I can feel my heart racing
As I run towards the light
that seems so far away
Wondering forever
In the darkest of shadows
Wondering if I will ever see you again ~”Walking Dead”
From his position in the shadows by her door he watched her tossing crumpled clothing into a black bag with jerky, angry movements. The amber light of her bedside lamp cast her features in craggy shadows. Her mouth was compressed into a thin line and her brows were cut in deep furrows, but beneath her pissed off exterior she was fighting against sadness--they all were.
It was well past midnight, and apparently she was finding sleep as elusive as he was. He wasn’t altogether surprised to find her still awake, had in fact, counted on it. Of all the people he was going to miss from Xavier’s chances were it’d be her absence that would bother him most. Logan cleared his throat, crossing the threshold. “Hey.”
Ororo looked up from her packing. She cast his clothing and duffle a perfunctory glance. “Ready to go, I see.”
He nodded once, jostling the duffle as he spoke. “I pack light. I’m used to moving quick.”
“Yeah…” she tossed the jeans in her hand onto the bed with a deflated flop. She stared down at the bare mattress. “I can’t believe it’s over.”
Logan, still troubled from the team’s recent run in with the futuristic man calling himself Cable, also felt a sense of surrealism about the entire situation. A manufactured, genetic clone of himself was directly responsible for the death of Charles Xavier and the resulting disbandment of the X-Men. It was not an easy pill for him to swallow.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his own eyes resting on the floor for a moment. “Without Chuck, there ain’t much sense in keeping the school open.”
Ororo snorted disdainfully. She had been one of the more vocal protestors of Scott’s decision to break up the X-Men and send them all on their merry ways. “Of course there is a reason to keep this place open. If not as a school, at the very least as a refuge for other mutants.”
Logan gave her a look but wisely chose to refrain from comment. The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable with the weight of things left unsaid. Without immediate words on the tip of his tongue, Logan shifted his bulky weight, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Well, I guess this is so long.”
Ororo nodded, her face averted. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, the forlorn note in her voice beating against the barrier Logan had carefully erected around himself after years of trauma and violence.
Well, shit. He settled his bag on the floor and crossed the room. Without a word he pulled her into his arms, hugging her against him.
Ororo wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Whatever you do, don’t cry,” he told her gruffly. “I hate it when a woman cries.”
Ororo laughed softly, doing her level best to keep her tears in check. “You always try and act like such a tough guy.”
“That’s because I am a tough guy. You’re the only one that doesn’t seem to think so.”
“You’re a teddy bear,” she countered.
“Take that back.”
“A big, soft, plushy--”
“I’m warning you.”
“Teddy bear.”
Logan leaned back, looking at her. “Ya think so, do ya?”
Something flickered in her chocolate eyes. “Something like that.”
He framed her face with his hands, his lips a breath away from hers. He shouldn’t, he knew. They had only ever shared one kiss before and that one still haunted him, clinging to his memory like a seductive vine.
Ororo took the decision out of his hands; leaning forward she closed the distance between them. Her lips were as soft and welcoming as he remembered. What should have been a chaste goodbye kiss deepened, lingered, took on the hint of passion that always lay between them. Logan took a deep breath, laying his brow against hers. “I should go.”
She remained silent, her fingers working the fabric covering his arms reflexively.
“Tell me to go,” he urged her.
“What if…what if I don’t want you to go…”
Her breath feathered his damp lips, causing him to lean forward once more. His hands tunneled into her short hair, enjoying the cool softness of it. “I always knew you would be trouble.”
“You’re calling me trouble?” Ororo cocked a brow. His slight quirk of lips caused her to trace his weathered features, her fingers lingering over his lips. He nipped at her, his eyes darkening to obsidian. Her breath caught in her throat. He had never looked at her like he was looking at her now, and it was a look she could easily drown in.
Logan pushed her gently back onto the bed, following her down to kneel over her. Within moments he had divested them of their clothing, soft sighs and the rustle of fabric the only sounds in the dimly lit room. His big hands massaged her claves, moved up her smooth legs slowly. Logan leaned forward to press soft, damp kisses to her ribs, the undersides of her breasts, and to their taut peaks. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her silky skin on his tongue. He knew that this night was goodbye, that this was all he had to give her--all he had to take with him and he intended to make it memorable.
Ororo melted. There was no other word to describe the languid way her body molded to Logan’s or the heat swirling through her. She reached up, her fingers following the thick cords of his muscles, hoping to memorize every inch of him.
With her curvaceous body laid out before him like an open banquet Logan took his time, sampling all of the delectable treats her luscious form had to offer. He suckled her breasts, teasing and biting, purposefully painful and deliberately pleasurable. He relished every gasp, every soft sigh that escaped her, every restless movement of her body against his.
Ororo basked in Logan’s tender attentions, nearly unbelieving at how gentle and patient he was with her. She gripped his arms tighter as he made his way down the length of her body. She could feel her passion rising, spiraling, building…
Logan caressed her slick skin, dipping his fingers, pushing her, teasing her, making her moan. He wanted more. He wanted to hear his name from her lips on a broken crescendo as he took her to places she had never been. He bent his head, swirling his tongue. He caressed, stroked and cajoled her with his lips. He was rewarded by her sob of pleasure and her hip rising off of the mattress as her stomach contracted.
Logan took a firm grip on her backside, holding her to him, drinking his fill. Her hips thrashed and bucked under his expert skill, sending the blood pulsing to his brain, creating a hazy film over his eyes. He knelt between her legs, his eyes glittering with raw need and more than a hint of possession. He pushed himself into her slowly, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensation. There was no turning back now, he knew, but still he paused, searching her face for any signs of regret. Finding none, he began to move. Slowly, achingly slowly, he rocked into her.
She surrounded him, her body tight, pulling him deep, and all the while she gazed up at him with her dark chocolate eyes. He shifted his angle, ensuring the most pleasure for her and he saw those deep eyes widen. He wanted to hold this moment forever, but knew it was a foolish wish. Watching her face he increased his tempo, felt her body clench. She gave a soft cry, a bastardized version of his name as she found release. Logan pulled her close, following her over the edge into bliss, clinging for as long as he could to that blinding moment.
Logan sat fully clothed on the edge of the bed, watching her rest. She really was very young, he thought. Not a single imperfection on her face. A face that was at once seductive and innocent. He truly would miss her, but he knew in his heart of hearts he was not the man for her. She at one time had foolishly thought so, but he had told her that he didn’t share her feelings. It had been a lie, and they both knew it, but she had granted him reprieve, settling back into the role of his friend, never pushing the issue.
Selfishly he wanted to let her love him. After all, she saw him as the type of man he wanted to be, a man with honor, with worth--but that wasn’t who he was. He had killed hundreds, maybe even thousands, without a shred of remorse. Demons from his past sat n his shoulder and hunted him every day--every second of every day--and that was no life for any woman.
Even as he thought it, he knew that when he walked away no one would get to him like she had. He leaned close to her, kissed her forehead. “You’re better off without me, darlin’.”
Ororo’s eyes fluttered, opening slowly. She regarded him openly, not shying away from his dark gaze. She sat up slowly, mussing her silky hair with one hand. “Have I been asleep long?”
“Not long.” He stood. “Time for me to hit the road.”
Ororo nodded, trying to smile past the ache in her heart. “How will we find one another?”
Logan’s jaw tightened. “We don’t. This can’t go anywhere. You knew that goin’ in.”
“But I thought--”
“Thought what? That one tumble would change everything? You know the life I’m goin’ back to, ‘Ro. You’d be a liability. I don’t want that hassle and you don’t deserve it.”
Ororo bit back her tears. “Yeah.” She searched his face, apparently not finding what she was looking for she offered him her hand. “Good luck with your life, Logan.”
He didn’t take her outstretched hand, knew if he touched her he wouldn’t let go. He nodded his head once and turned away, nearly running for the door. He never looked back.
Ororo watched him ride away from her bedroom window. Numbly she showered, dressed and then sat on her bed, holding the signature “X” badge from her uniform, twirling it between her fingers without purpose.
She stayed in the spot she and Logan had shared, thinking, until Scott knocked on the door.
“Your taxi is here, Ororo.”
She stood up, set the badge on the bare nightstand and walked out the door. She had a life to live and wasting her time contemplating what could have been was not her thing. She truly wished Logan nothing but the best of luck in his life, and she would go on with hers with no regrets.
