Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men and I make no money from these stories.
The Story of J. part 4... by vangiekitty
Continued from part 3:
I must have dozed off or lost consciousness for a short while because the next thing I remember is Logan putting me down in the kitchen chair and asking if I could sit up by myself.
"Of course I can." I answered, in the same tone had used to say- yes, of course I could walk by myself- just before he had to carry me. I did manage a little better this time though. I was able to sit up, and felt myself reviving a little as I drank the cup of coffee Logan had poured for me.
"Now let's take care of that cut." He said practically, as he wet a clean dishtowel with warm water and used it to clean the dried streaks of blood off my arm and hand. He disappeared for a minute and I heard him rummaging around in the medicine cabinet and then he returned with the antibiotic ointment and some large band-aids. As Logan very gently cleaned and bandaged my cut finger, I thought about how long it had been since anyone- least of all Scott- had cared for me so tenderly. I wondered how Scott would have reacted to seeing me slice open my finger and almost faint. He probably couldn't have cared less. The thought made me sad. I wondered how my marriage had come to the point it was at- to the point were Scott didn't seem to notice if I was dead or alive.
Suddenly I realized that large tears were running down my face and dropping onto the kitchen table. Logan looked up and saw them too.
"Am I hurting you, Red?" He asked gently. I shook my head mutely and he whispered softly, "Then what is it?"
Part of me wanted to tell him, but part of me, the strict private part which I always seem to hear in my grandmother's voice spoke up and said "You don't air your dirty laundry in public, girl." So I shook my head again.
But Logan was nothing if not persistent.
"Come on, Darlin." He said "There's more to this than a cut finger, so why not tell me all about it?" I started to shake my head again but then, it was as if something inside of me broke. How long had been since I had really been able to talk to anyone about my problems? I wasn't close enough to the other women to confide in them. Besides, everyone thought that Scott was so wonderful, such a white knight. They all thought our relationship was perfect. No one knew our perfect marriage was a sham...
Suddenly, I ached to tell someone -- anyone. And here was Logan, offering to listen. I knew I could trust him; he was very close mouthed. And I yearned to tell him everything. Abruptly, I decided I would.
"All right, Logan. I'll tell you if you don't mind listening." I said shyly. "But if you don't mind, I want to change first; I'm freezing, and I bet you are too." His eyes flicked involuntarily over my cold -- hardened nipples. But his only comment was:
"Yeah, I am kind of chilly. Guess that water wasn't as warm as you thought, huh Red?"
"No! It was like ice!" I returned. "I'm going to go change and I'll meet you back in the... Um...the "kissing" den when I'm done, OK?"
"Sure." He said. "Guess I'll peel off these wet jeans and try to find some dry ones. I'll meet you there."
As I changed into sweat pants and a sweater, I wondered why I'd asked him to meet me in the "kissing" den, as everyone called it. It was the smallest room in the mansion, and it offered a kind of intimacy that the other, somewhat cavernous rooms of the house didn't. Furnished only with an armchair and a love seat, which faced a small fireplace, the den was a make-out spot of sorts for the younger generation X-Men among us. Jubilee, in particular, swore by its magical love properties.
"Just let me get him into the room and he's mine!" I had heard her say once, referring to one of her many conquests. However, I was going there to talk, not do anything else. Or so I told myself firmly.
When I got to the kissing den, I found that Logan was already there on the love seat. And he had lit a small fire in the grate.
"I know it's kind of late in the year for this, but you looked so cold, I thought you might enjoy this." He indicated the fire. I stepped forward in delight to warm my hands and winced a little at the stiffness of my heavily bandaged left middle finger.
"That finger still hurtin' ya, Red?" Logan asked.
"A little, mostly it's just stiff." I replied. A mental image of my hurt finger in his hot mouth flickered across the screen of my mind and then was gone. I turned doubtfully to look at him, then crossed to the unoccupied armchair and sat down.
Logan shook his head. "C'mon now, Red. Don't be a stranger." He coaxed, padding the cushion next him on the love seat. Hesitantly, I shifted in my seat. "I don't bite, ya know." He continued softly.
Finally, I acknowledged that it was silly for us to sit across the room from each other to talk. So I moved to the other side of the love seat, but was careful that our legs were not touching. In fact, I drew my knees up to my chin, ankles crossed and wrapped my arms around my legs. This is a posture that has made me feel safe and protected since childhood. I don't know if I was more afraid of Logan at that point, or afraid of the feelings I suspected I might have for him.
He eyed me critically. "My, you're a tight little package." He remarked.
"Sorry..." I started to unfold myself.
"No," he stopped me, placing one large, warm hand on my knee. "It's okay Darlin. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. So," he continued "Wanna tell me what made you so sad while I was bandaging your finger in the kitchen?"
I wanted to tell him everything, but now it seemed the words were stuck in my throat.
"I... Um." I felt like a fool. "I guess it's just, I was thinking how nice it was. The way you took care of me, I mean."
"The least I could do." He acknowledged easily.
"No," I tried to summon the words to make him understand. "I mean, what I meant to say was that -- it's been a long time since Scott, I mean since anyone really... cared, I guess." I stumbled to halt and put my forehead on my knees. It was no use, I couldn't tell Logan about my marital problems; I just didn't have it in me to be direct enough. He knew what I meant though.
"Trouble in paradise?" He guessed in an unsurprised voice.
"You could say that." I mumbled into my knees.
"Yes, but do You say that?" He asked, probing.
"Uh-huh." I whispered, like a little girl. Then, I don't know why, I began to weep as though my heart were breaking. Well, maybe it was. I wept for all the love lost between Scott and I, for the past when I thought we'd be happy forever and for the loveless future, which stretched out before me like a bleak highway in my mind's eye. I wept for my youthful idealism and optimism, which were also fatalities in the hit-and-run accident, which had become my marriage. But mostly, I wept for the fact that I didn't even know what caused the love to die in the first place. Was it Scott- was it me? Had I grown so unattractive, is that what he stopped desiring me?
Once the floodgates were opened, there was no stopping the tears or the questions the caused them. There was so much pent-up hurt and sorrow. I remember thinking that Logan would think I was a stupid fool, but not being able to care enough to stop. When I came to myself, I realized I was cradled in Logan's arms, my head tucked under his chin and resting on his muscular chest. He was rocking me softly and crooning under his breath.
"It's all right, Darlin, get it out. You'll be okay, you're gonna be fine." And words to that effect, over and over. His hand stroked my hair gently, and as my sobs turned to sniffles, the soft thump of his heart in my ears soothed me into calmness. I had often seen Logan in just this posture, cuddling Jubilee when she had had a rough day or was upset over some dreadful detail of teenage life. Secretly, I had envied her this closeness with him. This ability and unselfconsciousness to crawl into his lap whenever life was treating her little to roughly. But I had never dreamed of being here myself, cradled in his strong arms and crying like a baby. I should have known he would try to comfort me though -- for all his rough exterior, Logan has a remarkably delicate touch with women.
Though my tears had mostly stopped, I had no desire to leave the safety of his lap, and he showed no desire to make me. How long had it been? I wondered to myself. How long since I had been held by someone, touched by someone who cared deeply for me? For I knew Logan did care and the knowledge was as soothing to my hurt emotions as his mouth had been to my hurt finger earlier.
"Want to talk about it?" He asked gently, still stroking my hair with one large hand. And this time, when he offered the invitation, I found that I could.
"It's just that Scott and I- we haven't been close for a long time. Not emotionally. And not, Um... physically either." I began. "And I don't know what caused it -- this gap between us. And I've tried everything to fix it, but nothing seems to work. And lately, well... I've given up trying. Cause I just feel like, what's the point? You understand?" I sounded like a kid in my own ears, but Logan didn't seem to mind and so I continued. I told him all about Scott's complete lack of interest in me or anything to do with me and all my failed efforts to get his attention in any way possible. I told him about the failed candlelight dinners, bubble baths, and massages. But when I got to the worst part, about the night I wore the special leather outfit, Logan stopped me.
"Wait a minute," he said, "Describe that outfit to me again." I did, in minute detail, right down to the thigh- high slit at the back of the leather micro- miniskirt. "And he just ignored you and walked on by?" He asked, in disbelief.
"Practically. So I followed him into the bedroom. I didn't want to just give up when I'd gone to all that trouble, you know?"
"I guess not. So then what?"
"Well -- Logan, put me down. I'm too embarrassed to tell you the next part draped all over you like this." He complied, and I continued my story when I was safely back on my side of the loveseat. " So then I, Um... pushed him back on the bed and, Um... unzipped his pants."
"And?" Logan was hanging on my every word.
"And, so, I tried to... go down on him, I guess..." I couldn't help blushing, telling Logan this. "But -- he pushed me away. Said he wasn't in the mood that night. Then he rolled over and went to sleep, just like always." I ended.
"Wait a minute -- wait a minute!" Exclaimed Logan, "you mean to tell me were all dressed up in this incredible leather bondage outfit, and you go to give him a blow job and he Pushes You Away?" He was incredulous.
"Yes, that's right. Maybe he just didn't like it -- we never did very much of that actually. I was just trying it cause I read an article that recommended..."
Logan cut me off. "By very much of that, I assume you mean oral sex, Darlin?"
"Yeah, well, I guess so." I was looking down to my hands and blushing as I replied. It was possibly the most direct conversation about sex, and my sex life in particular, that I had had since I was 6 in my grandma gave me the "girls have a vagina and boys have a penis" talk when she caught me playing doctor with the neighbor boy behind our house.
"So -- let me get this straight," Logan shook his head, as if to clear out some faulty information. "So you and Scott haven't had regular sex in months and you've never had oral sex -- ever?"
"Um, no. But I wish you wouldn't say like that, Logan. You make me feel so abnormal."
"Sorry Darlin. But listen, you're not the abnormal one in that relationship. Get that out of your head right now. How any normal man could have a gorgeous woman like you for a wife and not be all over her all the time... I mean, I just can't understand it! Do you think Scott could be gay? It's the only explanation I can see. Not that there's anything wrong with that --" he hastily amended.
I had to smile at that. Imagine Logan being, or trying to be, politically correct. Really, it was too funny.
"No silly, he's not gay. Or at least, not that I know of." I said. "He's just not interested in me anymore. And," my voice sank, "I don't know why. I guess I've changed somehow. There must be some reason I ceased to attract him."
"Red, Darlin, you haven't changed in all the time I've known you except to get even more knockout, drop dead, gorgeous. Don't blame yourself -- it ain't your fault. Sounds to me like you've been doing everything in your power to change things, but Summers just won't budge. It's his problem -- not yours."
"Do you really think so, Logan?" I asked hopefully, grateful for the comfort and affirmation in his words.
"Hell yes! Darlin, you're beautiful! He'd have to be blind not to notice -- 'specially in that outfit you were talkin' about. Hey, described up for me again, would ya?" I did and he got a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. He let out a long breath.
"Sounds like a regular dominatrix outfit ta me. You into Dominance, Red? Were ya gonna crack the whip and make him mind?" He grinned.
"Not really." I replied candidly. "I mean, if it came down to that -- I'd probably rather have it the other way around, you know?" I don't know why I told him that, but his next words into shiver through me.
"So ya like to be dominated?" He asked in the low voice.
My first impulse was to say, "No, of course not- never. Don't be silly." And dismiss the whole thing as too embarrassing to talk about. But I looked up into his eyes and saw that heat there again. It was intoxicating, how aroused he got around me. I could almost feel the energy pulsing between us.
"Maybe..." I managed to say, dropping my eyes -- his gaze was too intense. "I don't know really... I've never done anything like that." His next question was also intense, making me squirm.
"But you've thought about it... maybe had fantasies?"
"Oh, so were talking about fantasies then, are we?" I asked, archly, trying to regain control of myself. But my heart was pounding rapidly in my chest, and I couldn't meet his eyes.
"Sure -- if ya like. Sounds like Scott doesn't give ya much attention, but I'm sure that doesn't stop ya from thinking..."
"Yeah..." I wasn't sure where this was heading.
"So let's try this --" Logan continued. "I'll tell ya my fantasies if you tell me yours. Ya want to, Red?"
Again it was all the tip of my tongue to refuse, but then I thought, "Why not? It might be fun -- sort of titillating." It was the kind of thing you did at a sleep over in high school. God knows it had been long enough since I had been titillated by anything other than my own hand. The thought made me laugh, then sigh a little. It was too true for comfort.
"Ya look like ya wanna say yes, but you're afraid." Said Logan, softly. "Fess up, Red. You know won't go beyond this room."
I tried to feel adventurous. "I know Logan, it's just hard to start. Well -- I'll try. But you have to tell me yours too. Promise?"
"Promise." He said firmly. "So, fantasy No. 1?" He prompted.
"Um... well," It's just a little game. I told myself. Don't be such a prude, Jean! "When you said, Um... Dominance..." my voice dropped a little, despite my resolution. "You really weren't far off. I mean, I read an article somewhere that lots of women have rape fantasies. And it's not that they really want to be raped -- not at all. It's just the idea of giving up your self-control, your conscience, your whole body, really, to someone else. Someone who may make you do unthinkable things. Things that you would never even dream of... But because you're not in control, you can do all these things and enjoy them because it's not your responsibility and not your fault. Do you see?" I finished in a rush.
"I see." Logan's voice was low and when I looked up, his gaze was smoldering. "I see how someone could tie you up. Maybe even blindfold you, and do all kinds of things to your sweet, tender body, Darlin." I wanted to look away, but it was like our eyes were locked together. His voice continued in the low, hypnotic tone. "Things that would make you moan and beg...
Would you like that, Darlin? Would that fulfill your fantasy?"
"Yes..." I breathed hotly. Then, coming to myself, I tore my eyes away. "I mean, no -- I mean, I don't know Logan. Why don't you tell me your fantasy now?" I begged, desperate to change the subject, which had become so sexually charged.
Logan seem to sense my desperation, for he looked away from me and into the fire and said lightly,
"My favorite fantasy as of today is to see a certain red haired lady in a certain black leather outfit. But I'm sure it will never come true, cause I guess she threw it away when it didn't seem to work." He glanced sideways at me.
"Are you crazy? Those boots cost $400! And the skirt wasn't cheap either -- Of course I didn't throw it away." I exclaimed.
"Oh," Logan grinned wickedly. "That there might be a chance to see ya in it? With a top on, of course." He added, knowing I had worn only the skirt and boots for Scott.
"Well... maybe." I said carefully. "But you'd have to promise not to laugh."
"I think I could promise you that very easily, Darlin." Said Logan. "I just wanna see if it's as fantastic in real life as it is in my imagination." He got that look in his eyes again.
"You might be disappointed..." I said.
"No, I don't think so." He said, and fell silent, thinking.
"Well, I might be persuaded later -- just to get your opinion." I said playfully. "But right now I'm famished. We've been talking for hours and it's nearly 6:00. What do you say to a nice big chef salad for supper, Logan?"
"I'd say there's other things I'd rather eat..." he began. I looked at him sternly. "But I guess a chef salad isn't all that bad." He finished. "Lead the way, Red. Some grub would hit the spot, even if it is a salad." We made our way to the kitchen; Logan seemed deep in thought but I was trying not to think...
Continued in Part 5...