Summary: Just a short little something that popped up in my head. I thought it could stand alone...but who knows.
Categories: General Characters: None
Genres: Angst
Warnings: Violence
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: No
Word count: 2126
Read: 5651
Published: 03-16-05
Updated: 06-14-08
1. Pretty Piece of Flesh by LaydeRogue
2. Number One Crush by LaydeRogue
3. Talk Show Host by LaydeRogue
Pretty Piece of Flesh by LaydeRogue
Title: Pretty Piece of Flesh
Author: LaydeRogue
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the X-men. Until I can save up enough money to buy out the character Storm Marvel has that esteemed privilege. I use the characters for the sole purpose of entertainment.
“Where were you last night?” The question came out with such force that droplets of saliva escaped threw his clenched teeth splattering across her cheeks. His voiced was laced with an animalistic insane rage as he restrained her body against the wall. She was caught off guard by his sudden actions the moment she had entered the apartment.
Trapped between his body and the cold tiled wall. She watched as he struggled with an array of emotions marring his usually handsome features. His hand traveled up the length of her neck, stopping only to tighten his grasp against her delicate throat.
She knew that he did not desire an answer to the question he asked. For he had already known the answer. The smell that exuded from her Jasmine scented skin was mingled with the stench of another man. The aroma of sex, passion, and lust that was not his. Staring intently into her sapphire gaze he could not decide what angered him more. The scent of her or her sudden nonchalance?
There was no resistance from her. No struggling. No pleading. His grip on her neck became tighter. He wanted her to hurt. To feel the pain she had left him with. Pain, to him that seemed to feel extremely physical and excruciatingly real in that instant.
He quickly released his grip and dropped to his knees coughing and choking on his own blood that was rapidly escaping through his clasped fingers which laid upon his neck. She walked past his dying body as he struggled to gasped for air, and life, on toward the front door, replacing the sharpened blade into her platinum colored locks.
She stopped momentarily only to smooth her chic chignon styled hair into place and to let the wrinkles that had set in earlier fall out of her clothes. Quickly applying a fresh coat of lipstick to her lips she readied herself to leave and to meet her husband for the evening’s dinner reservations.Number One Crush by LaydeRogue
Logan lit a cigar, bringing it to his lips, his fingers slightly grazing over the scar across his neck. The scar. A constant reminder of deception. The fuel for his vengeance. The mark of his never ending longing for Ororo Munroe.
Logan quickly snubbed out the cigar at the sound of a car approaching the tropical tree lined drive. He had grit his teeth at the sight of the platinum haired driver. One year of searching for her.One year of exhausting what little savings he had in order to gather Intel on her exact whereabouts. One year and he had finally tracked her down in a town in Costa Rica. Logan was still harboring the pain of the crack she left in his heart and the stray pieces of metal in his neck.
The bitch.
Logan watched as her lithe form exited the Jaguar and made her way to the front door of her summer getaway estate. One of many he had found out she had tucked away with the advantage of her husbands finances. En Sabah Nur, an Egyptian drug lord respectively feared by many, his empire spanning as far as the rivers of the Nile to the cities of the Americas. He was a collector of exquisite things. Ororo Munroe being one of his most prized possessions, still looked every bit of the goddess Logan remembered when they first met.
As jaded as Logan had been in his past, he had to admit that Ororo was indeed his first crush and it had felt damn good. Right from the beginning when her white Versace clad business suit body slammed into his chest on the busy city streets of New York. She was too preoccupied with chit-chatting on her cell phone, and juggling papers to place in her matching white leather case to stop the collision. The papers were knocked from her hands; Logan grasped her delicate wrist to steady her balance. Helping her pick up her scattered papers had lead to late night entanglements of sweaty limbs, and nostrils breathing in the fresh scent of sex, desire, passion, possession and later, betrayal.
In his mind their relationship had happened just that quickly. And for months, Logan had found himself falling in deeper for just another piece of her, another stolen moment out of her busy life. There were nights when his body had felt as if it was slowly dying to feel her by his side, for his husky whispers teasing her ears and sending shivers down her body telling her, "Know that you're mine."
She never truly was his. Never would be. He knew that now. But by God, he had burned for her, felt pain for her, had twisted the knife she plunged and bleed his aching heart, threatening to tear it apart. From that point on he saw her face every place that he walked in. He heard her voice every time he was talking. Her betrayal was haunting him, and it wasn't one to be ignored.
The guards of the estate had left thirty minutes after Ororo's arrival. Now was the time for Logan to make his move. He approached Ororo's front door to her home with hard determined steps. The thoughts of her violating the love that he had given ran through his mind, causing a vengeful glare to form in his eyes. His only relief was that finally seeing her would throw away all the pain that he was accustomed to living. And he was damn sure this time his presence would be the one to never be ignored.
Talk Show Host by LaydeRogue
Logan had followed the sound of the running water to the bathroom. The room was filled with steam, overflowing bath water but no Ororo.
You want me? Fucking, come and find me.
Just that message etched on the steamed covered mirror. Logan, grit his teeth trying his best to contain his seething rage she was always one step ahead of him.
After all of his months of diligently tracking her and careful preparations, she knew he was here. There would be no more hiding. He was going to find her and she was going to pay. Even if he had to break every god damn door down.
“Yeah, I’ll fucking come and find you,” he growled and stormed out into the hallway, none too quietly.
***
She supposed that he expected her to be at her vanity, fresh from a bath, brushing out her hair, gently rubbing cream into her hands. Ororo sat in the softly lit office, sipping on her tea. She closed her eyes, a smug smile played on her lips as she heard each locked door in the house being kicked in. He was getting closer.
Yeah, he’d find her. And she’d be waiting.
***
The first thing he saw was the sparkle of her blue eyes as she turned her head away from the glaring hallway lights. Ororo sat in an oversized chair, crossing her long legs caused the short dark purple bathrobe that was pulled tightly around her body to rise just a bit.
“ ‘Ro,” his voice was raw, cold and deadly. It was the first time he had said her name aloud since that night. That night she had stuck him like a pig and left him to die like a dog.
She gave his appearance the once over as he stood still at the threshold. He wore black boots, faded jeans, with a black t-shirt. His hair, the same unruly mess she had remembered running her finger through. His face, still carried the same handsome rugged lines, but it was contorted in a look of hatred.
“Logan,” Ororo said his name with such an airy ease as if she was simply greeting a business client to come in and have a seat. She titled her head squinting her eyes to get a better look of the scar that traced over the side of his neck. As though it had some how piqued her interest a soft “Hmm…” escaped her lips. She took another sip of her tea.
Finally, Logan was face to face with Ororo, she was within a few feet of his reach. The sound of his name from her voice nearly drove him to the brink of insanity. He remembered how much he had loved her, how she made his body throb and heart ache. And how badly, this woman had destroyed him, now he was nothing. Logan saw her eyeing the scar. His eyes glared disgust at her lack of remorse.
“Fuck, ‘Ro!” All restraint gone, removing a hunting knife from the belt of his pants, he lunged for her.
As soon as he had crossed the threshold into the room, he felt a sting in his neck. Logan fell to his knees. A second sting to his neck, the knife fell from his hand. Logan was on his back, motionless. His eyes searched the room. There were two motion sensory devices placed at each corner of the ceiling. He heard the saucer and tea cup being placed on the table. She was coming for him. Logan closed his eyes in disbelief. He never had a chance.
Ororo slowly stood up and walked toward Logan. She watched as his breathing changed from a hurried pace to a much slower relaxed one. His chest rose and fell slowly. She kneeled down next to him and removed both darts from his neck.
“Motion sensory tranquilizers. Don’t worry, you will live,” She tossed the darts over her shoulder. Her voice was soft. “I always make a point of that.” Her hands gently traced the scar on his neck.
Logan’s eyes snapped opened. It had felt as if every muscle in his body was slowly melting. He was completely immobilized and struggled to even speak. When he did, he only had one word to say, one question that needed to be answered.
“Why?” he groaned, staring coldly into her eyes.
Ororo took her hand away from his scar. She sighed deeply and turned away from his stare.
“WHY?!” Logan asked again with even more force than either of them expected.
Ororo placed her fingers on his scar again, looking almost somber. Logan turned his eyes away from her. Her touch was like acid. It burned him. Ororo turned his head, so that he was looking at her once again. She smiled softly at him.
“Logan, understand that the time we spent together are one of my most cherished moments. You made me feel passion, desire and I suppose maybe even love.”
Ororo’s soft smile turned grim.
“But when it all came down to it, you were a loose end that needed to be tied.”
Ororo weaved her fingers through his hair.
“I want you to know that what happened, what I did was an act of compassion. You are still alive because of what I had to do.”
Logan so badly wished that he could have moved. He would have spat in Ororo’s face after hearing her tired ass explanation.
Ororo saw the look of loathing in his eyes.
“I know you do not believe me. I could care less. There are much bigger things in this world, Logan, than you and I.”
With that, she leaned over and kissed his lips. Logan had no choice in the matter of refusing. He lied there, on the floor motionless. Her lips tasted like peppermint tea, the more he drank them in, the darker the room became, until everything went black.
The peppermint tea was laced with a sedative Ororo had built an immunity against. As soon as Logan was unconscious, she stood and walked away from his side. She reached for her cell phone at the desk nearby. She dialed a number. It rang once before it was answered.
Code name?
“Storm.”
Handler?
“Fury.”
Request?
“Immediate extraction.”
Ororo shut the phone. She gave Logan’s still body a last glance before stepping over him and leaving the room.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.