Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R
Summary: Ororo can hide her pain from all but one.
Warnings: Het, Nudity
Disclaimer: Logan/Wolverine, Ororo "Storm" Munroe, Henry "Hank" "Beast" McCoy, and the X-Men are & TM Marvel comics, not the author, and are used without permission. Everything else is & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He looked up as the most beautiful woman he'd ever been honored to lay eyes upon walked out of their bathroom. The scent of her emotions assailed his nose, and his veiled eyes watched her carefully. She moved with more grace than any other woman had ever possessed, yet she did not move with all the fluid grace of a Goddess, as she normally did. He watched as she dried her hair, her breasts of soft cocoa squeezing together as they were pulled upwards, but though he automatically saluted, he stayed where he was, watching her from behind his newspaper.
He watched her full lips become a thin line and heard her grind her teeth together, a sound so slight that any one else would have missed it entirely and even he might have had he not been completely entuned to this woman. She worked her way down her body, and though his instincts roared at him to take her into his arms and make wild, passionate love to her all throughout the night, Logan waited with barely the slightest twitch save for his groin, which persisted in having a wicked mind all its own.
Her eyes were closed when he finally moved, laying down his paper and closing the distance between them in silence. His hands cupped hers, and her blue eyes fluttered open in surprise. Without a word, he took her towel from her and began to dry her body with hands gentled beyond what any one would have ever thought he could possess . . . any one except his beloved lady. She knew his gentility knew no bounds with those he cared for as he did for her, but still she was surprised as he worked his way slowly over her hip and down her leg, taking a look he thought she missed at her wound as he moved over her tender flesh.
"Logan?"
"Hush, 'Ro," he said, his gruff voice as soft as his touches. "Ain't gonna take no fer an answer. Ya can pretend wit' the others, not me. I'm gonna be here for you, any way you need me, for everything you need." He looked up at her, his eyes shining with emotions he rarely voiced. "I love you, Little Darlin', an' ya scared the crap o' me when ya got shot. Ain't ever been as afraid in my whole life as I was standin' in that infirmary watchin' Hank stitch ya up."
Ororo's smile took on a wry twist. Somehow the fact that Logan had refused to leave as Hank had undoubtedly instructed the others did not surprise her in the least. Knowing her love, he had refused to leave her side, persisting in his belief that his presence would somehow help to guarantee her survival. She was warmed by the thought and silently confessed to the memories of the times she had done so for him.
"It was a miracle ya lived, 'Ro, an' we're gonna keep makin' that miracle work. You're gonna survive this," he said, "an' I'm gonna be right by yer side, helpin' ya all the way."
"Logan," Ororo spoke, knowing he half-expected, perhaps more, an argument, until he saw her bright smile, "I love you." He leaned up and kissed her before returning to his task of drying the beautiful body he would make love to only when she was ready. Warmth, accompanied by delicious tingles that sparked from Logan's every touch, continued to surge through Ororo, melting her through to her very core as she thought for the countless time that she must surely be the luckiest woman alive.
The End