Logan gave his reflection a disgusted sneer. Clad in a pair of Hank’s striped flannel pajamas, complete with fuzzy slippers and nightcap, Logan knew it was official-- he was insane. How in the world had he got suckered into this shit? Oh, yeah, Fur-Ball told him Ororo would be heartbroken.
“Knock, knock. You ready---Oh, my stars and garters.”
Logan cast a narrow look over his shoulder. “Not a fuckin’ word.”
Hank threw up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it, friend.”
Logan‘s eyes narrowed further. “Funny thing, Fur-Ball, you sound fine.”
“Do I?” He shrugged. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
Logan nudged him with his elbow as he passed. “Oh, you’re definitely gonna be sorry.”
Hank smiled at Logan’s back. “You can thank me later.”
The downstairs den was alive with Christmas cheer. Lights twinkled, voices laughed, scents of the season wafted throughout the great mansion. Ororo walked through the throng of students and staff, smiling. The games had been a rousing success and fun for everyone. Bobby had of course won the snowman build-off, but had declined the trophy, instead passing it off to one of the younger children.
Dinner had been delicious and the company warm. She had even spotted Logan smiling from time to time. She had also caught him staring at her more than once. Never did he look away, simply lifted his beer in salute and winked at her. In good spirits, she had done the same with her wine.
They had suffered a great many losses this past year, but, now, as she watched the children scrambling for position on the carpet in front of the hearth, Ororo felt a swelling of thankfulness for everything they still had.
“Quite the crowd tonight.”
Ororo spun around. “Henry? Why aren’t you in costume? It’s almost time for the story--”
“Relax, Ororo. I have it covered.”
“What do you mean covered?”
Her friend simply smiled. “Just trust me. You should probably take your position,” he urged. When she didn’t budge he gently nudged her with his palm. “Go on. It’ll be fine. Promise.”
Ororo gave him a warning look before she dutifully shuffled forward, swirling her cloak around her shoulders as she went. She pressed the collar, lighting the fur trim. “Good evening boys and girls!” she called with a bright smile. “Is everyone ready for tonight’s story?”
“Yes!!” shouts and cheers replied.
“Wonderful!” Ororo glanced towards the hall entry where Hank normally bounded in from. The doorway was empty. She looked back towards Henry, who simply nodded, motioning for her to continue. “Well, then, I suppose we should get started. But first…we need something…Now,” she murmured thoughtfully. “What do we need?”
Many of the students knew the routine well. “A fire!”
“A roaring fire! What a splendid idea!” The children squealed in delight as with a wave of her hand sparks flew into the fireplace, igniting the logs there. “And now…” she glanced at the doorway again. Still empty. “For the…uhm…”
“Story.”
Ororo whirled. “Logan?” she whispered.
Sauntering into the room was a sight no one ever expected to see: The Wolverine in jammies, carrying a large book in one hand and a cup of cocoa in the other.
As if it were an every day occurrence Logan sat in the decorated wingback, placed his cocoa on the side table, tossed the bobbing nightcap ball over his shoulder and opened the storybook.
Eyes wide, mouths open, the children simply stared…waiting…
Logan cleared his throat. “So, anyone of you rugrats know how this thing’s supposed to go?”
Henry grimaced. “Oh, no.”
Ororo opened her mouth, but closed it when she saw Logan shoot her a look from the corner of his eye. “Anyone?”
A tentative hand went up.
“You.” Logan pointed to the slim young boy.
“Uhm…It starts with ‘Twas the night before Christmas.”
Logan nodded, skimming the text. “So it does.” He sat back in the chair and began reading, his gruff voice sounding oddly endearing. During the course of the story he pretended to get stumped so that the children had to prompt him. As the story progressed the students became more animated, laughing as Logan called off the wrong names to the reindeer.
“Now Dasher, now Dancer, Spaghetti and Chicken--”
“Nooooo!” laughter echoed across the room.
“No?”
“Prancer and Vixen!”
“Oh.” Logan nodded. A few minutes later, he demanded, “Where the heck is Rudolph in this story?”
From her seat Ororo watched Logan engage the children and something inside of her shifted, melted, turned into a puddle of goo.
From the back of the room Henry watched his friend’s face as she watched Logan. Seeing her in that unguarded moment, he knew that what he was about to do next was the right decision. He tapped Jubilee on the shoulder.
She turned, winked and whispered, “Operation mistletoe is a go.”
From across the room Marie gave the thumbs up, as did Bobby and Peter.
Hank grinned. The two of them didn’t stand a chance.
A few hours later…
Ororo placed Xavier’s carefully folded velvet blanket and book in a plastic bag, stacking it, along with some other items from the evening’s events. As she tidied up the storage area she admired the simple beauty of the snow topped Institute outside the boathouse basement window. In the morning the mansion would be a mass of chaos with toys, paper, ribbons and bows tossed about, but for now it was peaceful and lovely.
“I’m damn glad this day is almost over.” Logan grunted, lowering the bundle of hooks, flags and ties from the games in his arms to the chair behind the door. He had long since changed from his story-time costume back into his faded denim, dark blue flannel and leather jacket.
“I can imagine.” Ororo smiled. “You took quite a hit to your fierce and forbidden reputation tonight.”
“I’m sure I’ll scare the shit outta the brats again soon.”
“Oh, absolutely,” she laughed. He liked her laugh. “It’s practically a guarantee.” She placed the last of the tools and flags on the floor.
They spent several minutes stacking boxes in near silence.
“Spend two days taking shit out of storage only to be draggin’ it all back in.” Logan wiped his hand across his brow. “Seems like some form of seasonal ocd.”
Ororo grinned. “You get used to it.”
“If you say so.”
“Thank you, though, Logan. Really.” She placed her hand on his arm. “What you did tonight…you were wonderful. I don’t have words, except, well, thanks.” She leaned up and brushed her lips across his cheek.
“’Ro…”
She stepped back, heading towards the stairs. She shouldn’t have kissed him again, not feeling as soft towards him as she did now. She needed time to build up her barriers. She lifted the hood of her cloak to conceal her face. “I need to go.”
At the door she stilled and turned her head to look at him. The movement was artlessly graceful and elegant. So very Ororo. “It’s good to have you home for the holidays, Logan.”
She grasped the handle.
He reached around her, placing his hand over hers. “I can hear your heartbeat, ‘Ro. Why are you so nervous?”
Ororo closed her eyes. “Logan…I…need to go.”
He removed his hand. Yes, she needed to go. Before he did something stupid. He followed her from the stairwell into the main area of the small boathouse. In the summer the four larger boathouses were used fro guests, potential new recruits and students, while the smaller ones, like the one they were in now, were mainly storage.
The upstairs, dark when they had entered was now illuminated in soft candlelight and multicolored Christmas lights. Ororo shot him a quick look.
“Ya got me,” he held up his hands. He sniffed. “I smell bubblicious and sweet pea shampoo.”
“Jubilee.”
Logan gave the room a once over. “She wasn’t alone.”
Ororo scrunched her face. “Marie.”
“Yup.”
Ororo rolled her eyes heavenward and wanted to bang the two girls heads together. Tied to each and every rafter were bundles of mistletoe. “Those two--” she yanked open the front door and stopped dead. “I don’t believe this.”
Logan peered over her shoulder. A wall of three foot thick ice blocked the exit.
“What in the world could they have been thinking?” Ororo demanded out loud.
“I think this might explain it.” Logan held up a small square. “We’ve been officially relieved of duty.”
Written in Henry’s neat scrawl was the message: Thought you two could use a break from the festivities. See you in the morning. Food and beverages in the fridge.
She glanced over at her companion. “Logan, what are you doing?”
He shrugged out of his jacket. “Making myself comfortable. Apparently we’re gonna be here for awhile.”
“I don’t believe this.” She shoved against the thick ice wall.
“Don’t think you’re gonna budge it,” he commented.
“Damn it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “My company that unpleasant?”
Just the opposite. “It’s not that. I don’t like enclosed spaces.”
Logan recalled Xavier mentioning that to him once before. He moved forward, reached around her and closed the door. “Try not to think about it.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Besides, isn’t there some sort of tradition to be upholding right now?”
She had no time to think, much less respond before his arms closed around her, dragging her to him. He was at once hard, possessive, male. His mouth took hers with the same demanding urgency. Hot and hungry, he devoured her lips. Her body melted against his, arms sliding around his neck, anchoring herself. Her fingers brushed his nape, sinking into his hair as she met his tongue with her own.
Without conscious thought Logan pressed his hands to her sides, sliding them beneath the fabric of her blouse, moving up to cup the soft weight of her breasts in his palms. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight and he groaned. Soft little answering moans escaped from her lips, pushing him right to the edge of his self restraint.
In the soft light of the room her skin was luminous, flawless, inviting. Her breasts were full in his hands, her nipples taut peaks. “Maybe you should be stopping me now,” he suggested, thumbs brushing her tender flesh.
“I don’t think I can,” she murmured against his lips. “I don’t think I want to.”
He didn’t wait for her to change her mind. “You’re wearing too many damn clothes,” he swore, dragging his mouth from hers only long enough to tug her shirt free. He stared down at her exposed chest, growing harder at the sight of white lace cupping caramel skin.
“So. Are. You.” She punctuated between kisses.
Quickly they divested each other of their remaining clothes. Logan spread her cloak across the floor before gently lowering her onto it. Logan leaned back, running one hand over her calf, watching her with hooded, unreadable eyes. In the flickering candlelight Ororo lay, gloriously naked, her beautiful body sprawled before him like his very own Christmas present. And that’s what she was. A gift. His gift.
“Logan,” she smiled, tentatively.
Her hesitant smile tugged at something deep inside of him. To the rest of the world Ororo Munroe was flawless, perfect, out of reach and yet with him she was vulnerable. And fragile. It made him ache in ways he hadn’t ached before.
Ororo inhaled a sharp breath, Logan’s heated gaze making her body feel heavy and hot. She drank in the sight of him crouched above her, his body tense with desire. He had strong, muscular arms, broad, expansive shoulders, tight flat abs. Her eyes drifted lower. An amazing erection could be added to that list. She lifted her gaze to his, noticing the smoky hint to his eyes. “I want to touch you,” she told him.
Without a word he stretched out beside her, giving her free reign. Ororo rolled onto her side, her snow colored hair falling into her eyes. Logan brushed the strands back with his knuckles. She sighed, inhaling against his skin. She bent closer, her mouth trailing languidly across his neck. “You smell nice,” she murmured.
Logan closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her supple lips against his heated skin. His hands wandered of their own volition, stroking along the smooth curve of her back. She had the softest skin he had ever touched. He groaned faintly when her teeth nipped at his jugular.
“Mmmm,” Ororo sighed, leaning into his caress. “You have wonderful hands.”
“I’ve always hated my hands,” he confessed, unexpectedly. “Rough and big and made for killing.”
“Maybe you’re just not using them right,” she whispered, bringing the pad of his thumb to her lips and biting gently. He stiffened. She smiled, drawing his index finger into the soft cavern of her mouth. “Your hands are capable of many things, Logan.”
He caught her wrist, shackling her. “Be sure about this, ‘Ro.” His eyes were dark, glittering in the dim lights.
“Logan.” She gently disentangled her arm. “I know almost exactly what I’m doing.”
“Almost?”
“Almost.”
“Good enough for me.” He pulled her down, searching her eyes before claiming her mouth once more. He slid is hand down her body, stroking the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. He felt her shiver and took that response as his cue to press forward. He stroked his fingers along her damp seam. She pushed back against his hand, a soft moan that sounded like his name escaping her parted lips. He bent his head, suckling her breast, pulling the tip deep into his mouth.
Ororo’s knees bent up, allowing Logan greater access to her secrets, an action that he took full advantage of, rolling so that he was resting between her legs. He flicked his fingers faster and she bucked up against his hand. She cried out when he sunk two digits deep. “Logan!”
“That‘s it, darlin’. Come for me. God, you’re so damn beautiful.”
Ororo opened her eyes, grasping his face between her hands. “I want you inside of me, Logan. Deep inside of me.”
Jesus Christ! He shifted position, his erection at her center. She nodded. He thrust home, strong and sure. She was velvet soft and tight. She arched her hips to meet his. “Fuck, darlin’, you feel so goddamn good,” he panted. He thrust harder.
“You…too…” her words came out in hard breathes. “So good.”
“’Ro.” Her name was a husky, almost growl-like sound, escaping from his too tight throat. He slowed his pace, moving with exquisite slowness. He leaned his head back, watching her face as she took him in. He could see genuine rapture on her face and the sight was quite possibly one of the most beautiful he had ever seen, and one that would forever be etched in his mind. He framed her face with his big hands and kissed her. “I want more.”
Ororo tilted her head back. “More?” she was unsure of what he meant.
“Than one night,” he growled, shifting his hips so that he rubbed her most sensitive area.
Ororo gasped, both from pleasure and shock. “I don’t know if I can give you more than this, Logan.”
“You can.” He stroked his hand over her sweat dampened hair. “You just have to trust me.” He thrust and snapped his hips at the same time.
Ororo closed her eyes, fingers scoring his shoulders. “Oh!”
“Trust me,” he encouraged.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, body aching, approaching orgasm.
“Yeah, you do,” he told her, anchoring her hips with his hands, pushing deeper. “You’ve always known.”
“Please, Logan, I can’t think…” She scrambled for rational thought as her inner walls tightened. She grit her teeth against the pleasure.
Seeing her like that heightened Logan’s own pleasure and he felt himself swell inside of her. He kissed her chin, nipped it. “You know why I came back,” he rasped.
Ororo shook her head. She was so close…
Logan slid almost completely out of her. “For you,” he whispered before surging home. “I came back for you.”
Ororo splintered beneath his physical and emotional onslaught. Her hands clamored across his back, pulling him down to her as she screamed her release into the night. He caught her close to his chest, pumping out his own release, calling her name on a ragged breath. When the room stopped spinning he would let go of her, he told himself, but for now he lay, spent, panting into her ear.
They lay on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, fighting for breath. She turned her head to look at him. “Did you really come back for me?”
Logan brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “At first I didn’t know why I came back,” he admitted. “I had a life before the X-Men, and I could have easily gone back to that, but I didn’t.”
Ororo waited patiently.
Logan shifted, raising himself up on one elbow. “I dressed up in old man pajamas just so you wouldn’t be unhappy.”
“That was very kind of you, the children--”
“Fuck, ‘Ro, I didn’t do it to be kind or for the damn kids. I did it because the very thought of you unhappy kills me. It tears me up. The thought of leaving and never seeing you again--it hurts.” He hated to admit that, but he knew if he wasn’t honest now he may not get the chance again. “I woke up this morning and you were the first thing on my mind, and the last thing I thought about last night.”
“Really?” She couldn’t help the hopeful flare she felt.
“Yes, really.” He touched her lips with his. “I’ve never had a Christmas present that I can remember, ‘Ro, and all I want for Christmas is you.”
Ororo swallowed the lump in her throat. She pulled him closer, meshing her lips to his. “Merry Christmas, Logan.”
Henry watched for Ororo and Logan from the porch. He had sent Peter to knock down Bobby’s ice wall and was now waiting for the results of Operation Mistletoe. He spotted Ororo first. She was walking up the walkway. Alone.
Hank sighed. What was the old expression? You could lead a horse to water…
Logan suddenly bounded from a snow drift, catching Ororo up in his arms. Over her head he held a ball of familiar berries.
Henry grinned, satisfied. To hell with old adages.
“So, how’d we do?” Jubilee asked, stepping onto the porch, jamming the earphones of her new MP3 player into her ears.
“See for yourself.” Hank gestured to the kissing couple.
“Sweet.” Jubilee grinned. “She was in serious need of sex.”
“Jubilee!” Henry admonished.
“What? Like you weren’t thinking that exact same thing.”
“What I was thinking, dear tone-deaf child, is that ’tis the season for new beginnings.”
“If you say so,” she bounced down the steps.
“I do,” he murmured. “I do say so, indeed.”
