Have I already told you how much I hate hormones? Ever since I got the cure, my hormones have been all wonky. This must be how pregnant women feel. Sudden cravings in the middle of the night, terrible mood swings and underneath it all constant yearning for something that you can't quite put your finger on. It has been a year already, and nothing has changed. I'm still as moody and needy as I was immediately after they emptied that syringe in to my arm.

So, here I am, cataloguing stuff we have in storage, taking notes of what we have to order, my mind million miles away from my task. I groan and whine, roll my neck and my pencil drops. More whining, and I bend down to lift it, when suddenly warm hands latch on my hips. Something hard and solid rubbing against my bottom.

"I know what you need…" And I know that voice. Logan. Small moan escapes from my lips when he grinds his pelvis against my buttocks.

"You should know… You have been my personal errand-boy for the past three months now…" I try to laugh, but my throat is awfully dry. All the moisture is slowly flowing down, to another region of my body.

"You don't need fucking ice cream. Crackers are not enough. There's only so much beer you can drink. What you need is a good fuck." His other hand leaves my hip and travels higher, latching to my breast, pulling me up against his body. Only thin layer of our clothes is separating us, and I can feel the heat radiating from him in waves. He gasps when I arch my back, thrusting my ass firmly against the denim of his jeans.

His lips whisper over the sensitive skin on the back of my neck. His fingers are working on my nipples while his other hand sneaks its way in to my pants, cupping me and parting my legs.

"I can't believe how I have missed the signs so long…" He whispers and licks my earlobe when he finds me wet and ready. He plunges one finger in and my knees buckle. It feels so good. His finger is almost cool against my heated flesh, sliding slowly in, then back out and rubbing my clit.

"Don't… Don't stop…" My legs are quivering and I have to lean my hands against the wall to stay upright when he suddenly pulls his hand away.

"You'll get more soon enough…" He chuckles and opens my pants, pulling them to my ankles. I can hear the metallic clink of his belt buckle opening. Short shuffle of cloth. Then he's touching me again. Only with his lower body this time. I'm leaning against the wall, my back turned to him. I catch a glimpse of something from the corner of my eye and turn my head to see what it is. Old mirror. Leaning to the wall beside us, just the right angle.

I can see us from that mirror. Me, back slightly bent and legs spread, offering myself to him. Logan behind me, leaning his hands against a table behind his back, shirt open, jeans bunched to his knees, and that thick and long cock slowly disappearing inside of me. He starts slow and long thrusts, his abs bulging deliciously with every stroke. He fills me completely. I feel like I could split half in any second, and I have to bite my knuckles so that I don't scream out loud.

For a moment our eyes meet in that mirror, then he turns his gaze down, and I can see from the reflection him staring his own cock, sliding slick and wet in and back out from me again. He grips the table harder and throws his head backwards, closing his eyes.

I have read stories about this. About what's happening to me. From glossy magazines, with articles like "Be the best possible lover", "Fashion in Paris" and "Personality test: are you two compatible". Magazines for women. I nearly laughed out loud when I read couple articles about how some women claimed they could reach an orgasm through penetration. I had always needed more. But now, his rock hard cock inside of me was rubbing just the right nerves, knotting up my stomach and making my muscles tense. I can hear my own voice, babbling something incoherent. I can't make sense of it, but apparently Logan can, because he's slowing down, other hand rubbing my lower back soothingly.

"Easy, darling… Keep breathing…" He hisses and stops, still deep inside of me. I'm so wound up I will explode soon. Breathe? That would probably be a good thing to do…

"I don't want you to come yet." Oh, God… Is he serious? Because I don't think I can hold back if he… Oh, shit!

He starts moving again, his hands massaging my buttocks and I'm sobbing. I can feel our juices running down my thighs, and I feel like we have been in here for hours. I'm so swollen and sensitive that his cock almost hurts me, but it's a good hurt. And with every thrust that spring inside of me coils tighter.

Again our eyes meet in the mirror, and I have to bite my lower lip to stay here. To stay in this space with him, because it really should be illegal to look like he's looking right now. Thin sheen of perspiration covering his skin, hair little tousled, eyes hooded, nearly black from lust, lips parted slightly to reveal the tips of his upper teeth, slight grimace tugging the corners of his mouth. We just stare at each other all the while our hips grinding and flexing, flesh parting and gliding back together again.

My vision starts to blur. My legs are numb. My hands are numb. My head is numb. Only place that isn't numb is between my legs getting filled with his throbbing cock. I'm ready. This is torture. Every time I'm about to come, he stops moving, or even pulls out completely, and won't continue until he's sure I won't come. How many times? I'm not sure, but now it looks like he's finally found a stray shred of mercy from the corner of his mind. I'm screaming, my core constricting his cock probably hard enough to cut the blood flow, and he keeps thrusting. He's quickened the pace, and I have a feeling he's not too far behind me. I can feel him getting bigger. Suddenly he stops moving and breathing. I hear a small gasp, and he hauls me against him, pushing deeper, almost desperately. I can feel his hot, sticky seed filling me, and that triggers my own orgasm. I can only scream and hang limply on his hold while my internal muscles are cramping. He covers my mouth with his palm. Bad move. I nearly take a bite out of it. I can taste blood in my mouth. That bite makes him buck against me.

I take that mirror with me when we leave. It will look good in my room. Maybe next to my dresser. Or in bathroom. Or above my bed.

I fucked the kid. I know what people would say if they knew. They would disapprove, threaten with the law, and make big speeches about consequences of harassing a minor… Yeah. I'm a bastard. A lucky bastard.

I knew she and Bobby had broken off three months ago. How did I know it? Because immediately after the Ice prick had walked out on her she sought me and asked me to get her some beer and pretzels. First couple of times the craving hit she had tried to go on her own. Those trips ended usually bad. Her sitting on the sidewalk, unable to move, unable to decide what it was that she truly wanted, and she was forced to call somebody to pick her up before she went nuts. So I got her couple of bags of pretzels and a bottle of beer. Next it was ice cream. Then Chinese. Kiwi-fruits. Let me tell you, when you're asked to go and buy some fruits, you don't expect the clerk to hand you a small basket filled with hairy balls. Had a week's worth of nightmares after that trip…

But I'm getting sidetracked. She had cravings for food. Then there was that other craving that I'm not sure she was even aware of. First time I smelled it on her, I was sure I had lost it. Because there was no way in hell that my little girl was in heat.

We were sitting in the kitchen. She was eating some god-awful goop she claimed to be ice cream with caviar. All the time we sat there she was fidgeting, her eyes darting all around, looking everywhere but to me. It was quite obvious that she was trying to form a polite plea to be left alone. Wanted to save her from the trouble, so I stood up and took my beer.

"I'll go back to bed. Good night, kid…" I said, walked past her and for some reason leaned closer to brush a quick kiss to the crown of her head. That's when I smelt it.

Ripe scent of ovulating and willing female made me choke to my beer. Friendly, brotherly brush against her turned to rather awkward splutter and coughing fit, and a hasty retreat from the kitchen. I walked to my room, locked the door and plopped on to my bed. Scent of her arousal still wafted in my sinuses. I was literally drooling and scratching the sheets, trying to get a hold of the situation before I lost it and went after her. Pondered if I should go to Hank and ask him to check my sniffer, because things it was telling me weren't possible, goddamned thing had to be broken or something.

Following months weren't much easier. Now I could smell it on her every time we met. No matter what time of the day, no matter where we were, she was wet and ready to go. It was wrecking havoc on my mind and body. When I dared to sleep my dreams weren't about drowning, scalpels and pain anymore. They were about her. Marie was starring in every twisted, sordid fantasy of mine. Sleep became fast something I tried to avoid as long as possible. I was frustrated, exhausted and horny as hell. Tried to avoid Marie, too. She kept seeking me out. Batting her lashes and flashing those innocent smiles, asking me to get her this and that, because she really needed it.

One morning I decided enough was enough. She wanted it; I was going to make sure she got it. We were at the basement, checking out storages, cataloguing every item. She had been groaning and whining the whole morning, and truth to be told, I had had to make excuses to leave her and go to jerk off. She wasn't blind, and the bulge in front of my jeans would have been quite obvious sign of the state of my mind.

I was returning from one of those trips to the bathroom when I heard a pencil drop. When I entered to the storage, she was staring at the pencil at her feet, groaning softly. Then she put away the folder she was holding, whined some more and bent from the waist down to retrieve that said pencil. Something snapped, and before I realized what I was doing, I had my hands on her hips and I was telling her that I knew what she needed. She let out this throaty chuckle and told me that I should know. That I had been her errand-boy for the past three months. A boy? It was then and there I decided to show her I wasn't a boy, and that it wasn't a boy she needed.

She had been fucking with the Ice prick before, so she wasn't totally clueless. She was already soaking wet when I pushed my hand to her pants. No need to prolong the foreplay. I stripped off her pants and took off my jeans. We really didn't have the time for niceties, like kissing and cuddling, but it wasn't like we were after some big romance of a lifetime. We both needed to get laid.

She leaned her palms against the wall, giving me a perfect view to her dripping wet pussy from behind. If I had had some doubts about doing this before, they all vanished to thin air. I was so fucking hard it hurt.

She was soft and warm from all the right places. Fit around me like a glove. So tight and snug that I knew I had to take it carefully. Didn't want to hurt her. I started slowly, just pushing in and grinding against her, to make her relax and loosen up a bit. Had to dig my fingers to the table behind me. Would have bruised her if I had tried to hold her then.

I was leaning back, sliding in and out of her when I heard her gasp. Nothing unusual about it, I was panting like a fucking racehorse, but that voice made me look up. Her head was turned to the side, and I followed her gaze to the wall. It was probably the most erotic sight I have seen during my whole fucking life.

There was a mirror leaning against the wall. Just the right angle so that I could see both of us from the silvery surface. She was looking at me through that mirror, lips parted and eyes burning. She looked so fucking small and fragile, bent over in front of me, but at the same time her gaze held so great power that I had to turn my head.

She was whimpering softly. She was going to come soon. Didn't want this to end so fast. I stopped and made her stay still. Told her that I didn't want her to come yet. She tried to buck against me, but I held her still until I was sure she was ready to go on for a while.

I sought her eyes from the mirror again. Needed something to anchor me, ground me. She held my mind in there, in that moment, while my body was drifting somewhere far away. I was fucking drowning. It felt too good. Tight slick sheath gripping me, her gaze piercing me and our scent floating in the air.

I had to stop her from screaming when she came. Did the first thing that came in to my mind and clamped my palm over her mouth. She practically tore a chunk out of it with her blunt teeth. I was still so fucked up from my own release that I didn't really notice it until later.

She took the mirror with her when we left. It was one of those framed pieces that could stand on their own. It's standing right beside her bed now.

I hate this. I need him. I need him more than anything, and he's not here. He's been away for a week already, on some secret mission for Professor. A week. And I'm going crazy. My hands are not enough. Toys I have bought give me only temporary release. Piece of rubber and plastic won't fool my body for long.

I can still remember the last time we were together. I turn my gaze to the mirror standing next to my bed as my fingers find their way under cover, trailing over my breasts, lower…

"I'm leaving tonight."

We were both still out of breath. Cuddled together. His skin was slick with sweat.

"How long will you be gone?" I asked, following the path of coarse hair over his stomach with my finger.

"Couple of days. Shouldn't take longer."

"Couple of days?"

"Yeah…" He grunted, shifting a bit, one hand ending between my thighs, just resting there.

"Looks like I have to invest to some batteries…" Logan chuckled for my words and waggled his brows.

"Be a good girl and I might get you a present when I come back…"

"I like presents…"

"You have been such a good girl, how about if I give you one now?"

He stood up and pulled me along him, in front of the mirror.

"Lean on to me." His thigh ended between mine, parting my legs. One hand kept me up against him, locked around my ribcage, just under my breasts. Other started teasing my clit. Those long and strong fingers, parting my lips and spreading the wetness from our earlier lovemaking. He was staring at my face through the mirror, eyes half hooded, wicked smile curving his lips.

"Watch…" He nudged my head lower with his chin, making me turn my attention back to his hand as it slid and teased.

"More?" My head was lolling against his chest. I was unable to watch, but at the same time I was unable to avert my gaze from our mirror image. Two fingers pumping slowly in and out of me, glistening wet. Thumb pressing gently against my clit. I was melting. I could feel Logan's cock bobbing against my back.

"More…" I managed to croak.

"Good…" Me murmured against my throat, tongue lapping my skin briefly before he stopped and pulled his hand away from between my legs. I knew it was going to get better, but I couldn't stop my hips from trying to follow his hand, muscles tensing and trying to grasp his fingers.

"Hush… You'll get more…"

I was sure I was either going to faint or scream. Neither was a viable option. So I grasped his arms that were now both braced around me when he jostled us to a better position, his thick cock ending between my thighs where his fingers had played earlier. It was already slick with pre-cum. I tried to lower myself to it.

"Nuh-huh… What's the rush?" Logan chuckled with hoarse voice, letting just the tip of his cock to brush lightly against me. It was an obscene sight, that throbbing, fleshy column sliding between my folds, my juices leaking over it.

"Logan… Please…" And was that really me? Sounding so desperate and needy?

"Just watch…" I met his gaze briefly before my eyes fluttered back to where our bodies were about to join. He opened my folds with his fingers and pushed his cock in, slowly. I couldn't stop the moan.

"Don't make me gag you. We do not want the whole mansion barging in right now…" Logan whispered, his breath tickling my earlobe.

When he started to move in me, he had to cover my mouth with his palm. One hand keeping me up around my waist, the other clamped over my mouth, trapping my head against his shoulder. I was whimpering and moaning, because there was no way something could feel that good. I had a death grip from his arm, nails digging to the sensitive skin. I could feel hard metal under the surface.

"Oh, fuck… Honey… Let go…" It was Logan's turn to plead and moan. And I tried. I really tried. I managed to peel off my fingers, but as soon as he moved I reflexively dug them in again, kneading his arm like a kitten.

"Christ… Keep that up, and I'm gonna come…"

Week. A fucking long week. Let me tell you, if you're accustomed to getting it on regular basis, even a day can feel as long as a year. Week? Pure torture. Must be even harder for her. Shit. That shot she took to get rid of her mutation really messed up her hormones. Year and a half gone, and she's still hornier than a tomcat in heat. Not that I mind, but I'm kind of worried. I hope she's okay. At least I can jerk off if it gets too much, but she… It does nothing to her. For some reason I'm the only relief for her.

I still remember our last time together. Hell, I remember every time we have fucked. How could I forget something so… She's the best fuck of my life. She's the best friend of mine. She's… She's Marie.

We had already fucked couple of times, but I wanted that last time to be special. Something she could remember, maybe use when she played with her toys. I made her watch when I touched her. It was supposed to be all for her. Just mirror and my fingers, dancing over her clit.

She was wet and hot. I knew I would taste us both together if I licked my fingers clean, but at that point it was all about her. I kept rubbing and telling her to watch. Nipples hard as pebbles, her hips undulating and all that wet heat pouring over my hand, scent of her filling my head… It was impossible not to have her. But at that point I was still determined to make it all for her.

I slid a finger in. God how I wished it was my cock instead, but her reaction when I added the second finger almost made it worth just to fingerfuck her. She was slick with sweat, eyes glazed over and those pouty lips of hers were begging me for more. I was about ready to come, cock squished between our bodies. Then I saw her face. Truly saw it, and I knew it wouldn't be enough for her. She needed me all. As badly as I needed to be inside of her when I came, she needed me inside, to fill that grasping pussy of hers.

I still tried. Made her watch when I pushed in slowly. I nearly came from the sight of it myself. That tiny opening swallowing me so easily, sitting around me snuggly. That never ceases to amaze me. I know for a fact that I'm not the smallest possible partner, but she fits with me perfectly. Like we're made for each other.

It was impossible to keep up that slow pace. And apparently impossible for her to stay quiet. I had to gag her. Don't really know why we never have invested to real gags. She nearly gnawed a hole to my palm. But that was nothing compared to what she did to my other hand.

My forearms have always been sensitive. What the fuck else could I expect, with so much hardware buried in there. She clamped her nails straight through my skin, scraping my claws, and my heart just about stopped. For a second I couldn't fucking breathe. I still don't know how exactly did it feel, but I asked her to stop, because I was about to come. Hot pressure running along my nerves, from my arms, down to my sides and straight to my crotch. She tried to stop. I think she tried. But it only made things worse. Or better. She was practically fucking my claws with her nails, and every scrape sent another jolt coursing through my system.

World got suddenly quite fucking small. There was only my cock and her nails. And something hot, tight and slick squeezing me. I tried to warn her, but I'm not sure if anything understandable came out of my mouth. Marie was squealing and writhing against me, I'm pretty sure she came. At least I hope she did, before I did. After that orgasm I wasn't able to stand up. My weight pulled us both to the floor. She let go of my hand, I let go of her mouth, but apart from that we were both unable to move. I was too fucked up, and Marie… She was kind of trapped under me.

Finally home. Bike is cooling off, engine pinging and rattling under me. I can smell her already. Scent of her need is wafting all over the place. Fuck. I haven't slept in two days, and looks like I'm going to stay awake for quite a while longer. She's going to tear me to pieces. I should get up and go to her before she comes looking for me. We haven't been exactly hiding what we are doing, but it's not something we want to advertise either. She's still young. We're just friends, and this is probably just a phase that she will get over with eventually. Eventually she won't need me like this. She'll be free to go on with her life and find somebody who's willing and able to give her more than just quick fucks to satisfy her appetite. It won't happen if people around here connect the dots. She'll be marked and tagged as mine.

Too late. She's already here. Door swings open.

"Logan!" Christ. She has to go. Now. Before I throw her down and take her here.

"Go to your room, kid. I have some papers for Xavier. I'll come to see you after…" Talking is kind of hard when she climbs on my lap and shoves her tongue to my throat. Thinking is impossible. Fuck professor. Fuck Scott. Fuck everybody. I'm going to fuck her now, on the bike if she doesn't get away from me right now.

"Marie… Go. Go before I'll do something we both regret…" She lets out a small whimper and grinds her crotch against my thigh.

"I don't want to fuck you here… Your bed is much nicer…" Shit. She's burning up. I have to do something. I slide a hand down to her pants. She's soaking wet.

"Logan, please… It burns…"

"Hush… I'll make it better."

"Shit. Or maybe not." I hate to do this. But I don't have much of a choice. Marie mewls from disappointment when I push her away from my lap.

"Sorry. Prof called. I have to go. But I'll come to see you as soon as I can."


Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on…

Impatient, are we…

"Look, I'd much rather come and take care of you. Hell, I'd like to fuck you right now, right here, but Prof…" She nods and turns away, her head bowed. She's walking kind of funny. Well, considering the fact that she just about turned to jelly as soon as I laid my hand on her… Fuck.


Yes, Wolverine?

I'll see you in the morning.

Clothes are too hot and scratchy against my skin. I tear them off as soon as the door to my room closes behind me. Air feels too hot and humid. I'm burning. Logan's brief touch only stroked the fire, making flames grow higher, and all I can do is to crawl on to my bed and curl to a tiny ball. I need him here. Inside of me. Right now. I'm going insane.

He looked just edible, sitting astride on his bike. Worn jeans hugging his thighs, leather jacket hanging open. Hair slightly tousled from the wind. Little tired and groggy, but my need reflecting from his eyes. I wanted him then and there. Wanted him to take me on that bike. Stupid professor. Stupid mansion. Stupid people. Stupid me. Thank God Logan is so sensible. I know it wasn't easy for him to say no. Not to a man equipped with his senses and sexual drive. I don't want people to know about us. This isn't some romance of the century they probably would dub this. We're friends. Very good friends with benefits. I don't need or even want flowers, love and poetry. What I need, what my body needs is a good fuck, and from his memories I knew Logan is the best there is.

Speaking of which… What the fuck is taking him so long? Good God, I'm hurting here… My fingers aren't enough, and I tossed all my toys to trash bin after my first lonely night, because they did jack shit for me. Stole one of his shirts from the hamper. Sleeping with it helped a little, but now that I know he's back, most likely on his way to me… I'm soaking up the sheets, I can't stop squirming and all I want to do is to go find him and take what he promised to give. I get as far as to the door when it suddenly opens. Logan. He walks in, closes the door and locks it.

"Now, where were we before we got so crudely interrupted…"

She's got me pinned against the door and she's tearing off my clothes.

"Easy, honey… Careful…" I'm so fucking tired. I wasn't going to come to her just to sleep, but I wasn't really expecting her to be this frantic, either.

"I need you. Get these off, now!" She's got me down to my jeans and boots, tugging my belt buckle. Seeing her in that condition, whole body radiating pure lust, hair tousled and thighs wet from just being near me does all kinds of good to my ego. I push her backwards, tumbling to her bed and follow. There's something I'm going to do first. Something she hasn't let me do before, but I'm quite sure she'll let me do now.

Her scent is intoxicating, but her taste is nearly enough to drive me insane. Vanilla, peppermint, musk, salt…

"Logan… What… Please…" She doesn't even know what she's begging for anymore. I look up. Her gaze is fixed upon the mirror. She's staring at us, and she's crying.

"Come inside, please…" She's so tightly coiled that it's hard to slide even one finger in. I lick and suck her clit. She tastes so good, and I'm getting harder every second.

"I'll make you come first… Just relax…"

One day he'll be the death of me. I can't even breathe. I need his cock inside of me so bad that it hurts. His mouth and fingers on me feel heavenly, but they're not helping. He turns to look at me through the mirror. Tells me to relax. How the fuck am I supposed to relax when there's three hundred pounds of muscle in front of me, poured in to jeans so tight that I can practically see veins on his erection through the denim?

"It isn't enough!" I manage to growl and wrestle him off from me, on the floor on his back. I have to have him now. I tear open his belt and the zipper. He tries to stop me, grabs my wrists.


"Let go."

I let her take the lead. She yanks my jeans to my knees and straddles me. Slick wet heat envelopes me when she grinds against my cock. She's sobbing, sliding over me. Mirror reveals her backside to me. She reaches with her hand and grabs my shaft.

"Please… Give it to me…"

Oh, God…

This is bad idea. Fucking in the locker room while rest of the team waits for me for debriefing will get us in to trouble. But I don't fucking care. Let them find out. I do not care anymore. I have to have her, body and mind. Right now, right here. No mirror, just Marie and me. Her eyes on mine when I fuck her, holding me here with her, erasing the twisted images burned in to my brain.

"Take me in… Let me…" I have no right to do this. No right to ask her this. Everything we have done earlier has been about her and her need. This is all for me.

She was waiting for us when the Blackbird landed. Scott & Co. went straight to briefing room. I told them I needed to get cleaned up first. Don't know if they bought my story, especially after I grabbed Marie and pulled her in here with me, but I do not fucking care anymore. I killed her, and now I need to see she really is still alive and breathing.

I can't wait. I tear off her pants and thrust in to her warmth. Her nails dug in to my shoulders and she gasps. From pain or pleasure? I don't know. I don't care. I have to have her. Have to taste her. Her heartbeat kicks up few notches when I lick her throat. It's not enough. I tear open her blouse. No bra. Just those soft and heavy breasts, nipples already taut, waiting for my touch. I suck one of them between my lips, and her core grips me harder. Hot and slick cavern convulsing around my shaft, pulling me deeper.

I must be hurting her, but I don't care. I want her to scream my name, want her to let every fucking soul on this earth to know exactly whom she's fucking. I grasp her shoulders and nearly crush her between my body and the wall to get a better leverage before plunging in deeper. She will have bruises. She will have my mark on her. She will be alive. She will be mine.

She's arching her back, giving my mouth better access to her nipples and baring her throat. Her legs lock around my waist. Blood is pounding in my ears, but I can hear her soft whispers over that sound. She's submitting to me. Over and over again. I don't want her to whisper. I want her to scream.

I'm going to skewer her uterus soon, but I have to get deeper. I want to disappear, dissolve to wet heat surrounding me and never leave again. I can see from her eyes she doesn't understand what I'm asking. She doesn't understand how much it eats me alive to have her every night, and loose her every morning. I hate to pretend this is nothing but a casual fuck, something to make her feel more comfortable in her skin. I want her to wake up and realize we can't go on any longer. I can't go on pretending to be some sort of father figure during days when I'm supposed to be her stud during nights. I hate every role she has cast upon me. I'm no father. I'm no brother. I'm not one of her toys. I'm not her friend. I refuse to be any of those. And it's time she accepts me completely or lets me go.

I push her thighs wider, force her to open up and grind against her clit. Let go of her shoulders and grab her ass instead. Round and firm buttocks, made for kneading. Puckered opening between them just waiting for caresses. She's already slick from our juices, and there's just the slightest hint of resistance when I probe that tight passage with one finger. I haven't touched her there before. At first she doesn't even seem to notice, but when I add a second finger tone and sound of her whispers changes. She's getting louder. Squirming against me and begging me to continue.

"Whom are you fucking with?"

"Logan…" Not loud enough.

"Who keeps you satisfied?"

"Logan…" Close, but not loud enough. I roll my hips, nearly crushing her clit. I'm gonna come soon, but I have to make her scream before that.

"To who do you belong?" Fingers and cock as deep in her as they go, and she's screaming my name, soft walls of her core milking my seed out of me.

They know now. Every single one of them knows. I hate him. I hate Logan. Those glances and whispers that echo all around us are his fault. He brought this upon us. I hate myself. I hate myself for being so weak. I want to punish him, but there's nothing I can do. I can't make myself to hurt him, not after what happened at the locker room.

I should have stayed in my room that night, but I wanted to see him to make sure that he was all right. Professor was still awake when they returned from the mission, and he looked very nervous. He's never nervous. That night? He was scrolling up and down corridors with his wheelchair, smoking cigars in chain. Yes. Professor, not Logan. From that I knew something was wrong.

Logan was nearly insane, and practically raped me at the locker room. Well, maybe a rape is too strong word for what happened. I didn't want it at first, but in the end I was more than willing to give him anything he wanted…

I heard later what had happened. He had gone against Mystique. Of course he had won, and killed the bitch. But there had been a catch. Whole time they had fought Mystique had been wearing my face. It must have been pure torture to Logan. Only thing separating Mystique from me had been the scent. Everything else, outer appearance, voice, way she moved and talked she had copied from me. And Logan had sliced her head off. No wonder he wasn't exactly sane that night.

And now this. We can't even be in the same room without people staring at us and whispering to each other when they thing we don't notice. I see them, and I know Logan must hear them. He hasn't come to me after that night. It was nearly a week ago, and truth to be told I'm getting quite desperate. I can't go to him. I can't admit how much I need him. Not anymore, because it clearly annoys and embarrasses him.

He claimed me in front of everybody, and now he's abandoning me in front of everybody.

Shit. I really am an asshole. I haven't seen her after that night. Well, technically I see her every day, but I claimed her, and now I have done jack shit about that issue.

See, the thing is that everybody around here knows now. They know about us. Kids know that she's my 'girlfriend'; adults know the whole story behind this mess. Had to come clean after Scott threatened to put a hole on me for raping her.

I don't really mind if they know, but it seems to bother her. Like she was ashamed. Ashamed of me. Ashamed of people connecting her to me.

I was her dirty little secret. It was fun while it lasted, but now that were out she's backing off from me.

Fuck. Maybe it's better this way. She can have a life with some kid of her own age. At least I hope so. I have tried to stay out of her way as much as she has tried to avoid me.

Christ. I don't know how long I can keep pretending. How long until I have to have her again…

Forgive me Father, for I'm about to sin. I'm quite sure fucking on the front pew of the church counts as one.

She looks… She looks like a fucking angel in that modest dress of hers. A bridesmaid now. If I have my will, a bride to be. Green lace and silk, clothed from head to toe, hair cascading down her back and shoulders. Just a hint of make-up. I know Jean chose their outfits and she tried her earnest to keep them from competing with her on her big day, but I had eyes only for Marie when they walked down that isle. I have no recollection of the ceremony. Scott and Jean had written their own wows, and from the general sniffling and sobbing among people they must have been quite touching, but only touching I could think during the whole time was touching her. Touching my Marie with all possible proper, and improper ways.

"Logan? We should go…"

"What's the rush? Besides, it's not like they're likely to come looking for us. They're too busy fretting around Scott and Jean."

"But… I thought… You don't want me anymore…"

"What the fuck gave you that impression? Hop on my lap and see how much I 'don't want you' anymore…"

She isn't wearing any undergarments under that dress. Only piece of clothing dividing us are my trousers. Christ, she's hot. Hot as an oven. I can't stop it, I grind against her. It feels so fucking good. I'm about to come in to my pants.


"Yeah. I want you. Have wanted for the past month. I thought you didn't want me anymore. Tried to stay away… Ahh…"

I grab her hair and drag her face to face with me. Those fucking lips… They're made for me to suckle and lick… She tastes of champagne. Raiding the fridge before the wedding? Naughty girl…

"Mmm… Logan, we shouldn't… Not in here…"

"Hush… I'm sure Big Guy understands…"

"I'm more worried about Kurt…"

"Fuck Kurt. I happen to know he'll understand… Where you're going?"

"I'll take this dress off."

"No. Leave it…"

Never really paid her any attention before the cure. But ever since that first fuck in the storage room I have wanted to fuck her with clothes on. Skin to skin is good. Very good. Clothes on, it's different.

"Lay down.."

"Logan, we can't, I'll fall off or something…"

"No, you wont."

Definitely first time I'm kneeling in a church because of this. To pray? Occasionally. To worship the woman of my life? Never before. This must be a sin. But this doesn't feel wrong. Her ankles on my shoulders, cloth of her dress rustling, and scent of her arousal wafting from between her glistening folds. Just a quick lick at first. I want to hear her beg for more.

"Logan… Please…"

That's my girl… Christ. I'm drooling. Taste and scent of her… I'm already drunk, and I'm not the one who raided Xavier's champagne earlier. She's intoxicating. Small delicate fingers curling to my hair and her thighs pressing both sides of my head. I'm in no hurry. Have tasted just her never. We had been fucking for quite some time before she let me go down on her for the first time, but now, it's all her. Marie. Her tight little cunt, and clit that just begs my attention…

"Oh, God…"

"Don't go inviting other guys in here. This is for us."

"Ahh… Logan, Logan…"

Much better. It's His house, but I'm not as sure as hell going to share what's mine with anybody. Not when Marie is mewling and scratching my scalp, and digging the heels of her shoes to my shoulders. Two fingers in, and she's clamping around them so tightly… She's going to come soon. Time to stop. I want to be inside of her when she comes. All that wet heat constricting around me, it's the closest thing to heaven I will ever get.

"Don't stop, Logan, don't you dare to stop!"

"Easy, little one… Easy… You'll get something better soon…"

I'll just open the zipper and sit down. Pull her to my lap. Oh, God. If this isn't Heaven, I don't know what is. Her breasts in front of my face, nipples straining against the thin cloth of her dress, dark shadows under the green silk. Bare buttocks against my thighs. Slick, hot opening easing slowly around my shaft. So fucking slowly… If this is her idea of a revenge…

"Marie… Honey… Stop fucking around and get in to fucking."


"This won't last long if… Ah… Just sit down like a good little girl, okay?"


And stay still. Don't fucking move a muscle. Don't. Don't lick those pouty lips of yours. I'll grab her hips, because if she moves yet another inch, I'm liable to explode. It isn't possible to feel this good and not to combust. I think my spine just melt.

"Wait a second… I need to breathe…"

"Breathe, then…"

"As soon as I remember how. Ahh… Don't. Marie, stop it. Stop it now…"

Fucking vixen. I can stop her from moving, but there's big fat nothing I can do to her internal muscles. She's too good. I have to let go of her. She'll have bruises even now. I'll grab the backrest of the bench instead. She grabs my shoulders and starts to ride. Hips grinding and gyrating. Her core clamping around me.

"Oh, Christ… Marie, don't stop. Don't ever stop…"

"Wasn't planning to… You're so fucking big…"