CHAPTER TWELVE
Xavier Institute, Westchester County…
It’d been almost a week since Logan had returned with Ororo in tow, and gratefully the swarming rumors and speculations had begun to die down. No one had the balls, of course, to come out and directly ask the attractive young woman how she’d met Wolverine or the nature of their relationship, and they certainly had more sense than to inquire it of him. Only Remy and Rogue seemed privy to the back story, but both would feign ignorance in the face of the rest of the group.
As the days passed, Ororo found kindred spirits of sorts in the two rugged love birds; Remy was the perfect club-hopping buddy and source of entertainment when she was down, and Marie had taken her into the city on a couple of occasions to help pick out decorating ideas for the Loft. She could easily see why Logan associated with them, and felt somewhat safe in letting her guard down among them.
As for her blossoming relationship with the man himself, Ororo was unsure how much she could get away with, considering they seemed under constant”however non-verbalized”scrutiny from so many different directions. For instance, only the next day after her arrival, she’d been in the kitchen with Logan sharing a pan of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage he’d fixed for her, simply enjoying his company, when Scott had come in for a glass of orange juice, and given her the most uncomfortable look. She was sure the glance had a caption to go with it, but he said nothing. Wolverine either didn’t note it (which seemed impossible) or chose to ignore it, continuing to joke about how she owed him lunch after he’d proven he could cook. Then, when she’d met with Henry for the first time later that same afternoon, she was surprised to walk into the Med-Lab and see Jean sitting there, as if waiting for her. The woman obviously felt no shame, giving ‘Ro a thorough once-over thinly veiled as a welcome. The attempt at small talk went badly, but soon Jean took the hint (for the moment, Ororo suspected…) and left her alone with Hank, claiming she had work to do. Then there were the younger students, who she imagined didn’t have much else to do other than gossip about the trials and tribulations of their older “more mature” counterparts. She got looks in the halls, could sense the whispered comments behind her back, but did her best Logan impression to let it all roll off her back. Having thought Rogue’s analogy to a Reality television show a bit of an exaggeration, Ororo now reconsidered that thought…
“How are we this morning, Ororo?” Hank smiled at her as she came through the doors to the Med-Lab, perched on a stool at one of the counters.
Rubbing her eyes, ‘Ro yawned behind her hand, looking around for any unwanted visitors. Seeing none, she responded, “I could be better, to be honest with you…”
He turned, and indicated another seat, adjusting his specs. Picking up a clipboard and a pen, he started the micro voice-recorder he’d used for their sessions and asked, “Please, continue.”
She sat gingerly, obviously uncomfortable with disclosing so much of her private life to someone she barely knew. Of course, the gentle doctor had made every effort to give her some comfort or peace of mind during their consults so far, but Ororo still felt the overwhelming sterility of the situation. Meeting with Hank wasn’t like the midnight talks she’d now come to expect each night with Logan, who could hold her hand, and give her the sort of emotional reassurance she needed with just his presence alone.
Sighing heavily, she looked at her hands momentarily, and then ran one of them through her hair, which was still growing out. “The Dreams are getting worse.”
Hank made a notation on his clipboard, nodding. “How often, now?”
“Every night. Last night, twice. I didn’t get to sleep without waking until around a quarter till five.” She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes as if in point.
Hank turned back to the console behind him, grabbing the blood-pressure monitor and turned back to her. “And you’ve stated before, these intense dreams seem to precipitate the Hunger for Blood?”
She nodded, sliding closer on the stool so he could wrap her arm with the device. “Yes. Although, for several years, I didn’t have them at all…”
“While you were on the Medication your friend gave you.” He pumped the small ball on the end of the hose, watching the gauge on the monitor.
“Right. But before that, it was the same. I could Feed and be alright for a few days, maybe up to a week and a half, then it started all over again. Actually, this is the longest I’ve gone before the dreams came back.”
He took the monitor off then began taking notes, so intent in his process he wasn’t looking at her. “And was there anything irregular about this last instance, if you can pinpoint something specific?”
She hesitated a moment before saying quietly, “The last time I Fed, the blood was from Logan.”
That got the pen to stop. “Oh. I see.”
That night at the Xile…
As music streamed through the expensive sound system and the DJ moved to the beat along with the dancers, Forge sat in Ororo’s office, closed off from the almost celebratory atmosphere that marked the opening of the club each night. He didn’t have time for the sort of nonsense his employees enjoyed at Xile, such as the dance and drinking contests, the shameless “meat-market” that evolved from them both, nor the “most useless powers” competition that occasionally arose among the guests. He was a man on a mission, and this time he would not be distracted.
“Come on, Ororo…I know it’s got to be here, somewhere…” he spoke under his breath, going through the contents of her desk like the thief he was. Forge wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but he knew it had to be somewhere in this office. It’d been days since she’d left and he’d managed to let Logan slip from his grasp. When he realized the X-Man hadn’t returned looking for the club owner, it didn’t take Forge too terribly long to surmise that he must have found her. Now, he was really kicking himself at allowing Logan’s escape. It had originally been his plan to keep tabs on the elusive X-Man via Ororo, but when he’d picked up on their mutual attraction for one another, Forge had let his stupid, personal feelings get in the way of the bigger plan.
‘That won’t happen again…’ his brow furrowed, promising to himself as he turned away from the drawers and his eyes settled on the silent iMac centered on the desk. He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, knowing Ororo better than to leave anything secretive on her office computer. But the laptop resting in the corner…
Even though his pulse raced with the anticipation of discovery, Forge was soon disappointed when he realized she hadn’t used the machine in weeks. Stumped, he leaned back in the comfortable chair, his fist resting against his chin, thinking. He knew the Xavier Institute was upstate, located in Salem Center, but how to get close enough to set his plan into motion without being caught? That was supposed to have been Ororo’s part in the Plan. Now she was gone, presumably to get herself “fixed”. He sneered at the thought, just a little hurt that she seemingly abandoned him after one little ‘mistake’.
Scolding himself, Forge had to admit, if only to himself (and never aloud) that he’d screwed up his Plans to get back into the Wolfe Pack. After so much careful planning, it was his own human emotions that had betrayed him, proving once again that the flesh could not be trusted.
Suddenly he perked up, as that thought ran through his mind again. ‘No, it can’t be trusted, can it?’ With a grin brighter than the Cheshire Cat, he pushed away from the desk, leaving everything in the disorder he’d found it in, and quietly left the office.
Outside at the bar, Angela tried not to appear too flustered with the New Hires, as they tried their level bests not to drop anymore beer mugs or martini glasses. She thought it wouldn’t be too difficult to train temporary replacements for her while she assumed more responsibility in the club, but after a few days of “oops”s, “shit!”s and “does that come out of my tips?” she was near to tearing her hair out and firing them all.
“’Kay, now Paige, take ye time…don’ pour too quickly, or it’ll bubble up ev’rywhere.” She held her breath as the young girl, questionably legal to be pouring drinks, stuck her tongue out between pursed lips in concentration at the task of concocting one of the Xile’s signature”and most difficult”specialty drinks. Across the counter from them, one of the patrons, waiting patiently for his drink, couldn’t help but grin devilishly, enjoying the suspense.
“Ah think ah got it, Miss Jacks…Ah think ah got”!“ her tone of proud excitement quickly turned to one of dread, as she realized the slight hop she’d done in happiness had jostled the clear plastic practice-cup, and now the contents were on their way back up. “Ah, Shhheeee--!!”
The other two Newbies ducked quickly, and the patron followed suit with no question, as the tall cup began to tremble in her hands. Angela reached for it, thinking only that she didn’t want to have to scrub the dark blue liquid out of the floors or her hair again. “Shite, give it ‘ere, girl!”
Panicking, Paige let go of the cup before Angela had a firm grip on it, and they all gasped, watching in slow motion as the glass fell toward the floor. ‘That’s it, dammit, I quit…’ was Angela’s only thought.
A swish of air rushed by them, then two of the Newbies sighed, clapping suddenly as Ryan, one of the fast-paced servers, slid underneath it and caught the glass by the base, laying flat on his stomach against the floor. The surrounding audience whooped and clapped, and Ryan looked up at Angela, grinning proudly and winking at her. “MaybeIshouldhangaroundmoreoften,atleastduringtrainings,eh?”
They all chuckled, but as Angela reached down for the cup, it suddenly snapped, crackled and popped, erupting vertically from the jostled base, spaying her full in the face. Leaning back up, she didn’t say a word, as Paige hid her head shamefully, and Ryan sat back on his haunches, licking the sweet liquid of the Blue Cyclone off his face.
“What the Hell is going on here??”
Turning, they all saw Forge standing not too far away, his hands firmly on his hips and his expression of the type that saw employees”New Hires and otherwise”out the door. Stalking up to the wet counter, he leaned over to see Ryan still holding the ruined plastic cup, and Angela leaning against the far side of the bar, reaching blindly for a towel, which Paige gratefully provided. “Not’ins the mat’tah, Mr. Forge, just a lit’l spill. Paige, Sam, get the mops, f’God’s sake!”
The Newbies went scurrying, and the patron laughed a boisterous sound, flipping a couple twenties on the wet counter. As Forge came past him, the man said jovially, “Shit, partner, skip the drink; it was just worth the Show!”
As the man left toward the lower dance floor levels, Forge gave him a look of disdain, but then turned back to Angela and Ryan. His look was of course unsympathetic. “Well, at least they are willing to pay to see you all make complete idiots of yourselves.”
Angela sighed, feeling her pressure rise. Ever since Ororo had left, she’d had to deal with Forge’s sour attitude, and frankly, she was tired of it. She realized he must be stressed out about Ororo as much as she was, but she knew she didn’t deserve that sort of abuse, and especially not from him. “Ye know, if’n ye ain’t gonne help me train these roughnecks, I’da ‘preciate it if’n ye shut yer yap.”
Ryan’s eyes bulged at the unapologetic tone she waved before Forge’s face, and when he looked up at the GM knew it was time to make his own exit. “Uh…I’llcallthemantinenceguystocomehelpcleanup…”
As she let the sopping wet towel fall to the counter, their eyes met, and Forge could see she’d about had enough of him for one night, possibly more. Motioning her around the counter, he took her arm firmly, and led her back into Ororo’s office. “We need to talk.”
Barely succumbing, Angela didn’t want to make too much of a scene before customers or employees, so she quietly followed, her eyes shooting daggers across at him the whole time. When they were within the sanctity of the office, Forge closed the door soundly and turned to her. “Look, if you can’t handle the job, I’m sure Ororo will understand if we get someone else to Supervise the crews.”
Crossing her arms, Angela peered at him with malice. “Like I said, Forge, if’n ye wanne trade spots, I’ll gladly take over the job o’ sittin’ on me arse, lookin’ constipated.”
He couldn’t help but laugh inwardly, feeling her near her breaking point. Unknown to Angela, Forge had suddenly included her in his Revised Plan, and all this was just his way of playing with her. After all, there was something very satisfying about being able to manipulate people. “Oh, we’ve graduated to insubordination, have we?”
Yanking her apron off, Angela tossed it at him. “Fuck you, ye Bastard!”
He caught the cloth, his eyes wide with the surprise she’d managed to give him. So, the little Aussie-Scot was more like a young Ororo than he’d thought. That would without a doubt make it even easier to use her; being able to anticipate her actions. ‘All in good time, Angel…’
Watching his slightly amused expression, Angela suddenly burst into angry tears, swiping at the papers littering ‘Ro’s desk. Forge came up to her, very calculating, and threw some believable apologies her way. “Hey, hey I’m…sorry. I’m just under a lot of stress, with Ororo gone, the club’s finances could be better, and I don’t know how to get in contact with her, let her know what’s going on…Still, that’s no reason to take it out on you, Angela. I’m sorry.”
Wiping angrily at her face, Angela looked up at him at the mention of Ororo. “What? Is the club in trouble?? ‘Roro has to know, if’n it ‘tis.”
He shrugged, watching her expression very carefully. “I know that. But since she’s left, Ororo hasn’t called me once. I don’t know if she’s alright, if she needs help, or whatever. It’s just frustrating, not being able to help her, or even know that she’s being helped. Sometimes I feel like just jumping in my car and riding up to Westchester myself…”
She looked up at him then, the gears turning behind her shining grey eyes. “That’s where Mr. Logan took ‘er?? Te Westchester?”
Forge did his best to appear in the Know, all the while inwardly cheering his duplicity working. Shrugging a single shoulder, he said, “Yeah, I suppose. I know that’s where the X-Men are headquartered, at some so-called ‘School’ up there.”
Angela fed this into her own limited pool of knowledge concerning Ororo and her attempt to get help for an illness as yet ‘unknown’. “Ye sound like ye don’ trust these people, Forge.”
He gave just the proper amount of hesitation and then shrugged again. “To tell you the truth, Angela, I don’t know them well enough to say that. But I can tell you, if the government considers these people a possible threat”which it does”that’s enough to raise anyone’s brow. Besides, what if Ororo gets caught up in some of their illegal business of ‘saving people’? Who knows what may happen to her…”
The startled look on Angela’s face was enough to almost break him out of the “concerned” character role, but Forge held his elation in check, watching her. She seemed genuinely worried for their friend, twisting her hands, eyes darting back and forth across the room.
Angela wasn’t sure at all what to make of Forge’s accusations against the X-Men. She knew only what Ororo had told her, and what the media made of the Team of super-powered mutants. She’d thought she could trust Ororo to know who would help her and who wouldn’t, but could it be possible that even Ororo had no idea who these people really were that she was dealing with? Or worse, could they have targeted her specifically, for some unknown purpose?? “What’re we gonne do, Forge? We canne let anythin’ ‘appen te ‘Roro! She was so des’pret te get help, I hope she does’ne get herself hurt..!”
Forge watched the young woman agonize over all of this, turning away from him and sniffling quietly. She mumbled something he couldn’t hear, shaking her head. “What?”
Turning to him, her eyes glistening, she repeated, “It’s all me own fault, Forge! It’s my fault if ‘Roro’s in trouble!”
He slid up next to her, snaking an arm around her quaking shoulders, patting her gently. “Shh…shh…Tell me what happened…”
Later that same night, Salem Center…
The halls of the Xavier Institute were quiet, as most of its residents had turned in for the night. The moon shone brightly in the clear night, reflecting a silver light on the darkened windows of the impressive mansion.
On the lower levels, silent footsteps stepped lightly toward the Med-Lab’s security-locked doors. The figure stopped briefly, using an entrance code not their own, and quickly stole inside the dimly lit room. The medical instruments that Henry McCoy used were all neatly resting in their respective places, and only a few lights flickered on the control panels of the consoles. The adjacent doors to the examination and triage rooms were closed of course, but that didn’t matter, as they were not the target here.
Quiet as ever, the intruder slid over to the good doctor’s favorite desk, knowing the area quite well. Delicate, manicured hands came up in the air, and the drawers of the desk slid open quietly. Objects began to shift, then float up out of the depths of the drawer; empty notepads, pens and pencils, other office supplies. Lastly, they all moved aside, stationary in the air, as one of the last items to escape floated past”the doctor’s micro voice-recorder. The other items went to rest back in the drawer, just as they’d rested before being disturbed, but the recorder came toward the figure, stopping about eye level.
With a barely perceptible sigh of disappointment, the intruder realized the device was empty. There hadn’t been any memory chips in the drawer, so it was assumed McCoy didn’t keep them in the Lab. Knowing him, he probably stashed them in his room to work after leaving the Lab. ‘Just my luck.’
Somewhat disappointed, the Intruder retreated back toward the entrance, but suddenly stopped shy of the doors, as a yellow legal pad caught the eye. It was laying by itself on one of the examination tables, where two stools had been drawn up. Nearing the end of the 100pg tablet, it looked as though some had recently been torn out if the ragged remnants of the top of a page were any indication. Coming closer, the Intruder gestured toward the pamphlet and it came obediently. Upon closer inspection, the scribbled notes of Hank McCoy were visible”just barely more than two sentences. Evidently he’d forgotten to tear this last sheet out along with the others:
“…needed to further assess a possible cure for the patient’s prognosis, although preliminary questioning and assessments lead me to believe that James Howlett’s involvement may prove in the long term to be of the most significance. An appointment with both Patient Munroe and J. Howlett has been set.
*Note To Self: Acquire blood samples from both for furthering comparative testing…”
The Intruder paused at this, unsure what assumptions to draw. Her green eyes narrowed in the dim light of the closed Med-Lab, as she re-read the short partial notation. It raised more questions than answered, of course, but still she committed the brief entry to memory. ‘What has Logan got to do with this?’ she wondered, glancing over her shoulder briefly to focus her telepathy outside the door, making sure she wasn’t about to get any unexpected visitors. ‘And just what is this Ororo hiding?’
As the pamphlet was settled back onto the shiny table, her footsteps receded, heading back toward the door as silently as she’d entered…
Outside the mansion, not too far away on the grounds, Logan moved about the quiet woods just to the edge of the Institute’s north boundary. He’d been out there for quite some time now, as he usually did this late at night to clear his thoughts and have some time to himself.
It had been an interesting few days since he’d returned with Ororo, but he was relieved to see she was making genuine attempts to make her stay there worthwhile, and as hassle-free as possible. He knew it hadn’t been easy once she’d discovered his ex-girlfriend was staying there”not to mention a member of the team”but all in all she seemed to take that at face value, and didn’t seem in the least intimidated by Jean’s presence. Not that he thought she would be. Doctor Grey was another story entirely. Logan had been forced on at least two separate occasions to thwart Jean’s non-too subtle attempts to glean info out of him about Ororo’s ‘illness’ and the extent of their relationship. Her “concern” (if he could get away with calling it that) confused and irritated him; Logan knew she and Scooter were a definite couple, and he’d thought he had made his feelings quite clear when she’d pulled that stunt coming to the Hell’s Kitchen apartment, but still Jean felt the compelling need to dictate certain aspects of his life. He couldn’t be sure if it was just her unwillingness to see him with another woman, or if there was something deeper going on with her, and honestly he didn’t care.
Sighing, he ruffled his hair, depressed at the realization that he wished Charles would come back. It wasn’t that he thought he needed the Professor, but he knew the calming influence would probably keep him from seriously considering decapitating a few students (older and younger alike).
As he passed a thick lock of trees near the wide lake behind the mansion, his thoughts turned to the object of everyone’s curiosity. He had to admit that it wasn’t entirely their own faults; the woman just seemed to radiate intrigue and mystery, even though she’d be the last person to admit it (much less realize it). She was a lot like him in that respect”no doubt a contributing factor to their mutual attraction to one another. And what an attraction it was. Away from the rest of the team, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other, though both had maintained from the very beginning that it would be best to take things slowly. Logan wouldn’t dare think of breaking that clause”at least, not yet”because the attempt alone only made his attraction for her all the stronger, the anticipation that much sweeter. It was an unusual game the two played with their emotions, but it served a dual purpose; other than making them both hot for one another, it gave them necessary opportunities to get to really get to know each other better. Logan and Ororo would often find themselves sitting out in the night air of the terrace outside the Loft she’d made a perfect room out of. Most of the time, he’d just sit there, smoking his cigar in peace, listening to her day (which consisted mostly of a gamut of tests and psychoanalyses by Hank) and her thoughts about being there. She didn’t seem to mind that he often said little, seemingly understanding that all he wanted was her physical presence, and to listen.
The nights on the terrace were what he began to look forward to every other night, but this night she’d complained of being too tired after an especially grueling day of tests courtesy of their Head resident physician (who had even more planned in the morning), so he’d let her retire early, choosing instead to take to the grounds for some time alone. Now, Logan moved through the thick underbrush with a stealth only he could manage, walking without a destination. His nose twitched suddenly, though, and he paused in his tracks. Taking several deep breaths, he recognized Ororo’s scent, but didn’t see her nearby; for a moment he wondered if it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him, thinking of her, but then a cool breeze rushed by him and the leaves, and it brought the scent again. He knew he couldn’t be imagining it twice, so he crouched down low, a devilish twinkle in his eyes, and crept along the trees, heading toward the lake, and the scent.
With lazy, deliberate strokes, Ororo moved through the night-cooled water of the lake behind the Institute, taking the laps like a seasoned veteran. She’d been there for over 90 minutes, just swimming and enjoying the quiet beauty of the area. Having spotted the locale some days ago (courtesy of Marie, who’d given her a short, impromptu overview of the grounds), she knew even then that it’d be only a matter of time before she found herself immersed in the depths of that pond.
Pausing in a spot roughly the middle of the lake, she waded for several moments, as a stiff breeze waved the immediate area, then concentrated on her. The waves began to lap up against her bare shoulders, as the water below churned upward, pushing her out of the lake. As the water spout she’d generated rose, ‘Ro lifted her arms like a child on a roller coaster ride, a grin of pure enjoyment on her face. As the ride neared its climax some fifty feet in the air, she turned the wind down with a thought, and felt the immediate pull of gravity back to the lake. Arching her back, she welcomed the free fall as it blew against her face, through her hair, over her exposed body. The midnight escapades she knew in the city were nothing compared to this”the feeling of total freedom and the added pleasure of the calming water released the tight muscles of her neck and back, bringing a smile to her face.
The splash down was loud and water sprayed everywhere with the impact. After several moments, she broke free of the surface, shaking her soaking white locks out of her eyes, and wiping the water away. Treading for a few seconds, she contemplated going ashore for her clothes to return to the quiet, darkened manor before anyone could have the chance to notice her missing, as what she thought were the remnants of her water spout rushed against her feet…
The wet hairs on her neck struggled to rise, as she felt a sudden chill over her body. Looking around, Ororo gasped as the water only a couple feet before her began to churn. “Shit..!”
As he emerged from the water, wiping his eyes, Logan grinned at her devilishly, and received another face full of H²O as she splashed a wave toward him. “You should be more careful, darlin’; it’s dangerous out here in the dark…”
She only “tsk”ed at that, grinning at him. “Only with you here…” An eyebrow raised; she watched him quickly tread beneath the waves. “What’s the matter? Been awhile since your last swim?”
Chuckling, he drifted a little closer, still treading like mad. “If you had an extra ‘few’ pounds o’ adamantium weighin’ ya down, you’d be treadin’ like hell, too.”
“Ah…” she nodded, evidently remembering the edited story he’d given her about the unusual substance covering his skeleton.
Logan’s eyes widened as he felt a sudden rush of water beneath him, then realized she was pushing air below them, forming a sort of bubble. He let his feet come to rest on nothingness, feeling the gusts sustain him from sinking but curiously neglecting to drag him under.
Through the wind that whipped around them, she smiled at him, calling out, “Is that better?”
Pushing his weight in her direction, Logan was rewarded with movement, gliding close enough to wrap his arms around her. Their bodies had almost dried in the sudden wind gust, and both looked as though they’d been attacked by a mad hair stylist. The sight of his even wilder mane made ‘Ro giggle uncharacteristically, as she wrapped her arms about his neck, welcoming the inevitable kiss. Logan grinned up at her, squeezing her bare waist. “Much.”
She didn’t have time to nod her own approval as he captured her lips in an almost desperate kiss; not like the tentative, reassuring one from the hotel. Here, he seemed to be asking something; laying a question out there in the air between them (which wasn’t much space) that needed an answer, and an immediate one, at that.
“Oh…Pretty baby
This feeling I just can’t hide
You got me mystified
Oh…
Pretty darlin’
This feeling is deep inside
You got me mystified…”
Gripping the dark tendrils of hair behind his head, Ororo pushed closer to his bare chest. The touch of his fingers at the middle of her back, searching for the clasp of her still damp Victoria’s Secret bra, tickled her a little, and she struggled to keep from giggling out of the kiss. As the small metal clamps moved to his bidding, she became acutely aware of the fact that he was completely naked, as his penis gave a soft but urgent push against her thigh. Her own body yearned to be noticed as well, though (slightly) protected from view by the Diamanté satin V-string. She sighed against him as the turmoil in her gut began to sink lower; it was a feeling she hadn’t been familiar with in quite some time, but in the weeks she’d come to know Logan had increased dramatically. Somewhere in the back (way, way in the back) of her mind, ‘Ro wondered just how much longer the two could go on with this whole “let’s wait awhile” thing.
When Logan’s lips suddenly parted from hers, and his head dipped to one side as he took one soft, coffee-colored nipple between his teeth delicately, rolling his tongue across the tip, she knew the answer to that immediately.
He couldn’t help but smile, still holding her back with one hand, her right ass cheek with the other, and her breast in his mouth, as Logan heard her moans above the curiously dying winds…
“The light that shines around youIt blinds my eyes
There’s a magic surrounds you
Tell me where your secret lies
Oh…
Pretty darlin’
This feeling is deep inside
You got me mystified
Oh…Pretty baby
This feeling I just can’t hide
You got me mystified
You got me mystified
Mystified…”
Initially, neither one seemed to notice that the winds no longer rushed through their hair, and so deep in the seductive foreplay even the sounds and feel of droplets of cool lake water against their burning flesh didn’t immediately inspire concern. That is, until Logan ran his hot tongue across the valley of her cleavage, fully breaking Ororo’s concentration, and the water waiting just outside their protective “bubble” swiftly rushed them, its polarized coolness to their heated bodies nearly shocking the lust out of them.
Several minutes later, once they’d dragged their soaking wet and slightly chilly bodies out of the lake, Logan and Ororo collapsed along the cool grass of the shore, chuckling. He shook his body all over quickly and only laughed harder when she objected to being sprayed again. “Hey, don’t complain. This’s yer fault, anyway!”
She picked up his shirt, which lay on the ground between them, and rolled it into a perfect whip, swinging it his way. Logan was just quick enough to roll his ass out of the way before the cloth cracked against the air near him. ‘Ro giggled again, rolling the shirt for another shot. “Oh, really? I wasn’t the one nibbling on ‘titties’, breaking people’s concentration…Come here!”
As she stepped near him for another strike, and the rolled up shirt snaked out into the air, Logan’s quick reflexes caught it, winding it around one fist, and yanking her to him before she could think to let it go. The two tumbled to the soft grass, playfully fighting for his shirt. Once ‘Ro made the mistake of allowing him to roll on top of her, she knew it would be nearly impossible to get the upper hand again, and lay motionless beneath his still damp body as Logan smiled in some pride at his ‘conquest’. “Now was that a complaint? Ya seemed t’ enjoy it before…meybe we need to get a second opinion…” he trailed off, his head suddenly angling toward the other as-yet unmolested breast.
‘Ro let him get as far as breaking eye contact before she smirked devilishly, calling up a quick gust of Cold air that blew him over her head and landing him (not too gently) in the bushes beyond.
When his head popped up from the underbrush, full of twigs and leaves and spitting acorns, she rolled over, holding her middle from laughter.
When he dusted himself off, all the while giving her a playfully dirty glare and pseudo-threats, Logan came to sit beside her on the grass, their laughter calming a bit.
She reached up and tousled his wild hair, loosening a few rogue pieces of twigs and an acorn, as he leaned one elbow against the ground, grinning up at her. Ororo wasn’t in the least surprised at his lack of modesty, as he laid there completely naked. Usually, she wouldn’t be that concerned either, if not for the fact that she wanted him so badly, and realized her body could only go so far before showing it. Clearing her throat, she unwound Logan’s shirt, pulling it over her damp head. It wasn’t so much because she was cold (because she wasn’t) but as a sort of physical reminder that they weren’t supposed to be in these kinds of situations with each other. The less sexual she felt, the more she thought she could ignore the muscular, attractive man beside her. Yeah, good luck.
Logan turned on his back, lacing his hands beneath his head and staring up at the clear night. Of course he could sense her reservation, but it didn’t upset him. It was the ‘answer’ to his previous question, and one he could deal with, for the moment. It still didn’t mean he had to make it any easier for her. “I thought ya were upstairs, sleepin’. ‘Didn’t even know ya knew ‘bout this place.”
She ran her hands through her hair, which was just barely long enough to brush the nape of her neck; it was sort of pointless to try to smooth it into submission, but she tried anyway. “I was. For awhile. But around 11:00 I just couldn’t get back to sleep.”
Only his eyes moved to her, as he said simply, “Those dreams again?”
She nodded wordlessly, swallowing hard. Even the barest mention of them was enough for her to get a chill. After several seconds, she looked up to see him watching her quietly. Hugging herself beneath the large shirt, she went on. “Henry seems to think that your blood, in particular, has helped to stave off the worst of the withdrawal symptoms I usually have. He wants to run some tests on you, too, if you don’t mind.”
His eyes back to the sky, Logan only whispered, “I’ll do what I have ta’.”
She smiled a little, unable to express her thanks, considering that she’d picked up enough about him from Remy and Marie to know that the man definitely did not like anything in the remote association to Laboratories and physicals. She was still unclear as to exactly what it was that had made him so, but felt uncomfortable in asking. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“Why would I?” Those grey eyes pinned her again.
“Well…I…I understand you kind of have a thing about Labs and doctors. I mean, I suppose you’re probably okay around Henry…” She picked at the grass before her.
Eyes back skyward, he sighed, “’Ro, don’t bother yerself with what I’m feelin’ ‘bout shit like that. If Hank thinks this’ll help ya, then I’m there. That’s all to it.”
She nodded, feeling that she’d barely skirted a possible landmine. All she could do was believe him, though there was a part of her that still felt uneasy of the situation. Biting her lip, she rolled over a few times until she was right next to him, and leaned over close to his face. They stared at each other for a few moments, then she whispered, “Thank you”, kissing his lips, deepening it momentarily before pulling away.
He reached up and smoothed her hair out of her face, stroking the locks as they maintained eye contact. He could just barely sense the turmoil behind those often haunted blue eyes, and suspected that she was”once again”hiding her true pain for his sake. Neither had opened the discussion of whether or not she’d need to feed on him again, and Logan was willing to bet she’d probably near kill herself than ask that of him twice.
Ororo’s eyes fell away from his, as she rested her head against his shoulder, and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. She closed her eyes when he reached over to kiss her forehead lightly, secure in his closeness. After several minutes, her eyes struggled to stay open as she listened to the hypnotic ‘purr’ deep in his chest, slowly stroking his neck and shoulder. Logan soon found himself also near sleep, and pushed her away from him, settling into a spoon against her back. Holding her close to him, he buried his nose in her hair, as the two gave in to sleep.
TBC…
