Repeatedly Ororo kept telling herself that, over and over, hoping at some point she would convince herself of the lie. The events of last evening had stayed with her long into the morning, interrupting her thoughts, making her heart jump every now and again as she’d recall a growl, a grunt, a rotation of hips. She thumped her head onto the table, a pitiful laugh coming from her. Who the hell was she kidding? She sighed. “Damn it.”
“Uh, Storm?” Warren stood in the library doorway, his wings glowing ethereally in the afternoon light.
She lifted her head, blowing strands of hair from her face. “Yeah?”
“Phone.” He waved the cordless.
“Shit.” Ororo quickly got to her feet, knowing instinctively before she took the receiver who was on the other end. “Hey, Al.”
“Don’t you fucking ‘hey, Al,’ me. You never called. Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was? I nearly broke a sweat fretting about you. You’re just lucky I distracted myself by getting shit-faced and humping some really hot gear head.”
“Uh-huh,” Ororo could hear the smile in the other woman‘s voice. “Obviously I put you in a state of panic.”
Ali chuckled. “Well, maybe not panic per se, but I was definitely on the rim of mild concern.”
“Well, thanks for worrying, Mom, but I‘m fine.”
“Cute. Don’t make me ground your ass. It was good to see you again, been too long.”
“I kept in contact.”
“Yeah, but not like normal.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Ororo felt a twinge of guilt. Rarely did she go forty-eight hours without phoning Alison but when she had taken the million and run, she hadn’t wanted to leave any trail that could lead Xavier to Ali and cause her friend any grief so her phone calls had been sporadic and at best bi-weekly or monthly.
“I’m sure you had your reasons. What was up with the bondage duo crashing our fun the other night?”
Ororo’s smile widened. The leather uniforms that they were all equipped with did make one think of shady S&M clubs. “They work for Xavier. Marvel Girl and Wolverine. Honestly, I think they thought they were coming to rescue me and Scott.”
“From the dangers of fun? Strict school. So, uhm, Marvel Girl and Wolverine, eh? Why can’t you guys have normal names, like Frank or Bob, Sue or Mary? What’s with the covert codenames? It‘s not like you wear Batman masks and have secret identities.”
Ororo thought for a minute. “Not really sure,” she said. “Wolverine got his codename from the military, but the rest of us were dubbed upon induction to the X-Men.”
“I still say the X-Men sounds like a porn club.” There was a pause, followed by an ah-ha. “That explains the leather.”
“That would explain it.” Truth was leather helped prevent injury in a fight. It was harder to tear than cloth and kept them safe from abrasions caused by rolling on the ground, punching and such, but Ororo didn’t figure Alison wanted a combat tutorial. “So, what are you up to?”
“Me? Trouble, same as ever. Just calling to check on you before I get too busy. We have a live band coming on at ten tonight, so I expect a rowdy crowd.”
“Local talent?”
“Yep. Undiscovered and raw.”
“Juts the way you like them.”
“Absolutely. Hey, I hired that Lorna chick, by the way.”
Ororo sat back down in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Really? For what?”
“Bartending on the weekends. It’s getting too busy for just me. I like her. She’s smart and funny.”
Ororo nodded although Ali couldn’t see her. She liked Lorna too. “Plus she has green hair.”
“Bonus. We both think that Scott guy you were with is all kinds of scrumptious.”
“Scrumptious?”
“Yeah, it means delicious. Get a dictionary, look it up.”
Ororo laughed. “I know what it means, ass. I’m just surprised you do.”
“Oh, har frikkin’ har.” Ali moved the phone, Ororo could hear the clack of her earrings. “So what’s the deal with you and him?”
“Just friends.”
“With benefits?”
“Definitely. Just not the ones you mean.”
“Why? Is he gay?”
“Alison!”
“Just asking.”
“No, he is not gay.”
“Well, then, what’s the hold up?”
“First, just friends, as I said. Second, he’s involved. Third…my interests lie elsewhere.” She could almost see Ali’s eyebrows perk.
“Elsewhere, hm? Who elsewhere?”
Ororo paused, cricking her head to see if Warren or anyone else still lingered in the hall. “Wolverine.”
There was a bark of laughter from the other end. “ I knew it! I fucking knew it! The way he grabbed you in the bar and the way you were all haughty hot for it. Nice play, Munroe.”
“Somehow I knew you’d approve.”
“Hell yeah. That man was damn hot. I’m all in favor of a casual rough and tumble on occasion.”
There was a silence.
“This is casual, isn’t it, O?”
Ororo twisted in her seat, uncomfortable. “I don’t know.” It was the most honest answer she could give.
“You don’t know,” Ali repeated.
The hair rose on Ororo’s arms. She craned her neck, catching a shadow in the hall. “Hey, Al, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to run.”
“Uh-huh.” There was a knowing smirk on her friend’s face, she just knew it.
“I’ll call you in a day or two.”
“Sure. And, ‘Ro…”
“Hm?”
“Be careful.”
That brought her upright. “Huh?”
Ali’s voice was uncharacteristically somber. “As hot and beautiful as it is, fire always burns.”
Ali had some serious relationship scars left by the boyfriend she referred to as her “Longshot” at happiness. He had been everything Ali had ever wanted. Smart, gorgeous, dangerous, adventurous and seemingly devoted to her. Although Ororo knew far more than anyone else, Ali was still very hush-hush about the specifics of why she and Art had ended, but Ororo knew for a fact that it hadn’t been a mutual decision and it had hurt her friend deeply.
“I will.” Ororo promised. They said goodbyes and Ororo hit the end button, a small frown on her face. She placed the phone on the table in front of her. “Something I can help you with, Wolverine?” she called.
Broad shoulders filled the doorway. “Any number of things.”
There was several ways she could interpret that, she thought fighting to keep her breathing even. She folded her hands on her lap, attempting to appear nonchalant.
Logan didn’t like the way his gut kicked at the sight of her. White shorts and a short, blue tank top on Ororo were just as tempting to him as any piece of sexy lingerie he’d ever seen on a woman. He shifted his weight, adjusting himself subtly.
“Well,” she said when he didn’t elaborate. “Could you be a bit more specific? Last I checked I wasn‘t a psychic so you‘re going to have to help me out here.”
His mouth quirked. Feisty little thing. “I’m taking a ride. Gonna be gone for a few hours.”
She tilted her head as if asking for relevance.
“Good for you.” Ororo responded, uncertain as to what else to say. Her mind was still wrapping itself around how unbelievably sexy he looked. Black cotton hugged his torso like a second skin and tight jeans molded to sculpted thighs.
“You up for a spin?”
She stared mute for a moment. “Hunh?”
“A ride.” He clarified slowly. “You. Me. Bike.”
Ororo had a miniature girly death right then and there, her inner squee of glee echoing in her head as she replied coolly, “Sure, why not, I have time.”
“I’ll wait for you in the garage.” He left the library.
Ororo watched the way his muscles flexed beneath the cotton, remembering all too well the feel of them flexing and bunching beneath her fingers. She waited until she was absolutely certain he was gone before she slammed her head back onto the table.
The scenery whipped past in a blur as Logan pressed his customized bike to its limits, roaring down the highway, passing cars like they were sitting still. Ororo grinned, waving to a small boy in the back of a sedan and his barking dog. She laughed out loud when Logan turned his head, baring his fangs and the dog immediately silenced, lowering it’s head. Satisfied, Logan gunned the engine again, speeding up.
They drove for several hours, but it felt like minutes to both of them. Hard pressed sexual tension actually morphed into a companionable weight. She was getting used to the ache in her groin being around him and the way her breathing never seemed quite normal. She wasn’t altogether sure that was a good thing, but it was something.
Logan pointed out some favorite stops of his, pausing at some beautiful scenic rest areas so that Ororo could snap a picture with her digital camera. She was taking some nice shots when she caught his eyes resting heavy on her. “If you give me a ‘beautiful view’ comment while staring at my ass, Logan, I swear I will lose all respect for you.”
His lips curved devilishly. “That’s alright, darlin’. Last I checked you barely had any respect for me. But no worries. I won‘t say a thing.”
She bit her lip, repressing a soft moan. Damn him and his über sex appeal.
He mounted the bike, waiting for her, his eyes raking her slender form appreciatively, but, true to his word, he made no comment.
It wasn’t until they were inside a small convenience store diner that he kissed her. They were leaning against the counter, chatting when he bent forward and kissed her. No passionate foray of tongue, no moaning embrace, no groping. Just an undemanding, lingering brush of his lips against hers before he suggested they get moving again.
Ororo, so completely dumbfounded and remarkably moved by the small gesture, all she could do was nod.
Logan needed the air. His mind was in turmoil. The invitation for the ride had been spontaneous, as had the kiss, neither of which he regretted, but both confused him. Raging passion he could deal with and understand. Hell, it wasn’t complicated. He liked to get off. What man didn’t? But the desire to simply spend time with a woman because he actually enjoyed her company was an uncustomary and unique experience for him.
“All set?”
She nodded again. “Where to now?”
“We should probably head back.” He replied, adjusting his gloves.
Ororo glanced at the setting sun. They really had been gone awhile. “Yeah. I suppose.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
He must have heard it because he said, “We’ll have to do this again.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.” He meant it. He wished he didn’t.
He decided to take a longer, more winding route back to the estate, it was less open and shadowed with trees, but it was still beautiful. About halfway back he felt Ororo’s arms drop from his waist. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain she was all right. She smiled at him sweetly, her hand moving on his thigh, stroking the hard muscles there.
He growled. “Darlin’.” It was a warning.
Ororo felt her blood thrum. She was feeling a bit aggressive, she realized. The heat of his back, the hum of the pavement in her ears, the rumble of the bike between her legs. Subtle tension had been building for the entire day, but now, heading back to the mansion, a hint of desperation and desire filtered through her body. Making her want.
Her fingernails pressed harder into Logan’s thighs and she heard him swear. She smiled wider. She felt a surge of excitement. She shifted closer, her lips on the back of his neck, her hand wandering towards the growing bulge between his legs.
Logan damn near lost control of the bike when he felt her rub against his back and the heat of her mouth on his skin. “Fuck,” he grunted, her hand causing friction between his throbbing erection and his jeans.
Ororo nipped his ear. “Steady, Wolverine,” she whispered. She covered his left hand with hers, slowly standing.
“’Ro, what’re you doing?” he demanded, slightly apprehensive about her movements. She had no fear, that girl, he fumed. She ignored him, continuing on her merry way.
Concentrating on what she was doing, and not him, she extended herself, curving and using her natural flexibility to swing herself around so that she was facing him, her ass on the gas tank. “There.” she murmured.
Steel gray eyes clashed with deep blue. “What’re you doin’?”
She slid closer, linking her legs around his waist. “Testing.”
He growled, his eyes flickering from the winding road to her mischievous eyes. “Testing what?”
“Your limits.” She touched his chest.
“I’m pulling over.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Keep driving.”
“’Ro.” He ached he was so hard.
“What’s the matter, Logan? Can‘t handle me…again?” It was a dangerously deliberate taunt.
His eyes narrowed to silver slits and Ororo seriously reconsidered the wisdom in teasing a feral. He revved the bike, his own mouth slanting into a cutting angle.
“Hang on tight, darlin’.”
It was the only warning he gave her before pulling the bike up into a wheelie, sending her forward and flush against him. She yelped, he laughed. Ororo wrapped herself around him like a vine, her arms under his, hear head on his shoulder.
Logan rested his whiskered chin atop her snow colored tresses, inhaling her unique scent and sighing. It shouldn’t feel so fuckin’ right to just hold her. He tried, without much success, to shake the sentimentality of the moment off and focus on the straightforward sex aspect of her position.
“Kiss me,” he instructed, a but harsher than intended.
She raised her head from his shoulder, only too happy to oblige. She pressed her lips to his, nudging them apart with her tongue. She angled her head, delving deeper, tasting coffee on his tongue.
Logan groaned. She felt so damn good to him. “Baby,” he rasped, his cock throbbing in time to his heartbeat. “We gotta pull over.”
Ororo nipped his lower lip. “Why?”
Logan chuckled. “’Cause I’m about to crash the bike.”
His simple confession made her blush. “So we pull over and have a quickie with you bending me over the bike?” She licked the seam of his mouth.
“That’s one idea.” He agreed, sucking her tongue into his mouth.
“Mmm.” Ororo tilted her head back. “What makes you think I’m that kind of girl.”
Dark and sensual his mouth curved. Hs voice was more growl than vocal when he answered, “I can smell it on ya.”
“Well, then,” she replied, her hands finding the front of his pants unerringly. “It must be true.”
“Right. The nose never lies.”
“Pull over,” she whispered, the wanton in her taking over.
Logan kicked up gravel as he pulled the bike to an abrupt halt. He dropped the kickstand with his heel, his hands groping Ororo’s behind, lifting her against him. He could feel damp heat permeating her jeans. “You’re wet,” he said huskily.
“You’re hard,” she countered, gasping as he swung his leg over the seat without moving her. He lifted her off the bike with him, still wrapped around his torso.
He marched down the small embankment, stroking her ass as he did, until they were in deeper grass. The road was still close by, but they would not be easily spotted where they were. “A little fog would be nice, don‘t ya think,” he suggested, snatching her ear between his teeth.
“You expect me to think right now?” she gasped. She shuddered when he cupped one breast.
Male satisfaction flooded his system. “What’s the matter, ‘Roro? Can’t handle me?” he goaded. He didn’t wait for a reply, instead lowering them to the soft blades, undulating against her. He rubbed up and down, forward and back in a simulation of sex, all the while teasing her nipples beneath her shirt.
“Don’t tease me,” she complained. “Fuck me.”
Logan looked positively feral. “With pleasure, darlin’.” He reared back, working her button, and jerking her pants and underwear down over her hips. He growled deeply, touching her damp curls. He parted her folds, his eyes heavy lidded.
Ororo felt self-conscious, with him studying her so intently. “Hurry.” she encouraged, lifting her hips. “I want you.”
Control snapped at her throaty proclamation. With quick, rough motions he dropped his own pants to his ankles, not bothering to remove them completely. He gripped her hips, flipping her forcefully onto her stomach.
Ororo had no chance to react before she felt him sear her body, surging into her from behind. “Oh, God,” she cried out. He felt so damn good. Filling her up.
Logan was thinking much the same thing. He withdrew then rammed forward again, so hard he heard her teeth clack together. Again. He groaned. Again. She cried out his name. “So tight,” he huffed. “So goddamn tight and hot.”
“Logan, please, please.” She had no idea what she was begging for, but she was begging.
It was a good thing he understood, whether she did or not, because the next instant he forced her to her knees, gripping her so tight it was almost painful, the force of his thrusts sure to leave bruises on her backside. He fisted one hand in her hair, yanking it back.
Ororo closed her eyes, a scream of ecstasy building in her chest. “Don’t…don’t stop,” she panted.
“Fuck no.” Logan slammed into her repeatedly, his face contorted with a savage pleasure that went beyond anything he could readily explain. He barely contained the urge to bite her. He always had been a bit of a biter, a nipper, an aggressive lover, but he wanted to honest to God bite into Ororo. He wanted to see her bleed and know it was him that did it. He repressed that disturbing desire forcibly, but it appeared again and again, making his tension mount to a pitch that was edgy and dangerous.
He drew her back against him, so that her shoulder blades were flush to his chest. He kept one hand tangled in her hair while the other scrambled under her shirt and bra, pinching her nipples into stiff peaks. His eyes followed the graceful curve of her neck to her shoulder and the desire to mark hit him so hard that he pulled out so fast it hurt. He moved away from her, fighting against his every instinct.
“…Logan?” Ororo turned towards him, shaken.
He held up a hand, his face a mask of indescribably emotions. He stood hastily, pulling up his pants, wincing at the pain he caused shoving his still hard cock into his jeans. He turned his back to her. “Get dressed, ’Ro.”
Ororo felt tears sting her eyes, aching from frustration. “What’s wrong?” she asked, still crouched in the grass, naked from the waist down.
He didn’t look at her, nor address her question. “I’m leaving in two minutes. Either you’re on the bike with me or you ain’t, but I’m leaving in two minutes.” He started away from her.
A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily. She wouldn’t cry for him.
Logan caught the saline in the air and his gut clenched. His hands fisted but still he didn’t face her.
“Bastard.” Ororo whispered, feeling ashamed and used. She wrenched her clothes on, righting herself. With a clap of thunder loud enough to scatter the surrounding wildlife and shake the ground, she took to the air.
With a sigh Logan trudged back to the road and his bike, he swung his leg over the seat just as the sky opened up. Heavy globules of rain slapped the pavement with audible force. He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. No amount of roses or pretty dresses was fixing this fuck up.
Solemnly Logan spun the bike in a 180, heading away from the institute and roaring into the rain at hazardous velocity.
