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Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


A/N: Thanks for all the great feed back on this story, I was getting a little unsure of it for a while there but, alas, I finally got my arse into gear to write chapter three! Hope you continue to enjoy, Mi'kosan7,xx


Chapter.3.


Several days later...


It had been a truly strange two-and-a-bit weeks for Ororo, and she was thinking about just how strange as she made her way down a grubby street littered with fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles. She walked with a large brown paper groceries bag tucked under her right arm, resting on her hip; she walked with a definite purpose, that purpose being, making a bee-line straight for Logan’s apartment.


*


At first, after their second ‘indiscretion’, Ororo had vowed never to see him again. Even as she was lay in his bed, knackered and sore, bathing in the after-glow of several hours of love-making, well love-making wasn’t really the correct verb for it...sex, raw animalistic sex was far more appropriate a term for what they did. Early that morning she’d thought about how, that after she’d done what she could with her ruined clothing in order to at least get home, that would be it, the end of it all...but something of her was left in that apartment when she crept out of it at the crack of dawn...she’d left an element of herself up there, with Logan. Ororo hadn’t noticed at first, but her mind kept on drifting back to the way he’d made her feel on that second encounter, helpless yet powerful in a way, at his mercy but in control, the control of making him feel that way. It was peculiar; she really couldn’t even begin to understand it; what was going on in her mind and most of all her body. And so she found after the first few days she couldn’t think of anything else but him, when she tried to ‘work’, eat or sleep; the nightly re-enactments of their passionate romps in her fevered dreams, giving her absolutely no rest, until she woke up soaked in a thick layer of sweat and screaming.


Unable to resist her urge anymore, Ororo had gone back to him again and again and again, until it became everyday that she would make the hour long subway journey to receive her welcome release. It was getting to the point where she couldn’t imagine a life without it, a life without what no other man had ever been able to give her before, but Logan was able to...and then some.


*


Ororo climbed the grey carpeted stair-well, that had several unidentifiable encrusted marks on it, up to the fifth floor where Logan’s apartment was situated, and when she came to the plain, hard-wood door with a dull brass ‘176’ screwed onto it, she didn’t bother to knock. It was three in the afternoon so she knew he’d be out for his run at this time; placing the food bag mindfully on the floor next to the door, Ororo reached up into her hair and removed a metal grip that was straight on one side and crinkled on the other. Fashioning it to her needs with some skilful twists and bends she slipped the thin piece of copper into the lock and rotated it a few times until she felt it give way; the door swinging open with a cringe-worthy creak. Picking up the paper bag she headed inside, kicking the heavy door shut behind her with a wayward swing of her right foot. She was about to walk over to the small kitchen that sat just off the living room, flicking the light switch on as she went; but her attention was caught by the rather sad looking geranium that she’d put on the window-sill to brighten the place up. Logan had given her nothing more than a quizzically raised eyebrow when she’d brought it in just two days ago, but had said nothing to protest. Placed right in the centre of the only spot of sunlight that deigned to make an appearance in the dark little room, even that had apparently not been enough to sustain its fragile life; its flower heads dropping pitifully, no longer able to support themselves.


With the food bag still placed firmly on her hip, Ororo fingered the dry, limp leaves regretfully; she hated to see things die. But she supposed, as she then moved into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter that was cluttered with dirty pots and overflowing ashtrays, that nothing could grow if it was not given the necessary means to do so. But that was life---full stop. She pulled off her dark brown duffel coat and placed it on a hook or more over a random nail that protruded from the rotting window-frame at the end of the long, narrow room. Taking items from the bag she stopped half way through the action of placing a can of tomato soup in a high, chip-board door cupboard as the front door was opened with the maximum amount of noise it seemed.


Logan was back early...


*


Throwing his keys down in the place he always lobbed them, Logan wasted no time in stripping off his sleeveless black cotton jogging top, practically having to peel the article from his drenched body. He threw it onto the sofa as he ran his other hand through his sweat-damp hair, slicking it back as much as he could, although in mere seconds it stood on end again, at funny angles. She was here---Logan didn’t need to hear her moving about on the echoing tiled kitchen floor to garner that much. She was always here these days, not that he was complaining in the slightest, it was just that he wasn’t used to routine, to coming home to find someone there, waiting for him. Not that he ever really stayed anywhere long enough for it to become ‘home’. But he hadn’t known enough of this type of attention in his life to know if he liked it or not yet. Logan was a loner by nature, he always had been and no woman had ever hung around long enough to become familiar to him, they’d never wanted too, and the fact that this one did was suspicion enough for him. Suspicion, but a definite curiosity too, as well as that mysterious ‘something else’...


“Hey.” Ororo turned to greet him as he came into the long narrow kitchen; she had a tin of chic-peas in one hand and a jar de-stoned green olives in the other. Logan first looked at them and then up at the open cupboard door, containing more food now than it had in the entire six month period that he’d been living in this over-priced cesspit.


“What the hell do ya think yer doin’?” His dry tone contained only the merest hint of humour.


“What does it look like I’m doing?!” She said through a laugh as she continued packing away the food, opting to reply to the humour rather than the more obvious flat annoyance. Logan didn’t answer, walking over to stand behind her and picking up one of the few tins that were left on the counter, turning it over in his hand a couple of times before dumping it back down. Ororo tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand but the wonderfully potent smell of the sweat from his run hung about him, turning her on instantly. She could even feel the heat emanating from his body, so close to hers now and when he laid his large hand on her abdomen, wrapping his arm about her slim waist she dropped the last item that was about to be put away down on the counter with a resounding bang. Turning in his arms to face him, a thrill ran through her as she spied THAT look in his, an increasingly familiar look. Gripping her hands on his shoulders, she leisurely let them trail down his huge biceps, briefly tracing the patterns of the tattoos that adorned them; the head of a grey wolf on the left one and a small ninja with ‘tiger claws’, she’d once heard the Japanese weapons called, three of them attached to each hand, the figures arms were crossed high over its chest in an ‘X’ shape. Dressed entirely in black, only its piercing dark eyes visible through a letter-box shaped slot.


“You’re back early.” She said in a vain attempt to start some kind of conversation because she knew what all this was inevitably leading to. Not that she minded....


“I didn’t realise I was keeping a schedule darlin’.” He said in the way people do when you know their mind is thinking about something completely different from what they’re saying. And his most definitely was...it was concentrating on the electric feeling of her soft hands that had by now found their way to his six-pack, brushing lightly over the ‘snail-trail’ of wispy dark hair that ran down the centre of his chest all the way down to his stomach. It was concentrating on the instant arousal that took him completely every time he was in any kind of proximity to her and the fact that he felt he had absolutely no control what-so-ever over it disturbed him greatly. But who really cared about that right now...Logan picked the African beauty up; clasping one hand tightly on her hip, the other finding a steady grip in her luscious, loose, flowing hair. As quick as a flash, Ororo wrapped her legs about his waist and her hands around his neck as she brought her mouth down to his, giving herself over to his hard, passionate kisses---‘painful’ kisses that she’d come to relish. She couldn’t help but smile through his ravaging of her lips, as she felt the impatient press of his erection between her parted legs. Then he started to move them from the kitchen, walking or more over shifting in an awkward kind of waddle with her in his arms, towards the bedroom; a destination they rarely made it to in time but today appeared to be one of those rare occasions as he threw her down onto the bed and stood over her.


Ororo let her long legs part further as Logan pushed his way closer, gazing down at her still with that damned look. But what a look; a smouldering lust mixed with something darker, an unreadable coldness that possibly did more to turn her on than anything else. It was almost like the man posed a threat, but it was a thoroughly safe threat somehow...it was difficult to explain, then again at this moment, articulating her reasons for attraction were the furthest thing from her mind. Letting her hands push her sky-blue coloured, cotton T-shirt upwards, almost of their own volition, in slow, inviting movements, she gasped as Logan suddenly reached down and started to yank off her jeans, which he did in no time at all before moving onto her top. Clearly her efforts to undress herself were not nearly quick enough to please him, so she had to lean her upper body forwards slightly as her T-shirt was discarded for her, until all that she remained in were her silky lilac bra and scant matching briefs, (stolen from Victoria’s secrets, initially for re-sale, but kept instead). He then shoved his mottled-grey joggers down, along with his boxers; all of this done in complete silence, save the sound of their fevered breathing, for there never seemed to be any recourse for words to pass between them at these moments, or any other in fact. Verbal communication was never really a priority for this couple, to use an old cliché; they let their bodies do the talkin’.


She dared a glance down at his penis, delighting in the sight of its huge upwards pose and eager to feel it inside of her. Logan suddenly grabbed her legs and hoisted them up so that her bent knees were tucked just beneath his arm pits and her back was once again flat on the bed. Reaching down, he tugged at the thin strips of material that held her knickers together over her hips, the silk giving way instantly and in the blink of an eye they were off and she was uncovered. Ororo prepared herself now by gripping at the bed sheets at either side off her head, biting down into her own lip before he’d even done anything but she knew what to expect. The sight of her doing that sent a rush through Logan, animal and ferocious, that look of submission, laying there waiting for him to enter her, to fuck her. She was just so beautiful...and she was giving herself to him. That was something Logan just couldn’t get his head around; no matter how many times the thought had come to him on the many occasions they’d done this. Why would this stunning creature want him? Because he knew he wanted her more than anything, his appetite for her had only increased over the last couple of weeks. At first he’d tried to ignore it and he certainly hadn’t shown her that he felt this enamoured with her, but there was no way she could possibly feel the same...was there? Never mind such thoughts now though, for all he wanted was to be inside her and so he shifted forwards, penetrating her slick sex in one move, pleased to see the breathtaking look of delighted anguish crease her angelic features.


“Urrr---urrr---urrr.” Her stifled moans slipped out through her almost closed mouth; top teeth still biting down on her bottom lip as he moved in and out of her. Each small noise of tortured pleasure coming in between Logan’s rough shunts which at first were slow, more attention being paid to their forcefulness until he could get into a rhythm that she would be able to match. Gradually the tempo rose, faster and faster his movements became, losing none of their power as he grunted in time with each penetration; his grip on her now rigid legs getting tighter until his fingers were digging into the supple flesh of her long calves so fervently it was a wonder they didn’t cut into the skin. Ororo grasped at the bed as well as the sheets now as she arched her back upwards, head pressing back into the mattress as she shifted back and forth with the rhythm of his ruts. Finally she was able to move her hips in time, lifting them in a rolling motion every time his cock rammed into her burning opening but just as she did this he began to move harder and faster. She was struggling to keep up now as he fucked her with a bloody-minded determination, exciting not just her clitoris it seemed, but almost her entire womb felt some kind of unearthly pleasure from this.


“Logan...Logan...Logan...Logan...” She chanted his name in her desire for him to give her the climax that was screaming for release from every part of her body at this point. But he would not go that final mile that would give her peace, give her the satisfaction that she ached for, not until he was ready. Logan was content to extend her divine torture until it suited him to end it and that made him feel powerful, he knew at these moments she was at his mercy, completely. The mere thought of that made it difficult for him to keep his own pleasure from peaking, the feel of her wet and pulsing vagina was driving him insane, not to mention hearing her crying out his name like that, it would make any man wild with passion. And so he continued...


“Logan yes! Logan...Logan...Logan please! Ahh, ahh, ahh...” Ororo was screaming openly now until her throat burned as the end game approached, her body already beginning to shake in anticipation of her orgasm. Without warning Logan released her legs to hold onto her hips instead as he pounded her harder and harder, his dick getting ready to pump her full. Locking her legs as tight as she could manage around his waist, her feet finding purchase in the small of his back, she then arched hers as high up as it would go and made one last attempt to hurry her climax with frantic upward thrusts of her lower body and it worked. The fire hit her full force sending her whole body into lust fuelled spasms that she had absolutely no control over, the force of them catching her breath in her throat robbing her of the ability to scream her ecstasy. Instead, tears spilt down the sides of her face, dripping down her neck and past her ears. Suddenly, like a she was emerging from water after a long time under, Ororo took in a lung full, filling them to capacity, finally allowing her to pant sounds of release, chest heaving quickly.


A low rumbling started somewhere in the centre of Logan’s chest, as he continued to ride her hard through her orgasm until his cum spilt forth and as it did, so did the raw sound that had been growing deep inside him; raw and beautifully abandoned. As soon as he’d finished filling her he let his hands slide off her sweat-silken hips; her lower body plonking back down to the springy mattress, bouncing a couple of times before coming to a rest. Still he said nothing, because he found he couldn’t. He’d thought it at this point of their unions before and he was sure he’d think it a million times again; she was just so...beautiful. Beautiful beyond compare...it was just making this all...so damn hard.


Ororo struggled to lean herself up on her elbows as Logan walked away from her, her brow creasing slightly, but knowing better than to bother trying to question him. She watched him carefully as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor as he departed the room, pulling them on as he went and then he was out of sight. Letting her back flop down onto the damp sheets, she flung her arms above her head and closed her heavy lidded eyes as she tried to stop herself from reading to much into his actions. All this, it was just...well she had no idea, but she knew enough not to expect anything more from him. Hell, she didn’t want anything more...or at least she thought she didn’t...her head was a mess. No-one had ever, EVER made her feel the way that this man did but she was growing increasingly uncertain as to whether that was a good thing or not.


She lay still; all she could hear were the sounds of her still slightly irregular breathing and the far off noise of Logan opening the fridge, a rattle and clank of bottles, the slam of the fridge door being shut, quickly followed by the hissing of a metal top popping off a beer to release gaseous liquid trapped inside. For a moment she thought about going to him but then thought that a rest might be better, as she removed her bra, tossing it to the floor, before crawling up the bed with exhausted, laboured movements; every ounce of her was tired beyond belief. So she edged herself beneath the sheets and promptly dropped into a well-deserved stupor.


*


When Ororo awoke, she turned over to face the window to see the light outside was a bluish-grey colour, that was rapidly fading into total blackness, so it must have been at least half four or five o’clock. The apartment was silent, no television buzzing, no music intruding on the peace; only the faint sound of sirens every so often, broke the state of play. She sat up, the cover falling from her breasts to rest on her lap as she gained her bearings; the periods of sleep that only lasted for an hour or two always seemed to be the ones that were the hardest shake yourself from and Ororo was experiencing that lethargy right now. In her half-sleep state, she reached back and pulled her long, thick hair into a pony tail high on her head, stretching her back as she did so, before letting it go; the white locks fanning over her dark, Venetian sculpted back like the feathers of a swan. The contrast in colour was startlingly beautiful in the mottled, faded light. Pushing the sheet from her naked body, Ororo swung her legs to the floor and lifting herself up from the bed, grabbed the nearest thing to her; a very baggy Toronto Maple Leaf ice hockey shirt. Pulling it on quickly, she went to look for her lover.


*


For some reason, Ororo found herself creeping across the living room, at pains to make any noise, as the atmosphere seemed to demand. Flicking her dark eyes around the room, nothing appeared to be out of sorts until she didn’t noticed that the door was open. THE door, the steel, grey door that she had no idea where it led to; the door that sat in a dark, avoided area of the living room, usually with a nest of tables in front of it and she’d never thought to ask about its function. Stepping towards it tentatively, Ororo laid her hand on its cold edge, swinging it minutely, as if to test it, looking up the concrete stairway that it led to. The distinctly cool breeze of the winter evening air hit her face, stirring her platinum hair and giving her a welcome invigoration. She looked up the open air steps suspiciously for a moment, unsure as to whether she should venture their unknown path, but curiosity got the better of her and she followed them despite her better judgement.


*


The breeze was truly bitter now that she was up on the roof, and for a second it had bothered Ororo, but when she had caught sight of him, the cold conditions where the furthest thing from her mind. Logan was stood in the middle of the barren roof top, jeans on, but no shoes, bare from the waist upwards, moving in slow, thoughtful motions. She didn’t know the exact name for it but she could tell that it was some of
Far Eastern exercise. His eyes were closed; his arms and legs gesticulating with measured movements, balance and constraint seemed to be of utmost importance. This was an absolute wonder to Ororo, never had she seen this man so relaxed and at one with himself, so much so that she found herself staring at him in amazement, not really paying much attention when she let the outside door fall shut unheeded, causing a resounding bang.


Logan span round, but never once showing surprise on his stern face, just annoyance at the intrusion. “What do’ya want?” He asked curtly. But then he happened to notice her attire, which was strangely alluring. Now he was thinking #Fuck, she looks gorgeous in that shirt! # hanging to her knees, falling loose about her stunning figure but clinging to every curve that mattered.


“I---I was just---I didn’t mean to intrude.” Ororo spluttered as she made a desperate grab for her wildly flaying hair, diverting her embarrassed gaze to the ground. For a moment none of them spoke; Logan continued to concentrate his dark and deeply penetrating eyes on her and she felt paralysed under their weight, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. “I’ll go, I didn’t---ARGuurmm...” Her initial startled gasp at seeing Logan practically leaping towards her was smothered by his hard kiss, an action that seemed to spring from nowhere and left her reeling. Ororo’s hands came up to his hair once they had found their feeling again, after hanging limply at her sides in shock as she began to return the kiss. And just as soon as the unexpected fiery passion had begun, it was over and Ororo found her self taking a few disorientated steps backwards; what the hell had just happened there?! But before she could get herself into any kind of coherent order, he’d scarpered back down the stairwell and into the apartment. It was becoming an increasingly annoying habit.


*


Logan didn’t know what the hell was going on with him; what was that all about? Shouting at her then grabbing her like some lust-starved fool. The fact-of-the-matter was that he didn’t know, every time he was near her, she sent him spinning. It was almost like her nervousness back there, the fact that she couldn’t even look him in the eye excited him. He couldn’t figure it out at all.


But as he pulled on a black sweater that had been laying idly over the back of the sofa his thoughts, for once, turned to other things. It was the Kowalski fight in a few hours and he hadn’t been preparing for it with the dedication and commitment that he should have. The distraction over the past few weeks had been welcome but very inconvenient; he really needed to win this bout, it was going to be a big earner. Roman Kowalski was one of the most infamous, ball-busting fighters on the bare-knuckle circuit. To beat him would be a real achievement and would mean that future stakes on him would go up, meaning more money would be bet, meaning more of a cut. It was a quarter past five, so he had four hours until he had to be down at the docks where the fight was to take place. Maybe he could go for a light run now, seen as his usual mode of preparation had been disrupted, then perhaps some weights to get the muscles lucid and the blood pumping.


“I’m sorry if I interrupted something Logan.” She was stood at the doorway with a regretful look on her face, her hands folded over one another like a guilty child. “It’s just,” She turned and waved a hand in the direction of the door, “it was open---and I didn’t know where it led to.”


“Look,” Logan began, suddenly feeling guilty for being so brash with her, “it doesn’t matter, ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” He disappeared into the bedroom, returning swiftly with a tatty rucksack with all his stuff for tonight already packed inside, not that he ever really needed much; he didn’t usually take anything at all.


“What’s that for?” Ororo asked quietly, from the chair that was next to the punch bag, her long legs folded up underneath her, fingering at the frayed hem of the polyester hockey shirt.


Logan glanced quickly at the bag that he’d just slung to the floor, next to the door in preparation for his departure and it dawned on him that he hadn’t told her about tonight. “I’m goin’ out.” And why should he?


“Where?” She inquired as she watched him go into the kitchen and raid the fridge for yet another beer, not expecting an answer. He came into the room, his head tipped back; gulping from the bottle, Adam’s apple shifting up and down in quick-time with each swallow and only coming up for air once half the contents had gone.


“Fight.” He mumbled with the bottle still close to his beer-wet lips, before he resumed drinking from the slim, brown piece of glass.


The short answer piqued Ororo’s interest greatly as she shifted forwards on the old chair, taking hold of the edge of the arm to do so. “Would you mind if I came along?” She asked hopefully.


Logan’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked at her over the edge of his almost finished beer, swallowing the last few dregs that consisted mainly of froth, before tossing the empty bottle into the metal waste-paper basket by the sofa, hitting it perfectly but sending into a perilous spinning motion as it threatened to topple over, though it was eventually saved by the steadying weight of the glass. “Yer jokin’, right?”


“No.” Ororo retorted, indignant at the implication that came with his words.


When Logan realised that she was indeed most serious about watching him fight, a much more real concern came over him and it shocked him that he felt this way; he really didn’t want her to see him fight and he REALLY didn’t want her to be mixing with the types of crowds that went to his fights. “Look, yer not comin’, ya wouldn’t like it O. K?”


Ororo slipped off the chair, truly annoyed by what she perceived to be patronising behaviour. “What do you think I am Logan, a girl scout?” She was right by him now and shoving her hands underneath his sweater, letting them run over his perfectly formed abs. “I think we both know that’s not the case.”


#Fuck!# He bellowed in his mind as he felt himself growing hard again. Wanting so much to tell her no, but her touch clouding his judgment, Logan conceded to this beguiling witch’s request. “Fine, come if ya want.” He grumbled, annoyed with himself for giving in so easily. “Dock 19, it starts at nine. I’ll mention ya to Calvin on the door.”


“Good.” She gazed up at him with a satisfied smile, at last she was getting her way with him and she felt that by watching him fight, it might help her understand him that bit more, help her work out the intriguing puzzle that was Logan. Because she felt she needed to know, any man that had ensnared her to the extent that this one had needed to be fathomed out and seeing him fight might just help her realise what made him tick. To hell with not wanting anything more from him, she knew now that she did...


-TBC-

(Toronto Maple Leaves, that is a team isn’t it? Feel free to tell me if I’ve royally fucked up there!)





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