp like needles... “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore...I just know that I can’t lose you ‘Ro—not now.� There was the manic desperation of love there but something more than that, the sudden turn into rhetoric, something beyond his control.


“Why would you?� Ororo asked once he’d proffered his unintelligible soliloquy; a tremor to her words that she could not disguise, try as she might. As he’d spoken, an incoherent story was dripping out, bit by stubborn bit, piece by pained piece she had listened intently, understanding, not understanding, not wanting to but needing to. She’d moved a little closer to him as he was speaking, but came to a rest again half-way down the old mattress, not quite close enough to touch. “Logan, tell me...please?� she almost pleaded, feeling her eyes becoming hot again, the sudden need to swallow down the ache in her throat was painful. She feared where his answer might take them in her heart of hearts. She did not want to hear, but still, could not resist; the human compulsion to the unknown, to what we anticipate will terrify us but stumble toward none the less, like a willing and complicit sacrifice...


Logan did not appear to hear her, lost to ghosts in recollection, in self-reproach...A prison in mind if not in body. But there were many times he believed himself worthy of both.


“What happened to her?...What happened to Fox?�...


“There was so much blood, Ororo...God there was so much blood—an it—I just remember...� his bare hands were splayed before him, searching for the invisible, the impenetrable blackness, like treacle, “...it was everywhere—all over me, the floor...drippin’ down, just—so much of it...�


“Logan...?� ...Ororo Munroe could barely breathe...she could not, she could not. A terror froze her tongue; a terror for him, not of him. She had been a fool. There was so much she had to tell him...so much and for the first time the understanding came like clear crystal. She knew what it was to run, to run from a former life, to run from others, to run from a place that held the aromas and memories of home, of the heart. To run from oneself...she had nothing to reproach him for that she could not do the same to herself. But she had to make sure, she had to know... “What are you trying to tell me Logan. It’s alright you know...you know that you can tell me anything...absolutely anything.� She was right next to him now, the heavy blanket half-fallen off her, her hair hanging down and brushing lightly against his face, filling him with its soft scent. Closing her hand firmly but not insistently over his shoulders, her full lips resting close to his ear, letting small hot breaths caress it, she fairly whispered... “Did...did you...?�


“No...no.� Faintly and then with conviction as he dragged himself from the spell, turning his head so that her mouth touched sweetly and briefly at his face, “It was him...HIM...� his fists tightened, his temples reddened, “...it was him...�


-To Be Concluded-