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Her name is Ororo Monroe-Challa, she is queen of Wakanda, wife to T'Challa the BLACK PANTHER. She is the mutant known as STORM. Though tonight as the sun set in the western sky as she stood on the shore of the lake at the Xavier Institute she did not think of her husband. She thought of the last day she was here, before she went to Africa. She remembered that night with Logan......

//Flashback///

Ororo couldn't sleep. She had tried a number of things -- a glass of warm milk, a hot shower, even a CD of Gregorian chants. Sleep remained elusive. With a sigh of frustration, she punched her pillow before tossing it off the bed and sitting up. In the dark emptiness of her flat, she could admit it -- she was sexually frustrated. It wasn't diffuse frustration, either. No, her unfulfilled desire centered on one maddening wild man whose crooked grins and outrageous quips simultaneously made her want to kiss him and electrocute him.

The small, discreet touches were driving her insane. Logan's hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of a room, the brush of his fingers against her shoulders as he helped her put on her coat... Those gestures made her skin prickle and warm until she marveled that she didn't burst into flames. The rational side in her recognized that spontaneous human combustion was improbable, but the woman in her wondered.

The woman in her had long since realized just how well her old friend was structured -- and wondered how they might fit together. Too much time spent wondering about that could be distracting, which could be fatal in their line of work. Could it be that the only rational thing to do was to sleep with the man called WOLVERINE? Yes, perhaps just once. They were both adults; surely this was the answer. The physical release should be enough to dim her curiosity. Then they could go back to being friends, without any distractions.

She knew that he found her at least somewhat physically attractive. His glance had been decidedly appreciative and their kiss they shared after the purple man.

She wouldn't know for sure unless she asked. Ororo brushed her teeth, eying her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks flushed. Not surprising, given that she'd just been fantasizing about Logan and his...structure. The fantasies had stolen her sleep one too many nights. She had to do something.

After rinsing her mouth, she removed the elastic band that held her hair up in a loose ponytail. She bent at the waist and hung her head for a moment, fluffing her hair. One pair of jeans, one foil-wrapped condom, and two swipes of deodorant later and she was ready to face her friend.

The walk to Logan's boat house was quiet. As she approached the front of Logan's house, her watch read 2:30 A.M.. The cool September air washed over her and she shivered, the weather never affected her so.

Taking a deep breath, Ororo rapped on Logan's door and then again lightly. Despite the distinct chill, her hands were moist. She wiped them on her jeans and waited. When nothing but the sound of small insects reached her ears, she turned to leave. Perhaps she should just go back to her room. If she still wasn't able to sleep, she'd shower and head into the Danger Room.

But she had gone only a few steps when she heard a door open behind her.

"'Ro?"

The silk and sandpaper of Logan's voice rasped against her in a nearly tangible caress. It was too late to escape. She slowly turned to face him. "Good morning, old friend," she replied, forcing her voice to remain even. The sight that met her eyes made that a difficult task.

Logan's dark brown hair stood up in spikes that radiated from his head like a deranged halo. Not that she was religious. And her thoughts were anything but pure as she drank him in with her eyes. He was shirtless. She watched in fascination as his nipples pebbled in reaction to the cold.

"What's wrong? Is everything ok?" He yawned and reached up to rub the back of his neck. The motion made the muscles in his arms and chest flex in a very interesting fashion.

"I'm fine. Why did you take so long to answer the door?" she asked, the question clearly a complaint. "I would have thought your senses would make you a light sleeper."

His only response was a pointed glare. Then he stepped outside, his feet bare, and wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Man, it's cold out here."

She glanced down at his chest. "Yes, it appears to be, since your nipples are erect," she stated.

"Hey! Enough with the staring at my nipples," he said as he tugged her into his apartment.

She allowed him to lead her inside, observing how his long, warm, male fingers encompassed her entire wrist. Her pulse pounded in response.

Logan loosened his grasp on her, and it was then that Ororo noticed his claws were extended from his right hand.

"I didn't come here to murder you in your sleep," she said with a smile, pointing to his metal claws.

"You can never be too careful, 'Ro."

"Or too paranoid," she muttered.

He glanced up. "What was that?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Did I wake you?" she asked, changing the subject and hoping to buy herself some time to order her thoughts.

Logan huffed and rolled his eyes. "It's after 2:00 in the morning," he said. "Of course you woke me." His gaze swept her face, sharpening as it lingered on her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yes, I am."

"Well I know you didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood. So 'fess up. Why are you here?"

The moment of truth had arrived. What had seemed like a perfectly logical and persuasive argument back at her flat seemed much less so now that she was seated next to her half-naked desire. Could she really tell him that she wanted him? She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "I...That is...Remember when we faced the Pur.." The words lodged in her throat and she dissolved into a coughing fit.

Logan rose from the couch. "Hang on, I'll get you a glass of water."

Ororo concentrated on getting her breathing under control, but she couldn't help taking a peek at Logan's retreating figure. The thin grey cotton of his pajama pants clung lovingly to his backside and suggested that he wasn't wearing any underwear. That observation nearly sent her into another round of coughing.

She was nearly composed by the time he returned from the kitchen, bearing two glasses of water. He handed her one. The strong curve of his shoulder was pure temptation; she barely resisted the urge to nip him. "He has heighten senses he has to know." She thought

"Here. Drink." He watched her silently, eyes dark and impenetrable, until she'd finished half the glass and set it down on the coffee table. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you." She looked down at the couch and traced a small circle in the cushion. "I couldn't sleep."

"You want to talk about it?" He reached over to her, touching he knee. The gentle touch sent a shudder through her. She pulled back and looked up at him.

"I came here to talk about you...and me."

Logan leaned back and tilted his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms over his chest in what appeared to be a defensive posture, if the book she'd been reading about body language was to be believed.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes. There is a problem. I haven't been sleeping lately. And I'm concerned that it's starting to affect me. There's only one thing I can think to do about it."

"Hold on. Back up. Are you saying I'm keeping you awake at night?"

"Yes. You." She stood up and started to pace, clenching her fists in agitation. "You," she said, pointing her index finger at him, "are keeping me up, and it has to stop. I told you, the thing with the Purple Man. The physical release, the connection -- we all need it. If we do it, if we have sex..." She heard Logan make a choking sound. "...just once, maybe that will be enough. We're both adults, and we're friends. We can be mature about this." Her pacing led her to one end of the living room. She turned and reversed her direction, stopping in front of Logan. "Well?" Ororo quirked an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

She watched as Wolverine's mouth opened and closed a few times and a red flush appeared high on his cheeks. "Storm, are you telling me you're here for a booty call?" he said.

Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and waited for Ororo to answer his question. What the hell was he going to say if she said yes? He felt himself start to harden at the thought. Hey, quit it. Think about something else, fast. Dirt, skeletons, blood, old women, baseball. Baseball, yes baseball Jackpot! He started to go soft.

"Well, it isn't accurate to say I called you." He winced and covered his eyes.

"Do you always have to be so damned literal?"

She sat across from him on the edge of his coffee table and mirrored his posture. As she leaned forward, her tank top gaped away from her chest. He fought not to look. He lost. "You didn't let me finish. While I didn't actually call you, it's true that I am interested in your...booty."

"Never, and I do mean never, let me hear you say that word again. It's just...not right."

"Which word? Booty?"

"Ah!" He covered her mouth with his hand. "What did I just say?" Her reply came out muffled against his palm. He snatched his hand back as soon as his brain processed the fact that her lips were soft and warm against his skin. This was Storm, his friend.

He couldn't go there with her... Could he?

A man would have to be blind and a monk not to notice she was stacked; Logan was neither. But that didn't mean anything. Men liked to look. He was a man. Therefore he liked to look. It didn't have to mean anything. But he loved her too.

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Huh?"

"Logan, You're not listening. Please pay attention," she said impatiently. "I was saying..." She paused, narrowed her eyes, and gave him a pointed look. "It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just sex. It would just be sex -- satisfying biological urges. Nothing more."

"Storm, we work together." He mentally patted himself on the back for keeping his tone patient.

"That didn't stop you from sleeping with Betts, or all the other so called X-Women."

So much for patience. "That was different," he said with a dismissive wave. This time he didn't bother hiding his irritation.

"How so?" Her blue eyes pinned him and he squirmed. He'd never admit it, but he admired this about her -- her unflinching directness. It was just his luck that he usually happened to be on the receiving end of it.

"It just is."

"That's very poor logic."

"Whatever, Storm. "

"Interesting how you always accuse me of not sharing enough, yet here you are, doing your best to be as evasive as possible."

Unable to come up with a scathing reply, Wolverine settled for glaring at her.

"Fine, we'll ignore the matter of you sleeping with around like a slut."."

"Thanks," he muttered, bracing himself for whatever she might say next.

"So admit it, you enjoy kissing me."

"Kissing you? Have you lost your mind? It was that or kill you Storm."

"Funny what you picked"

"Quit it, Ororo."

"You're lying, logan."

"Oh, so now you're questioning my honor."

"Not your honor, just your honesty. But I'll believe you...if you swear on Mariko's grave"

"Now you're just being childish."

"You can't do it, can you? I know you think I'm not good with people, but I'm not stupid either. I know you wanted to kiss me. What I don't understand is why you're trying to deny it now."

"Believe what you want. I'm not going to swear anything on her grave."

"Are you afraid of me? Perhaps you're not used to assertive women who are willing to act on their sexual impulses. Perhaps I intimidate you."

"You don't intimidate me frail." He leaned forward, squashing the thrill of excitement that flared through him as he invaded her personal space. "Why would you even think that?"

"Emma says men are much more fragile and needy."

"Yeah, well Emma says a lot of things. What's with the psychology, anyway? I thought you hated that stuff."

"I do. But you are behaving rather oddly."

I'm behaving oddly? You're the one who showed up at my place in the middle of the night looking for I don't even know what."

She shook her head and shot him a penetrating look. "I've told you exactly why I'm here."

He swallowed thickly as Ororo slipped off the coffee table and moved to kneel between the V of his legs. The moment shifted, altered, grew heavy.

"What are you doing?"

"Going with my gut. You're always telling me I should trust it."

"And exactly what is your gut telling you?"

"That you're afraid of me."

"Are we back to that again? I. Am. Not. Afraid. Of. You."

"Prove it."

"How?"

Her lips curved in a knowing smile that told him he'd walked right into that one. "Kiss me. Just once. I dare you."

"Careful, 'Ro. This could be considered sexual harassment."

"Only if you say no." Her lips parted and she looked at him, with eyes that were wide open but dark and hazy with something that looked an awful lot like lust, instead of being sharp with cool intelligence the way they usually were.

"Are you saying no?"

Mere inches separated them, the space between them electric with awareness. His gaze skipped from the blue of her eyes to the moist pink of her mouth. Then it moved lower. Strands of her hair curled across the upper curve of her breasts, shone reddish brown in the lamplight.

Logan didn't stand a chance, and he knew it. He reached out and caught several of the strands, rubbed the silky ends between his fingers, allowing his knuckles to graze her silky skin. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, but she was otherwise still -- waiting for an answer to her question -- waiting for him to kiss her.

So he did.

He brushed his lips across hers, keeping the pressure light, giving her a chance to change her mind, though she was the one who had initiated things. Ororo was right; he was afraid. Not of her, but of not being able to go back. They were poised on the edge of something that couldn't be undone. He wondered if she understood that, worried that she didn't.

But none of that mattered at the moment, he told himself. What mattered was that she was there, in his apartment, wanting him to touch her. Wanting him. He'd always imagined that if he ever got this close to her, he'd pay for it dearly. A slap in the face at least. Broken bones at the most; she did know three forms of martial arts.

He'd been wrong.

She'd surprised him, again.

As gentle and deliberate as that first kiss was, apparently Storm wanted more. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, cupped the base of his skull, holding him still as her mouth slanted hungrily over his, demanding and impossibly hot. Pleasure shot through him at the unfamiliar but more than welcome contact. There was nothing tentative about the velvet slide of her tongue against his. She tasted like toothpaste and desire. He wanted more. He wanted it all.

Fire raced through his veins, awakening every nerve ending in his body. Then She rose from the floor and sank onto his lap, straddling him. He growled low in his throat as she pressed herself against him. The heat and scent of her were doing crazy things to him, making him ache and throb. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking down the smooth line of her neck and shoulders to the sweet spot where her back dipped and curved into her ass. He felt her shudder and heard her breath hitch as he cupped her there.

New...This, her body, her responses -- they were all new to him. He resolved then to learn just where and how she liked to be touched. If she let him.

When she suddenly sat back against his thighs and reached for the waistband of his pants, he caught her questing hand in his and mentally cursed himself for his sometimes inconvenient sense of honor. Searching her eyes with his own, he said, "Whoa, slow down, 'Ro. Are you sure about this?"
Ororo slid off Logan's lap and leaned back against the armrest of the couch. Her heart still pounded from their kiss, and she struggled with the desire to grab him and pull him flush against her. She ached to feel his weight on top of her, pressing her into the soft, thick cushions of his couch, which seemed made for sex.

"I'm sure that if we stop now, I'll scream. Logan, we can't go on like this." She gestured between the both of them. "There's something -- an unexplored sexual rapport if you will -- between us. We're both healthy, consenting, unattached adults. Who would we hurt by doing this?" She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "Think of it as your professional duty."

"My professional duty? Please show me where in my job description it says I have to sleep with my friend."

"I'll concede that's not officially part of your job. But you want to do your job to the best of your ability, don't you? And I can tell you that contemplating what you're like in bed is distracting me. I can't sleep, and if I can't sleep, it will eventually affect my work. I know neither of us wants that. But perhaps you're simply unsure of your sexual prowess--"

"Hey, I'll have you know that no one has ever complained about my technique. I always leave my women satisfied, thank you very much." He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. "I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

"I have noticed that talking about sex makes you very uncomfortable." She watched, fascinated, as Logan's jaw tightened.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He glared at her.

"Yes, you do." She remained silent for nearly a minute. Why shouldn't he suffer a little, too, if he was going to make this so difficult for her?

"Sex."

Logan's mouth twitched in reaction.

"Intercourse."

He cracked his neck.

"See, you just cracked your neck."

"So what? That doesn't mean anything." He scratched his nose and avoided meeting her gaze.

"Fuck," she whispered, leaning over him, her breath fanning his face.

He jumped and firmly set her away from him. "Ok. Enough, 'Ro," he said, clearly uncomfortable.

Ororo schooled her features into an innocent expression. A quick glance downward confirmed what she suspected -- Logan had a very obvious erection. Interesting, she thought, filing away the information for later. When she looked back up, he was scowling. He crossed his arms over his lap.

Taking pity on him, Ororo decided a slight change of subject was in order. "Haven't you ever just slept with someone and not had it become a full-blown relationship?"

"Sure. But you and me, we make good partners. Good friends. I don't want to ruin that."

"Neither do I. But that's not inevitable. It's just one night. And it's just sex."

"Just sex. Got it." His brow furrowed in such a way that she was sure he was about to argue with her. "And what if you fall in love with me? What happens to our friendship then?"

Ororo snorted and shook her head. "While I'm sure your technique is more than adequate, Logan, I can assure you that I will not fall in love with you after one night of intercourse. Of course, if this is your way of trying to tell me that you're in love with me..."

Logan's eyes widened and he inched even further away from her. "What? No, I am definitely not in love with you. I mean, I like you. But that's it. "

"I like you, too," she said with a smile. "And for some reason I can't explain yet, I'm craving sexual release with you." The last words were spoken in a tone ripe with resentment. She knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn't help it; she didn't want to want any man."You say that like it's a terrible thing. Like I'm the last guy you'd choose. Look, 'Ro, if you're going to insult me, you may as well just go home and do whatever you need to do alone."

"Don't you think I've tried that already?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and moistening her lips. Her eyes never left his. "Masturbation serves a purpose, but it isn't nearly as satisfying as having a partner."

Logan's mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. A dark flush worked its way up his cheeks, and Storm had the gratification of knowing she'd rendered Logan temporarily speechless. It didn't happen nearly as often as she'd like, so she had to savor the small victories. Taking advantage of his discomfiture, she crawled over to him on her hands and knees. When she reached his side, she sat back on her heels and leaned in until her mouth was millimeters from his ear. "Come on, Logan. You know you want me. I know you want me." What she knew was how much she wanted him. If she didn't have him, just this once, she might go crazy. Of course, that wasn't truly possible.

"How do you know what I want?" he said, his voice hoarse.

She reached out, intending to cup him through the worn cotton of his pants, but in a flash of movement, Logan pulled her back onto his lap. "I'll show you exactly what I want."

"Finally."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Clasping her hips with both hands, he ground himself against her until her eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped her lips. When she would have taken off her jeans, he stopped her. "Patience, Goddess," he said. Logan caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm. A shiver coursed through her and her eyes fluttered shut. Releasing her hand, he nipped at her bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. Threading his hands through her hair, he tilted her head so that he could look at her. His eyes softened as they met hers. "Good things to come those who wait," he chided.

"Then this had better be exceptional," she said, trying to breathe normally.

She yelped when he swatted her lightly on the bottom. "Oh, trust me, it will be." His all-too-self-assured grin had her rolling her eyes.

Logan rose from the couch, forcing Storm to wrap her legs around his waist in order to keep from falling. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"We're not doing this on my couch," he replied with a crooked smile before marching them across the room and down a dark hallway.

She shrugged. "It seems like a perfectly good couch."

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?"

"Only you." She stifled a smile. "However, there are other things I can do with my mouth besides talk..."

"Is that so?"

His response was casual, but she heard his breath quicken.
The idea that he could carry her without betraying even a hint of strain was strangely exciting. She tightened her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against the warmth of his bare chest. An answering warmth washed over her body, settled low in her belly. Acting on impulse, Storm buried her face in Logan's neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled like...like nothing she could name. Yet she yearned to wrap herself in his scent. She shuddered involuntarily and clenched her teeth against the raw need unfurling in her.

Logan must have felt her movement. "You ok?" he asked.

She felt the words vibrate up through the wall of his chest. "Hurry," she replied.

His arms tightened around her and he laughed, low and deep, tugging at something inside her. "All right. Let's see if I can't help you with your problem."

Logan stopped and brushed her hair back from her face before gently setting her down on his bed. Disappointment washed over her when he didn't immediately join her. The world had narrowed to the scent of his skin and the drumbeat of his pulse under her ear during their journey to his bedroom. It expanded again as she took advantage of the lull to examine her surroundings and attempt to decelerate the rapid beat of her heart.

Surprisingly, the curtains were open, allowing a bit of hazy ambient light to filter in from outside. A lamp on the night-stand cast enough light that she could make out the dark mahogany luster of the sleigh bed. Its strong lines and sleek curves reminded her of the man who would soon occupy it — with her. She shivered and turned her attention to the other objects on his night-stand. A photograph of him and another man in a plain wooden frame. Next to that lay a book and a magazine. She moved until she could see the titles — War and Peace, and beneath that, Hot Rod. A quick rifle through the slick magazine pages revealed colorful pictures of cars and their innards. She set the magazine down and brushed her hand over the cover of the book, shooting a look over her shoulder at Logan, who remained standing at the foot of the bed.

"What? I read."

Her lips twitched at his defensive tone. "I don't doubt it. But knowing about this..." She tapped the book with her index finger. "...would make Hank a very happy man."

"Which is why you're not going to mention it to him."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm asking you not to. As a favor."

"Hm. And what do I get in return for this favor?"

"You're really ungrateful, you know that? I already promised to help you with your problem."

"I would be grateful if you'd actually help me. So far all I've gotten is a lot of macho posturing." A shrug of her shoulders and an exaggerated sigh. "I'm beginning to think you're all talk."

He advanced on her then, stalking her with a predatory grace that reminded her he had once been a sniper.

She inched backward on the bed until she sat against the headboard. Then there was nowhere left to move.

logan's eyes glimmered dangerously, and she suppressed a shiver. He caged her with his arms before curving his hands around her hips and pulling her down until she lay on her back in his bed. "You make me crazy," he murmured against her ear. She gasped as his breath tickled her and the meaning of his words sank in.

Then he kissed her, and this time there was no hesitation. Just the firm press of his mouth against hers and the warm caress of his hands on her face. Her heart hammered in her chest. Yes. This was what she had wanted, what she had needed, when she lay in her own bed and fought her irrational desire for him. Kissing him back, she teased his bottom lip until he relented and opened his mouth. Her tongue swept in to taste him and she heard him groan.

This audible evidence of his hunger sent a bolt of delicious heat straight to her core. "What do you mean, I make you crazy?"

"Lately" he paused to nibble on her earlobe, "all I can focus on is the shape of your perfect, perfect mouth."

Feeling triumphant, she pulled back and cupped Logan's face with both hands, so she could look directly in his eyes. "Then you admit it's mutual."

He laughed shakily and grasped her right hand. He moved it to his erection, held it there for a long moment. "Yeah, it's mutual."

She'd known. Of course she'd known. The guy hugs, the almost-kisses, the way he looked at her sometimes when he thought she wouldn't notice. She wasn't an idiot. But to hear him admit it...

A secret part of her thrilled at the knowledge that Logan was hard for her.

Emboldened by his admission, she pushed him onto his back and touched him again, stroking him through his pants.

Logan's head fell back as he groaned, exposing the column of his throat. His hips jerked, and he arched into her hand; heat pooled between her legs. But before Ororo could take his pants off as she wanted to, his hand shot out and caught her wrist, stilling her movement.

"No."

"Wolverine, I'm tired of waiting." She knew she sounded whiny, but she didn't care.

"You needed help, and you came to me. Logan, problem solver, the best at what I do, at your service." He freed her hand and sat up. "I'm glad you're here," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, "and believe me, I want you, too. But tonight is all about you."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

The way he said it sent a frisson of anticipation skittering up her spine. "Logan, this is only happening once." It wouldn't do to have him thinking it, this, would be happening again. Reasonable expectations needed to be set.

He leaned over her, his body blocking the light, and trailed a series of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along her throat.

She moaned in response and shifted restlessly, spearing her fingers into his hair. "Just tonight," she said, shuddering as Wolverine's mouth sought the hollow of her clavicle. "To defuse the tension," she said breathlessly.

"I know," he said, the words deliciously muffled against her skin. He lifted his head, dark hair adorably mussed from her wandering fingers, and met her gaze. "Relax, 'Ro. It's just sex. I get it," he said.

She could have sworn his eyes glinted with mockery. But then he shifted closer, and their lips met in a kiss that temporarily stole her breath and her thoughts. His mouth slanted over hers again and again. His scent surrounded her, cradled her. It clung to his sheets and rose from his skin, enveloping her.

He teased her, just barely allowing the tip of his tongue to graze hers, until she moaned, desperate to taste him fully.

She heard him chuckle, and she swallowed his laughter with her mouth, kissing him deeply. She used her tongue to stroke the inside of his mouth, allowing it to tangle with his. Had he tasted so good in her fantasies? No. And tasting him now only increased the ache that had been building steadily within her.

Hungry. She was so hungry. No, she was starving for him — for his mouth, and his hands, and his manhood.

Her breasts felt heavy and swollen with want. Before she could even think to ask him to touch her there, his hand lifted, only to settle on her right breast, cupping her through the fabric of her shirt and bra. Ororo wanted, needed the heat of his skin against hers. She pushed Logan away so that she could lift up enough to wriggle out of the tank top that suddenly felt much, much tighter than it had before. She fumbled with the hooks on her bra, desperate to be naked.

"Here, let me do it." With fingers that seemed steadier than hers, logan helped her remove her clothing.

When she finally lay before him naked, he settled beside her. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but it seemed important, suddenly, that Wolverine be pleased with it.

Eyes solemn and locked on hers, he traced a trembling finger from the center of her forehead, over her nose, lips, and chin, down her throat, between her breasts, and over her stomach, stopping just above where she wanted him most. He smoothed his palm over her mons, the heat of his hand spreading outward from where he touched her until she felt warm all over.

He finally looked away, his eyes straying to her breasts. Her nipples hardened under the weight of his stare, pleading for his attention. How much more of this sweet torment could she take?

"Show me where you want me," he rasped.

The low tenor of his voice told her he was as affected as she was.

Feeling as if she were moving in slow motion, Ororo reached out for his hand and placed it flush against her breast.

"Only my hands?" he whispered, stroking around and around her nipple, coming oh so tantalizingly close.

She shook her head, feeling her cheeks flush.

"Good," he replied, "because I really want to put my mouth on you."

In a flash of movement he was on top of her, the delicious weight of his body pressing her back into the bed. Lifting up slightly, he moved down until his mouth hovered just above her pebbled nipple. Finally, when she thought she might just die if he didn't kiss her there, he lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Chills wracked her body, and she gripped his head, holding him in place. Each tug of his lips elicited an answering throb in her sex. He released her nipple and bent to brush his stubbled cheek against her sensitive skin. Sensation rippled through her. She looked down, and the sight of Logan's dark hair against the caramel coloring of her breasts nearly undid her. He laved her nipple with his tongue and blew a soft breath over it. It tightened even further, almost painfully, and she bucked upward, eyes squeezed shut, seeking the moist heat of his mouth.

"Easy,'Ro," he said, kissing the underside of one breast and then the other, attempting to dampen the blaze that he'd kindled.

When she'd calmed sufficiently, she opened her eyes to find him watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. He cupped both her breasts in his hands and squeezed them together.

"Fuck," he said with a sigh. "You're gorgeous." The reverence with which he spoke the words contrasted with their coarseness.

He moved up until they were face to face again and covered her with his body. He grasped her leg right beside her knee, and she understood that he wanted her to wrap her legs around him. She did so, grinding herself against him until they were both panting. She could feel him, even through his pants. Each time his cock rubbed against her, it sparked the most exquisite friction. He'd buried his face against her throat, and each hot breath sent a fresh wave of sensation coursing through her.

She clutched at his bare back and felt the taut muscles bunch under her hands. How many countless, frustrating nights had she fantasized about Logan, especially after watching him in the Danger Room? Oh, she'd always known he was well-structured. Her hands mapped the width of his back, the curve of his tricep, and the bulge of his bicep, committing them to memory.

This was better than any fantasy she'd ever had. Giving in to her earlier impulse, she nipped his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Sorry," she said, sounding anything but. "I've been wanting to do that since you opened the door and let me in."

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. "Really?" he asked, sounding pleased.

"Mmhmm."

"So, uh, what else have you been wanting to do to me? You know, you mentioned I've been keeping you up at night."

"Are you asking me to tell you about my fantasies?"

"Yeah. Don't you think you should, seeing as this is our first and only night together?"

"No. It would just kill the mystery," she deadpanned. "But since I just shared something private, I think you should, too. Tell me something you want to do to me."

"I already told you. I want..." His voice trailed off.

"What?" she prodded.

"I want to put my mouth on you," he said, voice strained.

Ororo shuddered at his words and felt a rush of wetness. Then her eyes widened as she processed what he'd said. But before she could formulate an appropriate response, Logan moved down on the bed.

With infinitely gentle hands, he spread her legs. Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited for the first touch. When seconds ticked by and it didn't come, she opened her eyes and lifted her head to look down at him. She found him looking at her with rapt attention. "Logan?" she said, suddenly unsure.

"You are...It's..." He cleared his throat and met her gaze, eyes hot. "You're pink. And wet; I can see it. Is that because of me?" he asked, his voice husky and his eyes dark with a hunger she suspected was reflected in her own eyes.

She shivered and fought the urge to run then, as the sheer intimacy of the moment sank in. The naked honesty of the question simultaneously shook her and sent her arousal soaring one level higher. She was in bed with James Logan Howlett, the Wolverine, a man she worked with, bickered with, relied on...and fantasized about. Was she wet because of him?

"Yes," she finally answered.

He rewarded her with a smile that made her breath catch in her throat.
She cried out, shocked by the intensity of feeling that swept through her when he touched her, parting her folds with his fingers.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath warm against the tender skin of her inner thigh. "It's ok." He pressed soft kisses against her skin as he stroked her.

With each deft touch, the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter. She heard his sharp inhale. "You smell so good," he murmured a second before he replaced his finger with his tongue.

His tongue barely grazed her clit, but she reared off the bed, gasping. He dipped his tongue into her center. She moaned at the undeniable pleasure of the intimate kiss. Logan curled his hands under her bottom and pulled her up toward his mouth. He began to lick her in earnest, setting a steady pace that had her undulating her hips in time with each sure stroke of his tongue.

She struggled to hold on to the last shreds of her control. But she'd been waiting so long, aching for release, that she knew she wouldn't last long. "Logan," she said. Not when he was flicking his tongue against her like that. Not when she could hear him moaning, too.

"Come for me," he commanded. "I want you to come in my mouth."

Not when — She felt him slide a finger inside her. Oh. "LOGAN!," she cried, her voice pitched high. Her muscles tightened, and she shook as the orgasm washed over her entire body in hot waves.

The aftershocks trembled through her as he gave her one last slow lick. Finally, after the last tremor subsided, he moved up to lay beside her, kissing her softly on the mouth. She tasted herself on him, and for some reason that made her smile.

Logan pulled back and traced a finger along the edges of her mouth. She turned her head to look at him, feeling boneless and spent. She blinked, once, twice. She was spent, but he wasn't. Stifling a yawn, she reached out a hand and pressed it against Logan's erection. "What about you?" she asked. "I can take care of you," she said, blinking rapidly in an effort to keep him in focus. Her limbs were loose and heavy, and her eyes suddenly felt unbearably heavy, too.

"I can wait," he said with a soft laugh. "I've waited this long already."

"Mmm. No," she said, trying to shake her head but finding it unwilling to obey her brain's commands. "One night, Logan," she mumbled.

"I know, I know. One night."

Storm felt Wolverine kiss her fingertips and smooth her hair from her forehead. She sighed and snuggled closer to him. He was warm, and he smelled nice.

"You're not gonna tell Hank about the book, are you, 'Ro?"

"Not since you conceded to my demands."

"That's my girl," he said, patting her hip.

They continued to make love till noon. Afterwards Logan slept and she left. She left the X-Men and went home to Africa.





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