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Xavier Institute
Loft
Dawn

Ororo woke to find Logan leaning over her, staring at her with dark eyes. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
A stubborn jaw. Determined. But nice, she thought.
Logan shifted slightly, capturing her hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his thumb tracing the lines of her palm.
“Drained.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Unkempt.”
Logan unfolded himself from the bed, stretching with the lazy grace of a predator, walking to her bureau and picking up a silver comb. He returned and sat behind her, mindful of her bruises, and began to patiently smooth the tangles from her hair. It felt good and Ororo closed her eyes, allowing herself the comfort of the bristles moving along her scalp.
Behind her Logan’s gaze darkened at the sight of a particularly ugly bruise on her neck. He bent his head, stroking his tongue soothingly across her skin. It was an instinctive act on his part, wanting to ease her hurt.
Storm jumped at the velvet roughness of his tongue moved on her neck. His head was bent, nuzzling her behind her ear, rumbling low sounds, comforting her in the only way he knew how.
Unbidden fear clawed through her, swirling in her brain in her blood. She was completely vulnerable now, helplessly drained. It was going to happen all over again, brutal possession and tears welled in her eyes, a moan welled in her throat.
Her fear ate at him. It shouldn’t have-he knew he wasn’t going to hurt her-but it did, turning him inside out. He touched her silky skin softly, a man who many believed held no gentleness, touching her with extraordinary tenderness. “I won’t hurt ya, darlin’. I know yer afraid.” He slid her robe from her shoulders and nuzzled her again, inhaling her fragrance, his hand moving over her shoulder, down her arm. His hands traced her body, finding every scratch, every bruise. Storm gasped when she felt his warm fingers tracing the long wound on her thigh.
Ororo could barely breathe, his touch soothing her hurt, taking away the horrible memories of Shinobi’s hands on her. She needed him to heal her, and that both frightened and enthralled her.
Logan turned her gently, his heart hitching. She looked at him through lowered lashes. “Yer beautiful,” he whispered. Pride and possession warred in his steel eyes as his gaze swept over her bare skin. Tears glittered on her raven lashes.
The was a low murmur, a rumble of something she didn’t quite catch and then his fingers were brushing her tears away, closing his hand around them, holding them fisted to his chest as if they were as precious as diamonds. He then took her hand, meshing it with his, her tears trapped between their palms. His eyes still holding hers he leaned forward, his tongue stroking her bruised knuckles.
Ororo stirred, a small sound escaping her. Logan bent his darkened head to the deep bruise at the corner of her mouth. Her heart lurched crazily. She closed her eyes against his masculine beauty, against the tenderness etched on his handsome features. His tongue lingered over her lips, then slipped inside to sooth the cut on her inner cheek from where her teeth had broken skin. He was soothing her every physical hurt, but at the same time easing the terrible ache in her heart, healing her body and soul.
Logan’s body naturally responded to hers, the taste and feel of her, the sight and smell, but he ignored it. This was for her, and her alone. He was determined to replace every bruise, every scratch, every bad memory with his touch.
“Logan?” Her breath was coming in small pants, caught somewhere between pleasure and terror.
“Every wound, ‘Ro.” His tongue swirled against her shoulder. He them moved lower, trailing his moist mouth over her collar bone, lapping her salty skin, then further still, his tongue rasping her nipples, easing the pain, covering the ugly marks Shinobi left with his fingers.
Ororo’s fingers tangled in his thick mane, weaving through the surprisingly silky ebony strands.
Logan closed his eyes. She was melting his heart, his empty existence with her beauty. She was all that he was not. Compassion, forgiveness, light and goodness, where he was dark, merciless, without feeling, a killer, a beast. Love for her was growing in his chest and it was a dangerous and powerful emotion. He caressed and soothed, but didn’t demand anything from her in return, only wanting to ease her pain.
All of Ororo’s fears were being pushed aside by the heated tenderness of Logan’s mouth, by the gentleness in his touch.
So lost in his ministrations he almost didn’t hear her softly spoken words. “Twice in my life someone has tried to take what is solely mine to give.” Her voice broke, her heart in her tear-filled eyes. He raised his head to look at her. “I give myself to you, Logan. Freely and without reservation.”
“I know you’re afraid, “Ro. I can smell it.” He ran his hands along her ribcage to her breasts. “I won’t hurt ya, darlin’.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Logan slid his thumbs along the underside of her breasts lightly. “I’ll show ya how it’s supposed ta be, ‘Ro.” He kissed her flat stomach. “Special.” He moved lover, his tongue sliding along the crease of her hips. “With such pleasure.”
Flames raced through her body as his mouth claimed her. She moaned, low and soft. His hands slid under her back, holding her gently but firmly as he worked his mouth against her silken flesh. His every thought was for her, to ensure her pleasure, to show her how much he loved her, to worship her the only way he knew how, with his body.
She arched into his mouth a startled cry coming form her as his tongue found her hidden pearl. Tremors started in her stomach, pressure building. He stroked the center of her heat with infinite tenderness, building her need. Ororo moaned his name. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. The pressure was building inside her and she gasped, trying to squirm away from him, not understanding. But he did.
“Let go, darlin’. I’m here ta catch ya.”
At his rumbled words and the return of his tongue to her she shattered. Her body seemed to fragment, colors exploding behind her eyes. Logan held her as her body rippled with pleasure. He pulled her close into the shelter of his broad frame, desperately needing to be close to her. He was bathed in sweat and his own body clambered for release, but he ignored it. Only wanting to see to her needs.
Ororo met his hungry gaze. Hot. He was so hot. Her hands tangled in his thick hair, crushing it as she pulled him to her. Somehow his shirt open to his tapered waist, the hard muscles of his abdomen revealed, though neither one of them could say how it got that way. The rough, dark hair on his chest rasped erotically over her nipples. Ororo’s hand pushed his shirt from his wide shoulders. She watched with enormous blue eyes as he shrugged out of it, his heated gaze holding her captive. Eyes filled with intense desire, so much hunger for one woman. Her.
Uncertain of what she was committing herself to Ororo cautiously touched the tips of her fingers to his chest. He took a ragged breath, closing his eyes at her touch. His hunger was deep, wild and urgent, she could tell. How could she deny his fierce need? Or her own for that matter? He slid her robe completely from her, tossing it to the floor. His own clothes were becoming increasingly tight and uncomfortable. He gave her a questioning look, asking.
“Yes.” she said.
His clothes were gone scant seconds later and he covered her body with his own. He heard her gasp as the hot hard length of him pressed against her thigh. For a moment she went utterly still. She caught his face in her hands, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. “What if I can’t do this, Logan?” she sounded frightened. “What if I can never do this?”
“I would never make ya do anything ya didn’t want ta, baby.” he replied, kissing the hollow of her neck.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “What if I can’t please you?”
A puff of air escaped his mouth. Not please him? He leaned up over her. “You are heaven’s gift to a man, ‘Ro. I am plenty pleased just holding ya.”
“I want this,” she said quietly. She arched slightly, rubbing against him. “I need this.”
Logan understood. She wanted to forget the pain and he was only too willing to erase the hurt from her eyes, soothe her body, make her his. His. Logan’s body moved on hers, hard and hot, but his hands were gentle as he cupped her head in his palm maintaining eye contact. One knee slid very slowly between hers, giving him access. He pressed intimately at her entrance. She was slick and hot, tight and velvet soft. Her fingernails dug into his back as he eased his way inside, inch by excruciating inch. He felt the thin barrier of her virginity give way and was surprised by the burn in his eyes and the ache in his chest, moved by her gift to him. “Relax,” he whispered on her lips. “Relax fer me, baby.” He gave a final push, his breath hissing between clenched teeth as he was fully engulfed in her fiery heat. So tight. So hot. He growled, low and long. He feathered kisses on her temples, on her nose, his mouth settling on hers as his hips began to move in a gentle coaxing rhythm.
She could feel the sheen of perspiration on his back, evidence of the effort he was exerting to hold back. He moved into her with exquisite care. In spite of her initial fear and the fading memory of her attack Ororo felt her body responding to his. Slowly the burn between her thighs gave way to fiery pleasure, her body relaxing, accepting his. “You were made fer me,” he breathed as though reading her thoughts.
Logan buried himself deeper, his strokes long and slow. Her nails dug into his back once more, his name on her lips. God he loved how she said his name. She clutched him to her, following his tempo, moving together as they were meant to, their hearts beating in matching thunder. His hands slid over her, gently and reverently, his soft words of encouragement tickling her ear. He was incredibly loving, initiating her with care and tenderness, as if she were the most precious thing in all the world. It was unbelievable the way he made love to her. He pulled her legs around him, and she complied, pulling him closer.
Logan’s knees were on the thick comforter, his hips pressing forward, and he made certain that each thrust rubbed her tingling flesh. The pressure was building in both of them. He cupped her breasts, lowering his mouth to lick each coffee nipple, turning them into beckoning peaks. Ororo lifted into his suckling mouth, a broken cry coming from the depths of her soul. Beautiful. He was so beautiful. Her fingers dug into his buttocks, urging him deeper into her.
He burned for her in his body and in his mind, there was a dull roaring in his head, wiping out all thought, leaving only sensation. Outside the winds picked up. Neither heard or cared. Logan moved over her, kissing every hollow and shadow, his rough velvet tongue igniting a fire on her flesh. He drove away her demons, the terrible fear, the bitterness. She took away his loneliness, the memories of hideous deaths and terrible sights best left forgotten.
His body took hers in possession, demanding and giving all at once, a mating that went on and on. A bolt of lightening sizzled and danced across the early morning sky. The very earth seemed to move beneath them. None of it mattered. He took his time, ensuring her pleasure.
Ororo was gasping and moaning heatedly now. Sensation like she had never known before pooling in her abdomen. Her breathless cry of release was swallowed by Logan’s mouth as he claimed hers in a deep penetrating kiss, his hips surging forward. The tight tremors squeezing him inside her velvet sheath were his undoing. With a hoarse shout he pounded into her, his own release mind numbing. He arched his head back, the tendons on his neck in stark relief. “I love you,” he roared, his seed spilling in an endless torrent. He bucked against her, in the throes of an orgasm like nothing he’d ever felt before.
When it was finished her rolled, pulling her across his chest, both of them slick with sweat, chests heaving. They lay in silence as their bodies returned to normal, his lips brushing the snowy cap of her head. He held her close, listening as her heart slowed, as her breathing eased, breathing deep her scent mixed with his. Theirs. He hid his smile in her silken tresses.
“You love me?” Her hushed whisper surprised him, he had thought she had returned to sleep.
Logan modified their position, leaning against the pillows, cradling in his lap, her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I do.”
He felt her smile against his skin. “That’s nice.” she yawned.
Logan chuckled. “My declaration of love boring ya, darlin’.”
She bit him playfully. “Thank you.” She lifted her face to his, kissing him softly. “You made me feel loved. Cherished. Honored.” She punctuated each word with a brush of her lips.
He captured her face in his hands, staring into her liquid blue eyes. “I do love ya, ‘Ro. I ain’t ever letting’ ya go.”
She smiled lovingly. “The same goes for you, Mr. Bad-ass Wolverine.”
“Ye’ll get no complaints from me.” He slid from the bed, holding her to his chest. He padded across the room towards the bathroom, holding her tight. He never let her go, not for a second. Not when sliding the glass door open, not when adjusting the shower temperature and not the entire time they stood in the glass rectangle. He cradled her under the warm spray of water and her fingers trailed absently down his neck and across his shoulders.
Need slammed into him low and wicked. His dark eyes slid over her wet form, slowly, possessively. In his head a dull roar began again. He had just had her and already he wanted her again. He knew he should wait, she was probably still tender, but he wasn’t sure he could. Ororo lifted her head from his shoulder as she felt him stirring against her rump. She raised one eyebrow.
“Healin’ factor,” he mumbled.
A slow sultry smile spread on her face. “Again?” she breathed.
“I don’t wanna hurt ya…” his protest was weak.
Ororo kissed him slowly, her tongue teasing his, her eyes drifting shut as she enjoyed the feel and taste of him. “You won’t,” she replied an he was lost.


Headmaster’s Office

“I see.” Charles rolled from behind his desk. “You’re sure he’s dead?”
Wolverine snarled. “As a fuckin’ doornail.”
“Profanity,” Charles reprimanded absently. He turned to Storm. “I am terribly sorry for what has transpired.”
Storm tilted her head, her eyes ice blue chips. “I find it hard to believe you couldn’t sense another telepath messing with my marbles.”
Wolverine shot her a surprised look. She hadn’t mentioned she suspected Chuck of any wrong doing. Then again, they hadn’t done much talking this morning. He tried not to smile at the memory, finding it a rather difficult task even in the circumstances they found themselves in.
Xavier didn’t reply and Wolverine straightened from his leaned position against the wall. Storm was staring at Charles unflinchingly, waiting for a response.
“There were extenuating circumstances to you association with young Mr. Shaw.” Xavier began.
“Uh-huh, like his million dollar donation to the Institute.” Storm rose from her chair. “You knew,” she accused. “You knew the entire time what they were doing to me and you let them. You pimped me out like some…some…well, pimp!” she snapped.
-SNIKT-
She turned towards Wolverine. “No,” she said quietly. “this is between me and him.” She didn’t ask him to leave, however, and Wolverine retracted, but continued to watch with predatory eyes. She turned back to Xavier, her eyes glowing white. “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear, Charles. You may have pulled me in off the streets but we both know why you did it. These others may buy your benevolent leader bullshit, but I don’t.” She placed her hands on the arms of his chair, leaning in so their faces were only inches apart. “We both know what I’m capable of. Let’s not piss me off anymore, ok?”
Wolverine couldn’t contain his smile this time. Damn.
“Yes, Storm, we both know why you are here.” His tone was indifferent, but Wolverine could smell unease emanating from the man. “I have not forgotten.”
“Good.” She stepped back. “My team is taking the week off.”
“I don’t think-”
KA-BOOM!
“Very well.”
“In Vegas.” She didn’t know why she threw that out there, but there it was.
Xavier rolled behind his desk once again. “Take the smaller jet.” He picked up his phone. “I have some clean up to manage. It may be best if you were out of town for a few days. And Storm, I truly am sorry for what happened.”
“No, Charles, I don’t think you are.” She opened the door to his office. “I hope whatever it is you’re after is worth the sacrifices I see you making to your soul.”
The door closed quietly behind her and Wolverine. Xavier took a deep breath, his head bowed slightly. “Me too, child.”
“Wanna fill me in,” Wolverine asked as the walked the hall, leaving Xavier to his calls.
“Which part?”
“All of it, any of it. Your call.”
She loved that about him. His trust in her. It seemed he‘d always had it, since that first walk in the woods. “Let’s get some lunch. I’ll fill you in without my grumbling tummy distracting me.”
The cafeteria was crowded when they strolled in and Wolverine suggested they head to the main house. Storm shook her head, scanning the crowd of students for her team. Kitty was waving wildly over her head and Storm smiled, wincing at the small pain that action caused her bruised mouth. Aside from her split lip and bruise her face was otherwise unmarked and she had no intention of filling everyone in on what had happened, so she was thankful for that.
“It’s just teenagers, Wolverine. They don’t bite.”
He tugged her braid gently. “But I do.” he said the words low and soft, at once his dark gaze possessive.
Ororo was a bit startled by the power his gaze had on her, her face flushing and her blood heating immediately. Her fingers brushed his jaw deliberately and he trembled beneath her touch. It took them both a moment to realize the cafeteria had gone completely silent.
Storm glanced at the doorway, where Jean stood frozen, like a deer in headlights. The growl that came from Wolverine was terrifying. She placed her hand on his arm, soothing him. He turned to her, his teeth bared, but she was unafraid, knowing now he would never hurt her. She flashed him her teeth in return. “Grrr, baby.”
Wolverine felt his lips quirk. Was this what it was like to be loved? To be teased? No one had ever teased him before, none daring to incite his wrath, all terrified of the animal in human clothing. All but Storm.
“Come on, Kitty’s arm’s going to fall off.” She laced her fingers with his.
Wolverine gave the room a dark look and everyone immediately returned to their conversations, slightly louder than before.
“Hi guys!” Kitty beamed. “Wowsa! What happened to your face?”
“I can’t hold my liquor,” Storm said flatly, sitting across from Shadowcat. The marks would probably be gone by the next day she knew, but for now she’d just acknowledge them only if someone else did first.
*BAMF* “Hello Storm.” He kissed Kitty on the cheek, sitting beside her.
“Hey, Crawler.” She greeted. She and Kurt had engaged in a long discussion after the events with Jean and it had helped the fuzzy elf tremendously.
“Have a seat, Wolverine. You’re making me nervous,” Kitty said semi-serious. Wolverine didn’t respond, but he did take a step closer to Storm, resting his hands on her shoulders, absently massaging the tendons there. She leaned back into him, content to let him touch her.
“Everybody can relax! Gambit has returned.” A familiar Cajun drawl sounded behind them. “”Ey der, Stormy!” Gambit’s smile froze on his face. He dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching up to touch her swollen mouth. Wolverine’s fierce growl echoed. Gambit ignored him, his red eyes searching hers. “What ‘appened?”
“She got drunk,” Kitty supplied.
Gambit frowned, knowing it was a lie. Storm didn’t drink in excess, hell she barely drank at all. “Padnat?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Honestly.” She leaned back into Wolverine’s hands.
Gambit stood, looking the other man up and down. “Why do I get da feelin’ I should be t’ankin you?”
“Don’t.” Wolverine snarled. “Some big brother you turned out ta be.”
“Wolverine.” Storm said firmly. She looked at Gambit. “Where’s Ali?”
“Here I am.” Alison was strolling towards them, her dark hair in two short pigtails, wearing a punked out school girl uniform with combat boots. “Thought I’d pull a Shaw. Whatdya think?”
Storm’s stomach rolled.
“Easy, darlin.’” Wolverine was crouched in front of her in a second, seeing how ashen her face had gotten. “I’m right here.” He ignored everyone else, his heavy gaze on Storm.
She trembled under his hands, but she gave him a small smile. “I know.” She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his. He cradled her head, his thumbs tracing the contours of her ears. “I know,” she said again.
Around the table the other members of X-Men Black glanced at each other, knowing on some subconscious level that something had happened and nothing for the two mutants holding each other would ever be the same again.
After a short silence Storm glanced at Ali again. “I think it looks better on you.”
She stood. “Okay team. New assignment.”
They looked at her expectantly.
“After you eat I want each of you to go to your rooms, grab a suitcase, put in a swimsuit and some shades and meet me in the hanger by three o’clock.”
“What’s up?” Alison asked.
Storm gave her a devilish smile. “What happens in Vegas…”
Alison laughed. “Stays in Vegas!!” She grabbed Gambit’s hand. “C’mon, Yummy. We got packing to do.”
Kitty and Kurt were staring, mouths agape. “Really?”
“Really.” Storm laughed. “See you in two hours.”
Walking back up to the loft Wolverine growled in her ear. “It don’t take two hours ta pack.”
She smiled at him with warmth and love. “I know.”





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