Chapter Seventeen: Competing
Just takes a little bit of this, a little bit of that
Started with a kiss, now we're up to bat
A little bit of laughs, a little bit of pain
I’m telling you, my babe, it’s all in the game of love
It’s all in this game of love
~Michelle Branch
Two mutant women occupied the cell on the eastern wall as dawn broke over New York. The elder curled up on one dirty cot, her back to the wall and knees to her chest. She was looking up, mindlessly counting ceiling tiles as she listened to the masculine laughter coming from Scott and Logan down the hall.
A red haired mutant had spent the last several hours crying. Her blotched face and tousled hair made her oddly endearing, but after no other sound save that bawling made Ororo want to punch her. It was not as though they would spend the rest of their lives in prison.
Jean was overreacting, like usual. Logan had called the girl a “killjoy” as he was tossed against the hood of the police car. Ororo, having just been slammed as well, had laughed heartily. It was only this laughter that kept her Wolverine from murdering the officers “frisking” her.
Now, she could almost imagine what Logan and Scott were talking about down the hall. She was glad that their tentative relationship was repairing. Goddess only knew how many hours they would spend in the garage, lovingly restoring old bikes. Perhaps everything that happened was a good thing.
For years Ororo told Logan he and Scott could be friends if they could see further than the women in their lives. She made a mental note to never interrupt their male bonding if she could help it.
As for Jean, Ororo had no idea how to handle her. The girl stubbornly refused to speak, likely embarrassed at being arrested on top of Storm scaring the living daylights out of her. Storm knew Jean was rather “ how could she think it nicely? “ a stick in the proverbial mud.
Killjoy.
She liked her high-speed chases on the six o’clock news, not in the passenger seat of a blazing Mazda. Ororo had been pushing the limit, leading that Sentinel around by his non-existent nose. But never, not for a single moment, did she lose control of her car. She would never put Jean in danger. Why couldn’t her friend understand that?
“Jean?” She tried again, glancing at the woman.
“This is all your fault, you know,” the woman shot back hotly. “And I am not a killjoy.”
Annoyed, Ororo whipped her head around, succeeding in slapping her cheeks with her braids.
“Slip into my mind, just once more, without permission and you will know have a first hand account of the interior of an F-5 tornado.”
Jean’s flashing green eyes met glowing white. Ororo lifted her chin, daring her.
The other woman looked away quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. They were both silent for several minutes. Ororo wanted to scream in frustration. The world as Jean knew it was supposed to revolve around men panting after her and women coddling. Ororo was tired of it. She’d been tired before Charles left them, before all of this started.
“How…” the woman’s voice was soft. Storm gave her the gift of silence as she obviously tried to collect her scattered thoughts.
“Where did you learn that?”
With a frown, Ororo gave her friend a questioning look.
Jean mimed a car moving sideways around a corner. Ororo smiled softly, remembering the exact time and place.
“In Japan, with Logan. Charles, of course, insisted Scott and I take high-speed driving lessons. I just took it further.”
“It’s illegal,” Jean said with that telltale quiver to her dimpled chin. “We’re in jail.”
She spoke the last word as though she were confessing mortal sins to a priest.
Ororo scoffed. “As though I have not been in jail before.”
Jean looked scandalized. Ororo could not help but laugh. She remembered, on several occasions, when she and Logan wound up behind bars. Usually, it was his fault. Bar fights, as his best friend, demanded she leap into the fray.
“In fact,” she chortled. “In Canada a few years ago, Logan and I spent a weekend in a provincial lock up. We destroyed a bar after a man punched Logan.”
“Why did he get punched?” Jean’s eyes were both fearful and enticed.
Recalling the memory, she chuckled a bit more. “A very long story. Suffice it to say, Logan won a boxing match, the man realized he was a mutant, and he was so far gone in drink he picked on Logan’s height.”
Ororo calmed a little, shaking her head while looking back up at the ceiling. Oh, the stories she could tell about her Logan. There were fights, all-night tequila binges, dancing in pulsing clubs. So much history and memory.
With a slightly girly squeal inside, she added to her inward dialogue that he was dynamite in bed and loved her as no other. Her Logan. No one else’s.
“How can you think that’s funny?” Jean demanded. “You can’t just break the law! I know we had to stop the Sentinel, but there were other ways!”
On a sharp exhale, Ororo turned to her friend. “How would you know? If you relaxed, for just a moment, you might learn that breaking the law can be a great deal of fun.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” the red head shot back. “Coming from a thief!”
Slowly, so slowly Ororo barely registered it, the taller mutant stood. She glared at the other woman, hurt and angered by her words at once. Jean jumped to her feet, looking terrified and stubborn as she faced down her friend.
“I may be a thief,” Storm said in a hiss. “But I am not a liar. I am who I am.”
“No you’re not,” Jean spat. “You’re who Wolverine made you. You’re his little puppy that he can drag around with him. Now you even sleep with him! He’s got you trained like a brood sow.”
That stung. Ororo stepped back as though Jean had physically struck her. Unwilling to back down completely, however, she took a deep breath. The laughter from down the hall had stopped. Logan and likely Cyclops knew something was going on.
“Jean,” Ororo began in a low tone. “Why don’t you just tell me whatever it is you want to? Something is eating at you from the inside out.”
“Like you’d listen!” Jean stomped her foot, looking curiously five-years-old for a moment. “Everyone loves Ororo. Isn’t she pretty? Isn’t she smart? I’m sick of it!”
“All about me?” Feminine pride hitched several more notches, and along with it, Ororo’s voice. “From the day I stepped into the mansion you have despised me. Goddess forgive anyone for loving me. You wanted to love me, but Scott, Henry, Charles…they all had to protect sweet, innocent little Jeannie.”
“Ha!” Jean was shaking with rage, her eyes suddenly flashing fire. “You wanted them all for yourself. Even Scott!”
“Oh, I had Scott,” Ororo said maliciously. “But he only has eyes for you. The pinnacle of perfection is beautiful and innocent Jean.” She mimed bowing at her feet.
“It wasn’t enough to have Logan?”
“You’re the one that adored his attention, especially after you were married,” Ororo was on a roll, so she jumped over that invisible line to continue. “Was it thrilling? Having a man like Logan panting after you? You could fuck Scott until the end of time, but you knew Logan wanted you. I bet you got off on it.”
Jean’s startled gasp only spurred her on. The other woman was making squeaking noises, filled with astonishment, as her mouth opened and closed.
“You have always had everything. Charles’ paternal pride, Scott’s undying love, Logan’s fiery lust. I bet you thought it would always be that way. Wake up, Mrs. Summers, the world doesn’t revolve around your pretty red head.”
“Well,” Jean said, as though her voice had returned. “You’re not much better. Between Magneto and Wolverine, I’ve just been waiting for you to betray us. You like the darker side, Storm, so why don’t you go for it? Break the law, kill innocent people, start a war. If you’re so superior to me, why not?”
“You’re a child, Jean,” Ororo said with disgust. “Your entire world view revolves around getting everything you wanted for Christmas. Grow up.”
“I’m the child? You’re the one playing cops and robbers at ninety miles an hour!”
Ororo smirked wickedly. “It kills you, doesn’t it? The very thought that I am actually better at something than you makes hell freeze over.”
She took two steps, moving until she was toe to toe with a woman she once loved as a sister.
“You’re just a cheap whore who likes to drive fast,” Jean’s words were filled with venom.
“And you’re a cheap whore dressed up as a respectable woman.”
Jean stuck her chin out. Ororo, glaring at the woman, was vaguely aware of a cell door opening down the hall. Most of the other prisoners “ nearly all occupying the drunk tank “ were dead silent. The two women had an audience and Ororo could not care less.
She was sick of avoiding Jean, turning her back on the issues between them. Charles’ death had created a short, rickety bridge between them. Now, they were quickly lighting fire to it. Storm hated the space between them, but it was too late to turn back now.
Jean wasn’t going to be handled with kid gloves any more.
In her friend’s eyes, she could see violence welling up. Ororo knew Jean would no sooner start a fistfight than Logan would take up yodeling, but it was there. Jean wanted blood.
Quietly, so no one would overhear, Ororo whispered in her ear. “You don’t want to tangle with me, little girl. You lose. Logan is mine and Scott is yours. Get that through your thick head.”
She could see, quite clearly, the thought that immediately flashed through Jean’s mind. The girl actually believed she could take Logan back while keeping her marriage in tact.
Completely repulsed by this, Ororo turned her back on the red haired mutant. No good would come from this. It was more of these stupid feminine mind games. Logan would never bed Jean again; he hadn’t wanted her for years. Scott…well, he wasn’t nearly as appealing now that she realized he had not chosen Jean as a consolation prize. He loved his wife and that was the end of it.
It would really be better for everyone if she and Jean could stop cat fighting over nothing. They were getting worse than Wolverine and Cyclops.
“Storm?”
Ororo turned at Jean’s call.
WHACK!
A sharp, open-palmed slap might have been expected several seconds ago. It happened, at times, in the heat of an argument. Ororo was not, however, prepared for the full on, balled-up-fist punch she received to her jaw.
Her head snapped back in surprise, blood pooling in her mouth. Astonished and a little amused if she wanted to admit it, Storm blinked at Jean in shock.
“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!”
Cyclops rushed into the room, pulling his wife away. Jean was screeching, but Ororo’s ears were still ringing from the force of the blow. Obviously, Jeannie had been working out.
“Darlin’?” Logan was pulling her toward the cot. “She gonna live?”
“Yeah, she’s fine.” Cyclops grunted his response.
Suddenly queasy, Ororo grabbed her beloved’s arms. “Logan?”
“What’s amatter?”
“Make the room stop spinning.”
“Uh, sure, baby.” He winced, checking her jaw. “Clocked ya good.”
“Uh-huh. Angry red head. World. Spin.” She blinked again, but Logan was still blurred to her trembling eyes.
“Not like ya didn’t deserve it,” he snarled under his breath.
“I know, I know.” She winced when the pad of his thumb traced the bruise she could feel forming. “How much did you hear?”
“Baby, even the cops were makin’ popcorn by the fourth sentence. Everybody heard.”
“Lovely.”
“Yer gonna live.” Her lover said as he mopped up blood with his shirtsleeve. “An’ Hank’s bailed us out.”
“Uh-oh, incoming lecture.”
Logan’s eyes were hard when they met hers. “Yeah, an’ when he’s done, you an’ are gonna have a nice long chat.”
Ororo immediately wished she hadn’t picked that fight with Jean. It was going to be a long day.
~**~
They were only allowed back into the boathouse after Henry verbally reamed all four of them. Jean unrepentantly had not even used the “But I wasn’t even driving” defense. She instead took the chiding with her little quivering chin before Scott ushered her upstairs.
Apparently, it was a new standing order that Jean and Ororo were not allowed in the same room together. Logan had asked Hank to ensure Storm was not concussed by Jean’s mean right hook. After the neurological tests pronounced her as bruised, but otherwise fine, Logan dragged Ororo toward the boathouse.
Exhausted, she moved toward the bedroom to change out of the clothing she’d worn out the previous evening.
Before Logan could even begin his tirade, she held up a hand. “Yell at me while I at least change into something comfortable and brush my teeth.”
With that, she marched up the staircase, leaving him in the foyer. As an afterthought, she tossed another warning over her shoulder.
“If you so much as think about defending Jean in any way that does not boil down to the fact that I could kick her ass without breaking a sweat, you can go sleep in her bed tonight.”
“Now, hold the fuck on.”
Ignoring him, Ororo swept into her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind her. Though she loved her silver vinyl pants and matching, backless halter, it was far too uncomfortable after nearly twenty hours. She had worn the outfit for Logan to tear back off. That, of course, had not worked out exactly as planned.
“Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, baby,” her lover said as he trooped into the room.
Naked, she turned to him with her hands on her hips. “I am not proud of my fight with Jean, but I was not going to allow her to continue walking all over me.”
“No one walks all over ya, darlin’.” He sighed as he dropped her clothing into the hamper.
While he undressed, she pulled a pair of sweats and t-shirts out for each of them.
“I will say that, yeah, if it came down ta it, ya’d probably beat Jean black an’ blue,” his voice was muffled as he pulled a clean shirt on. “But that ain’t the point.”
“Well?” She demanded, shimmying into her black sweats with an X-Men logo on the hip. “What is the point?”
“The point is,” Logan’s back was to her as he spoke. “Ya gotta stop thinkin’ yer in competition with Jean. This ain’t a game, ‘Ro.”
Unable to help herself, Ororo began to laugh as she slipped her shirt on. “Are you, who competed for years with Scott over Jean, telling me to behave myself?”
“Watch it, Storm,” he said coldly, not turning to her. “Am I yer enemy? Do I deserve that?”
Having her own words thrown back at her brought Ororo up short. On a sigh, she moved to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling her legs up under her backside. “I’m sorry.”
Logan nodded, grunted, and faced her. “Baby, I love you, not Jeannie. There ain’t anythin’ ta fight over.”
“I know that,” she said with a small smile. “Something about her is getting under my skin lately. She has every right to be angry over my…indiscretion with Scott.”
“Yeah, but she ain’t an angel,” Logan replied, coming to sit beside her on the bed. “We scared her last night, I get that. But whatever’s brewin’ between ya is just mean.”
Ororo pouted slightly. “I would have never put her life in danger.”
Her lover was silent for a moment as he lay back on the bed. One of his impossibly strong hands reached up to rub her back soothingly.
“That hurt ya, didn’t it?”
Unable to lie, she nodded slowly. “I thought I had earned more of her trust than that.”
“She don’t like things fast, ain’t a secret.”
Shrugging, Ororo turned to look at his face. “Back when I first came here, to the mansion, Jean and I were the only female students.”
“Uh-huh, I know,” he nodded slightly. His free arm curled behind his head so he could see her properly.
“Well, Jean and I are both…stubborn…”
“Mules, both of ya.”
Ororo glared at him. He grinned. She rolled her eyes and continued while picking at a hole in his sweatpants.
“It became something like a game, between us. Who had the most Valentines, who got the most Christmas presents, but there was always a bond between us underneath all of that. When she and Scott fell in love, I was left out. Shuffled to the side with everyone else.”
Empathy flooded the dark eyes she knew better than her own.
“Since then, we have always competed on some level. It’s a long, mostly loving tug of war. But after everything with Magneto years ago and our friendship.” She gestured between them. “Jean pulled further and further away from me.”
“An’ now ya’re both ready to start pullin’ hair at the drop of a hat.”
Sadness came over Ororo’s face, clouding the previously bright winter morning. “Yes.”
“Come here, baby.”
When Logan opened his arms to her, she immediately snuggled into his chest, enjoying the feel of him against her. No matter what happened in her life, she always felt safe in his embrace. All he had to do was hold her and the troubles suddenly seemed very small.
“Just give it time, darlin’,” Logan whispered as he kissed her hair. “We’re all a little high strung.”
Wrapping her arm over his waist and tossing her leg over his thigh, Ororo nodded. “Just a bit.”
“Think of it this way,” he murmured. “At least we’re on speakin’ terms with Scooter.”
Ororo chuckled, leaning her head up to look at him. “When are you meeting to work on the bikes?”
“Coupla hours,” he grinned, obviously knowing she had discovered the change between the two men already. “Ya mind?”
“Me? Of course not,” she leaned up to kiss him quickly. “Go get all sweaty and greased up while drinking beer and talking about crazy women.”
Logan shifted, grabbing her by the hips and hauling her to straddle his thighs. She cocked a brow, bracing her hands on his chest to look down at him.
“Well, I was hopin’ I could relax ya before I go.”
At his mischievous smirk, Ororo shifted against him. “Oh? What did you want?”
“While yer up there,” he nearly growled. “I mostly want ya ta wriggle.”
Ororo grinned, flattening her body against his. She could feel the hard, heavy length of him against her belly. Just the vague idea of having her Wolverine naked and sweating was enough to make lust stab at her center.
Logan’s hands rocked her hips by force, making her rub along the arousal against her abdomen. She grinned, swooping down to capture his lips. He responded eagerly, his hands falling to her backside. Ororo parted her lips, allowing him to sweep his tongue inside hers.
She pulled his shirt off without pause, taking her lips from his only long enough to yank the material over his head. He copied her movement, tossing her shirt over the edge of the bed. Her lover sat up quickly, making her almost stand on the bedspread so she could remove her sweatpants.
Logan’s joined hers on the floor before she straddled him, this time with bare skin touching all over.
“Tell me,” she whispered before he could kiss her again. “Why did we get dressed only to undress again?”
“Yer askin’ me?” he teased while licking her bottom lip. “I had it my way, we’d never have clothes on.”
Ororo giggled softly, scraping her nails over his flat nipples. Logan groaned, his hands flexing on her bare thighs. She took a moment to let her eyes wander hungrily. With his sculpted muscle and thick hair over almost every inch of his body, he was truly the most delicious male she’d ever seen. He could easily tempt a virgin into sin with only a look.
“Like whatcha see?” His husky voice made her shiver.
“More than you know.” Ororo brought her hands toward her, dragging them lazily over his skin.
The flex of his muscles beneath her fingers brought her a thrill of feminine power. All thoughts of Scott, Jean, racing, and jail time were gone in an instant. She knew only passion, only the want of this man inside her. When they were joined, everything made perfect sense.
Ororo beckoned him closer with one crooked finger. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her. She brought his face up to kiss him, placing both hands on either side of his face. His kiss was heady, demanding, filled with primal lust and tender love. It made her want to dive inside of him.
Instead, Logan lifted her, bringing her already aching center down on his hard length. They sighed in unison, Ororo’s body claming down on him, trying to get him deeper. Neither of them moved, content to merely remain motionless for a few moments. She wanted to revel in this simple act, where nothing could touch them.
Logan, however, only had so much patience.
She did not notice they were moving until Logan had her on her back. She gasped when he thrust his hips sharply, burying himself more fully inside her. Ororo’s knees fell open, inviting him to take until he’d had his fill.
“I love you,” he grunted against her lips.
Ororo smiled softly, tracing the lines of his mouth tenderly. “Love you more.”
In answer, her lover rocked his hips, harder this time. Tenderness was gone in an instant. Ororo claimed his mouth violently, causing his entire body to tense. In seconds, he was pounding inside of her until she thought she would break.
Winds outside howled, the room’s internal temperature jumping several degrees. Logan fisted his hands on the edge of their bed, over her head. She gripped his suddenly sweaty shoulders, trying to find a decent hold on him.
He drove her harder, knowing instinctively how much she could take. Fire swept through her body, igniting every nerve ending as it went. She was smoldering, dying for more of what Logan could give her. He was swearing against her mouth, the words lost in throaty groans and heated kisses.
She heard his claws unsheathe and that only added kindling to the fire. Wrapping her legs around Logan’s waist, she squeezed him inside her. He groaned something that might have been her name, arching his back as the thrust of his hips found a faster rhythm.
The bed was moving along the floor, scraping the hardwood loudly. Ororo held on for dear life, begging her lover in a whisper for more. He obliged eagerly, pulling back only to slam home again and again.
She felt the tension coiling inside her as Logan trembled in her arms. Careful to not disrupt him, she reached between their bodies to manipulate her swollen clit. Logan’s dark eyes glinted with lust when he looked down her body.
“That’s fuckin’ hot,” he growled, watching her touch herself.
“Logan…”
“Jesus, ‘Ro.” He grunted, shifting his hips so he hit that perfect spot inside of her with every thrust.
Everything inside her seized a moment later. Arching her back into Logan’s hard body, his rhythm driving her higher, she climaxed in a flash of white light and a muttered curse. Somewhere in the other side of reality, she heard Logan call her name as his body stiffened.
They collapsed on the bed in a tangled mess of limbs and ragged breathing. Ororo curled into his side instantly, wanting to stay as close as she could. He kissed her hair, wrapping her in the sanctuary of his arms.
She was asleep in seconds. Upon waking later that afternoon, she found Logan gone. A note, however, was pinned to the pillow.
You shouldn’t fight over me. No one holds a candle to you, darlin’. Remember that. I’m in the garage, I’ll bring home dinner. Don’t you dare get dressed. I love you, Logan.
