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Humid
Author: OriginalCeenote
Rating: NC-17, PWP
Summary: I originally wrote this as a PWP story out on
Superstories, and this was part two of a trilogy under the title “Cold
Brew.” After doing an “in hindsight” read, I hated it, and
I have retooled and edited it here. Timeline is post “Fall of the
Mutants,” pre-“Inferno” (Uncanny X-Men #245).
All was quiet in the outback, and
the new inhabitants of the former Reaver compound
had no complaints. Back in the kitchen, Allison and
Madelyne were cleaning up after that night's dinner.
Rogue carried the quiche pan from the distressed
pine table to the sink, plucking a wedge of bacon
and egg from the rim and sucking it between her lips
with satisfaction.
"Lordy, Petey, that sure was one swell dinner.
Who'da guessed such a big hunk of man would know so
many fine skills? You cook, you draw pictures that
look better than some of those snapshots in the
Daily Bugle, and yet you can still stand upright
when the Juggernaut slams you over the head with a
tank!"
Rogue set down the pieplate and licked her fingers,
scooting out of the way with a teasing grin as
Allison flicked her curvy tush with a rolled-up
dishtowel. Peter grinned back sheepishly, his cheeks
gleaming more brightly for just a second, the
closest thing to a blush that he could manage in his
organic steel form. Ever since Peter had been
transported into the Outback with his teammates,
transformations back into his human form were
difficult and painful. Even though his "Colossus"
guise allowed him greater size, strength, and
endurance, there were some less fortunate
attributes, such as always knocking off a few inches
of doorframe trim whenever he entered a room, never
being able to dial a phone without pulverizing the
buttons, and never being able to be in close contact
with anyone he cared about. Lately, that had him
feeling like a bull in a china shop.
"You'd make someone an excellent wife!" Rogue
cajoled, grabbing the remaining dirty dishes from
the table. Balancing the plates in one arm, she
grasped the milk jug, tugged open the refrigerator
door with her pinky, replaced the milk and swung the
door shut with her ripely curved hips.
Madelyne shook her head and tsked, her thick red
curls brushing back and forth across her shoulders.
"God, Rogue, will ya show some pity, for pete's
sake, you're embarrassing the poor boy. Ororo, could
you make that spray a little stronger, I want to
finish rinsing this saucepan."
With a wave of her slender brown hand, Ororo
intensified the light rain sluicing into the sink
into a compressed, healthy torrent. "Thanks, Ororo.
Finished!"
Allison dried her hands on the dishtowel, asking no
one in particular, "Seen Longshot anywhere?"
"Thought I saw Tinkerbell out at the creek earlier
tonight." Alex loved to bait Allison about her
budding romance with the enigmatic fugitive from
Mojoworld. Alex thought it was cool that he used to
be a stuntman and that he got to work with gorgeous
ladies all day. But he used buckets of HAIR GEL, for
cripes' sake! Allison made a small sound of disgust
and rolled her eyes, shucked off her apron, and
flicked it into Alex's face on her way outside.
"Asshole!" Allison began humming a sultry rendition
of "Fever", as faint flurries of incandescent light
trailed after her like fireflies. The group in the
kitchen suspected they would not see her for a
while, if not until the next day. Alex smirked,
threw his feet up on the table, and rocked his chair
back, closing his eyes for an after-dinner snooze.
Peter lumbered upstairs to find his sketchbook.
Madelyne sat down opposite Alex and read the
newspaper.
Ororo stood up from where she was straddling a bar
stool and drained a glass of iced tea. Unlike her
teammates, Ororo looked fresh as daisy due to her
body's ability to maintain comfortable temperatures
in any weather. While Rogue boasted about feeling
like a strip of bacon sizzling in a skillet all day,
Ororo never so much as broke a sweat. She gave the
knotted ends of her sleeveless chambray shirt a tug,
smoothing the creases from her tiny denim shorts.
"I'm heading out to take a shower."
"Watch out for the mosquitoes, they aren't too
discriminating about what areas they feed on. And
they're the size of helicopters, too.” Alex winked
one eye open at Ororo's departing rear, silently
admiring the play of muscles under those little
shorts, the old adage "the browner the berry, the
sweeter the juice" crossing his mind. Rogue smirked,
catching the glance and its intent but saying
nothing.
Outside, an unexpected wind picked up, swirling
tumbleweeds and dead leaves in its wake. Ororo had
no sooner stepped off the cedar porch before the
current lifted her gently off the ground. Hovering
so, she appeared to walk on air. No one did it
better than Ororo. She had once been a
goddess, after all.
With a small gesture, the basket of bath gel and
other toiletry items sprang from the ground into her
waiting palm.
Making her way to a clearing just beyond the garage,
Ororo floated aloft as she untied her shirt and
unbuttoned it. Next came her shorts with a loud
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZIIIIIP. Allowing them to drop to the
ground, Ororo untied the leather thong holding her
lustrous white hair in a thick ponytail. Unbound,
her white curls flowed down her breasts, fluttering
and whipping in the breeze. Sometimes a girl just
had to let her hair down. Ororo closed her eyes,
relishing the wind as it played along her body, the
night air still hot enough to make clothes feel
unnecessary. Ororo ran her hands down her stomach,
skimming her finger over the lacy trim running along
her black satin bikini briefs. Ororo had come a long
way from the innocent woman who had no clue as to
why Americans frowned at a lack of clothing. Aware
of the night sounds and reveling in the peace, and
in her own body, Ororo slid her hands back upward,
feathering her fingers over her breasts. Deftly she
undid the clasp of her Victoria's Secret underwire
demi-bra, the cups already overflowing with her soft
brown flesh. Removing the straps, the bra blew away
on the breeze to join the pile of clothes. Ororo
kicked off her sandals and slipped off her panties,
glorying in the heady rush of her nudity, of the
wind stroking her, everywhere.
Raising her arms above her head, Ororo gathered a
small cluster of stratos clouds to her, bidding them
to darken and swell. With a thought, Ororo flicked
the clouds' "on switch." Smells of ozone and dust
filled the air as a warm rain pelted the ground and
Ororo's luscious form. She reveled in the sensations
of rain funneling through her hair in long rivulets
and drizzling down her breasts, beading up in large
droplets from her nipples. Streams of flesh-warmed
rain sluiced from the downy white curls covering her
mound. Ororo whipped the wind into a slight frenzy,
strengthening the spray, not unlike turning up the
dial on a Shower Massage head. Insistent showers
pelted Ororo's buttocks and thighs, easing the
tensions of the day. If only Ororo could wash the
images of Forge from her brain, all would be well...
Ororo sighed her disappointment, drawing her
attention from the minor maelstrom. I wish he
were here. I wish he could enjoy this, what he has
given back to me. I want so much to share this with
him, to share my body with him again.
It just wasn't to be. When Forge chanted the
incantations and conjured the spell to bind and
close the Trickster's portal, he needed nine spirits
to seal the magic. It tore him apart to use the
spirit of the woman that he loved, even if that soul
was freely offered. When Ororo re-materialized in
Roma's chamber, a whole woman again, she momentarily
rejoiced, until she saw that Forge was not there.
Ororo blinked away a mixture of tears and rain,
tasting a salty bitterness in her mouth.
As quickly as it began, the rain stopped.
Ororo hovered back to her clothes, The sky had
turned cobalt blue during her ablutions. Bending
over, she grabbed her bottle of sandalwood oil and
dabbed some on her chest, rubbing it in with her
fingertips. She rubbed more on her elbows, massaging
it briskly along her forearms. She picked up the
towel and worked it through her drenched hair,
stimulating her tingling scalp even further with the
rough terry cloth. She toweled off her breasts
thoroughly, allowing the nubby cloth to abrade her
wine-colored nipples, and moved on to her sex,
giving her dripping, neatly trimmed sex equal
attention. Ororo stroked her hand over her private
treasure with a small "mmmmmm" of contentment,
closing her eyes.
"Just washin' off the dust, 'roro?" a deep, scratchy
voice drawled behind her.
Whipping around, Ororo conjured a ball of lightning,
nearly ready to fling it at the interloper. "Who - "
"Easy now, darlin', it's just little ol' me, out to
have a smoke. Didn't mean to interrupt." A loud
crackling sound preceded a flickering flame,
illuminating Logan's face as he lit one of his
prized Cuban cigars. An errant breeze kicked up some
more dust, and carried the faint odor of Jack
Daniels to Ororo's nostrils. "Or to intrude, since
ya appear to be, well, let's say indisposed?"
Logan's eye's crinkled and grew hooded, sucking
heartily on the stogie, blowing the thick plumes of
smoke out from well-shaped lips.
Of course, it hadn't been the first time Logan had
seen Ororo in the altogether. It was par for the
course. At one time or another, all of the X-Men
ended up bound or restrained, stripped of their
uniforms or of their powers, or wound up zapped by
something fierce enough to leave their costumes, and
their dignity, in shreds. C’est la vie.
For some reason, every time the X-Men came into
contact with the Hellfire Club, one or all of them
ended up losing their clothes. Logan recalled being
stripped down to nothing before he was shackled into
inhibitor cuffs and strung from the prison walls
when the White Queen went after Shadowcat. Ororo,
who was usually so free with her naked body, only
felt shame as the guards frisked her, divesting her
of the lockpicks and other small weapons hidden in
her suit.
Logan found himself in awe the day that Ororo freed
her mind from Emma Frost's control, as the two women
dueled in the sky for the brain transfer gun.
Finally regaining control of her body, Ororo flung
Emma to the ground in an ungainly heap, eyes blazing
and ready to do some damage. The bitch had to
PAY.
"FREE!" Ororo was enveloped in a bolt of lightning
that shredded the wanton white bodysuit, thong, and
leather hip boots from her body, leaving only the
natural woman, naked, hard and beautiful beyond all
imagining. Logan's breath caught in his throat then,
even though he would never admit it. Ororo's
uncharacteristic savagery as she lunged after Emma
and clawed at her throat wasn't exactly a turnoff,
either. So sue him, Logan was male.
No, it wasn’t awkward. But ever since that night,
when they’d shared “The Kiss,” Logan felt a funny
little tightness in his gut whenever they were in
close contact.
They’d all come home late. Alex and Longshot were
both diggin’ for excuses to tell the girls about all
the trouble they’d gotten into, while Logan himself
just came strolling in through the front door,
looking like the cat that devoured the canary.
”It would appear you gentlemen had yourselves a
grand old time!”
”Darlin’, it was the BEST!” SMOOCH!!! “Nice!”
For a few heady, tantalizing seconds, Ororo’s hand
fisted in the collar of his jacket as she
surrendered to his mouth. His tongue rubbed itself
against hers, tasting her, stroking her. Somewhere
in the background he heard Rogue and Ali gasp while
Alex just gawked with his mouth open. Logan released
her, tipping her upright again as he made his
escape. Ororo sputtered dire warnings to his
retreating back, but he smiled wickedly as her
grudging laughter – “That man! Those…MEN!” -
followed him upstairs. You know you liked it,
Boss.
Logan's twinkling, coal-black eyes drank in the
woman floating before him as she wrapped the towel
around her torso, obscuring his view. The moment was
awkward but fleeting. Ororo trusted Logan. Her feet
had not yet touched the ground. Ororo didn't want
her toes to get muddy.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Nope. Drank my dinner at the roadhouse. Chatted up
the locals and offered my calling card." Ororo
roughly translated that to mean that Logan abused
his healing factor on Heineken and Jack Daniels, and
perhaps even indulged in a brawl.
Gathering her things into her basket and pulling her
shirt back on over the towel, Ororo waited for Logan
to come up along side her, warning him "Dinner's
finished. Rogue finished off the last of the
quiche."
"’Roro, can you see me eatin' quiche?"
*****
When Ororo and Logan came back to the house, the
kitchen was empty, and visiting fireflies surrounded
the porch light. Ororo’s toes touched the cool
linoleum at last and she padded over to the
refrigerator for another bottle of water. "Logan,
would you like some?"
Ororo broke the freshness seal on the cap and took a
long pull, sucking a droplet from her generous
bottom lip. And somewhere in that moment, Ororo
became aware of Logan, of a shift in her thoughts of
him. And it made no sense at all.
Logan had always been a sterling character in spite
of his eccentric and sometimes feral nature. Ororo
had even been the target of his exasperated
outbursts, watching him stomp off after calling her
a "nosey, bossy frail" when she would beg him to see
reason. Now, Ororo surveyed him bit by bit. She took
in his glossy black hair poking out from his
wide-brimmed Stetson, as well as the thick, springy
black curls peeking from the collar of his crisp
shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing his
tanned and bulging forearms. Logan's brows raised
themselves quizzically, framing his laughing black
eyes with lashes as long as hers, peering down the
bridge of a straight, narrow nose. Amazingly, his
nose never took on the bumpy look of one that had
been broken hundreds of times. He had his healing
factor to thank for that.
Ororo studied the delicate notch of his upper lip,
enjoying his high, broad cheekbones and square jaw.
An errant thought crossed her mind; she suddenly
wanted to trace his jaw with her fingertip. Where
had that come from??
That was when Logan sensed it. He caught the scent
of Ororo's sandalwood oil, of the shampoo that she
had lavished so generously on her silky mane.
Beneath the other scents, Logan inhaled Ororo's
arousal. Her woman scent. The faint, musky bouquet
of Ororo's flower, opening up sticky, creamy petals.
"You headin' up for the night, 'roro?" Logan puffed
one last time on his stogie, stubbing it out against
his palm. Ororo nodded, turning to lead the way.
Surely he doesn't know. Surely he wouldn't think
that I think...
Logan relished the whooshing sound of Ororo's pulse
as she crept up the stairs, hearing it quicken and
thunder. It was staccato and fierce, not unlike the
woman. Logan followed Ororo to her loft, noting the
many potted palms and the batiked curtains. Ororo's
spears hung from the wall, mementos from her
homeland. Ororo deposited her shorts, sandals, and
underwear on a nearby wicker chair, next to the
nightstand. Logan glanced at a framed photo of Ororo
and Kitty.
"Nice photo."
"Rogue took it while we were still at the mansion."
Ororo emptied the contents of the basket onto her
dresser. Then, Ororo felt, rather than heard Logan
approach her from behind. A lock her hair was lifted
away from her ear, stirred at her temple by hot
breath.
"The photo ain’t the only thing that’s nice in this
room," came a sultry whisper. Ororo shuddered with a
flush of arousal, not entirely surprised. And
definitely not averse.
Logan continued stroking her hair away from her
sensitive neck, nuzzling the crest of her ear with
his nose, breathing in her scent. Ororo closed her
eyes, her heart slamming into her chest. Logan's
callused fingertips grazed her shoulders and slid
down her arms, and Ororo felt his hot chest against
her back. Currents rippled through her stomach and
curled pleasingly in her groin. Logan closed in on
her neck, first nipping it with his lips, then
gently biting it with his teeth. Relishing other
opportunities to make her flinch, Logan nipped at
her shoulders, wrapping his arms around Ororo’s
waist, skimming his generous palms along the
underside of her breasts. He teased on with his
thumb, enjoying this standing, spooning position and
hearing the catch in Ororo's throat.
"Logan..."
"You don't want me to leave." Another thumbstroke
was followed a gentle pinch of her nipple between
thumb and forefinger. We shouldn’t be doing this,
this is wrong, this is…
"I don't want you to leave." Ororo raised her ass a
notch and pressed it against Logan's erection,
leaning into it. Her mouth betrayed her again as she
moaned at his knowing touch.
Logan drove one of his hands downward, clutching the
hem of Ororo’s towel and tugging it free. Logan
partook of the flesh that he bared, stroking Ororo's
long, slender thigh and parting her petals for
in-depth exploration. She was already wet, cream
glistening from her neat white pelt. Ororo’s crotch
hugged Logan's hand as his fingers had their way,
opening her legs widely for him, and she clutched
his other arm that was still wrapped around her,
pleasuring her breast.
Some barely audible, mostly sane voice in her head
pleaded with her to see reason. This was Logan. Her
teammate. Her friend. A man who’d lost the woman
that he loved at the altar, and who knew how many
countless others over the course of a life full of
nothing but pain and betrayal.
Ororo reached back and gripped Logan's hip, rubbing
her hand along the rough denim seam of his Levi's.
"Please, Logan."
"God, Ororo, such pretty manners from a pretty
lady." Logan thrust two fingers more deeply into her
slick tunnel, stimulating her clitoris with his
thumb, making it swell. "I wanna teach ya some dirty
words." Ororo nodded, eager for the first of many
lessons.
Logan unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it from her,
grazing his fingertips down her cleavage, then
lifting her breasts, testing their weight. "Bend
over for me, sweet thing." She shivered as he
lightly kissed her shoulder blade and ran the backs
of his knuckles down her upper arm.
Puzzled but still enjoying the haze of feeling,
Ororo did as she was told, steadying her hands on
the dresser and thrusting her ass out. Logan kneeled
behind her, grasped her hips and said "Time to
worship the goddess." He leaned forward and licked
her, working his tongue in languorous swirls,
stirring her pudding and making her hot. Endlessly
he plunged his tongue into her, racing it up and
down within the seam of her lips, tasting the cream
as it slowly pooled there. Ororo shuddered as a
powerful orgasm rocked her, splashing Logan with a
fragrant burst of her womanly perfume. Logan licked
her clean, stroking her rump, drilling an
experimental finger into her.
"Still tight, darlin. I like that. And I ain't
through."
Ororo heard him unzipping his Levi's as she gasped
for breath, and felt his hot hands grasp her hips
again, pulling her up onto his erect cock. Ororo
felt herself impaled on nine pulsing inches of
Logan’s turgid flesh, his thickness stretching her.
She shuddered again, moaning for the sheer pleasure
of it. Logan rutted and rocked, skilled as a
flamenco dancer, as he thrust into her, steadily at
first, and then harder the more wildly Ororo
responded. "Ohhhh," Ororo murmured, "Goddess help
me."
"What was that?"
"Ohhhhhh. Oooohhhh! Logan..."
"Say it again." His voice was ragged but earnest,
husking in her ear. “My name sounds good comin’ from
you, when yer all hot and wild like this.”
"Logan..."
"C'mon, baby doll..." He stopped for a moment,
withdrawing to get her full attention. Ororo bucked
back against him, but he held himself steady and
apart from her. “Tell me how ya want it.”
"You know what I want,” she whispered. “This.
I want…this. You.” She licked her lips and reached
up to bring his face to hers, turning and leaning to
nibble his jaw.
“How do ya want it?” His tongue bathed the shell of
her ear in sumptuous heat. Ororo arched again,
moaning her approval. “Gotta be specific. Do ya want
it long an’ slow, darlin’? Fast?” He captured her
breast and circled his thumb around its peak in lazy
contemplation.
“Harder.” Her voice brooked no argument and left no
margin for delay. The beast within him howled with
satisfaction and triumph. “I…I want you to…fuck me
harder.” Heat and tingles swept over his flesh at
the uncharacteristic profanity.
"For heaven's sake, sweetheart, I'd be happy to
oblige!" With that, Logan reached forward and rubbed
her clit, spreading the wetness around her sweet
spot as he continued to pump into Ororo. He slammed
into her faster and harder, evoking a keening wail
from the depths of her soul. "Please, don't stop!"
Logan reveled in her slick, silky feel. She fit him
perfectly, every throbbing inch.
A second orgasm ripped through Ororo, her walls
clenching Logan's cock lovingly, again splashing him
with her release. Logan pulled Ororo to his chest,
dragging her upright so he could enjoy her breasts
again, his cock, surprisingly, still bouncing
against her rump. Ororo clasped it. "Logan?"
"Just the old healing factor, sweet thing. It don't
quit."
Ororo turned to him, possessing his mouth with
hungry kisses. "Then don't you quit." Despite her
reeling response to his possession of her, this was
the part that held Ororo in thrall. His mouth. His
kiss. Kissing Logan at leisure, and with meaning
beyond one last thrill for the road was completely
new and occupied her thoughts more frequently in
their isolation and close quarters. This isn’t
the time for discussion, Wind-Rider. She sensed
that Logan wanted her again, and she was more than
ready, but the opportunity to drink him in, to show
him years of pent-up affection that she’d never been
able to truly express was too precious. Her lips
traveled languidly over his face, and she cradled
his cheek in her palm, staring with wonder into his
dark eyes. He indulged her curiosity willingly and
caressed her flesh like a cat’s, with long, drugging
strokes.
She fondled his cock, stroking his hardness. Drops
of semen were milked from the tip, and Ororo went
onto her knees this time, returning Logan's very
generous favor. Ororo cupped his balls in her palm,
deep-throating him, running her free hand through
his pubic hair. Ororo growled a loud, purring
"hmmmmmmm" in her throat, and Logan gasped at the
intensity of the thrumming of her mouth. On and on
she anointed him, covering her teeth with her lips,
grabbing his muscular glutes in her hands. Logan
tunneled his hands through her hair and held her
there, his lips forming the words, "Damn,
Ororo…sweet. So damn sweet, darlin’," as she took
him as her willing captive. There was nowhere else
that he wanted to be right now, or any time soon.
Logan looked down at Ororo, at her high cheekbones
and her beautiful blue eyes peering up at him as she
continued to claim him. A look mingling pleasure and
pain crossed his features. He jerked as he climaxed,
coming in draining spurts.
“RO!” His knees nearly buckled. She drew herself up,
supporting and enveloping his member with her
gorgeous breasts, and she milked the last drop from
him with her lips before kissing his navel
affectionately.
Ororo stood at her full height, reaching out to
unbutton Logan's now-wrinkled shirt, running her
hands down his hairy chest, "Beautiful," she
murmured, treasuring his pectorals, abdomen and
hips, drawing him close. Now that her initial,
desperate thirst for him had been slaked, she took
the time to truly appreciate his body and become
acquainted with its delights.
"Yes, you are," he replied, nuzzling her neck. Logan
and Ororo stood there a moment, savoring the
embrace, when Logan hands wandered over Ororo’s
bottom, his fingertips grazing the crack. Logan
growled with feral intent in his throat, sending
shivers up Ororo’s spine.
“Ya may want another shower after all this,
sweetheart,” he chuckled. Her fingernails scored his
shoulders.
“Oh, Goddess! You’re…making it hard to think, my
friend.”
“Maybe yer thinkin’ too much.”
“Maybe I don’t want either of us to get hurt,” she
reminded him, her voice sober as she planted one
last kiss in the edge of his hairline. His hair
smelled good, she realized, and it felt good to
clutch within her fingers as she pulled back from
him to meet his gaze. “But a shower sounds good.
Come.” Logan reluctantly let her walk away, but the
corner of his mouth quirked when he saw her open the
latch on the bedroom window and fling it open. She
stepped naked onto the balcony, looking back to
reach out to him. His gait was graceful and steady
as he silently accepted her invitation, grasping her
hand as she pulled him outside.
Ororo and Logan stared at the star-studded, inky sky
for a moment, savoring the peaceful night and the
unexpected joy at having someone to share it with.
They still held hands as Ororo’s sapphire blue eyes
glowed a silvery white, rivaling the full moon as
she stirred the winds and summoned a light rain
shower. The water was warm and steady, pelting the
roof in a comforting patter. Logan sat on the
balcony and beckoned to her, drawing her between his
legs to lean back against his broad chest.
“By now you know me pretty well, Logan. You know
this isn’t…typical of how I behave.”
“Yeah, ya kinda threw me for a loop.” Logan breathed
in the scent of rain and the fresh scent of her hair
as it grew damp and plastered itself over her
shoulders and across his chest.
“And I don’t mean…it’s not just about…this. About
having…”
“Sleeping together,” he finished for her.
Ororo nodded. They could call it that. “I haven’t
given my body to many. When Forge and I were
together in the Adversary’s world, time didn’t work
the way it usually does here. I was gone for a year.
Long enough to become well-acquainted with Forge. We
fell in love. I didn’t expect it. I hated him after
he stole my powers.”
“He did give ‘em back, darlin’, that counts for
something. He cared enough to try ta right what he
did wrong. And hate’s a pretty strong emotion. Kinda
like love. It’s easy ta get caught up in either
one.”
Logan remembered the night she came home from
Forge’s aerie in Dallas. Those past few months after
his aborted wedding had brought changes in Ororo’s
demeanor as it was. The gentler, compassionate woman
who questioned his methods in battle was replaced
with a newer, more reckless spitfire who flung
lightning bolts with abandon and dressed like a rock
star. Logan sensed Yukio’s involvement in her
transformation, but he couldn’t resent her meddling
if it brought out this stronger, earthier side.
Ororo was still measured and controlled, still in
synch with the earth, but her icy reserve was gone.
The only thing that hadn’t changed, and that still
left him with an uneasy pang was the loneliness in
her eyes.
When Ororo lost her powers, the world was turned on
its ear again. This new Ororo fought like a cornered
animal and was ruthless enough to unmask Cyclops to
get the edge over him in their duel for leadership.
It was so much at odds with who she was before, and
Logan began to miss her almost motherly demands and
scolding that he was a barbarian. A savage. It was
how she showed she cared.
These past few weeks in the Australian outback had
been a revelation. Ororo had renewed her bond with
the earth and her awareness of the atmosphere,
almost like coming home to an old lover, and Logan
began to believe they’d gotten their benevolent
goddess back. He’d suspected that her time with
Forge yielded something other than gratitude for
giving back what he’d unwittingly stolen.
It just felt strange to him, suddenly, that her
admission of being in love with Forge caused his
innards to twist in a double knot.
“Logan?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Do you still love Mariko?”
He sighed and tightened his embrace around her
narrow ribcage, kissing the sweet little spot on her
shoulder. Her skin glowed from the rain and their
lovemaking earlier. “Yeah. That hasn’t changed.
Hasn’t stopped hurting, either. I’m not worthy.” His
voice took on a hard edge.
“You know that’s not true, and so does she. And a
woman doesn’t just deny the man she loves and plans
to marry without dying a little inside. I know there
were obstacles keeping you apart.”
“They still are,” he pointed out. “I’m dead,
remember? We all are.”
“That can be a problem or an opportunity, depending
on how you look at it, my friend.” She winced; the
turn of the conversation seemed to negate the
easygoing intimacy they’d shared in her room,
returning him back to her “friend.” She turned her
face toward his, nuzzling his cheek. “You’re not
dead. You’ve been reborn, and given an opportunity
to start over. Are you going to contact her? You’re
not tied down here, Logan. Say the word, and you can
go back to Tokyo to settle things with her.”
Logan grunted under his breath, considering her
words. “Settling things is putting it lightly. It’ll
take more than me dropping back onto her doorstep
and announcing that my death was all ‘a little
mix-up’ on the evening news. Mariko has some old
debts of honor that she doesn’t want me ta interfere
with yet. I’m gonna watch, listen and wait for her
ta need my help, but until then, I’m gonna honor her
wishes. I love her,” he concluded. The rain washed
over them, caressing their flesh. Logan’s skin still
felt warm against Ororo’s back. “But I’m needed
here. And that means I gotta move on.”
“You’re wanted here,” Ororo corrected him.
“In our own unique way, Logan, we’re all a family.
You’re a cherished member of this family; never feel
like you’re just the prodigal son.” Logan chuckled.
“What was it ya told Chuck once upon a time, that I
had ‘sterling qualities?’” Ororo smiled.
“Something like that. I might have also reminded him
that it might not be the safest thing to tell you
‘no.’”
“Nope.” He soundly kissed her temple. “Hey,
darlin’?”
“Yes, Logan?”
“Since we’re on the subject…have ya considered
getting in touch with Forge?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate, but Logan sensed the
tension in her muscles. Thunder rumbled in the
distance. “It’s safer that we stay underground.
Forge’s safety would be jeopardized if I walked back
into his life. Think of how the government that he
works for would react if they found out that he was
involved with me, the same mutant criminal whose
powers he was supposed to have eliminated.” She
sighed. Logan laughed when she added “That might
look bad.”
“Ya ain’t exactly a criminal,” he reminded her. Part
of him was relieved that she wasn’t going to pick up
where she and the Maker had left off, and that
relief actually unsettled him.
“Tell that to the world at large.” Ororo gently
disengaged herself from the cocoon of Logan’s body,
loathe to leave her comfortable perch, but not
wanting to turn the poor man into a prune. She
summoned warm drafts to dry them off and led him
back inside. Logan watched her reach for her robe,
and his fists clenched as he searched for something
to say.
“Ro?”
“Yes, Logan?” Now covered, she played with her
robe’s sash and eyed him cautiously.
“This…this wasn’t just a distraction. This wasn’t
just us passing the time.” His declaration held a
question wrapped within it.
“Not unless you want it to be.” That’s when Logan
sensed it, smelled it. She was afraid. Not the usual
“I’ve been burned, I’m not letting you in” fear. He
could hear her heart rattling an odd tattoo as it
skipped a beat.
“Unless I want it to be?” She tried to turn away,
but he caught her wrist and held her immobile. She
felt him at her back again, but this time the
contact wasn’t demanding or rushed. He tugged her
against him. “What d’you want it ta be?”
“I…I don’t want this to be…I don’t want to be
something you did to ‘pass the time.’ To fill an
empty space. A need,” she murmured. She watched the
large, strong hands resting against her belly
stroking her a moment before they reached for her
sash, untying it.
“Ororo.” There it was. Her name murmured from his
lips. “We’ve been friends for a long time. I trust
ya. I care about ya. I don’t respect anyone more. So
I hope ya can give me a little more credit and the
benefit of the doubt when I say that this wasn’t
just about ‘need.’ I’ll admit it. Sometimes, you an’
me, we drive each other nuts.” Ororo snorted
lightly; that was an understatement. “Sometimes we
don’t see eye ta eye. That’s fine. Gives things a
little more spice.” Her robe slithered in a heap
around her feet, and his hands roamed over her skin
again, exploring the places he that he could have
missed before. “Ya make me feel like I matter. Like
I’m better than I am,” he sighed into her hair.
“Guess I’m just gonna hafta show ya.” A whoop of
laughter escaped her lips as he swept her up into
his arms and carried her to the bed. He silenced her
with a probing, hungry kiss. “You’ve always been in
my corner. I’m in yours now, ‘Ro.” He covered her
body with hers and proceeded to show her his
support, lacing his fingers through hers and making
love to her so sweetly she thought her heart would
burst. Ororo lay limp and quivering with Logan
tucked within her embrace, his head resting against
her breast.
“You’re not just a distraction,” he growled,
twirling a lock of her hair idly around his finger.
“You’re more than worthy,” she retorted, stroking
his back.
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