However, not feeling particularly tired herself, Ororo chose to quietly wander the halls, her thoughts restless for reasons she didn’t dare delve into too deeply. After nearly thirty minutes of roaming, she ending up at last in the recreation room playing a less than rousing game of one man pool. Placing her stick against the wall, she stretched her arms over her head in an attempt to relieve the kink that had formed in her lower back aboard the X-Wing. She arched and groaned, unaware of the enticing display she made to the man directly behind her.
Logan cocked his head, his gaze blatantly sexual as he admired Ororo’s delectable backside. Long legged and full figured, Ororo was sensual perfection, unpretentiously confident in her own skin she exuded sexuality and femininity as naturally as she breathed.
A roll of sculpted shoulders flexed muscles along the dark caramel expanse of her bare back. A boxer back, Logan observed, a reflection of how in shape she truly was. She radiated strength along with her womanliness and that was exceedingly enticing for him.
Frailty was never a word one would use to describe Ororo Munroe.
The hairs on her neck were standing on end again, Ororo noticed with a barely repressed shiver. She fought down the urge to turn and look at Logan, knowing full well that he had to be nearby, and that he was looking at her with those predator eyes of his that seemed to see into her heart and knew every wicked fantasy she‘d ever had about him. She hated when he stared at her. A wry smirk twisted her lips at her hypocrisy. As bothered as she was by his scrutiny, it didn’t prevent her from looking at him every chance she got. Most days she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. He was poetry in motion, she mused, not liking the clench in her gut at that thought.
Despite his gruff appearance, Logan moved with a fluid grace that was visually captivating to behold. Supple, sinewy muscles rippling beneath worn cotton and denim were enough to make any woman drool, and she was no exception. It was easy to understand what kept Jean going back to him, like the proverbial moth to the flame. No matter how dangerous, or unattainable, the lure of something so hot and bright was just too great to resist.
Ororo exhaled a shaky breath, his last words coming back to haunt her; Gonna fuck you soon. She could still feel his searing breath in her ear and the rumble of his chest as he spoke. This time she did shiver. It was no idle threat, she knew. Logan had every intention of following through on his prediction.
She dared a furtive glance over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn’t. Dark eyes glinted like obsidian under the security lights, their hunger unmistakable, the intent in their depths undeniable. He stood almost casually, barefoot in the doorway, thick, hair covered arms crossed in front of him, his leather uniform removed in favor of a dark tee-shirt and faded blue jeans. His hair stood in constant disarray, tuft out at the sides in points that made a nice descent into thick sideburns that cradled a strong, determined jaw. Ever present whiskers kissed the line of that determined jaw unfailingly, no matter how often he shaved. Part of his healing factor, and part of his appeal. He was always so very male.
Quickly facing forward again, she placed her hands against the side of the pool table, trying to ignore the low, knowing, chuckle that emanated from behind her, setting her teeth on edge. She really hated his overabundance of confidence, she fumed; hell that wasn’t even the right term, the man was damn cocky, plain and simple. Grudgingly, she supposed that when a man is referred to as “the best there is at what he does” it would inevitably produce a certain amount of justifiable arrogance in him. Didn’t mean she had to like it, though, or succumb to it. She was no simpering female that would fall at his feet like a lovesick puppy. She was her own woman, damn it. She had control, not him.
Distracted by her thoughts Ororo was caught off guard when silent as a cat he stalked up behind her, his breath tickling the back of her ear, making her jump. “Logan,” his name was a startled whisper, but beneath the surprise lay a hint of welcome that Ororo would deny to her grave.
Logan, however, had heard it and it made him smile into her hair. Her scent had beckoned him closer, and before he himself realized exactly what he was doing, his face was buried in the slender column of her neck against the silken thickness of her hair. She was impossible to resist. He pushed aside the wayward thought that maybe Scooter was onto something with his ridiculous statement that he looked at Ororo like a man possessed. He wanted to fuck her. No more, no less.
Her pulse increased frantically, the thrum of it making his ears twitch. A sound welled in his throat, caught somewhere between groan and growl. Yeah right, Bub.
Ororo felt the warmth of his breath on her skin, heard the uneven rasp of his breathing as he inhaled and exhaled against her hair and despite her initial pep talk she felt her body clench in expectation, her entire being focused on the warm hands cradling her hips and the mouth just below her earlobe. She could feel his arousal pressed against her back and the knowledge of his excitement made her feel hot and needy with such intensity that it scared her death.
She gasped when she felt the sweeping caress of his tongue against her skin. The short stubble on his face grazed her cheek as he nuzzled her. “Stop.” She managed to strangle the word out, but it held no real weight.
His mouth moved up to her ear. Hot and heavy his body and voice consumed her. “Say it like you mean it, and I will.”
Ororo shuddered, his voice a hypnotic scratch of velvet against her skin. Her head fell back against his shoulder, unwittingly exposing more flesh for him to sample. His teeth scraped skin as his kisses became more aggressive, his appetite insatiable it seemed. His fingers impatiently pushed aside her snowy tresses and the strap of her borrowed dress so that he could nip her shoulder.
Ororo blinked, drawing a deep, faltering breath. She concentrated on regaining her apparently lost senses, focusing on the billiard balls atop the felt table as though their haphazard pattern held the answers to all the mysteries of the universe. She felt Logan’s fingers tighten against the curve of her hips and she bit back a moan.Concentrate, she yelled at herself.
Logan pressed closer, his hands wandering up over her ribcage to cup her heavy breasts through red and black satin. He growled, feeling her nipples harden beneath his palms. “It’s time, ‘Roro,” he growled, grinding against her delicious backside.
The hem of her skirt was lifted, the cool draft and his self assured tone bringing Ororo up short. He sounded so smug, so unquestioningly certain that he could just bend her over the pool table and have his way with her and she would welcome it, that she wanted to slap him. She glared, her sapphire eyes momentarily flashing white. Arrogant, chauvinistic troglodyte needed to be brought down a peg or two.
Slowly, but assertively, she pressed her backside into his crotch, clasping his hands with her own, holding him. “You think so?” she whispered, her voice aching with want, a fact that she made no effort to hide. “Right here?” She bent forward, spreading her legs so that he molded perfectly into her from behind. “Like this?” She tossed him a smoldering look over her shoulder. “Or better yet…” She twisted herself so that she was facing him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself onto the edge of the pool table, one leg hooking him around the waist, pulling him in. “Like this.”
Logan growled around a dark chuckle. “Anyway you want it, darlin’.”
“Mmmm.” Ororo tilted her head, her eyes sparking with inner fire. “Anyway I want it?”
“Anyway.“ He confirmed, lowering his head towards hers, his eyes heavy lidded, but she turned her face, preventing their lips from meeting. Undeterred Logan caught the tender flesh of her ear between his teeth, nipping. “So, what do ya want?”
“Touch me,” she commanded, moving his hand and placing it beneath the ruffle of her skirt, between her thighs and rolling her hips. Let him think he’d won, she thought, then dismiss him before things went anywhere. That would show him that not all women were slaves to his charisma. At least that was the idea, but she immediately had second thoughts about the wisdom of toying with Wolverine in the breath halting moment that she felt the press of his blunt fingers against the sensitive juncture between her thighs.
“Christ.” Logan groaned, feeling her damp heat through her lacy underwear. She curved her knee, drawing him closer. “Wet.” He rubbed the thin fabric harder, making her arch and moan. His lips drew back against his teeth, an edgy, hurried heat taking him over. Something primal was rising from deep inside. Dark and dangerous, it filtered through his blood. It was so unexpected that he shook with it.
Feeling him tremble, Ororo grinned victoriously, pressing closer. He wasn‘t so slick after all. “Still think you can handle me?” She questioned deprecatingly, her hips rocking against his probing fingers.
His returning feral grin should have had her running from the room, but she found that her legs refused to do anything other than hold him against the pool table. His harsh features, though never considered traditionally handsome, seemed carved from stone, making him all the more aggressive looking.
Maintaining focus was becoming complicated, the shivers of pure pleasure coursing through her as his thumb found her clit and circled it with practiced skill making it hard to think.
“Do you tease a lot of women this way, Logan?” she panted, still trying to hold onto her control. “Is this the best foreplay you’ve got?”
Instead of vocalizing a response to her taunt Logan tore away her underwear, thrusting two fingers deep inside her hot, wet center, making her gasp.
Ororo cried out, her body clenching around his digits in a combination of ecstasy and pain. With borderline violence he shoved her back across the table, knocking clacking billiards aside with a frantic sweep of his arm. He loomed over her, his face drawn tight with almost sinister desire as he parted her slick folds, plunging his fingers over and over, deeper and deeper, faster and faster.
Ororo’s hips rose demandingly from the table, meeting his aggression head on, craving it in ways she never would have thought possible. Her mouth parted as she grunted and moaned erratically. She closed her eyes. Dear God in heaven the man knew how to work a girl! Of their own accord her legs parted wider, giving him total access and dominion.
She was damn near crazed with wanting. She no longer cared about teaching him a lesson, all she wanted was to feel him inside of her. Hot, hard, filling her up. She made a noise that sounded curiously like a growl as she pulled his head down to hers by gripping fistfuls of his hair. Their lips met and mashed, tongues battling for domination with neither willing to give an inch. The taste of blood entered her mouth and she knew her lip was split, but she didn’t care. She snapped her teeth together, catching his bottom lip and tugging none too gently.
“Smell so good,” Logan ground out, lifting his mouth reluctantly from hers. His hand traced the line of her neck, covering one breast and pinching the extended nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He was so hard he felt like he was going to bust through his jeans. Never in his life had he wanted anyone like he wanted the writhing woman on the pool table. With black silk underwear torn, her scarlet dress shoved to her waist, her eyes glazed with passion and her lips bloody and swollen she was the glorious embodiment of ravishment.
Control was slipping through her fingers, Ororo thought desperately. She had wanted to tease him, give him a killer case of blue balls and leave him there in the rec room, but so far all she had succeeded in doing was getting herself thoroughly felt up and loving every minute of it. It wasn’t too late to call it a night and lesson learned, she thought. Never mess with a Wolverine. Ok, got it.
Before anymore rational thoughts had a chance to enter her head, Logan bent his head low, his tongue flicking across her exposed clit in broad strokes as his hand continuously drove forward. Ororo nearly screamed, sitting up hurriedly, grasping him frantically. She reached over his shoulders, yanking his tee-shirt up his back, her nails scoring his flesh in deep grooves, drawing blood.
The snarl that came from him was pure animal.
Wincing against the erotic sting of her nails and teeth, Logan gripped the firm globes of her ass in his hands, jerking her against the aching bulge in his jeans. “I wanna fuckin’ tear you apart.” His expression was savage, uncontrolled and sent ripples of desire through her body, pooling in her stomach and below.
This wasn’t what she had intended at all. In fact the look on his face should have terrified her. He looked like he meant exactly what he said. She should stop this…
She fumbled for his belt, her hands clumsy in her haste. She rubbed against his bulge wantonly, nearly whimpering. Where was that self controlled woman now, huh? The one that wouldn’t fall to his feet like a lovesick puppy? Her mind asked to which her body screamed shut the hell up!
She gave a broken cry of relief when she felt the belt give way. She jerked his pants open, her hand closing around his thick erection, already jutting towards her, begging for her attention.
Logan stiffened, intense fire overwhelming him at the first touch of her hand. “Christ,” he grit his teeth, but it was too late. His hips bucked uncontrollably, the pleasure too intense. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.” He gripped her head, holding her tightly against his shoulder as he shuddered, coming in forceful spurts. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, ‘Ro,” he gasped.
Shocked, Ororo blinked rapidly. Had what she thought just happened, happened? She felt the rock hardness of Logan’s cock, still gripped in her hand, slowly begin to ebb, and a telltale warm fluid on her palm. Yup, it had. Ororo’s laugh was unexpected, but once she started she couldn’t stop. What he would think of as her mocking him was actually her near hysterical gratefulness at her reprieve. She had been so unbelievably close to succumbing and giving herself to him without thought to the consequences or the morning. In a few short minutes Logan had, with terrifying ease, stripped her of her precious control and nearly all of her defenses. Her laughter was not one of amusement, but of relief.
Logan went rigid, absolutely still, stunned at what had just transpired. Never in his life could he remember that ever happening to him. He pulled away from Ororo slightly, who was not even trying to contain her amusement at his blunder. Her throaty laugh provoked his anger. His brows dropped into an angry scowl that was echoed with a growl from his throat.
“Oh, my god. Priceless.” Ororo detangled herself from his half hearted embrace. She hopped from the pool table, removing her torn underwear from her ankle with a graceful swoop. “Here.” She tucked them into the front pocket of his jeans. “Souvenir.” She patted his back as she sashayed past, the smile on her face eating at him, but he didn’t try to stop her. In fact he didn’t say a word, just buttoned his pants and turned his back on her, trying to regain his composure, though to her it looked like he was dismissing her.
Her feign of cool indifference lasted only until she reached the hallway where she broke into a run, sprinting for the stairs up to her room. She slammed the door behind her, turning the lock hastily with trembling fingers. She pressed her back to the cool wood, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes welled with tears. She was shaking forcefully, her teeth chattering. She took a ragged breath, sinking to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest. Her breathing was labored, laced with panic.
Her skin felt alive, still crawling with the heat of his touch. She made a sound of distress, trying desperately to calm her frayed nerves, rubbing her hands up and down on her gooseflesh covered arms. She wanted him. That was no mystery, she had wanted him for awhile. But what she hadn’t wanted was the intensity of longing she felt now, a desire so violent that it was all consuming, like a sleeping demon awakened by fire it raged in her. She not only wanted him, she craved him.
Thunder rolled across the graying sky, torrential rain slapping the windows. She jumped when she heard a knock on her door, her heart in her throat. Had he followed her? She couldn’t face him now, she was too raw, too close to the edge. She made no effort to get up, afraid to move.
“Storm? Are you okay?”
Scott. Ororo scrambled to her feet, wiping her eyes. She took a steadying breath, adjusting her skirt before opening the door. “Hey,” she attempted a smile, but it came up miles short.
One look at Ororo’s wide eyes, the smudges of mascara beneath them and her bruised lips Scott swore violently. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
Ororo reached out, grabbing his shoulder when he turned from her door, apparently with said objective in mind. “Scott, don’t. Nothing happened.”
Slowly he swiveled his head, facing her. It was amazing how intimidating he could appear with his eyes shrouded behind the blood red lenses of his sleep visor. “He hurt you.” It was a flat statement not requiring her to respond.
Fleetingly Ororo touched her lips. “No.” She denied softly, shaking her head. At least not any more than I wanted him to. That part she kept inside.
He looked like he wanted to press the issue, but didn’t, respectful of her obvious discomfort with the topic. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, goodnight then.”
For the first time Ororo noticed the pillow gripped in hand and blanket draped over his left shoulder. She raised a questioning brow.
Scott shrugged. “I was on my way to the garage when I heard the thunder.”
Funny, she thought, how most people never associated the garage with Scott, but the truth was he spent just as much, if not more, time in the adjacent building as Logan did. So much so that Xavier that had commissioned a small apartment to be built over the main garage, ensuring that Scott had a place to sleep on the nights he worked obscenely late on the bikes, as was his passion, or the old cars that he liked to tinker with.
“Trouble with Jean?” Ororo asked.
He shook his head, a tick in his jaw. “Don’t feel like talking about it.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his shoulder. Then, “You want some company?”
“You know, I think I do.”
Ororo was relieved. She hadn’t realized how distraught she truly was until she had someone with her. She really didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts about Logan and the way he made her feel.
Scott waited patiently for her while she went into her bathroom to wash her face and slip on her pajama pants and top. She grabbed her toothbrush and deodorant. She held them up like little trophies when she emerged. “So I won’t gag you in the morning with my stink.”
Scott chuckled. “You never stink. I think that may be your true mutant power. The stinkless woman.”
Ororo laughed, lifting her arm. “Halt, villain. I shall stop you with my armpits of roses!”
Scott smiled in return, holding the door for her. For both of them, it felt good not be alone.
The garage apartment was small, but very cozy. A recliner, small table, mini-fridge, microwave and twin size bed were all placed about the room. Odds and ends from different automobiles were in assorted piles on a small counter that ran the length of the room, giving credence to Ororo’s belief that Scott never stopped working.
She felt a small smile form as she rolled a cutaway section from an exhaust pipe in her hands. She once found reliability to be a trait for the boring and mundane, she now found it to be oddly comforting.
Scott shook out the blanket he had been carrying, tossing it and the pillow onto the bed. He moved to where she was standing, her fingers absently moving over the auto bits, the need to do anything other than be still and think making her edgy.
“Hey.” Warm, strong hands clasped her shoulders.
She stared at his chest, tense.
“Storm.” Fingers trailed her hair, cupping her cheek, tilting her head so that she had to look him in the face. They stood that way for a long minute, uncertainty warring between them. Slowly Scott lowered his head, his mouth covering hers.
Ororo closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the smooth feel of Scott’s cheek beneath her own hands, the warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms, not bothering with any self deprecating thoughts, even though not twenty minutes ago she had been kissing Logan with mad passion and frantic intensity.
The kiss between her and Scott, however, was unhurried, tentative, and exploratory. Gradually they parted, still holding each other by the arms.
Scott was the first to speak. “Damn it. Nothing.”
Ororo grinned, feeling warm relief and some of her tension ease. “Me either.”
He sighed over dramatically, “Well now that that awkwardness is out of the way, we can relax, knowing that neither one of us is harboring lustful intentions.”
“Nope, no lustful intentions here. It was nice though,” she assured him. And it had been one of the better kisses she’d ever gotten, but the passion in her blood was apparently for one man, and one man only.
“Definitely nice,” he agreed with a nod. He stretched, yawning. “Well, now that I know for certain that you don’t want me for my body, I feel no shame in wearing my Snoopy boxers.”
Ororo snorted. “You’re a pretty funny guy, Summers.”
“I’m a pretty tired guy,” he yawned again.
Scott flicked the light before he pulled the blanket back getting into the bed and scooting towards the wall, leaving a space for her. Ororo smiled gently, sliding in beside him, squirming until she was comfortable, resting her head on his smooth chest.
Scott dropped his hand over her shoulder, the tips of his fingers making abstract little circles on her skin. They lay in the dark for awhile, both silent, but neither sleeping, when he asked quietly, “What is it about him?”
Ororo needed no clarification, nor did she pretend to. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Is it the bad boy thing? Wanting to be the one to tame him?”
“Maybe for some people, that’s his appeal.”
“But not you, eh? No desire to tame the wild Wolverine?”
“No,” she said, reflecting for a moment on her feelings. “I don’t want to tame him.” She wanted him wild and savage and all the things that he really was, completely unrestrained and for her and only her. She shook her head, clearing the disturbing thoughts and visuals that made her heart accelerate.
“He wants you, you know.” He told her.
“I know.”
“But that isn’t enough for you, is it?”
“No,” she smiled with a hint of sadness. “A dear friend reminded me that sometimes romance and ideals are not such bad things.”
Ororo shifted, crossing her arms across Scott’s chest so that they faced one another. “Is Wolverine who you and Jean fought about?”
His mouth twisted bitterly. “What do you think?” He sighed. “She wanted me to apologize for punching him.”
Ororo couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “It was a good hit.” She tilted her head. “You surprised me.”
“Surprised me too,” he admitted. “I think she loves him.”
Try as she might Ororo couldn’t help the prick of jealousy she felt, but overlaying that was a deep sadness for her friend. She remembered his words from earlier. She loves me. She uses him. That was his safety, his security. What made it bearable to know that the woman he loved was with another man was believing that she harbored no feelings for Wolverine. For him to believe otherwise would destroy him, or at the very least end their relationship.
“Scott--”
“It’s alright, Storm.” He tried to reassure her, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat.
Knowing that words were ineffectual means of comfort, Ororo pulled him closer, hugging him. “You deserve someone that will love you for you, and only you.”
“I had that once,” he said quietly.
“Lorna?”
“Yeah.” He laughed bitterly. “I didn’t see it then, because I was so wrapped up in thinking about all of the limitations my mutant power put on me, that I felt restricted, limited and confined. I didn’t want to do that to her.”
“So you set her free, as I recall.”
Scott was surprised. “She talked to you about us?”
“Yes.”
A weighty pause filled the space in conversation. “She looked good,” he said after a time.
“Damn good,” Ororo confirmed.
“I still love her.”
Ororo knew he wasn’t referring to Lorna. “I know.”
“I don’t think it will ever stop. Sometimes I wish I could make it stop, so then I wouldn‘t hurt so much.”
Ororo closed her eyes, wishing she had more answers to give him.
“I’m tired.” He sounded worn and weary.
“Go to sleep, Scott.” She brushed his hair from his forehead tenderly.
“Yeah. Tomorrow’s a whole new day. Thanks for listening.”
“Thanks for coming to check on me.”
“That’s what friends do.” He yawned, his voice fading. “They look out…for one another…”
Standing in the driveway, soaked to his skin, Logan’s feet refused to move, keeping him rooted to the spot, despite his ardent desire to look away as the shadowed silhouettes in the upstairs window moved closer, pressed tighter and ultimately kissed.
His immediate reaction was rage. Mind numbing, hazy red, familiar, rage. However, completely catching him off guard was the sharp pang of desolation he had felt seeing Ororo in Scooter’s arms.
Had his keen hearing not picked up the words immediately following that kiss, he knew without a doubt that he would have killed Scott. However, hearing that neither of the pair had any real desire for one another had prevented him from eviscerating the boy scout.
How any man could kiss ‘Ro and not want her more than anything on the planet was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to debate the issue or encourage Scott to try again and make sure.
He’d fucked up bad with ‘Ro and he knew it. What he didn’t know was how to make it right. But he was damn sure going to try. Just those few moments in the rec room had devastated his senses, put him on overdrive and taken him to places he’d never been before. She was in his blood now, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted her out.
The downpour slowed to a drizzle, telling him that she was falling asleep. With Scooter. His teeth bared. Knowing that they were only friends did not entirely extinguish the flames of jealousy in the pit of his gut. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, watching the sunrise. “A whole new day,” he repeated, determination coloring his words. Ororo was his. She just didn’t know it yet.
