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Ororo felt better after her rest. She thought it would be hard to fall asleep surrounded by creepy preaching saints but the Soldier unnerved them so they stayed away. Her last thought before falling into oblivion was she still didn’t know his name and that didn’t worry her because she didn’t want to care.

Logan watched her sleep for awhile before attending to his business. Leaving her with the saints was best because they couldn’t help squawking whenever someone approached which would alert his little warrior fast enough to defend herself. And she was a little warrior: beautiful but deadly. She took him on, both sexually and physically, with no hesitation. But it was best not to think about her too much he told himself.

Before they could get any further he needed to take care of one small burr in their ass.
Remy.
Logan slowly winded around the man. Climbing up a caravan, he perched from the top and eyeing the scene below. Lowering his eyelids, he squinted in annoyance. He couldn’t be positive but he sensed the other man knew he wasn’t alone. Remy stalked this way and that, graceful among the market crowd compared to Logan who simply barrelled through. The market had a way of knowing when to scatter and when to collate and right now the air smelled bad. Expensive wares were being packed away discreetly and the cheaper stuff, both lives and objects, remained blissfully unaware until the last second.

Remy spun around fast enough to stop the large beast of a man from completely squashing him. He’d glanced at the merchants, who saw the danger that remained hidden from him, and tried to gauge how to best defend himself. He knew anyone capable of surviving Ororo’s attack from earlier would consider him small fry. He was determined to prove them wrong.
Hundreds of people magically disappeared in half a second and the pair crashed noisily into a lone wooden table. The rickety material snapped under their weight and, in the confusion, Remy managed to kick flip Logan from over him.
“Where’s Ororo?” Remy shouted, hoping against hope that she could hear him. Even if she wasn’t free to come directly to him, she must know he was coming. “If yo’ harmed her-”
“Don’t ya mean my Siva?” Logan taunted.
He dodged a kick and received a knee in the face for his efforts. He started to wonder if Remy and Ororo didn’t train against one another. They both had similar styles: violent, fast, and meant to incapacitate their opponent as quickly as possible. Strategic but he didn’t go down easy. Logan growled and unsheathed his claws. Remy’s eyes betrayed no emotions except determinacy. Quickly Remy laid a series of punches down on the sturdy man. Logan drew in to his body, huddling and waiting.
When Remy took a break to shake out his bruised knuckles Logan took his opportunity. Grabbing Remy by his hair, the same hair he had heard Ororo rustling her fingers through, and buried his claws into the man’s side.
His mouth open, grimacing, Remy held on to Logan’s fist. The second he let go he would truly be dead. Again. For now he was in a middle place that was mostly encompassed by pain. One other thought ran through his mind.
“Tell her, tell her Ah loved her,” Remy whispered. He lost the ability to recognize who he was talking to. Logan waited for his opponent to die. No need to rush.
“Ororo Ah sorry Ah couldn’t love yo’ de way yo’ deserve. I love yo’ goddess, my siva,” Remy reached out to touch what he thought was Ororo’s face. “S’alright Ah for-”

Remy meant to tell her he didn’t regret much but he regretted everyday he wasn’t making love to her. He meant to tell her he knew about her real past, past the lies she’d fed him. He meant to say he knew how she felt about him. He meant to tell her not to cry. He meant to tell her he forgiven her for everything she’d done in her past. He’d forgiven her the sins she had trespassed against him. And he wished the courage to be forgiven.

Logan shook the blood off his claws. Remy was a crumpled, twisted mess at his feet. Stepping over his body Logan knew he couldn’t ever tell Ororo about this or she would finally let him know what it felt like to really die. Permanently. Behind him he could hear the market place resuming. The tiny fingers of thieves searching the body for valuables; the strongest dragging away the corpse like a victory charm.

When the Soldier appeared, the saints quieting down, she didn’t look up. For the moment her mind was consumed by thoughts of Remy. He would be concerned for her. She hoped he listened to his own advice and tried first for diplomacy with their lord the Devil. Of course he might lose his shit completely and cut a bloody swath to find her. She hoped he didn’t. Since they met she had always felt as if perhaps they had known each other while alive and had been drawn to one another for that reason. Why else their attraction?
Logan sat beside her but still she paid no mind. He touched her thigh, letting his hand to start at the hip and glide down to the knee, but she jerked away in annoyance. Logan grunted and stood.
“Lessgo,” he muttered.

Absently Ororo stood and stretched. Yes, she did feel better but still she was sporting a few ugly bruises from her encounters with the hulk walking in front of her. Roughly he grabbed at her hand but she managed to snatch her hand away. Warily, finally looking at him, she trailed behind him. The lower they travelled into hell, the more the crowd thinned until they were alone. And still they travelled onwards. Behind them the world they left continued as if nothing had happened.

----

The Devil rested in a room in his tower. Most of the room was dusty with ill use. The chair was uncomfortable but he chose it because the war he fought in it was uncomfortable. He chose not to forget this. It felt like only seconds ago he and the Lord had been sipping from the ambrosia of endless time and resting their consciousnesses in the narrow confines of infinite space. Then they were drawing up the rules to the game of their war. Boredom, the boredom of children, had incited the idea. And now they were here. Sighing he addressed the knock at his door but not before resuming his comfortable corporal form.

His latest Advocate, an old friend, stood in the doorway. He was a tall man, whole and strong, with truthful eyes and an inquisitive mind. He bowed, a habit the Devil had done away with in the last century, before entering.
“You’re late.” The devil chuckled, “You know I got bored of that a little while ago. A couple of minutes I think you’d count it as.”
The Advocate bowed his head. Though he said nothing, the Devil knew that the man knew his lord knew the exact weight of time on humans. The Devil straightened up, even straightening his tie, before continuing.
“Well, let’s get another one over with then, shall we?” he picked up a folder on the desk. It sat atop several layers of messy maps and brief scribbles that he’d like to consider strategy. He tried not to sigh. He felt it was time to end things. The Lord was still enjoying this whole war scene but frankly, the Devil was pretty bored. If they settled things once and for all he could clear up a few misconceptions and get on with his life.
His Advocate nodded.
“I just want to start you off slow. I know this must be a headfuck,” the Devil said. Finally he’d gotten a chuckle out of a beloved old friend.
A woosh of light and a flash later a body was unceremoniously dropped to the Devil’s war room floor. At first the body remained crumpled and the Devil wondered if someone should help the elderly figure to his feet. Instead, slowly, the figure swayed to its feet on its own steam.

The black man clutched his white robes to his chest.
“I reject you in the name of the Lord, our Jesus!” he cried, wringing his hands nervously. Moments before he was introducing himself to a surely sweet old lady who had finished singing in the choir.
The devil smiled genially and spread his hands wide. “As you can see this is my dominion. Now according to my records, you are the lucky award winner of Sainthood according to the, hmm, Catholic faith. Haha, they do tend to be regular and of late have been getting really progressive. As a result this has disqualified you to live in heaven and well, you’re now mine. My advocate here, you may address him as Advocate Forge, will now brand your ass and then escort you to the lower hells. Thank you for this audience.”
Forge grinned, bearing the strong marks of his Native American heritage, before speaking to his lord. “Should his lordship thank a lowly saint?”
“Welllll,” the Devil said with a joyous sarcasm. “I have to say something to make him feel better about himself. After all, he is going to miss the party.”

----

“Fine. Go fuck a donkey for all ah care.”
“Hn?” Ororo wrinkled her nose. “You do kind of look like a donkey.”
“Baby, be nice,” Logan chastised.
For the first time in hours, what humans on Earth called days, he’d decided to speak to the raincloud girl. Tightening his bottom lip he asked if she wanted to rest. Their journey was long, longer than she could ever expect, and he felt it was best not to let her beat herself up trying to keep up with him. When he spoke to her she had the audacity not to hear him. By talking to her he was extending the hand of mercy as he saw it. By not hearing him the first time, she was rejecting it. And yet, he wanted to just let go and make like nothing was wrong at the same time.

Ororo saw none of this inner battle. She had heard him but the fact that he was speaking to her was weird and at first she hadn’t known how to react. The first words out of her mouth, caught off guard, was, “Huh? What did you say?”. But it seemed to work out for the best as the Soldier was in a good mood.
She rested on her haunches and absently picked up a few pebbles. Jiggling them in her hand she tossed them at the wall across from them. It was happening incrementally but the walls were narrowing. For some reason this left her jaw clenching and unclenching. Maybe, she figured, she was just holding in too much pent up stress.
Logan laid out beside her, his ever present erection on display. He stretched his arms out behind him. Seconds later he was blissfully asleep. Even as Ororo trailed her fingers along his thigh, Logan snored on. His sounds vibrated against the halls before they came soundly echoing back.
A nerve in Ororo’s forehead twitched and she delicately threw her leg over his hips. Waiting a few minutes for a reaction to this gave her nothing. The rhythm of his snores didn’t change, his breath didn’t catch; Ororo was a little annoyed. She had to get rid of this negative energy somehow.

Lost in her head, her knees dug into the ground beside Logan’s ribs, Logan snatched him to her. His arms securely wrapped around her back Logan moaned into Ororo’s ears. She struggled, defiantly for a minute, before she gave it up. The position was undignified at best and at worst was impossible to get out of.
“Mmm, yeah, baby like that,” Logan purred, his eyes still closed.
Ororo said nothing. He didn’t deserve her to say anything, she fumed. Taking a deep breathe, she assessed the situation. The best course was to wait for him to relax and wait for a moment to free herself. To get him to trust her she relaxed her own body, folding her arms into her chest.

What she didn’t realize was being this close to her, flesh to flesh; Logan could sense her blood coursing through her muscles. He felt the faint tension waiting to spring into action. About a half an hour later Ororo was fast asleep, faintly drooling on his chest, exhausted from their approximately endless three day march. Biting his lip Logan changed the position of his arms, tense and waiting for the girl to spring up with a “HA!”.
He kept one arm wrapped around her shoulders, firmly supporting her weight, and tangled his left hand in the mass of white silk he’d been itching to touch since they met. He threw his left leg over hers and drew her even closer than before. For the first time in about a week, his uncomfortably hard erection went down. Then he went to sleep with the smell of blood leaving faint traces in Ororo’s hair and on her skin.

When Ororo woke up she had her arm around Logan’s neck, drawing him to her chest, and his body resting in between her legs. His arms were wrapped underneath her, clinging to the tangle of hair and her waist. She took a deep breathe and waited for this nightmare to end. Logan rose on his elbows, her arm fell away from him, and his thick hair unable to block the intensity of his stare.
Ororo licked her lips nervously and he dove on it. First kissing her bottom lip, he inched himself forward to capture her mouth in a deep throated massage with his tongue. He moaned into her mouth. Ororo was frozen- her eyes open, her heart thumping- because this was exactly why she didn’t often sleep around.
One, her heart belonged to a Cajun Advocate, no matter what. Two, the fear that the men may come to expect something from her. The Soldier, anonymous but haunting, had his eyes firmly closed and in his kiss Ororo could detect a fervency that was not there before. Slowly, his hips trailing a figure eight against her, he let his fingers trace a path down her arm before he captured her hand and placed it on his waist. The signal was unmistakable. He wanted her to want him, to touch him. It was a stooped movement that Ororo hadn’t expected from the Soldier. Sighing into his mouth, she knew she had to let go of her past. She called him a Soldier but it only meant that she kept forgetting she was one too. Soldiers were without attachments, without thoughts for the past because they had all the answers they could ever need.
By making love to this man, in this way, would erase every part of Remy from her body and, she hoped, her mind.

Later, much later, Logan breathed deeply. He had never been so satisfied. It gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach: content. The girl, Ororo, sat up first.
He resisted pulling her back into his arms. Only in the minutes before, he’d been using his powers to determine exactly how to incite as many orgasms in her body, wringing every ounce ecstasy from her nerves. He knew she enjoyed the slow burn of intense concentration on every one of her carnal fantasies. In turn, she gave him exactly what he wanted: the perfect mixture of pain…and pleasure.

“Where are we going?” she asked him not looking over her shoulder to face him.
Logan smirked. “So that was your plan? Fuck me senseless and get me to reveal all my secrets?”
Ororo was serious, her elbows resting casually on her knees. “I don’t think you have many secrets. Except your name.”
Logan cocked his head. “That might be but uh, the name is classified. As is yours.”
“But you know my name,” she laughed. He tried not to shudder as he recalled calling out that name, over and over again, as she let lightning and gentle breezes trail over his skin.
“Well technically ah don’t count,” he said as surly as he could.
“No matter. We shall be wherever it is we are going when we get there,” Ororo let out what have sounded like a growl as she stood. “Until then, I do want to thank you for helping me release some energy-”
“My pleasure,” he chuckled. She had a funny way of speaking about facts. They didn’t just have sex, they’d made as close to consummating love as Soldiers get.
“- and we won’t have to ever do that again.” Ororo brushed dirt from her buttcheeks. Logan helped by slapping her ass.
“Woah, why the HELL not?” Logan protested as he shot up.
“I am a Soldier. And I think you’re getting a little personal. Who knows when you last had sex but don’t get so damned attached. Just think, at least you know how long it takes to get where we are going. Surely that will make your sexless journeytime pass quicker.”
Logan was speechless. He turned away from her, her following, before stopping and returning to face her still speechless. He did this a few times until Ororo stopped following and waited for him to get over his shock.
“You’re a real piece of work, know that?” Logan growled in her face before stalking off.
At her heart, Ororo was a pragmatic woman. She assumed he’d get over his bruised ego. But in the mean time she prepared for a long march.




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