Chapter Six: Walk The Line
I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line
~Johnny Cash
The fight outside of the nightclub sent rumors flying through the mansion with sharpshooter precision. No said anything directly to Ororo “ she assumed Logan was just as fortunate “ but there were lingering, surprised looks and whispered conversations that ended just before she entered a room.
Appalled by her own behavior, she’d tried to make amends the following morning. Logan had, quite rudely, slammed his bedroom door in her face. She knew the feral man wanted to only show her the same kindness she’d shown him. The taste of her own medicine was more bitter than she truly wanted to admit.
All through that horrid excuse for a Sunday, she withdrew into herself, content to spend her time with Prita.
Of course, the Professor sent for her shortly after noon. Prita was left in Jubilee’s capable hands while she went to her fate.
Charles was now back in his wheel chair, though the school’s functions still came directly to Scott. He was weak, even as his pallid cheeks flooded with a healthy glow. Her mentor provided her with a warm smile as she entered the room.
He wheeled his chair to the small parlor adjoining his bedroom suite. She took an uneasy seat on the upholstered settee, tucking her legs under her backside.
The one thing she did not want to think or talk about today was the resident Wolverine.
“Would you like to tell me what the trouble is between yourself and Logan?”
Sighing, she put a hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not particularly.”
“I see,” Charles nodded. He folded his hands in his lap, leveling her with that penetrating blue stare that she was certain could force the Devil into confession.
Having known him many, many years, Ororo was able to withstand the unrelenting stare for a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. Charles knew about the troubled history between his two X-Men, surely he would understand.
But did she? The more she was around Logan, the faster she was morphing into a person she did not like. Petty, vindictive, and hurtful became adjectives applied to her more and more. Logan was not entirely at fault, but Ororo liked to blame him. He drew out her repressed impulses of jealousy and irrational anger.
Why? Because she could not avoid the simple truth that through it all, she loved him. It blossomed like a living thing inside her, coiling around her heart until she was sure the only way to remove it was suicide.
“My dear child,” Charles said in that soothing, understanding tone. “Is that truly how you feel?”
Not angry that he’d scanned the surface of her mind while she was lost in thought “ it was so much easier than searching for words “ she nodded. Putting her hand over her lips, she took several deep breaths, trying to reign in her emotions.
“I cannot explain it, Charles,” she replied, slightly muffled by her fingers. “I cannot hate him. I cannot feign indifference. He riles me up inside and brings what I would like to keep closer to the vest to the surface for all to see.”
“Very few people have done that to you,” he nodded slowly, studying her face with that fatherly gaze.
“One, actually,” she smiled, fighting tears. “And she left me.”
“She did not want to, my dear,” Charles’ voice betrayed his emotion, the loss of beloved Jean.
“But she did and for a time, I hated her for leaving me all alone,” Ororo inhaled shakily. “I hated her for dominating Logan’s thoughts, for not seeing what it was doing to me, and more than anything, I hate her for abandoning me.”
Charles was silent for a moment, then his voice broke through the pain and scattered inner thoughts of his friend. “You abandoned her before she sacrificed herself.”
Her first instinct was to deny his words, to stand and let thunder shatter the windows of his office. When she opened her mouth to contradict the telepath’s words, no sound passed her lips.
“You were caught up in many things, Ororo,” Charles went on, heedless to her expression of shock. “Your feelings for Logan mounted, taking you mentally away from her so she would not feel it through your link. I have never known two women so close as you were, yet at the end you were so far apart…”
“Do you think I wanted her to die believing I hated her?” Ororo lashed out. “If I could have those minutes back again, I would have shoved Scott out of the way and talked to her through you. I would have said…”
Her voice failed. Caught in the look on Charles’ face and her inner demons, Ororo was not sure she could continue.
“What?” he demanded gently. “Tell me. Say it aloud, Ororo, before it destroys you.”
Though she shook her head and lowered her eyes, she whispered. “I would have told her that no man was worth fighting over. I want those minutes back so I could tell her how much I loved her, that she was the only person on this earth that truly understood me.”
The heavens opened up, ruining the clear, blue sky that had greeted the day before. Fat, heavy raindrops pattered against the open window, weeping where the weather mistress refused to.
“I want her back, Charles,” Ororo’s voice was strained. “If I could have anything in the world, I would ask for her to come home.”
His large, soothing hand reached across the empty space between them. The gesture was so simple, yet filled with meaning. She had reached for no one in the aftermath of Jean’s death. When, finally, the urge to connect struck her, she’d fallen into Logan only to be burned.
This time, she accepted the help, taking Charles’ hand in hers, forcing him to wheel closer.
“Logan was not the only one betrayed two years ago,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. “All this time, you felt as though you had betrayed Jean.”
“He loved her,” Ororo whimpered. “I took advantage of that, let myself believe it was me he wanted.”
“He did love her,” Charles nodded. “But much can change in two years. You, my dear girl, still live in that moment. When Jean’s life was taken, you allowed Death to take you as well.”
The truth of that statement hit Ororo like a fist to the abdomen. She could only nod absently, making the sound of falling rain plop more forcefully against the window.
“What do I do? How can I let go when my soul still reaches for her hand?”
“I do not know,” his voice broke with emotion. “She would agree that you have carried this burden too long, child. You must let her go. Find clarity, and there she will be to guide you, as she always has.”
~**~
Ororo left the mansion on a strong current of warm air, propelling herself into the rain-soaked sky with the grace of one in her element. She whipped her body into a tight circle, pulling in the winds around her, forming a cyclone that hovered too far above the earth to cause damage.
Spinning the in beautiful core of such a destructive thing, Ororo raised her face to the heavens.
“JEAN!”
Soft sobs left her throat, followed swiftly by the screams of the broken hearted. The winds and rain shrieked her pain, calling to the woman taken too soon. Lifting her hands to the sky, Ororo lost herself in the twister. Violent undercurrents tore at her clothing, whipped her hair into a banner that was suddenly filled with twigs and leaves.
Even as the rain soaked her to the bone, she cried out again.
“Jean! I’m sorry!”
Only the howl of wind answered her broken cry. “I miss you. I will always miss you. Why can I not let you go?”
She paused, taking herself and the tornado higher, creating a funnel as wide as the mansion itself. “Why did you leave me all alone? How did you think I could live without you?”
A warm blanket of air that had no place in the roaring winds covered Ororo’s shoulders. So surprised was the white-haired mutant at the gentle, soothing touch, that she nearly lost control of the storm surrounding her.
“I do not want to say goodbye,” Ororo screamed, her voice lost in the wind. “I cannot release my pain.”
The blanket of alien air wrapped her more tightly, drawing in her outstretched arms in what felt like an achingly familiar embrace. Still twisting in the ferocity of her storm, Ororo’s tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Know, wherever you are, that I loved you to the end and I will continue to love you until I pass this world.”
That impossible embrace dissipated slowly. “Will I see you again, my sister? Please, promise me I will see you again.”
As though in answer, a thick, bright rainbow jutted through the raging twister. Taken aback, Ororo paused in reverent silence before she threw her head back, laughing.
“You never were subtle!”
She could hear the faint hint of gentle laughter on the wind; somehow sure it was not her imagination.
“Come, let us fly together, one last time,” Ororo shouted to the merry sound. “Then we part to be united again some day.”
With that, Ororo, the twister, and the sound of her beloved friend’s laughter vanished, leaving only cheerful sunlight and rain-soaked earth in their wake.
~**~
The tornado was not brought up by anyone living at the mansion. The remainder of Ororo’s day passed with no mention of the monstrous storm. Only Scott said anything, and his only words were a simple “Feel better?”
She did, much to her surprise. Rolling for hours in happy memories and screeching winds, knowing that her friend heard her on some level had done wonders for her wounded heart. At dinner, she sat between Charles and Henry as though nothing changed, laughing when her big, blue friend made jokes for her benefit.
When Logan appeared, he sat across from her, seemingly untouched by her change in attitude. He ate in relative silence, pausing only when Prita managed to toss one of her utensils or toys at him.
He would retrieve the item and hand it back to the little one with a smile, but not even a glance was spared for Ororo herself.
She made up her mind to speak with him, even if it took electrocution to get him to hear her out. Her “talk” with Jean had helped allay some of the guilt she’d carried, but Logan still confused the hell out of her.
After dinner was eaten and dishes washed, Ororo gave her daughter a bath. They read from a picture book, as per the nightly ritual. Then the child fell asleep on her mother’s bed, content and happy.
If only she could sleep that way. Ororo took the baby monitor with her, heading out of the room. The sound of Johnny Cash was faint in the hall, hinting that Logan was back to hibernating in his bedroom.
Steeling her spine, she tiptoed down the corridor, coming to a stop outside of Logan’s room. She knew it was likely that he had heard and smelled her long before she reached him, but she knocked anyway.
No answer.
Frowning, Ororo tried again.
Still nothing.
Setting her jaw, she tried the handle, not surprised to find it was locked. With a look to the heavens, she mentally grumbled. It’s not illegal to pick a lock in your own home.
Satisfied with her rationale, she took a bobby pin from the underside of her watch and kneeled in front of Logan’s door. She usually carried a set of picks on a mission, but a pin worked just as well for a simple lock like this one.
Carefully, she flipped the tumblers around until she heard the definitive click telling her the door was now unlocked.
With another politely unanswered knock, Ororo twisted the knob and pushed the door open. She slid inside, squinting in the pitch dark that suddenly consumed her. The monitor buzzed with interference, so she flicked the volume down several notches.
Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she scanned the room for signs of it’s occupant. With a frown, she noted that Logan was not on his bed, nor smoking by the window, as he normally did in the evenings.
It was a shock when the adjoining bathroom door swung open, revealing a very wet Wolverine. Her only saving grace was that he’d slung a towel over his hips while shaking the excess water from his hair.
Her eyes swept over his semi-nude form without her permission, taking in the masculine lines of his shoulders and the swell of muscle still damp from his shower. As he moved into the room, she watched these muscles tense and flex, heat pounding through her body to rest in the pit of her stomach.
Desire more acute than she really would have liked, she licked her lips. Memory of his touch and kiss ran rampant in her mind, even as her body screamed for more.
“You must want somethin’ pretty bad, breakin’ into a man’s private room and all.”
She didn’t even register that he’d spoken. So absorbed in her careful catalogue of his…attributes was she that all thought seemed lost to her.
“’Ro?”
The growl of her name nearly closed her eyes, remembering how he’d said it before, when consumed by passion. Would she never rid herself of what this man did to her?
“Hello?”
Jolting back to the present, she cleared her throat, forcing her eyes to see past his scowl and to those coal-black eyes.
“I wanted…” she trailed off, searching for the reason she’d come to see him.
“What?” he said unpleasantly.
“I wanted to apologize.” Yes, that was it. “For how I treated you last night.”
“Really?” he crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe that led to the bathroom.
Johnny’s thick, guitar-accompanied vocals changed pitch as the compact disc in Logan’s stereo switched songs. Standing there, the old country of “I Walk The Line” slipping through the room, Logan staring at her with that challenge in his eyes, Ororo found herself transfixed again.
“Don’t,” he said curtly. “You don’t wanna go down this path again, kiddo.”
Everything in her body disagreed with him. She wanted to go galloping down this path with him, to replace the bad with good. Maybe they’d hate each other even more in the morning, it would likely make things worse, but at that moment, Ororo didn’t care.
“Get out, ‘Ro,” Logan commanded, standing straight. “Don’t…”
She took one step forward, finding some bravery from a place she’d thought long-dead.
“Just once more,” she whispered. “All I ask is we get it right this time.”
“Then what?” he snarled. “We go on our merry way?”
Another step. “You were right. Perhaps this is the only way.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
But there was a waver in his voice, one that told Ororo she was getting through. They stood across the room, eyes locked and Johnny whining from the stereo.
“Logan…”
She took several more steps, coming to a stop directly in front of him. He did not flinch, nor move, nor order her out again. Part of her was screaming to escape before it went any further, but her heart and body easily overtook her mind.
“Don’t…” His voice was a begging plea, even as Ororo grasped his hands, pulling him closer.
“Just once more,” she repeated, this time against his mouth. “Once more and I will walk away.”
Logan shook his head. “No, you won’t. We ain’t the “walkin’ away” types.”
He leaned closer, enveloping her in a searing kiss. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She could smell the tang of his soap, taste the mint of his toothpaste when his tongue slid past her lips.
Bodies ground together as Logan lifted her from her feet completely. He walked blinding into his room as Ororo wrapped her legs about his waist. He felt so good. It had been months since she’d taken a lover and no one ever touched her as Logan.
He pressed her into the mattress, letting her hands flutter down his chest as their kiss broke when air became necessity. The tucked knot of his towel fell away and she tossed the damp cloth over the side of the bed.
Logan busied himself with the buttons of her blouse, slipping each through its hole without fumbling. Her hands glided over the hard muscle of his chest, his arms, wanting to memorize every inch of him.
She gasped when his mouth latched onto the flesh of her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse point. Undulating beneath him, Ororo moved her hands to his waist and then back, taking his backside in both palms. At her not-so-gentle squeeze, Logan nipped at her skin, a groan leaving his throat.
He undressed her slowly, his mouth and hands never leaving her flesh. Ororo was sent into mindlessness at every lick and grope as layers of her clothing fell away. His eyes met hers again when she was bare before him.
“Slow,” he growled. “I’m gonna take it real slow.”
Sighing, Ororo watched his as gaze swept downward, lingering over her newly revealed body. He licked his lips when his eyes found the swells of her breasts.
“Gonna savor this,” he went on, both hands finding purchase on her thighs. “So you’ll feel me long after I’m gone.”
“I still do,” she whimpered under his touch. “From the first time.”
“This is the first time,” he countered before taking her lips again.
His hands were everywhere. She felt him caress the long lines of her legs before his palms flattened on her belly. Each breast was cupped gently, his mouth still playing over hers with possessive passion.
When he reared up, her hands fell back against the pillows. He broke their kiss, swooping down to take a taut nipple into his mouth. At the feel of his hot tongue, Ororo cried out, arching her body closer. His hand took the other breast, twisting it’s pebbled peak so that she gasped his name.
The moment he finished with her breasts, he traveled downward. A wet path trailed down to her navel, where he paused to feather gentle kisses over her bellybutton. Ororo’s head thrashed against the pillows, her hands moving down to wind in his hair.
Faster than a jolt of lightning, he took her wrists in one large palm. “No. Keep them off for now.”
Obeying without question, Ororo put her hands into her own hair, letting him get back to his sweet torture. Her belly flexed as his hands gripped her knees, drawing her legs apart.
At the first touch of his tongue to her center, Ororo groaned loudly. Gasping, she felt him coax her swollen clitoris from its protective hood, his strong hands kneading at the flesh of her thighs. Fire swept through her blood, centering on the man feasting between her legs.
His tongue circled her clit eagerly, the tempo increasing as she urged him on with whimpers and cat-like mewls. One of his hands left her thigh, reappearing a moment later when he slid one thick finger inside of her.
Wind howled, batting the shutters outside as he drove her higher. Clenching around the broad digit inside of her, Ororo ground her sex against Logan’s face. Climax was so close she could feel it building deep in her belly.
When she came, Logan rode out the waves of white-hot pleasure that burst inside her. Ororo cried his name, body arching off of the bed before she fell back against the sheets. Panting and shivering from the onslaught, she barely had time to catch her breath before Logan’s lips found hers again.
Catching the taste of herself on his tongue sent her senses into overload again. Cradling his hips between her thighs, she pushed into the kiss, wanting to taste more of their mingled flavors from his mouth.
Still trembling with aftershocks, she pulled back, meeting his eyes.
“’Ro,” he whispered as if trying to soothe away her fears. “Just my ‘Ro.”
She kissed him again, smoothing her legs down his thighs until she had just the right leverage with which to overturn them. He grinned when Ororo pinned him to the mattress.
“My turn.”
He growled in response, his head falling back to reveal the thick ropes of veins in his neck. She immediately latched on to his pulse-point, suckling and nipping at the sensitive flesh until he was bucking beneath her.
Taking her time, Ororo’s hands explored his body. When she’d tasted enough of his sweat-salted neck, she sat back on his thighs, letting her gaze travel over the broad expanse of his chest.
Hands confident, she traced lines of muscle, dropping wet kisses in places that begged for attention. His skin flexed as muscle clenched and released, every inch of him seeming to request her intimate attentions. She took her time, mapping him in her mind so she would be able to draw up a perfect imagine in the days and years to come.
She reached the heavy cock resting on his stomach with a prick of feminine pride. Taking the masculine organ in her hand, she stroked it firmly, his growl of pleasure sending a pleasant shiver up her spine. Bringing his cock closer, she fitted it against the white patch guarding her center, feeling the heat of him against her belly.
“I want you inside me, Logan,” she whispered huskily in the dark.
“All ya had to do was ask, darlin’,” he murmured, sitting up.
His arms wrapped around her, drawing her to his chest as he captured her lips for another searing kiss. Gently, almost achingly so, he guided her onto her back. With her head at the foot of his bed, she took him between her thighs again, lost in the kiss she could feel curl her toes.
Fingers traced the lines of her wet folds, making her writhe again. He smiled against her lips, that simple twist of his mouth that sent her heart to a thudding tattoo.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he grunted, adjusting himself so that the tip of his cock probed her entrance. “It’s all yours.”
Her nails dug into the thick flesh of his shoulders when he entered her. The delicious feel of being stretched to accommodate him reverberated through her entire body. Logan’s low, throaty growl was answered by a croon of his name.
“Say it again,” he grunted into her ear as his tongue traced her lobe. “Say my name again.”
“Logan,” Ororo answered, lifting her legs higher to allow him all the way inside. “Logan.”
“God, you feel good,” her lover growled. “Perfect. So hot.”
Unable to respond, she clenched her inner walls around him, eliciting another groan of her name. He planted his hands on the bed just above her shoulders, making the springs whine in protest. His body lifted slightly, shifting his weight onto powerful arms so he could thrust more easily inside her.
The increase of friction had Ororo exactly where he’d said he’d have her: panting like a wanton slut. Grinding her hips against his with every dominating thrust, she quickly gave into their primal rhythm. Lips fused and broke only to be fused again in never-ending kisses that stoked the fire he was building inside of her.
Higher and higher he drove her, until she could feel nothing but the heat in her belly, his body taking hers in exquisite ecstasy. Words were lost to unintelligible grunts and growls, some of them even torn from Ororo’s throat.
Neither of them cared for the destruction she was likely raining down on the school grounds outside, there was only this primitive dance, the search for release. Logan’s lips took hers a final time as the waves of orgasm washed over her. She screamed his name so that it echoed off the walls of his bedroom.
To her surprise, when he joined her in bliss only seconds later, her name tumbled from his lips in reverent prayer. She crooned into his mouth again as they collapsed in a spent heap of tangled arms and sweat-soaked sheets.
~**~
Ororo speaks:
That, of course, wasn’t the end of it. Thrice in the dark, Logan and I reached for one another. We raced to pleasure each time, as though we both knew what would happen in the daylight hours and feared it.
I still remember every song Johnny Cash belted out that night. To this day, I can’t hear that man’s voice without being sent into a frenzy of memory. That night, truly, was the first time I made love with Logan.
In the cold light of day, I woke before him and scrambled out of his room. He may have awoken as I rushed to dress and escape, but he never moved, never let on. I crept back into my room, pleasantly sore with the feel of his skin against mine.
He was right, of course. Neither of us were the walking away type. That night had only complicated things further. I was in a panic as dawn crept over the mansion. While Prita slept, blissfully unaware of what her mother had done, I could only think of one solution.
I had to stay away from Logan and my damnable self-restraint was failing me. I did what any woman in my situation would do.
I called in reinforcements.
