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Thank-you to all who reviewed and read the last chapter. It’s always great to hear how you think its going. I’ve stumbled on this story for a few weeks but I think it’s back on track now, loads-a-luv, M’iko,xx


Chapter.3.



Later that evening...



“Ready for the next one?” Ororo asked dulcetly, a sexy smile teasing on her lips, pulling them into a deliciously full pout. She dangled the lightly sugared strawberry above his mouth, brushing it along his barely parted lips tantalisingly. A delighted gasp uttered from her mouth as he snapped his teeth around it without warning; springing with all the sharp movement of a predator. He tried to fight it but couldn’t help but suck in his cheeks at the extremity of the sweetness on his over sensitive taste buds as just his left eye screwed shut in a kind of physical wince.


Ororo chuckled as she brought what was left of the fleshy red fruit to her mouth and finished it. She made a shocked mumbled noise around the soft, sweet food as Logan suddenly sat up, taking her from her straddling position over his stretched out legs so that she lay flush against the thick sheep wool shag-pile that was laid out over the cold floor over the living room, just in front of the pleasantly roaring log fire. He brushed his lips against as he came in close, resting as much of his weight as he dared on top of her, taking in the fresh sandalwood scent mingled with that of the fresh fruit and white wine she’d had earlier. “So beautiful...” He murmured, making her smile at the delicate feel of his warm strawberry tinged breath caressing her face as he spoke and then brushed her lips with his once more.


She reached up, cupping her hands at first around the back of his neck and then running them slowly up until she had her fingers intertwined in his surprisingly soft lamb-chops, the only rough texture coming from his rather thick five o’clock shadow. Tilting her head back slightly against the off-white rug beneath her, she pressed her lips to his, moving them against his slowly and allowing him to reciprocate in kind. Uttering a soft sigh just before their kiss deepened, she let her hands run up into his hair as she lifted her legs up about his waist; clasping them together just lightly. “You know,” she whispered musingly as their lips parted for a moment, “Ummm....I might just...take you up on that offer.”


“What...offer?”


Ororo smiled through the kiss, “To stay here...forever...” She crooned delicately, recalling their earlier conversation, or moreover, foreplay.


“Sounds good...” The softly spoken words rumbled in his chest so that she could literally feel them, causing a tingling sensation to run through her, just like a teenager in the first pangs... They stayed like this for a while longer; kissing contentedly in the vigorous yet balmy firelight, t the soundtrack of its sporadic popping, spitting and gentle crackling. In this completely sated state, the two lovers really could have remained here, in this tempered world forever. After a time, neither of which knew how long, they sat nestled together on the pale fleece, Logan with his back leant against the large padded reading chair behind his whilst Ororo lay with her cheek against his chest, her arms folded around his midriff and long legs tangled with his.


“The village was nice,” She said through the gentle silence, “very friendly. But that man was a bit---odd. Don’t you think?” She raised her head slightly to look up at him in anticipation of an answer. She could have sworn for a second that she felt him stiffen beneath her arms, but dismissed it.


“Odd.” He muttered gruffly, “that’s not exactly the word I’d use ta describe him, darlin’.” His face darkened in simple remembrance of the way he’d been looking at Storm. Not lecherously, but with something infinitely more disquieting than that. And there was still that thing at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quiet pin-point that had got to him too. Something that he’d happily put out of his mind until seconds ago.


“Oh Logan,” Ororo laughed against his bare chest, “you truly have to be one of the most misanthropic people I have ever met!”


Logan just snorted bemusedly; he would have given a rebuttal if he’d known what the hell the word meant. All he knew was that it did not sound as if it were meant as a compliment. He shifted to the side as Ororo moved above him, straddling his lap once more. But as he moved he felt something in his jeans pocket dig into the side of his right leg and then he remembered, with a slight gleam in his eye, exactly what it was. “Just for that,” he began, linking his hands together at the small of her back as she sat astride him, figuring out a way to get some ‘pay back’ for her comment, “I’ve got a good mind not t’ give ya yer present.”


“You might threaten well Mr. Wolverine,” She said in a mock sly voice, leaning in closer to him and placing her hands on his sides, deceptively lightly. “But I have a secret weapon up my sleeve.” Her lips were close to his now, mere seconds away from a certified lip lock, or so it seemed...


“Oh yeah?”


“Yes.” Then she sprung her plan into action, tickling his sides mercilessly, laughing at the simple fact that he, with all his might, was desperately trying to hold his in. But he wouldn’t relent, instead trying to catch hold of her torturous hands but they were just too damn quick, “Come on! Give it to me!” She cried through her merriment, only receiving a vigorous shake of the head in return; his lips sealed shut, pursing them with his cheeks puffed out so that he looked as if he were about to burst.


Eventually Logan could take no more and rescinded, letting out a gusty breath with a pent up laugh tailing it, “Alright! Alright! I give up,” He threw his hands up in surrender, “You win!”


Ororo beamed with a sense of triumph; one hand held haughtily on her hip the other stretched out, palm flat in anticipation of receiving her ‘prize. “Remember,” she said cunningly, “I know all your weaknesses now.”


“Yeah? An’ I know all yers...but it’ll keep.” He warned playfully as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a long box covered in a richly deep red velvet. He watched contentedly as her eyes gleamed with expectation as he hooked his thumb under the clasp and pushed it upwards; the heavy weight of the compressed hinges making the lid flip up open with a sudden and satisfying pop. Slowly he reached in, drawing out a long sliver chain. Snapping the box back shut he laid it to one side.


Ororo made a slight noise of awe as Logan gently took hold of her left hand and extended her wrist out to him. With ease he fastened the bracelet around the slender length of her lower arm. Once he’d finished she brought it closer to her, her mouth slightly parted as she examined the beautifully clear cut diamonds that were set into a series of small silver ‘X’s. She ran her finger lightly over the shape of one, “It’s beautiful Logan.” She fairly whispered, “I---.”


“Shh!” Logan suddenly cut her off, raising his hand to quiet her too.


“What is it?”


“Quite.” He admonished again, as he turned his head to the side and his eyes became unfocused as he tried to make out whatever sound it was that he’d heard. Ororo looked around and tried to listen out too but hadn’t a hope in hell of hearing the type of fine and almost imperceptible noises that Logan could pick up. His ears twitched, just slightly as he gently began to move Ororo off his lap. “Stay here a minute.”


“Logan, what is it?” She asked more sternly this time, “What can you hear?”


By this time Logan was up and looking out of the window. It was as black as ebony out there and even with his keen eyes he struggled to see anything, but he could have sworn he’d heard something out there. “I don’t know.” He replied distractedly, still peering out into the darkness. Then he turned and made directly for the door, not bothering to put his shoes on before he yanked the thick wooden door open and went out into the cool night in just his jeans. Ororo didn’t get chance to protest.


*


In a mode of stealth that came to him like a second nature, Logan made his way around to the back of the cottage. There was no moon out tonight and the stars were smothered by a thick layer of cloud that added extra ink to the sky. It was deathly silent save for the sound of the veiled river somewhere over the hill. But as they say; silence can be deafening.


Coming around the east wall of the building he focused intently on everything around him, trying to shallow his breaths as much as possible so as not to distract himself with the rushing sound of them in his ears. Sticking close to the wall he tried to ignore the furious itch that plagued the groves between the knuckles on each hand. He forced the need to release the gleaming blades embedded in each hand down for now”although it did take his all. When they wanted to come out badly enough something in his body always seemed to override his mind.


There was a small barn type building behind the cottage, to the left of where they’d had breakfast this morning, painted with the same white paint, although it appeared somewhat more dilapidated in its physical state. Then it came again. The sound he’d been almost positive that his sensitive ears had picked up earlier. It was like a shifting or perhaps a dragging. Whatever it was it was coming from inside that small building with its sagging roof that was made of dull slate rather than the dark wiriness of thatch.


Logan held still for a moment; his breath halted; the wall at his back like ice. He listened---he waited. Nothing more came. As he started towards the gaping black of the opening once more, whose door was hanging awkwardly to one side, balancing just so against the flaking paint of the wall behind it, he became aware of scents. Some familiar, some new. Of the living and...the dead. He could pin-point it now, leading him to wonder why he hadn’t spotted it the moment he’d left the house. A pungent trail that hung so thickly he could almost see it, weaving like a dark wisp of black smoke through the already consuming darkness.


Once he had come to the edge of the doorway, he paused. Resting his hands on the weathered, rounded edges of the low opening, he dipped his head beneath the wooden beam to gain entrance, slow moving in; a sleek form with movements of animal-like control. Master of every muscle and joint.


The reek hit him full on now he was inside, all the animal smells that vied for dominance over the softer tone of brittle and dried straw. The same straw that prickled with crispness underneath his bare feet. He gave himself a moment to adjust to all of these new assaults; above which that putrid scent still raged---stronger than ever now. He absently ran his tongue over his bottom lip, making it glisten with warm, viscous saliva---the opaque stench riling something dark and buried deep inside him. But he fought it like he always did, in fact he never stopped on some subconscious level; that particular battle never ending for him.


Mentally, Logan pulled back, trying to concentrate on his surroundings, his eyes flicking over the barn-like space that was now practically as clear to him as day, only cast in darker tones. He could see the old farming equipment, piled up and rusting to his left, draped with cobwebs and stray bits of yellow straw. Old relics, still within their deaths, stacked like old war monuments. Forgotten in there age as time drifted by. On his right there was a ladder that led up to a platform of sorts but beneath that were two stalls, pig pens perhaps. Once upon a time...


*SKURRRRICK!*


Logan shot his attention down to the pen on the left hand side from where the bazaar noise emanated; its waist-high stall door slightly ajar, waiting to be pushed back.


It was coming from there, Logan realised as a deep growl started in his chest and he moved towards it. The stench was coming from there...The stall door screeched into the darkness, its rust laden cry of pain. As soon as it had edged open enough there was a furious rustling and then a fast scampering, heading straight for him.


*SNIKT!!!SNIKT!!!* The sound resonated through-out the barn as something rushed at Logan, brushing swiftly against his legs. He turned, watched the small dark blur pass. He had realised what it was before the meagre amount of light that came from outside illuminated it on its swift way to escape. A fox. Blood smeared its muzzle and panic lit its eyes as it disappeared off into the night.


Logan shook his head as his claws became concealed once more and laughed at himself. “Goddamn fox---talk about overreacting bub.” He stepped into now vacant pen, the scattered remnants of the wild animals meal laid about, dying the pale straw in dark clots of red that looked jet black. The dead lamb was in pieces; throat ripped out, the contents of its midriff spilling out onto the ground. Wiping the back of his hand along the underside of his nose as if to wash away the smell that was by now near overwhelming, Logan stepped back out of the stall, letting the low door clatter shut behind him.


He was quietly surprised that he hadn’t realised what it was earlier. It wasn’t like him to not be able to pin-point a scent straightaway. So lost in his own thoughts was he that he didn’t notice the figure or even register it in his senses; stood just outside the doorway as he dipped to exit it.


*SNIKT!!SNIKT!!*


“Goddess!” Ororo caught his hand just in time with both of hers; three gleaming blades just centimetres away from the slender length of her throat, above the pulsing jugular. “Has anyone ever told you to be careful where you put these things?” She said with a nervous laugh as they slipped back into his hand neatly; just three slight trickles of crimson to leave any trace of there presence.


“Sorry darlin’.” He offered sheepishly as he lowered his hand and then pulled her close to him, kissing her lightly on the forehead.


“What was it?” She asked after a moment, moving her head against his hard shoulder to look up at him.


“Just a fox.” He admitted with a self-deprecating laugh as he gave her a quick squeeze closer to him. “C’mon---let’s get back inside. It’s damn cold out here.”


“Really?” She replied amused as they started back towards the open cottage door that spilled out a pool of warm orange light. “I hadn’t noticed.”


“Yeah well,” he scoffed, “We can’t all be lucky enough ta be able to regulate are body temperature.” They crossed back over the thresh hold and back into the warmth and light. The door closed with a neat click behind them.


* * *


As soon as the door closed the scent of warm living flesh and the rushing flow of raging blood dissipated; leaving him only with the ingrained impression on his memory. His cold flesh retaining and feeling nothing---only the memory could hold onto things now. Taunting him by their very existence. With parted lips he let out a harsh breath as he saw them cross the window, illuminated by the lamp and fire light. He closed his mouth, snapping it shut; the catch of two sharp points on dry lips draw nothing for him---he was running dry.


He moved to the side, the thorny branches of the bramble that hid him scraping at the skin of his face and hands as he tracked their movements across the living room. She had turned out the small lamp by the side of the sofa whilst he was knelt in front of the fire, taking ashes by the shovel full from a bucket on the hearth, pouring them over the raging flames. After picking up a small box from the ground she went back over to him as the last of the fire fought for breath in the face of the clouds of heavy grey. She ran her free hand over his bare shoulder as she leant into him; snow white hair falling lightly down over her face and onto him as she whispered something close to his ear. Beautiful voluptuous lips close to him, just brushing against the man---Logan’s---- skin. He imagined how that felt as he watched the interplay, concealed in the darkness.


She pulled back then and headed for the stairs, hopping quickly up them. Eyes that were lit with a vicious green like those of a cat in the dark moved up to the currently dark window of the bedroom; waiting with intense anticipation for the light to spring into life. He caught back a breath when it did; flooding the room and throwing her into vision. The memory of taste came to him as he watched her; the light swing of soft pale hair against warm toned swarthy skin. His thin lips drew back from his teeth of their own volition, baring their sharp whiteness in the black. He wanted to move now, feel the tinge of the metalic as it washed over his tongue, warm liquid as it slipped down his throat. But even more so than these things the beat, the rising beat that would thump against his parted lips just before the taking. Seeing that pulse just beneath smooth skin stretched out and waiting for him, wanting him---that was always the sweetest, purest thing of all...


That neck was waiting for him; it would want him to issue it with his exquisite sting. Just like all the others had. She would want him too. In the end they always did...So not tonight---tonight was not the right time. But to wait would only make it all the sweeter. That he knew most definitely.


The curtains were drawn with a rough pull; he could here the zipping sound the action made all the way from here. As the sight of her was taken from him he pulled back, slinking away, taking himself away, further into the thick growth of bramble, whose sweet fruits were just appearing green.


Not tonight, no not tonight...but tomorrow...


-TBC-





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