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Disclaimer: Don’t own. Wanna own . Don’t own.


Xavier Institute
Westchester New York



“I think its sweet the way he’s so protective,” Ororo’s best friend said, plugging a curling iron into the socket beside the mirrored vanity. They were in Ororo‘s attic loft, preparing for a celebratory dinner in honor of Storm‘s recovery. Their current topic of conversation was Wolverine, a topic Ororo had been trying to avoid, but Jean had doggedly pursued. “I mean you did just almost die, Ororo. Can’t blame the guy for being a little overzealous.”
“Died.” Ororo corrected absently, pulling a long, slinky black dress from the back of her closet.
“Excuse me?”
“Died, Jean. I did not almost die, I died. I remember everything.” Ororo laid the garment across the bed. Yes, that would do nicely, she thought.
“You remember dying?” Jean was staring at her like she had grown two heads.
“Of course. It is not something one does everyday, it tends to stick with you.”
“Trust me, Ororo, I know. I’ve done it a few times myself. Let’s face it , I do it so often it’s almost an annual rotation. But not once have I ever remembered the experience. You do?”
“Yes. But if you do not mind, I would rather discuss it another time, sister.” Ororo said, rubbing her temples. Her head was beginning to throb.
Jean was momentarily overwhelmed by a feeling of trepidation, and approached her friend with concern. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe we should postpone the celebration.”
“No, I am fine, a bit weary from the days events is all. I am certain I will feel much better after a hot bath.”
Jean seemed unconvinced, but refrained from saying so. She instead smiled and said, “You should wear your black strappy heels with that dress.” Ororo grinned, having already pulled them from the closet. “What is they say about great minds” Jean teased. Their warm laughter and friendly chatter filled the sun drenched loft as they continued getting ready for the party and soon Jean forgot all about the feeling of unease that had settled over her.


Downstairs

“What do you suppose is keeping them?” Warren asked Scott and Logan as he approached from the dining hall where he and the others were awaiting the arrival of their guest of honor.
“Oh, you know women.” Scott said. “Curl this, paint that.”
Logan said nothing, his eyes on the staircase, waiting for ‘Ro to emerge. He hadn’t seen her in a few hours, and was beginning to wonder if she was ever coming down. He was about to climb up to her room and make sure she was all right when two slender silhouettes made their way to the top of the stairs.
Jean looked exceedingly lovely in her dark green sleeveless dress, flaming hair pulled in an elegant French knot but it was Ororo who held all three men riveted as she descended the staircase. Her hair was piled atop her head in organized disarray, held in place by an ornate black Japanese comb that Logan recognized as his Christmas gift to her some years ago, several snowy tendrils dancing over her shoulder. She was wearing a long black dress that clung to her body in all the right places, emphasizing the generous swell of her breasts and flat stomach. Thin spaghetti straps hugging her graceful shoulders, silk train flowing down to the floor in a ripple of shadow. Logan caught a flash of perfect mocha leg through the thigh high slit of her dress with each step she took.
Jean made some comment to her and Ororo turned to her friend revealing her gown’s extraordinarily low cut, open back, and the silken texture of her bare skin.
--SNIKT--
Wolverine’s claws popped out of his knuckles, his body’s involuntary reaction to her sensual appearance. Warren and Scott looked at him. He growled, forcibly retracting his claws.
“Perfectly understandable,” Warren said, clearing his throat. “Is it hot in here or is it just her? I mean, me…just me?”
Wolverine glowered at him. He strode to the bottom of the staircase, holding his hand out for Ororo as she reached the last step. “Yer breathtaking’ darlin’.” he said with genuine appreciation, eyes traveling up and down her feminine form, lingering in all the places any red blooded man would linger.
Ororo smiled, sliding her hand into his. “Thank you, Logan. You look rather handsome yourself.” He did at that, she mused. Dark coat over a snug black shirt and form fitting black pants, dark eyes glittering hungrily at her, his wild unruly hair giving him a ‘just rolled out of bed’, rakish air. Her heartbeat had increased two fold at the sight of him, her mind instantly remembering the feel of his strong arms around her, the tickle of his crisp chest hair against her cheek and the warm feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when he kissed her. If not for Jean’s comment that all three men looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi, Ororo would have stayed in her reverie for the rest of the evening.
“Shall we?” Scott said, linking his arm through his wife’s and leading the way to the dining hall.
Once there Warren pulled the doors open with flourish, giving Ororo a polished bow as she passed. Wolverine snarled a warning to the other man, whose gaze remained momentarily locked with Storm’s backside. Warren had keen instincts when it came to self preservation and immediately lifted his eyes from their resting place.
“Good decision,” Betsy Braddock said with a wink as she stepped beside him, hand gliding down his wing. Warren returned Betsy’s wink, settling his arm across her shoulders, following Scott, Jean , Logan and Ororo into the room.
Immediately upon Ororo’s entrance the room erupted into loud applause, and as she moved through the room several whistles. She was unbelievably moved by her friends thoughtfulness, and obvious affection. The room was packed with her fellow X-Men and several students of the school, everyone of them standing and clapping.
“I do not know what to say. This is lovely.” She told Charles when he reached their sides. The room was lit by several hanging chandeliers, tables covered with beautiful silk clothes, crystal glasses and champagne in the center of them all.
“You are not required to say anything, Ororo. This is a celebration in your honor, all you have to do is enjoy it.” Charles replied.
“And enjoy it I shall.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh, thought Logan. She needed this, needed to be reminded of the friends she still had, the ones who loved her, the ones that hadn’t betrayed her trust. He clenched his jaw against his immediate anger, the same anger that rose every time Gumbo crossed his mind. He stifled it, intent on making tonight about ‘Ro, and only about ‘Ro. They took their seats beside Charles at the head table.
Charles tapped his glass, gaining the attention of all in the room. He held his glass in the air, towards Ororo as he spoke to the room, saying, “I was once very far away from my home, in a country that I had never before been in, traveling the world searching for others like me, for fellow mutants. Searching with only a vague design of the ideals that would later become the dream we all share today. What I found on this journey was a young pickpocket with a laughing spirit and tenacious determination, who became the living embodiment of my dream. Over the years I have learned many things from observing our beloved windrider. Ororo has taught me that everyone dreams, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was only an illusion, but the dreamers of the day, like her, are dangerous, for they act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible. So I want to say thank you, Ororo. Thank you for your inspiration, thank you for your strength, thank you for your courage and thank you above all else, for your unwavering loyalty.”
A rousing cheer followed Xavier’s speech, glasses raised high as the hall echoed with “Here-here’s”. Ororo was incredibly touched by Charles’ words and her teammates overwhelming response. Before the room was overcome by blubbering emotions Beast said, “Now that our appetites have been sufficiently whet with emotional fodder, I suggest we partake of our dinners before they get too cold to enjoy.” Another round of here-here’s.
The meal progressed quickly, good conversation and laughter making the night move swiftly, and soon the champagne was flowing freely, “Time to turn this motha out!” Bobby Drake shouted, flying past their table on one of his ice-slides. His proclamation was met by several exuberant cheers. Jubilee hit the boom box she had brought in, sending a loud thumping rhythm through the room. Colossus and Sam began sliding tables to the walls, making a dance space on the floor.
“I believe that is my cue to exit,” Charles said, rolling away from the table. “I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, Ororo, but you look stunning this evening.” His voice held fatherly esteem and pride.
“Thank you, Charles. Do you really have to leave?” Ororo asked, holding onto his hand. She was loathe for him to go, enjoying his company, a privilege that was rare these busy days.
“I’m afraid I have a tremendous amount of work to do in the morning. You, however, should enjoy yourself. This is, after all, your party. See that she has a good evening, won’t you , Logan.”
Wolverine raised one dark eyebrow. Good ole Chuck, didn’t miss a thing. “Sure thing, Chuck. My pleasure.”
“Another drink?” Warren asked, tilting the champagne bottle and pouring into Ororo’s glass before she responded. She smiled, raised her glass and sipped the bubbly liquid. “Mmmm. This is quite good. You should try some, Logan.”
“No thanks, darlin’. I don’t do the sissy drinks.” His gaze rested on Scott who was in the process of swallowing a mouthful of what Logan had called a “sissy drink”.
“You're a dick.” Scott said.
“Charmer.” Wolverine smiled wolfishly, baring his fangs.
“Boys.” Jean’s voice echoed in their minds, as well as in their ears. She gave Ororo a confidential look, saying, “The more I’m around men the more I like dogs.”
“Much cuter,” Betsy agreed.
“And cleaner,” Kitty said coming from behind.
“Far more loyal,” came Rogue’s response. Ororo turned in her chair, watching the other woman approach through narrowed eyes. There was no doubt she was a lovely creature, with her gentle appearance, soft auburn hair and chocolate eyes, but Storm knew better than anyone appearances were simply that. They never revealed what lay beneath the surface, the skin of a lemon very similar to that of an orange, but the inside made all the difference.
“The question of loyalty could be raised with women as well,” Storm said, voice hard. “I do not believe loyalty is gender specific.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Logan said, “I’m gonna scrounge us up some brews!”
Ororo smiled thinking , “Tactful as ever, Wolverine, you are the heart and soul of diplomacy.”
Rogue stood away from the table, a little uncertain . Despite her initial anger Ororo knew that Rogue was hurting too and it pained her to think she may play a part in that pain. She indicated Logan’s vacated chair. “Join us,” she invited.
“Ya sure?”
Ororo pushed the chair out further. “Positive. Come, join us in our debauchery!”
“You know what goes great with debauchery?” Jean asked.
"More debauchery!" The girls laughed in unison. Cyclops and Warren exchanged confused glances, but decided against questioning the girls weird credo, lest they remember they enjoyed the company of dogs more than they enjoyed them.
When Logan returned to the dining hall Ororo wasn’t seated at the head table, instead he saw her in the center of the room, body swaying and dancing to the music in lithe movements and perfect rhythm. She looked so inconceivably sexy his claws almost extended again, but he kept himself in check. Barely. She hadn’t noticed his return and he took the time to observe her, snapping open one of his beers, leaning against the wall, half concealed in shadow. Her skin seemed to glow under the soft lights of the chandeliers, her eyes closed, luscious lips spread wide in a smile. She looked incredibly young. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember she was only twenty-six, she seemed ageless, wise beyond her years. Years of fending for yourself and fighting off enemies since you were five years old would do that, he supposed.
If he were to try and describe ‘Ro in a nutshell, he would have to say silken smoothness over wrought steel. An enigma, a goddess amongst mortals, a true friend and quite possibly the only person to see him as he was, right down to the dark depths of his soul, and not flinch away. Instead she was always there, her velvety voice a soothing balm in the face of his snarling rage, her laughter medicine to his wounded soul, her spirit--that wonderful free spirit--a match for his own. He loved her, loved her like he could love no other. She was his heart, his breath, his soul. He would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew that.
Ororo felt a ripple of awareness travel down her spine only moments before strong arms enveloped her from behind, warm lips trailing kisses along the skin between her neck and shoulder. She turned slightly, looking at Logan through thick lashes, their lips a breath away from each other, her body still moving to the music.
Logan growled deep in his throat. “Yer so damn beautiful,” his heated voice rumbled as he turned her so that she was molded against him.
“Dance with me,” she whispered. Without hesitation Logan began to move with her, bodies brushing every so often, eyes locked, hands caressing.
Several of the other X-Men’s mouths gaped open at the sight of their resident goddess wrapped in the arms of their most feral warrior.
“Wolverine’s dancing for crying out loud!” Bobby said, gaze unbelieving.
“And he’s dancing with Storm!” Jubilee said, stating the obvious.
“Holy Crap!” Was all Kitty said.
On the other side of the dance floor Scott looked at his wife, asking, “What’s up with Wolverine and Storm?”
Jean glanced over her shoulder at the couple so enthralled with each other they seemed oblivious to the commotion they were causing. “I believe they are falling in love. Would probably be there already if not for all the interruptions they‘ve had.”
Scott looked like he swallowed a bug. “Storm thinks she‘s in love with Wolverine?”
“Not thinks, Scott. Is. Same with him. Very much so.”
Scott shook his head, disbelieving. “Nope. It’s her head, it isn’t right. Momentary insanity, nothing more, nothing less.”
Jean scrunched her nose. “He is rather lovable when you get past the rage, killing instinct and razor sharp claws.” Her comment caused Scott to tense.
“You would know.” His voice was cold. “I think I’ll go get a drink. Excuse me, Jean.” He stalked off the makeshift dance floor without looking back. Maybe if he had he would’ve seen the look of anguish that crossed his wife’s face, or the red flames that blazed momentarily in her green eyes. But he didn’t, he kept walking-- past the tables, through the doors and out of the Mansion.

The party was still going full swing when Wolverine pulled Ororo from the dining hall, leading her towards the stairway up to her loft. “Have to get you alone, darlin’. Yer driving me insane with wantin’.” He had whispered in her ear moments before practically dragging her into her room. He slammed the door behind them, a clear do not disturb to anyone foolish enough to follow.
He approached her much like a lion stalking its prey. Her breath quickened and he could smell her anticipation, her desire. His hands caught her face, tracing the strong line of her jaw, traveling across her neck, down to her smooth skinned shoulders. -Snikt- He cut through the thin straps of her dress, causing it to slide down her body in a ripple of black silk, leaving her gloriously naked save for her black high heels. God bless her aversion to underwear, he thought. She presented such an erotic picture Logan worried he wouldn’t be able to keep the animal side of himself in check. He, who had been with countless women, suddenly trembled beneath her blue-eyed gaze.
“Logan.” A voice that reminded him of smoky rooms and satin sheets. A voice suited for a seductress, a sex goddess, an angel.
Ororo shivered, but not with cold, or fear, but with longing. Some distant part of her mind recognized that she had been waiting for this moment, with this man, for what felt like an eternity. She watched with avid fascination as he shrugged out of his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head impatiently, fumbled with the buckle of his belt, finally lowering his pants, kicking them and his boots off at the same time. He started to lower his boxers when she put her hands over his.
“There is something you should know. I have never been with anybody before,” she said softly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, a sign of uncharacteristic nervousness.
Logan’s head shot up. “Forge?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
Ororo shook her head. “It was one of our biggest problems. One of the reasons he believed I did not love him. He asked me to leave the X-Men. I could not. So, he left me.”
“The man was a fool,” Logan said, voice harsh. She had been betrayed by so many of the men in her life, it was a wonder she was willing to be with anyone, least of all a man like him. “Of course ya couldn’ leave the team. Anyone who knows ya would know yer heart is with the X-Men.”
“True. But team obligation is not why I did not leave with Forge. He was right, I did not love him. My heart belonged to another, still does.”
This time Logan tensed, not a muscle moving. “Ya tryin’ at tell me somethin’ here, ‘Ro?” Did she love someone else? He wasn’t sure he could bear that.
Ororo‘s voice was soft but intense when she spoke, her bright blue eyes staring straight into his dark black ones. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember, Logan. I will always love you, no matter what lies ahead, no matter what destiny has in store for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I wanted you to know before we went any farther. I do not wish to disappoint you. If you wish to leave, I will unders--”
Wolverine crushed her mouth beneath his, unable to believe what his ears had heard, what his hammering heart was pounding into his blood: “She loves me, She loves me, She loves me.” He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past her pliable lips, entering the sweet recess of her mouth.
Ororo sighed, her eyes drifted shut, arms finding their familiar place around his neck, a soft moan escaping as he moved his mouth to her neck. Warm lips, wet tongue swirling against her soft flesh, so tender in his ministrations making the breath catch in her throat. Outside thunder rolled across the sky.
Logan lifted her effortlessly, laying her down on her white ivy trimmed comforter with tender reverence. He followed closely, mouth closing securely over hers once more. He took his time, making the kisses count, nibbling, sucking and licking, eliciting the most delicious sounds from deep within the throat of his normally reserved goddess.
Ororo clutched his shoulders, her breath coming in quick pants, body tensed. Logan shifted position, sliding down her body, covering one breast with his warm hand, and the other with his hot mouth. Ororo moaned, delighting in the exquisite sensations his seduction sent through her. “Goddess, Logan, you make me feel wonderful,” she breathed.
“That’s the intent, love.” His hands traveled over her flat stomach, pausing before skimming the triangle of snow at the juncture of her shapely thighs. Ororo’s response was immediate and gratifying, her body arching against him, seeking his touch. “Easy, darlin’. We’ve got all night.” Lightening lit the sky.
“Logan, please…” Her hands clutched her bedding involuntarily when she felt Logan’s mouth pressing soft kisses against her stomach, trailing lazily over the heated flesh.
“Open fer me, darlin’.” He gently pushed her legs apart, fitting himself snugly between them. “Relax, fer me. That’s my girl.”
Hot breath fanned Ororo’s most sensitive area, followed by the feel of Logan’s moist mouth and swirling tongue. “By the Bright Lady!” Her back arched, body taught as a bow. Thunder cracked, lightening flashed.
Logan chuckled against her soft skin. Who knew she would be so responsive? He pressed his tongue deep inside, lapping up her glorious taste, reveling in her unique scent. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling against the roots, almost savagely. He still did not cease his torture, gently sucking on her hidden pearl.
“LOGAN!!” Ororo’s orgasm was a sight to behold. Her body trembled beneath his mouth’s skillful onslaught, wind whipping around the room, her eyes glowing white in the dark, skin flushed a rosy hue, roll after roll of thunder rumbling across the night sky. “Oh my…” She said breathily. “I had no idea.”
“And fer that, I’m very thankful,” Logan said, slipping his boxers off, settling himself once more between legs slick with the evidence of her first release. He lined himself up with her opening, forcibly refraining from thrusting into her with the savage desire he felt. Instead he kissed her, deeply and held her hands high above her head. “I don’t wanna hurt ya,” he panted. Desire bringing the animal in him dangerously close to the surface. As if sensing his inner struggle Ororo gave him a sultry smile, locked her legs around his hips and thrust herself against him, effectively impaling herself upon his turgid manhood. He groaned in ecstasy, closing his eyes.
“I love you,” she said when he began to move slowly within her. Sliding in and out of her tight sheathe with barely controlled movements. Logan could feel the blood pounding throughout his body, the animal screaming for release.
“Logan, look at me.” He opened his eyes. She arched her hips beneath him, taking him all the way inside. His body began to tremble, fighting to remain in control. He would have been able to, he was almost sure of it, had she not said in that bedroom voice of hers, “Don’t hold, back. Not with me, Logan. Don’t hold back.”
With a feral growl he let himself go, claws extending and retracting in sync with the thrusts of his hips. He buried his head in the soft hollow between her neck and shoulder, teeth sinking into the tender flesh, drawing blood. He tasted the coppery essence, but instead of impeding his mounting climax, it only fed the animal inside and his thrusts became harder, faster, harder, faster. He felt it building and building until he came with such shuddering force he felt as though he was pouring his very soul deep inside of her. “
“’Ro?” his breathing was ragged. “ Are ya all right?” No response. He lifted his head, worry etched on his ruggedly handsome face. She was smiling. A smile so full of love and tenderness for a moment he couldn’t speak. “Ya all right?”
She touched his grizzled cheek, eyes wide. “You love me,” she breathed.
Logan turned his face into her hand, kissing her palm. “Yeah. I love ya,” he murmured. “Like no other.” Realizing his 400 pound adamantium filled body was still laying over her, he flipped them so that she lay sprawled over him. Logan pulled her down and kissed her, needed to kiss her. She pulled back, teeth nipping his lower lip.
“That was amazing,” she said. “I had no idea it was like that.”
“Honestly, ‘Ro, neither did I.” He traced her lips with one blunt finger tip. “That was a first for me too.” His face darkened when he saw the bite marks he left along the tender skin between her shoulder and neck. He traced the outline of his fanged teeth, his eyes losing some of their light.
“Don’t.” Ororo said. She touched the marks he had left on her with what seemed like reverence. “Do not withdraw from me like that. This was beautiful. We were beautiful, Logan. And these marks are symbols of the freedom you and I share.”
“I treated you like an animal.” he said.
“Foolish man. What are we if not animals, but you treated me not as such. You touched me like I was made of the finest porcelain, brought me fulfillment I had not known possible and then you let me see you, Logan. The real you, and it was beautiful.”
She meant it he realized. She loved him, loved what they had done as much as he had. Never before had he let go like that, losing himself so completely, trusting the other person to be there when it was done. Trusting his full heart to someone else. A long time ago someone had told him. “The best proof of love is trust." He knew that statement to be true now. He sat up, removing the black shoes she was still wearing, massaging her feet as he did so. “I really like these shoes, “ he said with a sinful smile.
Once back in bed he pulled her astride him, saying, “I love ya, darlin’.”
Laughing with delight she collapsed on top of him, starlight tresses spilling over his shoulder. They lay that way for a long time, no need for words between them, their soft caresses and gentle kisses telling all. In the wee hours just before dawn Ororo whispered, “Goodnight, my love,” welcoming his arms around her.
“G’night, my heart.”





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