Overcaught in the eye of the storm
And whenever you smile
I can hardly believe that you're mine
It was, all things considered, very relaxing being around Logan. Despite the potentially disastrous circumstances of their reunion, Ororo was grateful to be where she was. In New York, at the Institute, Logan’s cocky demeanor had irritated her to no end, but for the past two weeks she’d come to find solace in his self-certainty, comfort in his mammoth ego.
She hugged her elbows to her, watching the object of her musing mow the lawn. What an utterly normal thing for him to do, she thought. Why that amused, and admittedly surprised her, she had no idea. Why wouldn’t Logan do normal things such as yard work? Because he seemed too wild to participate in the every day mundane activities that average people did, she answered herself. Out here, in the wilderness, more and more she realized how very untamed Logan truly was. He exuded primal; “me man, you woman”, and despite being a staunchly strong, independent woman, she found herself turning into a pile of goo on his front porch, staring at the pseudo cave-man mowing the grass.
Ororo shook her head, a wry smile gracing her lips. Fluttering and confusing emotions aside, she had to admit there were certain perks to watching him as he did manual labor. Well-built and highly developed muscles gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat. Skin, the color of polished bronze glimmered beneath the waning afternoon sunlight. Broad pectorals covered by a sweat dampened thatch of black hair caught and held her attention as he maneuvered the push mower around a sapling. Good Lord above, the man was positively sex in skin.
As if alerted to her presence by that wayward thought, Logan lifted his dark head in her direction. His immediate smile at the sight of her was both sweet and deliciously wicked.
“Hey,” she called, stepping forward, her bare feet silent on the planks. I brought you a beer.” She elevated the bottle from the rail and held it aloft, knowing he couldn’t hear her over the rumble of the mower.
Logan cut the engine. “Thanks, darlin’.” He strode up onto the walk around porch, wiping the back of one hand across his brow. He took the beer appreciatively. “Sweatin’ like a pig,” he stated with a grin. He enjoyed manual labor and it showed. Logan truly got pleasure from working with his hands and feeling like he’d accomplished something. Mowing was nowhere near the triumph of building his own cabin, but he still enjoyed it. He had already informed her that once the lawn was satisfactory he would start her a garden if she wanted. Ororo, having never been much of a plant person growing up on the streets, was intrigued by the idea and had agreed.
“Pigs don’t sweat,” Ororo informed him idly, snapping the tab of her Sprite.
He chuckled. “Hnh. Well, I do.”
She gave him a once over, again engrossed by the play of muscle beneath sweat. “You certainly do.”
Logan paused mid-drink, the slightly husky timbre of her voice catching his full attention. He set the beer back onto the rail. “I could go for a shower.” One broad palm lowered to rest on her hip, dragging her closer. “Join me.” It wasn’t a question. He bent his head, nuzzling her throat.
A low, droning rumble of thunder heralded the warm spray called down upon them by its mistress. Logan tilted his face to the sky, savoring the cool droplets against his sweat slicked skin. “Nice.” He pressed closer. She melted against him and he groaned. “You’re pretty dress is about to get all muddy,” was the only warning he gave her before swinging her into his arms and hauling her onto the freshly mowed front lawn.
“Not to mention covered in grass clippings,” she laughed up at him. Her next words were lost on the breeze when he touched her. His hands moved over her with a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness, molding her breasts beneath his palms, cupping her hips to his as his mouth licked hungrily across her neck and shoulder. Just his touch left her speechless.
He rolled her so that she straddled him, not crushed by his weight. One large hand settled over the swell of her stomach and the smile that lit his face brought a sting of tears to her eyes. She quickly blinked them away. She shook her hair free of its elastic confine, the sodden, grass tangled strands sticking to her face.
“My God, ‘Ro, you’re so beautiful.” His voice was graveled, rasping and full of want.
She smiled, a slow, sultry smile that promised all sorts of immoral delights. Bending forward she licked rain droplets from his whiskers. He tasted of sweat and sun, and raw male. It was an invigorating combination that made her heart accelerate double time.
They didn’t bother with many formalities. Ororo gently bit his lips, rearing up so that her hand could fumble with the button, then the zipper of his faded jeans. She tugged the seam of his boxers open, releasing him into her waiting grip. He groaned low in his throat, the sound music to Ororo’s ears.
Logan, for his part, was busy hefting the hem of her dress to her waist and moving her panties to one side, granting him access to her already slick heat. His thick fingers stroked her folds with practiced skill, causing her to shiver. He knew just the right ways to caress her.
Their lips met in a kiss that scorched the earth and then he was inside, filling her and she was taking him. It was poetic, their joining, in ways that Logan had not ever in his vast life experienced. Eyes, so alive with warmth and soul, sparkled down at him and he was lost. Lost in her.
He framed her face between his broad palms as she began to move over him, holding her. “Ororo,” he growled.
Her name. No flowery words, no sweet nothings. Just her name. Said in a voice that held more than a bit of reverence and awe, by the man she had loved since the day she had laid eyes on him. It was the most beautiful thing Ororo had ever heard.
Logan’s hands traced the delicate line of her jaw, trailed the graceful curve of her shoulder, before tightening on her hips to guide her, setting a slow, steady pace. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “So, good.” He watched her atop him with passion heavy eyes.
Ororo was simply devastating to his senses in her pleasure. Full, swollen lips parted, her breaths heavy as she approached release, eyes frosted white, hair slicked back, revealing the long column of her throat and her scent--God, her wonderful scent--mixing with the grass and the rain, surrounding him.
“Oh… oh, yes, I’m close,” she moaned. Thunder confirmed her proclamation.
With a twist of his lips, one that revealed his stark white canines, Logan lifted his ass from the ground, surging to the hilt.
“Logan!” Ororo’s fingernails dug into his chest, her nails piercing like little talons, the sting making him surge again; harder. Open mouthed she let out a silent scream of ecstasy, bucking atop him in shameless abandon.
“Beautiful,” he grunted his earlier compliment, wishing he had a more extensive vocabulary; beautiful seemed an inadequate word to describe the vision atop him. Three more hard surges and he followed her over the edge, throwing his own head back into the wet soil, the tendons of his neck straining as he poured himself into Ororo, in what felt like a never ending torrent, yet was over far too soon.
A short time later, soaked to the bone with sweat and rain, Ororo lay sprawled across Logan’s chest, her own rising and falling in time to her erratic breathing. She gradually lifted her head, swiping grass from her cheek. “We‘re dirtier now than when we started…” she murmured the first thought coming to her muddled mind.
“Mmm. Gotta love the outdoor nookie,” Logan rumbled in response, patting the curve of her backside.
Ororo lifted her head, eyes narrowing. “Exactly just how many times have you participated in ‘outdoor nookie’?”
Contemplating that--far longer than Ororo cared for--Logan couldn’t help but feel a warm swell in his stomach when he caught the subtle shift in her scent that spoke of jealousy. “Countin’ this time?” he asked mildly.
She pressed her elbows into his chest, providing him an unobstructed view of her full-on glower. “Yes, including this time.”
“Hnh. Then once.”
She snorted indignantly. “Yeah, right.”
Logan caught the back of her head, drawing her down to him. His lips whispered against hers when he spoke. “Let me rephrase the question for ya then. How many times have I made love outdoors? The answer is once. With you.”
She tried to quell the hopeful flare in her heart at the words made love, but failed miserably. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’.“ Logan pressed her lips to his for a slow, tantalizing exploration. She leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss, studying his expression, trying to decipher if there was meaning behind the words.
“What‘s on your mind, darlin’?”
Deciding she‘d rather skirt the issue, than face it head on, she hedged, “I was just thinking how…fast you and I have settled into the role of a couple. Does that feel a bit odd to you?”
“Nope.”
“No?”
Logan grunted, rolling to his knees, drawing her alongside. “’Ro, it’s always been you for me.” He thumbed a mud smear from her chin. “I knew it that night we kissed on that rooftop. It was confirmed the night we said goodbye, and it was damn well cemented when you showed up here with my baby in your belly.”
She wanted to believe him, so badly, but she was still hesitant, recalling all the times she wore her heart on her sleeve only to have him snub her. “So why did you push me away?”
Logan gave a nasal sigh. Talking was not something he was especially fond of doing, but he knew Ororo needed to hear the truth behind his actions towards her. A truth he himself had only just recently come to realize. “Because you scared the hell outta me.”
“I…scared you?”
“Damn straight.” His eyes were intent on her face as he spoke. “You made me break every rule I ever gave myself. Never trust, never get too close, never have a--”
“Liability,” she finished for him.
“No,” he corrected, voice firm. “A life. A family, ‘Ro.” His hands came to her shoulders. “All the things I denied myself for as long as I can remember-- it all seemed possible when I was with you.”
She tilted her chin appraisingly. All her life Ororo Munroe had thrown caution to the wind, taken risks, and thrived off of living to the fullest not knowing the consequences. But it was different with Logan. Everything was different now. She had a child to think about.
Logan watched the play of emotions flickering in her eyes and something cold curled itself around his heart. If she was trying to rely on logic to come to terms with him, he knew he was doomed. He cupped his hand around the base of her neck, tilting her head up so he could plunder her mouth. He teased the corners of her lips, “Don’t analyze this, ’Roro. Trust your instincts.”
Although her head told her that eventually he would end up cutting his losses and running, her gut told her to stay. To trust what her heart had always known. Logan was the man for her. She gave a small murmur of acceptance, angling her head to press her mouth against the steady pulse in his throat. Her teeth nipped the tendons, a pleasure that teased pain. “Ok,” she said.
Cupping his hands under her rear, he hefted her against his hard body. “We’re not a mistake,” he told her, and she caught the hint of self doubt in his voice.
A chink in his armor, she realized. Logan was afraid that she’d think having his baby was a mistake. “Not a mistake,” she assured him, wrapping her legs around his middle. “I want you again, Logan. I want you so much.” She rocked against him as he started up the steps of the porch. “Where are we going?”
He kicked open the door. “Where I can do this properly.”
Once in their bedroom Logan let Ororo slide down the length of his body, his pulse jumping with each fleeting touch of her lips to his fevered flesh. His eyes stayed on hers as he let out a solitary claw on each hand, running the backsides of the deadly blades across her exposed collar bone. He edged the tips beneath each of the spaghetti thin straps holding up her sundress. A quick flick and the garment pooled at her feet.
She shuddered once, closing her eyes. Then she surprised him, her fist closing like a vice on his hair, dragging his head back so she could latch onto his throat.
Fuck!
He shook with repression, trying to quell the answering call of his inner animal, all the while his hips were grinding agonizingly against hers. Logan shuffled her back to the bed, forcing her down with just his proximity. Ororo sensed his control was tethered on a very short leash and found she didn’t care. Not in the least.
She let out a sigh of pleasure when she felt his hands on her thighs, stroking the satin skin. Logan raised his head and she saw that his eyes had gone dark, black obsidian orbs, glittering with possession. She should have been afraid, instead she delighted in it.
And that was what he saw. No fear, but joy. It was more than he had a right to ask for, but he reveled in it regardless. His hands moved slowly upwards, over thighs, hips, abdomen and breasts. He pinched the taut peaks and was rewarded by a wanton cry.
With borderline violent need, Logan tore his jeans off, kicking them, along with his boots across the room. He tumbled onto the bed beside her, his hands and mouth suddenly everywhere, making it impossible for Ororo to think.
Flesh pressed to flesh as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. He entered her in one sure thrust, capturing her broken cry with his tongue. Hands found purchase on slick shoulders and Ororo gave herself up to the storm he awoke within her.
Thunderclaps, flashing lights and howling winds were the byproduct of a fervor that went far beyond the physical. Ororo sobbed his name into his shoulder, clinging to him.
That sound made Logan growl. He urged her to let go, to give herself up to him. He heard her strangled gasp against his salty skin, felt the convulsive dig of her fingernails into his back, and was drugged by the intensity of her release. She screamed. Bawdy wails for him to fuck her, to love her, and to never stop. All of which he was more than willing to comply with.
Even when the last tremors left her limp and sated, Logan was braced above her, surging, sinking, pulling and demanding her to follow him. She rasped out his name, exhausted, yet already her blood was hot again. Long legs curled around a firm backside, her heels digging in, jockeying his pace, harder, faster, deeper…Goddess above she was going wild.
Logan blinked sweat from his eyes, teeth grit tight as he pounded over and over, both lovers insatiable. He felt the first tingling signs of climax in his gut, muscles tightening, cock throbbing, his whole being feeling heavy. He leaned back, licking his way from full breasts to trembling lips. “Darlin‘…?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. Strained and hoarse, with a plaintive note in it.
“Yes, Logan, God, yes!”
As his arms encircled her, and his hips pounded out the last few strokes that culminated in his roar of bliss, Logan knew without a doubt that he loved Ororo. Loved her like he could never love anyone else.
Someone was humming.
Ororo’s hand slid across the sheets, coming to rest on the cool portion that should have been rock hard male. Slowly she blinked here eyes open, peering through limp strands of hair. “Logan?”
“In the kitchen,” he called. Then resumed humming.
Ororo’s lips twitched. She’d made Logan hum. A wonderfully pleasant feeling of smugness settled over her. She yawned, ruffling her hair before padding to the bathroom. She needed to pee and shower, both relatively desperately.
Twenty minutes later a much refreshed Ororo emerged from the bathroom clad in a fluffy robe and fuzzy slippers. She made her way down the hall to the kitchen, drawn by succulent aromas.
Logan tossed her a quick grin over his shoulder from his position by the stove. “Hope you’re hungry.”
She inhaled deep. “Mmmm. It smells delicious.”
Logan set his spatula onto the cutting board. “So do you,” he murmured into her damp hair.
She gave a breathless laugh and felt the now familiar helpless fluttering in her stomach. “Haven’t you had enough?”
“Never, Darlin’.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “But I know you need your rest.” A pointed look to her swollen abdomen punctuated that. “Go sit down.”
Ororo grabbed a piece of still warm garlic bread from the counter. “Yeah, yeah.” She froze two steps away from the kitchen.
“’Ro?” Logan came around the island, concern furrowing his brow. “Do you need to lie down? Fuck, I knew I was too rough--”
She waved excitedly. “Wait, wait. Here.” She grabbed his hand, pressing it to the lower part of her belly.
It was perfectly natural that the tiny bundle confined within Ororo’s womb would one day be big and strong enough to be felt by his hands, Logan knew, but that in no way prepared him for the miracle of feeling his child move beneath him. He drew in a shaky breath, his eyes glittering with a fine sheen of emotion.
Ororo meshed her fingers with his, sharing in his joy. Tears swam in her own eyes, and she would be eternally thankful that she was the one that brought him this moment. “Our baby,” she whispered.
Logan, speechless, dropped to one knee in front of her, cradling her stomach. He parted the robe, placing a tender kiss just below her navel. “Thank you, Ororo.”
Understanding the wealth of meaning behind his words Ororo smiled tremulously. “You’re welcome.”
Breaking the moment, a shrill clang rent the air. Ororo covered her ears. “What the hell is that?” she shouted.
Logan was already moving her towards the back of the cabin. “Perimeter alarm. Get into the cellar.”
“Like hell,” she argued. Someone was invading their sanctuary and she wasn’t about to crawl in a hole and hide.
“Storm, we talked about this. Get your ass into the fuckin’ cellar. Now!”
Realizing Logan was wasting time shepherding her when he could be doing what he did best, Ororo relented. “Fine.” She grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “Be careful.”
“Don’t you worry about me.” *SNIKT*
She opened the door leading to the cellar. Can’t help it, she thought, I love you. She shut the door.
Logan listened for the deadbolt on the opposite side of the door to latch. Satisfied that Ororo was out of immediate harm’s way, he set about dousing the lights. He turned the stove off, crouched low and hunkered his way towards the porch, being sure to stop by his gun chest and grab his sidearm. He slapped the perimeter alarm and the immediate silence took a moment to adjust to.
Beside the front screen door Logan lifted his head, sniffing. He caught several scents, but one stood out. Slowly, he rose to his feet. “You could have called, Nicky!” he shouted.
General Nick Fury, Commander of S.H.I.E.L.D Special Ops, emerged from the tree line, lighting a cigar. The same brand Logan favored, which was no surprise, it had been Nick that had given him the brand. The two soldiers had met under awkward circumstances. Back before its disassembly, Weapon X was a S.H.I.E.L.D run program. It had been Fury’s job to transport Wolverine in his adamantium cage to General Ross. During that transport an Iraqi guerilla ambush killed Fury’s entire team and inadvertently freed Wolverine from his prison.
Instead of making a clean getaway, Logan had busied himself by slaughtering the Iraqi guards. Fury, the only survivor of the ambush, was discovered by Logan. Instead of leaving his former captor to die, he had carried him bareback to the nearest Allied encampment.
Although Logan was immediately tranqed and re-imprisoned by his handlers, a bond between the two men was formed. Fury had done everything in his power to remove Logan from Weapon X division and moved over to S.H.I.E.L.D.
But that was then, and this was now, and over the years that fragile bond had been stretched, tested and nearly severed, leaving both men wary of the other. Evidence of that lay in the fact that the General was flanked by two soldiers, each armed to the teeth. Nick was never one for chances.
“If I’d have called that would have ruined the surprise.”
“What the hell do you want?” Logan opened the door letting it rap shut behind him.
“Got a job that needs your particular skill--”
Logan held up his hand. “That’s far enough.”
Nick stopped. “More paranoid than usual, I see.”
Logan chuffed. “It ain’t paranoid when I got Special Ops guys falling outta the sky, now is it.”
Nick inclined his head with a smirk. “I suppose not. So…you wanna hear me out?”
“Not particularly.”
Nick took a drag from his cigar. “I think you’ll want to hear what I’ve got to say.”
Logan, in all honesty, didn’t give two shits about what Nick Fury needed him for, but he also knew the man was extremely good at what he did and never approached Logan without something urgent or very dirty. He also wasn’t the type of man to make wasted trips. “Fine. You can come to the porch, but your two pups stay where they are.” He unsheathed his claws. “Or they get neutered.”
“Fair enough.” Logan could hear the humor in Fury’s voice.
As soon as Fury stepped foot on the bottom step, Logan demanded, “Out with it.”
“Always so pleasant.”
“This a social call, Nicky?” Logan leaned against the rail. “I can tell ya, you ain’t my type.”
“Cute.” Nick reached into his lapel pocket, removing a yellow envelope. “This is classified information,” he said handing over the packet.
Logan rolled his eyes. When wasn’t it? He unraveled the leather cord sealing the envelope and removed the papers inside. He skimmed the documents, mouth thinning. A tick started in his jaw. “So Cornelius isn’t dead,” he muttered, anger causing his vision to go red. Well that certainly explained Weapon X’s sudden resurgence and interest in his child. “This intel confirmed?”
Nick nodded once. “Yes.”
Logan took a deep breath. He folded the documents back up and handed them to Fury. “Sorry, Nicky. Can’t help you.”
The General blinked his one eye. “Come again?”
“I said not interested.”
“You’re a shitty liar, Wolverine. Of course you’re interested. Hell your tick is started already.”
Logan glared at the man. “Let’s just say I have personal things that need my attention.”
“I’ve known you a long time, Wolverine. You don’t do personal. Anything.”
“Well, I do now.”
“Since when?”
“Since I gotta kid on the way.”
That halted Nick. He turned his solitary eye towards Logan, evaluating. “Well, then, congratulations are in order. Who’s the lucky woman?”
“Storm.”
Nick whistled. “Then lucky you.”
Logan shot him a look.
Fury studied his face. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No.”
Nick’s expression was somber. “They’ll be after you twice as hard now.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“All the more reason you should--”
“I said no!”
“No to what?”
Both men turned, startled to see Ororo in the doorway. She stood with one hand on her hip, eyes rimmed electric blue and a rifle leaning against her terry cloth clad thigh. “No to what?” she repeated the question.
“Nothin’.” Logan shot Fury a warning look.
One that he did not heed. “I was just telling Wolverine that Dr. Cornelius is still alive. I was hoping Wolverine could help us locate him. We have some solid leads.”
Logan had to give her credit. Only the slight tensing of her shoulders gave away that the news distressed her. “Well, that certainly explains a lot,” she murmured, echoing his earlier thought.
“And I was just telling the General I had other priorities.”
“If it’s Storm’s safety that is an issue I will provide armed guards. S.H.I.E.L.D’s finest.” Fury added. “Men that I will personally vouch for.”
“Not happenin’, Fury.”
“This man is a sadist, Wolverine. He won’t stop until someone stops him.”
Ororo met Logan’s eyes. “And he’s coming after our baby.”
Logan searched her face. Dismissively he said, “Give us a minute, Nick.”
“Time is of the essence,” Nick urged before he removed himself.
As soon as he was confident Nick was out of earshot Logan turned to Ororo. “No way in fuckin’ hell I’m leavin’ you.”
“Logan, you heard him. The man is a sick bastard that won’t stop. I don’t want to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulder, waiting for the next Weapon X strike.”
“’Ro--”
She took his hands, placing them over her stomach. “I know you want to go. I can see it in your eyes. Hell, I want to go…but I trust you to take care of this. Of us.”
Logan couldn’t deny he wanted to go and gut Cornelius, giving the psychotic doctor an up close and personal view of the adamantium he’d laced through Logan’s body was something he had thought about daily while trapped in cages. “I’m not leavin’ you unprotected.”
Ororo cast him a narrow eyed look. “Unprotected? Logan I can drop an F-5 tornado from the sky before you can say Fujita. I command the winds and the rains--”
He placed his hand over her mouth. “Look I know you’re badass, babe. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about you, but the fact is you don’t know what using your powers to their full extent will do to you, or the baby. I’m just not willin’ to risk it.”
“Then let Fury leave some guards.” Ororo suggested. “But don’t use me as an excuse not to do what we both know you want to do. Sitting idle and waiting for Weapon X to find us doesn’t rest well with me. Not at all.”
“They aren’t gonna find us.”
“S.H.I.E.L.D did.”
“I’ve had Nick up here before,” Logan explained.
“Yeah? Well now you’ve had Nick and at least two other operatives up here. Our location won’t remain secret forever, Logan, we just don’t have that kind of luck.”
He knew she was right.
She saw it in his eyes.
Without turning around Logan hollered, “When do we leave?”
“Soon as you’re ready!”
Logan caressed the backs of his knuckles along Ororo’s cheekbones. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
He turned towards the waiting operatives. “Give me a list of the men you personally vouch for. We don’t leave until they’re surrounding this place.”
Nick nodded. “Let’s move people!”
Logan returned his attention to Ororo. “I won’t be long. We don’t get results immediately I’m on my way home.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Logan pulled her into his arms. She had no idea what those words did to him. With more force of will then he knew he had Logan set himself away from her and began the business of readying for his departure.
Two hours and one more lingering kiss in the doorway and Logan was gone.
