Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men, Wolverine or Rogue in any way, shape or form and take no money from the writing of these adventures. In my dreams, however, it's a completely different story!
Hello, everyone! Well, some of you knew this story was on the way and some of you didn't! The inspiration for this little foray came from the Adamantium Men graphic novel, in which there's a panel about half way through depicting Wolverine tied, bare-chested and almost jeans-less, to a chair! That blasted picture wouldn't get out of my mind and, after telling my work chums of my obsession, was finally convinced to do a story based on said chair! This is the result! It started off as a one-shot, but the idea has taken hold and I've now got ideas for further chapters. And this is where you come in, dear readers! If you would like this story to continue, please let me know!
Casualties of Love is an M-rated story and, as such, contains scenes of an explicit sexual nature! You have been warned! In my defence, my work-mates made me do it!
ooXoo
Casualties of Love
1. Secrets Under the Table
One moment – a single decision – can change your life forever.
I didn't intend going down to the kitchen this evening, but a mission earlier in the day – in which everything went tits up after some nut with a flame thrower tried to cook me alive – leads to a resurgence o' the familiar nightmares an' I wake in the night, screamin' out like a god-damn baby. As I lie there in the ruins o' my own sweat-soaked sheets, I know there ain't a snowball's chance in hell o' me gettin' back to sleep any time soon, an' my skin is itchin' like crazy after being forced to grow back most of its upper layers in four hours flat.
An' so I do what any other self-respectin' feral with an ounce o' sense would do.
I go in search o' beer.
Clad only in a hastily donned pair o' jeans – Scooter would have a coronary if I walked about the mansion in the buff, although I sometimes think it would be worth all the hassle just to see the look on the Boy Scout's face – I pad down to the ground floor on bare feet. The mansion is silent around me, a blessed release from all the noise an' general craziness that ensues durin' the day. I swear, if the Professor didn't have me takin' the self defence an' tactical warfare classes, I wouldn't venture outta my room durin' the day at all. All the noise overloads my enhanced hearin' – by the time all the kids are in bed my head is ringin' so badly I could swear that someone's been beatin' on my metal skull with a hammer. Why the hell kids have to be so god-damn loud is beyond me. I tell myself every mornin' that I ain't gonna suffer it no longer – that I'm gonna pack my duffle, load it on the Harley an' hightail it outta here an' never look back. Yeah, that's what I tell myself.
But one thing keeps holdin' me back.
God-dammit …
When I ain't dreamin' of a tank o' blue water an' needles that pierce my skin with a thousand deaths, I'm dreamin' of a pair o' green eyes an' hair the colour o' molasses. An' fuck me if the other dream don't wake me as sweaty an' breathless as the first.
I'm a lost cause – a sucker for a girl with white stripes in her hair an' a Southern drawl that can give a guy a hard-on just by whisperin' your name. I wanna run that silky hair through my fingers – I wanna nuzzle my nose into her neck an' hear her gasp my name as I thrust my aching cock deep between her legs.
God, I'm pathetic …..
I'm the Wolverine, for Chrissakes, not some love-struck, snotty-nosed high school geek. I don't pine after women – any woman. I take 'em an' use 'em an' throw 'em back beggin' for more, that's what I do. An' when the wanderlust hits me, I take off an' never look back. I do not stick around just for the promise of a smile an' a pair o' laughin' eyes. An' I never, under any circumstances, allow myself to miss her when she's not around.
I'm a bad-ass, that's what I am.
So why do I find myself purrin' like a kitten whenever she touches my arm or calls me 'sugah' in that way that is reserved only for me?
Jesus. I'm gonna end up thinkin' o' white picket fences an' two point four kids if this carries on. She's reelin' me in, hook, line an' sinker. An' ya wanna know the sting in this tale? This kid – Marie – she's only eighteen years old. Eighteen fuckin' years old, fer Chrissakes, an' me old enough to remember Noah sailin' in the Ark. If I could remember anything, that is. I don't recall much o' my life beyond the last fifteen years or so, but I'm pretty sure I've lived a fair few years an' that makes me too old for the kid. Christ, I'm too old for anyone younger than a century.
This, an' the fact that I'm supposed to be a 'responsible teacher' – Scott's words, not mine – is the main reason why I try to avoid her advances.
I say 'try', but it gets harder every damn day. This kid, she wants me real bad. I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me – feel it in her touch when she brushes by. She's drivin' me crazy an' I know it's only a matter o' time before I give in an' do something I would like to regret later.
But I can't let that happen.
She's only a kid, fer Chrissakes.
An' I'm old enough to know better.
As I near the kitchen, a familiar scent breaks into my musings an' tickles the back o' my throat. I groan helplessly. I know that scent as well as I know my own. She's in there.
I almost turn around right there an' then, but memories o' the nightmare are still vivid in my head an' the images won't go away until I've drowned them in several litres o' beer.
I need a drink an' nothing's gonna stop me from gettin' one.
Takin' the bull by the horns, I stride purposefully into the kitchen.
Marie is sittin' at the table, one hand wrapped possessively around a dish o' Storm's home-made chocolate ice-cream. The other is holdin' a spoon which is poised halfway to her mouth. She starts visibly at my abrupt entrance but recovers quickly, her eyes shinin' in obvious pleasure at me an' her being alone together.
Dammit …
"Hey, Logan. You after a beer?"
"Yeah." I stomp to the fridge, openin' the door with a harsh yank an' leanin' inside in search o' my stash, hopin' the cool air within will douse the fire that's started burnin' in my jeans at the sight o' her sittin' there in her nightwear. Since the kid gained control of her powers a couple o' months back, she's taken to wearin' items o' clothin' that reveal more'n they cover an' her nightie is no exception. Forest green silk an' held up by nothing more substantial than a couple o' thin shoe-string straps, it does absolutely nothing to cover her shapely curves an' it takes all my self control to keep my head inside the fridge an' not turn to check out her legs. Oh god, her legs ….. Someone slightly more paranoid might take all this skin baring as a deliberate attempt to attract the attention of a certain male who shall remain nameless, while a saner mind might reason that she's merely enjoying her newfound freedom after being forced to stay covered up for so long.
Doesn't she realise she has no need to attract my eye?
She's held it since the day she screamed "Look out!" in that bar in Laughlin City …..
I can practically feel Marie's eyes on my butt as I lean into the fridge an' I can't help takin' a little longer than necessary to retrieve my beers from where I hid 'em. Just because I don't approve of her crush on me don't mean I don't like to be ogled by a pretty girl once in a while.
Does wonders for a guy's ego.
When I'm done posing, I grab a couple o' bottles, slam the fridge door closed an' lean back against it, twistin' the cap off one o' the bottles with a quick movement o' my wrist. Tossin' the cap into the trash, I raise the bottle to my lips an' gulp down several mouthfuls in one go, savouring the cool sharpness on my tongue. With my initial craving for alcohol now sated, I drag the bottle across my forehead, closin' my eyes at the bliss this induces, an' lettin' the cold glass purge the visions o' the night. A contended sigh puffs between my lips as condensation drips from the bottom o' the bottle an' lands on my chest, addin' to the icy pleasure.
There's simply nothing able to calm the mind like a good beer.
Well, maybe good sex, but that's another story.
When I open my eyes, Marie is all but frozen in place like a rabbit caught in headlights, her eyes trackin' that little drop o' condensation downwards as it weaves through my chest hair on its way to my naval. The drop finally reaches the waistband o' my jeans where it disappears, but Marie's eyes continue southwards as she mentally plots its final destination, an' I hitch in a breath as they come to rest on my crotch.
Oh Jesus …..
At my intake o' breath, her eyes jerk upwards to mine an' the spell is broken. Her cheeks flush pink an' she looks quickly away, feigning interest in her ice-cream an' lettin' her hair fall around her face to hide her obvious embarrassment.
Amused by her response, I allow a smirk to settle on my face an' hook my foot around the nearest chair leg, pullin' it out an' droppin' into it with a creak of over-stressed wood. Marie gives me a sideways glance from behind her hair an' I salute her with my half empty bottle before tippin' back my head an' drainin' the remainder in several noisy gulps. I belch manfully an' set the empty bottle aside to find Marie still watchin' me with a thoughtful look in her eye.
"S'matta, kid? Ain'tcha never seen anyone drink beer before?" She shrugs an' I twist the top off the second bottle, tossin' it to the table top where it spins crazily for a second or two. "What ya doing down here at this time o' night anyway?"
"Ah could ask you the same thing, y'know?" She doesn't, but returns to her ice-cream, loadin' her spoon with a generous helpin' an' then lickin' it off with a slow lap of her tongue that makes my balls tighten. Jesus! Does she actually realise what she's doing, or is it really as innocent as it seems?
It's almost painful to look away an' I force myself to watch a drop o' condensation rollin' down the bottle in my hand. When it reaches my fingers I take a long slug an' try not to think about the other things Marie could do with that talented little tongue o' hers …..
Christ! I gotta get outta here!
I push back the chair an' make to stand, only for Marie's hand on my arm to bring me up short. "Don't go," she whispers, softly. "Ah'm sorry."
Despite my resolve to leave, I am curious. "Sorry fer what?" I ask.
Marie's eyes drop to her ice-cream. "For makin' you feel uncomfortable. Ah heard ya dreamin' tonight – heard the nightmare. Ah thought ….. ah thought ya might like some company ….. someone to talk to. Ah didn't mean to drive ya away."
She came here fer me …..? The shock o' this revelation rivets me in place an' the only thing I can focus on is that fact that I woke her from her sleep with my frantic cries for release. I'm truly sorry for this but, like the stubborn bastard that I am, I can't bring myself to say it. Instead, I scoot my chair back under the table an' lift my bottle to my lips, hopin' that my willingness to stay will speak louder than any words.
Marie swirls the ice-cream around the dish with the very tip of her spoon, a slight smile touchin' her lips. I think she understands.
We sit there in a companionable silence for a time until the kid suddenly snaps her fingers in recollection, pullin' me out of the comfortable daze I had drifted into.
"Oh, ah almost forgot to tell ya, Logan! Scott said in training today that ah'm ready to join the Blue team an' go into the field."
That gets my notice. "Oh, he did, did he?" This is a bone o' contention between us – Marie wants to join the team an' I don't want her to. It doesn't matter that I ain't got a right to tell her what to do. I didn't save her from Magneto's machine at the Statue o' Liberty just so she could get herself killed the first time she goes into the field. An' before ya say anything, I know yer thinkin' I'm a cocky bastard for even considerin' the possibility that Marie wouldn't be able to defend herself out there. It ain't that at all. I know she can defend herself – I been on the receiving end of her power a time or two myself an' she can pack a mean wallop. But I dunno – it just feels wrong. Marie shouldn't have to get her hands dirty in combat. If she wants to get her hands dirty, I can think o' better ways for her to do it.
Fer Chrissakes, Logan, cut it out …!
Marie is watchin' me with a particular glint in her eye that tells me I'm in for a tongue lashin'.
"Why do ya always get like this whenever ah mention joining the team?" Christ, here it comes. "Ya know ah can fight, Logan. You've trained me, for heaven's sake. Ah can fight any o' the others to the ground, an' you know it. Hell, ah've even dropped you on your ass a couple o' times" Yeah, an' what a rush that was, havin' her leanin' all over me, hot an' sweaty ….. Marie abruptly drops her spoon an' folds her arms, glarin' at me as if I'm something distasteful the cat has just dragged in. "It's because ah'm a woman, isn't it?"
"Christ, no, Marie …..!"
"What then? Because ah sure as hell can't put m'ah finger on it."
I sigh an' take a slug o' my beer to give myself time to think, aware of her eyes on me the whole time. What the hell do I tell her? The truth? That I want to take her – an eighteen year old kid, fer Chrissakes – to my bed an' make love to her until we're both delirious? Or should I lie? Because if it ever got around that I've got the hots for one o' my students, I'd be kicked outta here so fast my adamantium plated skull would spin.
Yeah, lie. Lying is good …..
"Marie …." I begin, only to pull up short as a soft sound tickles my ears. I reach out with my senses, gathering information – the soft fall of a foot on plush carpet ….. the scent o' cinnamon an' freesia …. the almost subtle creak of a leather uniform …..
Marie's eyebrow raises in a way that reminds me o' me. "What is it?"
"The Bobsy Twins are comin'," I remark with a snort an' then grunt in surprise as Marie grabs her dish of ice-cream an' slides under the table. "What the hell …..?"
"Shush, Logan, don't tell 'em ah'm here! Ah don't want Scott to see me in m'ah nightie."
I figure it's more'n that, but I don't have the time to comment as the door opens an' Jean enters, followed by the Super Prick. "Hey, Logan. What you doing up so late?"
"Couldn't sleep. You?" I am all calm professionalism with my reply, givin' no hint o' pretty girls hidin' under kitchen tables. I can be secretive when I wanna be, y'know? A predator's gotta be sneaky sometimes.
Jean slides into Marie's recently vacated chair while the guy with the stick up his ass heads for the cupboards an' starts pullin' out the makings for hot chocolate. "We've been with Henry in the lab," Jean explains, slippin' out of her fightin' jacket an' hangin' it over the back of her chair. "We retrieved some interesting data in the raid and we needed to go over it while it was still hot. I figured it was time to call it a day when I began to see double." She breaks off an' yawns wide enough to crack her jaw, stretchin' her arms above her head. The action pulls the spandex material of her under-tee tight across her tits. My mouth goes instantly dry. Yet strangely enough, not for Jean. There was a time when I would have sold my soul to get my mouth on those perfect mounds, yet all I can see before me now is an image o' Marie writhin' beneath me as I tease her nipples into tight peaks with my tongue …..
Jesus, Logan, carry on like this an' they're gonna be takin' you away in a straight jacket …..
"Speaking of hot ….." Scooter turns from the fridge where he's just filled a pan with milk. "How are you feeling, Logan?"
"Never better," I counter, easily. It actually feels like I got a million ants burrowing into my skin, but I ain't gonna tell him that. I got an image to uphold, after all.
"Good, because we may need to go into action again very soon." Scott sets the milk to boil an' comes over to the table, claimin' the seat opposite me. I hear a slight shuffling noise from under the table an' realise Marie has moved nearer to me to avoid his legs. "Henry's retrieved evidence that points to the location of another mutant experimentation lab, Logan. Time is of the essence if we're going to take it down before they realise their security has been breached."
"Good. Count me in." I take a slug o' beer an' then almost snort it back out again as a soft hand gently caresses my bare foot. Coughin' to clear my wind-pipe, I see Scooter raise an inquisitive brow.
"You okay?"
"Inhaled my beer," I mumble, as Marie's gentle fingers continue to massage my foot. It's actually quite relaxin' – if it weren't for present company crampin' my style I could really get into this.
"You ought to be more careful," Scott informs me, as if I make a habit o' tryin' to choke myself on beer on a regular basis.
I salute the team leader with my bottle. "Christ, Summers, I didn't know ya cared."
"Well, it stands to reason we're going to need our best fighter if we have to go into action," Scott responds, re-affirming my suspicions that he's a heartless bastard. Never mind the fact that I could be sittin' here choking my guts up, he's just thinkin' about the team being short a fighter.
I huff sadly as Marie's fingers move away from my foot. She's obviously grown tired with the sport an' I mourn the contact. Summers takes my nasal punctuation as a sign of agreement an' leans back in his chair with a self satisfied smile on his face, only to sit forward in concern a moment later as a visible tremor runs through my body.
Marie has just put her hand firmly an' rather deliberately on my inner thigh …..
"Logan?" Oh Christ, Jean noticed it too ….. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah." My voice comes out with a slight touch o' desperation an' I clear my throat an' try again. "Just a twinge."
"Maybe you ought to go down to the lab and let Henry check you out," suggests Summers, in that wise-ass tone that is guaranteed to rub me up even further – no pun intended. He gets to his feet an' moves to the cupboard, where he snags two large mugs. "I mean, if you're still hurting, it means something's wrong, doesn't it?"
"I ain't going to no med-lab, Summers." Too right I'm not. Not while Marie's hand is creepin' steadily higher. The fact that the sight o' needles creeps me out an' the stink o' chemicals always sends me into a feral rage has got nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.
Jesus, what am I supposed to do here? Should I leave? Marie is an eighteen year old kid, for Chrissakes. I shouldn't allow her to do this – it's wrong. An' yet ….. an' yet I can't deny that some part o' me hasn't yearned for this, in the still o' the night when sleep is slow in coming. What man in their right mind wouldn't crave the attention of a beautiful woman?
She's a kid, Logan. Still just a kid …..
"Well, I'm just saying, is all, Logan." Scott removes the pan from the heat before the milk boils over and pours it into the two mugs. "I mean, you were seriously burned this afternoon ….."
"Try tellin' me something I don't know." I attempt to close my legs, but Marie has moved between them an' all I do is end up squeezin' her between them. Her hand is now so high up my leg that all she's gotta do is move her finger an' it'll brush right over my rapidly expandin' erection. I'm tempted to push my chair back an' put a stop to this but – A) it'll put Marie right in Scooter's line o' sight an' – B) my inner beast snarls at me an' tells me in no uncertain terms to leave her the fuck alone.
"Stop pestering him, honey." Jean leans back in her seat to catch her fiance's eye. "Logan's a big boy, now. I'm sure he knows what's best for him."
An' then she looks right at me an' slowly an' deliberately winks an eye.
The intent is unmistakable. She knows! Jesus Christ, she's gotta know, she's a fuckin' telepath, fer Chrissakes! How could she not know?
Calm down. Don't panic, fer Chrissakes! Take deep breaths – no, not a good idea, it just makes my pants that much tighter. Breath shallow … yeah, that's it.
Jean is watchin' me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. It's obvious she knows Marie is down there – but maybe she doesn't exactly know what she's doing? Keep calm an' brazen this through. Let 'em finish their hot chocolate an' go to bed an' then me an' Marie can have words. I may be a horny feral but she's gotta be told she's gone too far this time. I mean, just who's doing the stalking here, for chrissakes?
An' then it suddenly seems as though Marie doesn't think she's taken it quite far enough as I feel her lithe little fingers pop the button at my waistband and, under cover o' Scooter giving the hot chocolate a vigorous stir, my zipper is tugged down, releasing the pressure that has been steadily building in my jeans ever since she first touched me, but presenting me with a new an' entirely unique problem.
Because I'm now sittin' here talkin' to the team leader an' his fiancée – the two most influential members o' the entire team, might I add? – with my jeans wide open an' my impressive an' fully erect cock on display for all to see. If they happen to look under the table, that is. An' yet, despite this potentially life threatening an' career ending scenario, I can't help feelin' a certain amount o' smug satisfaction in the knowledge that it's Marie's eyes that must be widenin' at the sight an' size o' me.
Yeah, look all you want to, baby, 'cause it's all for you.
"I've been thinking …" Scott tells us as he makes his way back to the table with the two mugs o' hot chocolate. Thinking? Oh really? I'm actually impressed. "I'd like to service the Blackbird before we take her into combat again. The joystick felt a bit stiff this afternoon."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," I retort before I can stop myself an' I am rewarded by the sight o' Jean snortin' into her hot chocolate. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, mouths a silent apology at Scott an' then grins at me with a complete lack o' shame.
"Maybe it just needs a gentle hand, eh, Logan?" she suggests to me with a voice like honeyed silk. "Perhaps a woman's touch, for a change?"
Oh yes, the secret is most definitely out. Jean knows exactly what's happenin' under the table. I should be panicked. If I had any sense at all, I would be packin' my bags right now an' hightailin' it for the wilds o' Canada.
But you know what … ? I actually find it kinda liberating …..
"Wait a minute, Jean, are you suggesting I don't know how to fly?" Scooter begins to protest this seeming lack of loyalty from his fiancée an' I settle in for a good show. For someone who leads a team o' super-powered do-gooders an' claims to have been trained by the best, he's actually quite slow on the up-take an' I'm wonderin' just how far Jean can take this before he realises something's going on under his very nose. Leanin' forward, I begin takin' a definite interest in the way o' things …..
….. just as something cold an' wet drops onto the head o' my cock …..
I jump so hard that my knees thump loudly on the under-side o' the table.
"Christ, Logan, what the hell's the matter with you tonight?" Scott favours me with a ruby enhanced frown. "I've never seen you look so twitchy."
"Yeah, well, maybe ya oughta try being fried by a guy with a flame-thrower once in a while an' see how twitchy you get," I snap back, desperately tryin' to cover up the fact that Marie's silky little tongue is now lapping the ice-cream off the end o' my cock. The warm/cold combination is drivin' me nuts – I wanna reach under the table an' push her down until she takes my entire length in that sweet mouth o' hers, but my sense o' self-preservation just manages to win through before I do something we'll all probably regret later. My hand is shakin' is I take a calmin' slug o' beer.
"Y'know, I don't care what you may say in his defence, Jean, but the guy's a complete and utter asshole sometimes." Scott is glarin' at me across the table. "No one asked you to throw yourself in front of that nutcase, Logan. In fact, I clearly seem to remember ordering you to back off, but no, the brave and indestructible Wolverine has gotta prove he's not afraid of taking the firing line. You know what I think?" This to Jean again. "I think he does it on purpose just so he looks macho."
"Oh yeah, I just love gettin' my uniform burnt off an' my skin crisped to a frazzle," I growl back, showin' my teeth. "It's a definite turn on. Beats sex any day o' the week."
Scooter gears himself up for another shot, but Jean suddenly leans in between us, a finger of each elegant hand pointing right between our eyes. "Boys, when you've quite finished hosing down the kitchen with male testosterone, I think you should both remember that you're supposed to be on the same side. Scott, Logan's entitled to be an asshole – he's had a bad day and he's feeling a little …. tense." A grin twitches at her lips. "He'll be more himself after he's had a good workout. And Logan, Scott is your leader. Try to remember that before you tackle nutcases in future."
Scott pouts like a girl, but looks slightly more mollified when Jean stands an' moves behind him, massaging his shoulders. She leans down to whisper in his ear. "Why don't we finish off our drinks upstairs, lover? All of a sudden I'm feeling horny." The words are meant for his ears alone, but with my enhanced hearin' I catch everything, includin' the wink she tosses at me over the top of her fiance's head an' I suddenly understand …
She arrangin' for me an' Marie to be alone …..
My heart is suddenly seized with an inexplicable feelin' o' panic. The feral side o' me growls lustily at the thought o' Marie being able to finish what she started without fear o' discovery, while the saner part o' my psyche is generally regarding the whole thing as a bad idea.
If ever there was a good time for Scooter to develop a sudden an' debilitating headache, now would be it.
Our fearless leader, however, is obviously in the best o' health. He grins back at his fiancée eagerly before gettin' to his feet an' pullin' her close for a kiss. The look he gives me borders on triumph. "G'night, Logan. Don't stay up too long."
"Oh, I'm sure he will, sweetheart," Jean tells him as she begins to lead her lover from the room. "He is a predator, after all. Predators hunt at night."
An' then they are gone an' I push my chair back from the table with a scrape. "The hell were ya tryin' to do, Marie? Get us both thrown outta here on our asses? Or worse?"
I try to stuff myself back into my jeans, but I'm too big an' far too aroused for that, so I settle for grabbin' Jean's abandoned jacket an' coverin' myself with it just as Marie crawls out from under the table, givin' me a perfect view right down her cleavage. My balls clench painfully an' I actually consider tossin' caution an' the jacket to the winds an' lettin' her have her wicked way with me but, once again, common-sense prevails, givin' my sex-starved libido a stern talkin' to.
"Ah was tryin' to make ya feel good, sugah." Marie sits at my feet an' looks at me with puppy-dog eyes. "Didn't ya like it?"
"Yes! No!" I growl an' scrub my hand across my eyes, irritably. Christ, this is so wrong. "Marie, ya shouldn't be doing this."
"Why not?" She puts her hand on my knee an' eases herself between my legs an' I am so distracted by the war going on in my head that I let this slip. "What's wrong with two people showing how much they love each other?"
"Love?" I bark a laugh an' then feel like a first class bastard as tears well up in the kid's eyes. "Jesus, I don't mean it that way. I like ya, Marie ….." Christ, that's an understatement. "I like ya a lot ….. but ….."
"But what, Logan?" She's so close now I could just move my hand an' let my fingers slide through her silky locks, but if I've ever shown a scrap o' restraint in my life, it's gotta be now.
"Marie, I ….." Christ, what do I tell her? I can't bring myself to lie – not this time. How can I tell her to back off when she is willing to fulfil my wildest desire?
Distracted, I run my fingers through my own hair, sending it into wild disarray. "Dammit, kid, what do ya want me to say?"
"Ah don't want ya to say anything, Logan. Ah just want ya to look at me an' see the woman who gave ya a hard-on under the kitchen table. Ya can't deny ya don't want me, sugah. Not when the evidence is sitting so obviously right between us." She makes a grab for Jean's jacket, pullin' it from my limp fingers an' exposin' my still impressively engorged cock. "Tell me ya don't want this an' ah'll stop." She reaches determinedly for my hardened length.
"Jesus! Don't! Stop, Marie!" But then she ducks her head an' takes me fully into her mouth an' the hands that had been raised to push her away tangle into her hair, easing her lower an' encouragin' her to take more of me. "Oh Jesus! Don't stop, Marie." I am totally unaware that I've just spoken the same words in an entirely different context.
Marie moans appreciatively around the head o' my shaft, sendin' delicious vibrations down to my balls. Restin' my neck on the back o' the chair, I slide slowly down the seat to give the kid a better workin' angle, groanin' as she pulls back slightly to swirl her hot wet tongue around the very tip o' my cock. My pulse rate goes into overdrive, causin' my conscience to realise belatedly that it's losin' control o' the situation. Wavin' frantically to attract my attention, it attempts to restore some form of order, but the beast ain't havin' none of it. He shoves the conscience into the darkest recesses o' my mind, slams the door an' throws away the key.
I'll let him out again come first light …..
"Am ah doing okay, Logan?" Marie's silky voice pulls me momentarily back to the here an' now. I raise my head just in time to see her take me deep again an' I groan helplessly at the sight o' my heated length disappearin' into her soft mouth. Spellbound, I watch her work my cock, lickin' an' suckin' at the engorged organ until she has me writhin' in ecstasy.
"Oh yeah, baby ….. that's it ….. Christ, suck harder ….. oh yeah ….. jesus baby, your tongue feels so good ….."
Overcome, I let my head drop back onto the chair rest, feelin' a warm sensation like liquid fire beginning to pool in my stomach an' creep steadily downwards, signallin' the onset o' my inevitable climax. Unconsciously, I begin to rock my hips, desperate for more friction, an' Marie puts one hand on my stomach to hold me down an' prevent me from gagging her. I am barely aware o' this as my balls expand an' tighten, heraldin' my imminent an' blessed release.
"Oh Jesus ….. Jesus, baby, I'm gonna come ….."
Considerin' that Marie started all this, I am not prepared for her to pull back with a startled gasp in these final moments. Hoverin' just on the cusp of release, my inner beast takes affront at her sudden withdrawal an' I reach out to grab her hair with lightenin' speed, pushin' her back down an' forcin' my cock between her lips.
"Finish it," I growl.
She tries to resist, but I won't let her go an' her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below the swollen head, sendin' a shudder ripplin' through my body an' provin' the catalyst to my near-aborted climax. Growlin' like a madman, I thrust into her mouth, coming hard an' long after such an epic build-up. Marie's frantic whimpers don't even register …..
Finally sated, I relax, lettin' Marie pull back, although I keep a hold on her hair. I am too engrossed in my own post-blowjob high to take more'n a passin' note of the stunned expression on her face, but I do notice her clenched jaw – evidence that she is still holdin' my come in her mouth.
Something inside me snaps as the beast exerts its influence on my weakened resolve. "Swallow it," I growl.
Marie shakes her head in panic, her eyes dartin' to the nearby sink. Angered by her obvious intent, I bare my teeth in an unspoken threat. No woman spits my seed down the sink. Not even Marie.
"Swallow!"
I give her a shake an' the kid reluctantly complies, grimacin' at the unfamiliar sensation an' taste. Satisfied, I let her go, leanin' back in the chair with a sigh. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Dammit, kid, but you give good head …."
I don't even see Marie's fist coming, but I certainly feel the effects of it. Her mean right hook splits my lip an' would have laid a lesser man out cold on the kitchen floor.
"What the hell …..!" I exclaim around my rapidly healin' lip.
Marie stands over me, her whole body tremblin' with emotion, her fist still clenched. "Y'know something, Logan? Scott was right. You really are an asshole sometimes."
"Christ, kid, what …..?" I reach for her, but she evades my grasp an' storms from the kitchen, slammin' the door behind her with such force that my beer bottle rattles on the table. I'll be surprised if she hasn't woken half the mansion with that stunt.
Stunned, I stare at the offending door. "What the hell did I do?" I demand of the kitchen in general.
In lieu of a reply, I run my hand across my chin, still feelin' the sting of the kid's blow.
Scott was right about two things tonight.
The kid is definitely ready to join the Blue field team …..
NEXT ? It's all down to you, dear readers! With a favourable vote, we will look in on the thoughts and feelings of our two confused lovers in the aftermath of their first sexual encounter!