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Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York


Logan did not bother to knock on the ancient wooden doors blocking his entrance to the downstairs library, instead shoving them open and striding in unannounced. Ororo did not even look up from the book she had laid open on her lap. She was seated in one of the red leather wingback chairs in front of the fireplace, scattered at her feet were various slips of paper, opened books and several stacks of unopened books. She was chewing her bottom lip and scribbling in a journal that she had tipped against the arm of the chair. She shifted uncomfortably and rubbed one hand along the back of her neck. Logan paused, taking a moment to study her profile, he never seemed to tire of simply looking at her. She drove the breath right out of his body every time. Fine bones, smooth caramel skin, full rosy lips, glorious snow hair trailing across the back of her chair, tossed carelessly aside in her pursuit of information.
“In Japan, employees will occasionally work themselves to death. It's called Karoshi.“ he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’d hate fer that t’ happen t’ ya, darlin’.”
Ororo gave a small jerk at the sound of his graveled voice. “Logan, you startled me.” She gave him a half hearted smile. Knowing Ororo so well, Logan knew that the information laid on her today was taking its toll. He had given her space when she had asked for it earlier, telling him that she needed time to think and absorb everything that had happened to her. He hadn’t like it but he had complied. Now, after nearly ten hours he figured enough was enough.
“Ya’ve been down here all day, ‘Ro. Come upstairs, let me fix ya something to eat.” He stopped a few feet in front of her, held at bay by the barricade of papers and books she had formed at her feet.
“I am not hungry. Thank you anyway, Logan.” She went back to reading.
“’Ro. I ain’t askin’.” He grabbed the book from her hands, not caring that he was treading on her papers, crumbling them beneath his booted feet.
“Logan! What are you doing? Give me that!” She stood, reaching to grab the book back. He stepped away from her.
“No.” He said shaking his head firmly. She glared at him, but he could see the sadness beneath the anger. “Talk to me, babe. Ya ain’t said two words ta me since the briefing this morning.”
“And what, pray tell, would you like me to say, Logan?” She asked, absently shuffling the papers beside her.
“Tell me what yer thinking’.” he encouraged. “What yer feelin’. Open up t‘ me.”
“Oh, this is classic. I am being instructed to open up from mister recluse himself.” Her tone was mocking.
Logan said nothing. He didn’t have to. Immediately her eyes softened and she said, “Goddess, I am sorry. I did not mean that.” She began running her hands through her hair, pulling it away from her face in a timeless gesture of frustration.
“I know, darlin’.”
“I am just so aggravated. The more I research these creatures, this heritage of mine, the more confused I become.” She gestured to the piles of papers and books surrounding them. “Every place I look the information is limited, but what is available is terrifying.” She held up an old leather bound volume of some sort, a large Egyptian looking symbol etched on the cover. She opened it to a marked page, reading aloud: “The priestesses of Cairo have long been able to see the patterns of life that guide this planet. Their purpose is to observe and nurture, never manipulate. They are the destined protectors of the Guardian, the Daughter of Light, that will one day purify the world. The Daughter of Light will act as a doorway between all the realms of the universe, she will be the conduit for the universe’s secrets, and the Guardian of the realm of Earth.” Ororo looked up at him through dark lashed eyes. “I remember the Phoenix all too well, Logan and I remember what purification means to great powers such as these. Purification is just a nice way of saying Annihilation--burning away what does not work. I do not want to have to face another force such as that, not now, not ever again.”
“Whose ta say that this Daughter of Light even exists, huh?” he questioned. “And if it does, we’ll stop it before these Demon-thingys get t’ use it. Whatever it takes.”
Ororo gave a humorless laugh. “And what if we discover that I am this Daughter of the Light? What then, Logan? What then?”
Instead of answering, Logan reached out, stroking her cheek, touching her hair, letting it slide through his fingers in a silken waterfall. He pulled her into his arms. She went effortlessly, her head resting on his shoulder, her heavy heart comforted by his presence. She felt his lips on her cheek and smiled. Oh, how she loved this man. She knew she alone was privy to this side of Logan. His soft side, full of tenderness and understanding, full of love and acceptance. Only for her.
“C’mon, let’s get you something’ to eat.” He slipped his hand into hers, pulling her towards the door.
Ororo stopped, tugging Logan to a halt. With a wave of her hand, a heavy breeze slammed the library doors closed. Logan raised one eyebrow in question.
“I find I am hungry for other things,” Ororo said by way of explanation. She tilted her head, and her mouth to his. When their lips were only a breath apart she whispered, “I hunger for you, dearest, Logan. I want to feel you inside of me.”
Logan growled, low and deep and fierce. He was instantly aroused by her statement, his body throbbing for hers. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes dancing. He captured her mouth with his, his tongue delving into the dark moist heat of hers, pushing against her teeth, teasing her tongue. She sighed, eyes sliding shut, arms wrapping around his neck.
Lowering her to the red and gold oriental rug, one arm curved under her slender waist the other slowing their descent, Logan began murmuring against her soft lips. Words of love and groans of pleasure, letting her know he was enjoying the feel of her untutored hands exploring his chest and shoulders. Without warning Ororo grasped his shirt in both hands, rending it apart, buttons flying across the carpet and skittering across the hardwood floor.
His deep rumble told her that he liked this aggressive side of her. She gently bit his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. “Ahhh, ‘Ro…” he groaned, grinding himself against her. He was rock hard underneath his faded jeans.
Ororo captured his chin between her hands, looking at his rugged face, her eyes memorizing everything about this man who was her heart, her soul. Logan opened his eyes, pupils dilated, searching her crystal blue depths. She smiled up at him, tenderness and affection and unconditional acceptance emitting from her in waves, washing over him, making it difficult for him to breathe.
On her name, he nuzzled her neck just below her ear, a spot, he discovered, that caused goose bumps to spread over her body and the most delightful little moans to escape from her mouth. He began sliding her pale blue shirt up over her flat stomach, baring her satin flesh for his perusal, but again she stopped him, placing her hands over his.
“No,” she whispered heatedly “do it like only you can.” A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.
Logan slowly extended one long claw, watching her eyes intensely. He saw no fear in them, only passion. Raw need. For him. Only him. He wanted to roar with the pleasure of it, of her. With excruciating tenderness he lay the blunt edge of his claw against her soft skin, sliding his hand upwards, slicing through the silken fabric, causing ‘Ro to arch her back beneath him, releasing a sultry sigh. God, she was amazing.
Slender fingers tangled in the ebony thickness of his hair, pulling his face down to hers for a lingering kiss. Ororo slid her hands beneath the edges of his red and black flannel shirt, sliding it over his shoulders removing it. “I love your skin,” she whispered, mouth brushing his neck, his shoulders, his chest. She loved the salty taste of him, the way he smelled like the outdoors, fresh and full of life. She loved the way he growled low and deep when he was aroused. Everything. She loved everything about him.
She gasped when she felt his hand slide along her calf, edging over her thigh, sliding beneath the folds of her dark brown skirt, over her pink laced panties. He groaned at the obstruction her lingerie caused. “Underwear, ‘Ro?”
“What,” she asked breathlessly, her hips raising against the heavy heat of his palm. “I can not go commando all the time.”
“Mmm. If I had my way ya’d never wear clothes again.” Logan slid one finger past the lacy undergarment, delving inside her damp center, causing her to moan.
“God, ‘Ro, ya feel so damn good.”
“As do you,” she replied, voice husky. He stroked his hand against the laced undergarments while his solitary digit slid in and out of her. She was panting, her teeth nipping his shoulder.
“Spread yer legs, baby,” he growled fiercely. She did as he commanded without hesitation, trusting him in every way. Logan ran his hands up the outside of her smooth thighs, bunching up the long skirt as he went, until she lay open for his hungry gaze. “Perfect.” he said hoarsely. He lowered his head, his mouth and tongue teasing her sensitive skin through the lace barrier.
“Goddess…” Ororo cried, her breath hissing out from between clenched teeth, her hips leaping of the carpet involuntarily. He tortured her mercilessly, reveling in her cries and whimpers until she stiffened, her mouth open on a silent scream as she found release beneath his skillful mouth. He grinned his wicked grin, looking up at her, slipping the damp undergarments from her body, followed by her long skirt.
Logan reached for the fastening of his pants, but was taken aback when Ororo pitched forward, pushing him down on his haunches, a devilish twinkle in her eyes. Her deft fingers made quick work of the denim hindrance, freeing him from the cramped space of his jeans. She leaned forward, lashes lowered and Logan held his breath. There was no way she was going to do what it looked---
“Oh, God, ‘Ro…” Her warm mouth closed over the rock-hard evidence of his arousal. Her tongue swirled around the head, licking along his length. His hips surged forward eagerly. He burrowed his hands in her silky-smooth hair, growling in pleasure. She murmured incoherently against him and the tiny vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. “’Ro.” He tried to lift her to him but she was relentless. Pushing him to the edge, her hands stroking along his skin, cupping him reverently.
Slowly Ororo released him from her mouth, crawling over him, pressing his back into the floor. She smiled down at him, mouthing the words I love you, her hair enveloping them in a shimmering cocoon. She ran her fingertips along his bare chest, down his well developed stomach, gripping the waistline of his jeans, hauling them off with one forceful pull.
Both now naked, Ororo made her way slowly back up Logan’s torso, her mouth skimming his fevered flesh, her tongue lapping his dark nipples, lingering over his neck, until she straddled him, her humid center directly over his powerful erection. With agonizing care Ororo lowered herself, taking all of him in one long, slow glide. Logan grunted, throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut from the raw pleasure. “’Ro.” His hands reached up, caressing her generous breasts, grazing her coffee nipples with the coarse pads of his thumbs, turning them into tight peaks. He rolled them between his fingers, curving his back, driving himself even further into her.
“Logan!” Ororo tossed her head back, eyes closed, moving up and down on him with increasing rhythm, riding him. Her fingernails raked along his chest leaving crimson streaks in their wake. Their sting was fleeting as his body healed her love marks almost instantly. A part of him wished that they would remain, a reminder of how feral his goddess could be. Ororo ground herself into him, her sheath clenching around him as she approached climax.
Unable to bear her sweet torment a minute more, Logan surged upwards, rolling his hips, flipping them so that she lay beneath him, her silver tresses fanned about her head like a halo.
“Yer so beautiful.” he whispered, voice raw with awe. She gazed up at him with sapphire eyes, her damp lips curved faintly. He thrust into her, causing her head to roll back as she cried out his name. His. She was his. “Magnificent.”
He surged again, deeper this time, clasping his hands to her hips, holding her to him. Ororo tilted into him, pushing forward, her mouth seizing his, delivering hot, frenzied kisses. Logan grunted relishing in the way her legs clamped around his back and her arms clung to his neck. She was crying out in rapture, body arching beneath his, words of love cascading from her lips, tickling his ear.
“Come fer me, darlin’.” He plunged deeper, pushing her to her limits. “Let me feel ya, ‘Ro.” He touched his lips to hers, slightly parted, sharing the same breath. “I love ya, ‘Ro. God, how I love ya.” He grasped her hands, interlacing their fingers beside her head. Gazes locked, foreheads touching, fingers intertwined, clutching each other, Ororo and Logan found release together, their cries filling the library, echoing off the walls. His hoarse and guttural, hers velvet and melodic, complimenting each other in perfect harmony.
Panting softly they stared deep into the other’s eyes, neither wanting to break contact. Ororo touched Logan’s stubbled jaw, saying softly, “Beautiful.”
She felt a damp splash against her cheek. Reaching up Ororo was not surprised when she felt the warm wetness of tears on her skin, what surprised her was that the tears didn’t belong to her, they belonged to Logan.
Without a word she pulled him to her, wrapping herself around him like a clinging vine. He buried his face in the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing in her scent, their scent, the mixture that they created together. As they lay in stillness, holding each other close, Logan whispered, “Ororo, marry me.”





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