[You all may hate me for this, but guess what? I don't care. lol. Anyway,
this is a Tori-Logan or Torogan FanFic. Trust that there'll be two more
like this involving Pietro and Remy. For all of you Rogue-Remy lovers, yes,
there'll be a fight going on between the two. I have my own sketches of
Tori for those who want to see it. The only problem is, I haven't put them
up on my webpage. Hopefully by August 8th, it'll be up. Hope you have fun
reading this. Trust that this one isn't Evolution based. It's more of the
Xtreme X-Men TV show. Oui, the one where Remy and Rogue really hit it off.
^_~ ciao.]
"...Can I have this kiss forever?"-Kuroi Tori
Logan found this restless night quite irritating and the only way to soothe his anguish was the spend a bit of quiet time. He cursed himself for letting his one and only love work herself over. If it weren't for him straddling down on her that night, she wouldn't be feeling the way she is now: broken and used.
*My baby's in the hands of another man right now* He thought as he rubbed a hand along his freshly shaven face.
*Don't worry, though. Pretty soon, you'll be back in my tender arms and cared for like the woman you are.* He continued. Poor, Ms. Harley Davidson was running low on her performance. Logan felt stranded without it. To hear the sound of purring discontinue for two weeks straight would drive him mad. But luckily a trusty can of Heineken would always soothe what little pain it could. Logan raised the green and white colored can to his lips and sipped away at the refreshing contents that Germany had to offer. With a sigh, he leaned himself against the banister of his balcony port and peered straight ahead of him. That sleek, winged, black hair of his barely wavered within the chilling night air. The night's sky twinkling its reflection within his daring eyes. On a night like this, how could it be hard to not get any rest? His arms hung just over the railing. His jacket, freely opened to expand the great view of his broad chest. Even without the dark shirt, he looked amazingly attractive. The tiniest sound of creaking caught his sense of hearing. And below, his eyes searched the perimeter.
Quiet as a mouse and as restless as a raven, Tori wandered out. Logan started in a whisper but a sudden thirst brought that Heini into place. He swallowed the chilled beverage and watched, with his eyes, as Tori walked alone in the courtyard. Smothered in warmth by the feathery coat around her shoulders, she wandered into the maze garden. Away from the likes of the beautiful Jean and spacious Rogue, this was a place of peace for her to escape to. When an hour had passed and Logan saw no sign of Tori emerging from the rather large maze, he felt something might have gone wrong. Quietly, he eased himself down over the railing and dropped down from his port. Looking through the window in front of him, he ducked down, seeing Ororo turn on her side. Her back now facing him. Only a few steps would take him to the maze's entrance.
As he walked along the trail, following the faint scent of her perfume, he let his eyes wander around. There wasn't much to see besides the large walls of trimmed hedges and the gravel beneath his boots. When he came to a large area, there she was lying just beneath the large ceramic statue of a large Rose-something that Ms. Jean picked out for a womanly effect. Logan ducked behind a hedge and peered at her quietly. Her body heavily fixed upon the matching Roman-based bench. Each curve defining the meaning of poise and grace. Her lips curled sweetly as she formed and read softly the words of the novel she was reading. The moonlight kissed gently against the lettering as the wind stirred her hair. Logan turned away, figuring that since she was okay, It was okay for him to return to his room. Maybe he could have another beer or two.
"Monsieur Logan" Tori called. Sitting up, she crossed her legs and sat her book aside for the moment. Logan stopped in his tracks and turned around. Was he that careless in being stealthy that he couldn't even evade her sense of arrival? She looked toward the twin hedges that lead to her whereabouts. Her gray eyes, bright with color but dimmed by sleep, awaited for him to appear. He did.
"What?" His gruff voice hesitantly formed his speech as if what he had saw, baffled him for the time being.
"Please, stay with me. It's awfully lonesome here... in zhe garden... by myself."
Logan became a bit skeptical of her behavior, but he advanced in her direction anyway. She thought he would have taken a seat beside her on the bench. Instead, she watched him walk around the bench and lean against the rose statue with his arms crossed. Such a manly pose to withhold even in the latest of the hour, such as now. She watched him. From his discontent face to the open coat revealing his chest, the tight blue-jeans that hugged his legs and the hair that cropped his head. He was in a league of his own. Quite older and handsome, but yet, age is nothing but a simple number. She sighed.
"Mon Amour" she read, once again picking up her book. Logan's low growl caught her attention. His face straightened when she looked his way. There was no way he could let her know that he was in terrible pain. The sentinels weren't a pretty good thing to go up against. He didn't really have time to recover from his last battle. Even his healing factor needed time to tend to his wounds. Something even deeper stirred within this slickster's body. Much more than the mere wolverine animalistic behavior. A monster. Bottled up within the corner of his mind like a fiend to his cell. She slowly let her eyes leave him and return to her book.
"Mon Amour, dans nos yeux on peut voir le desin..."(1) Logan grasped his chest and arched forward a bit. Tori turned to face him. She saw that he tried to straighten by propping himself up against the statue. She frowned, putting her book aside once more.
"Monsieur Logan--"
"I'm fine." He winced. "...Tori, really."
When she got up to near him, he growled as a warning. Of course she'd heed. Logan doubled over before the statue, gasping as his heart began to pulsate a bit quicker. His body ached and Tori knew this. She could sense it within his growl. His eyes. His face, so full of anguish. That animalistic snarl erupted into a roar as his head lifted to the air and his adamantium claws extracted. Not being able to stand it any longer, she fell to his side, her hands cupping his face.
"Monsieur Logan!" She screamed, trying to gain his attention. "Look at me, Logan."
He growled, trying to pulled away. A simple tug of war waged between them. Neither would release one another.
"Monsieur Logan! Let me help!--"
"No!!" His snarled voice rang out as he pulled away. He stumbled out of her grasp and she grabbed onto his coat. In an effort to free his coat, he pushed her back.He turned away to run off and his right hand swiped against her face quickly. Screaming, she fell back with her hands cupping her face.
"Logan!" she screamed, as she sat up. She watched as his figure hurriedly jumped through the bushes to escape beyond the trees of the maze garden. Hurriedly, she raced to her feet to follow him. Pushing past various bushes within the maze to get to him. She found herself wandering the streets not too long after. The streets were now vacant and quiet, and with that, he could be anywhere.
"Monsieur..." She started in a whisper. Her words trailed off when she realized how far she'd wandered. Strangely surrounded by abandoned warehouses and apartments. It seemed uninvitingly dark, obscure, someplace a runaway would want to hide. It was a good thing she was an adventurous person. Otherwise, there'd be no way in hell she'd wander even further into these parts.
"Logan...?" She quietly called. On hand clenched her coat closed while the other comforted her cheek. She stopped in the street between two warehouses and looked around. The murky fog was soon coming in from the harbor and the sea's tides were becoming restless. Ravaging grunts sounded within the chilled air from the warehouse to the left. Tori took off toward it.
"Monsieur! Logan! Hello?!" She screamed. Only her echo replied. As the entrance door fell off its hinges behind her, she slowly advanced forward. Shards of broken boxes and glass cluttered the wooden floor. The smell of old age made its mark within the cob-webbed walls of the warehouse. A door rested in front of her. Begging for some attention as a dim light peered from behind its cracks. Tori rushed toward it and pulled on its handle. The door came off it in her hand and nearly topple over her. She pushed it aside and stepped through the doorway. "Logan!"
Logan laid still against the dock. His body limp and drenched in water. It looked as if maybe he had fallen into the water, fought to get air, and when he surfaced, halfway pulled himself up out of the water. Tore ran to his side and kneeled near him. First she checked his pulse. There was one, but he wasn't breathing.
"Logan!" She screamed, pulling him to lay on his back. Bracing both hand behind his head, she pulled him to sit up. With his head against her shoulder, she pulled away at his jacket, getting it from around his shoulders. When it was off, she used it as a head rest for him to lay on. Her hands began to pump against his chest as she counted. that French accent rolled with fear off of her tongue.
"C'mon, Monsieur Logan! Don'tchu die!" She blew a gust of air into his lungs and resumed pumping. "Monsieur, If you die, zhe X-Men will be greatly disappointed! You have to live!"
Her attempt became weakened when his pulse-rate dropped. Her breaths of air became longer as it entered into his lungs. She disengaged herself from him and resumed pumping once more. "Monsieur..." she sobbed. Her hands becoming tired. When she saw that he gave no response she completely stopped in her attempt. She eased back and watched his limp frame, doused in water, motionless and lifeless. Pronouncing him dead, she removed her white, feathery coat and covered him with it. Hesitantly, she fell against him in an uproar of cries. She sobbed against him. Her arms folded against his chest, her head down in a hysterical cry that not even her closest friends of the X-Men would believe to hear.
"Mon....Monsieur Logan..."she heavily cried, pounding her fist against him. His brows furrowed. He tried to snarl but silence only escaped his parted lips. Lips still cursed with what breaths of life Tori had to offer. Slowly his eyes opened to gaze at this grieving woman on top of him. He slowly sat up, careful not to disturb the woman in his task. When he was well propped up, he held her away from him and stared into her eyes. Blurred by tears, yet, frozen in shock, Tori stared back at the man who just laid unmoving beneath her. He removed the feathery, woman's coat from on top of him and pulled it gently around her shoulders.
"Mon...sieur---" She started, just before his hand stretched to her face. She watched his ever movement. His eyes. All within them seemed distant, as if he had no clue to their previous mishap. When his hand neared her bruise, she winced and feared that he may hurt her again.
"Shh. I won't hurt you." He whispered. Tori stared into his eyes. She sighed and leaned her cheek into his hand as it passed along her face and slid behind her neck. He gave her little pressure and she moved forward into his arms. It was then and there that he pulled her to straddle in his lap, forced by precious kisses that only this French woman and Canadian man could introduce. Her head fell back as he nipped at her neck and she murmured his name to the high tides that crashed against the dock. Tori withheld nothing from him, and he gave his all. To each of her gasps, he challenged with his groans. She disengaged herself from his worthy kisses and lingered her gasps into his ear.
"Monsieur Logan? ....Can I have zhis kiss forever?"
Tori whispered in her sleep. Logan, who suffered from the same dream the night before, stood just outside her door. His arms crossed and his dark eyes surveyed her room. The others had been well rested while, he, the one who's most likely to be doing most of the work the following day, didn't get an ounce of sleep. He watched the young woman shiver beneath her sheets. To him, it'd be a sin to even step one foot within her doorway. He needed some resistance so he set his mind on a chilling beer. Once that beer hit his hand, he'd be free to crawl wearily back in to bed. Shutting his eyes against her soft murmurs, he pushed himself to go downstairs. And as the sound got farther away, the remembrance dissipated. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (1)"My love, in our eyes one can see the destiny..."
"...Can I have this kiss forever?"-Kuroi Tori
Logan found this restless night quite irritating and the only way to soothe his anguish was the spend a bit of quiet time. He cursed himself for letting his one and only love work herself over. If it weren't for him straddling down on her that night, she wouldn't be feeling the way she is now: broken and used.
*My baby's in the hands of another man right now* He thought as he rubbed a hand along his freshly shaven face.
*Don't worry, though. Pretty soon, you'll be back in my tender arms and cared for like the woman you are.* He continued. Poor, Ms. Harley Davidson was running low on her performance. Logan felt stranded without it. To hear the sound of purring discontinue for two weeks straight would drive him mad. But luckily a trusty can of Heineken would always soothe what little pain it could. Logan raised the green and white colored can to his lips and sipped away at the refreshing contents that Germany had to offer. With a sigh, he leaned himself against the banister of his balcony port and peered straight ahead of him. That sleek, winged, black hair of his barely wavered within the chilling night air. The night's sky twinkling its reflection within his daring eyes. On a night like this, how could it be hard to not get any rest? His arms hung just over the railing. His jacket, freely opened to expand the great view of his broad chest. Even without the dark shirt, he looked amazingly attractive. The tiniest sound of creaking caught his sense of hearing. And below, his eyes searched the perimeter.
Quiet as a mouse and as restless as a raven, Tori wandered out. Logan started in a whisper but a sudden thirst brought that Heini into place. He swallowed the chilled beverage and watched, with his eyes, as Tori walked alone in the courtyard. Smothered in warmth by the feathery coat around her shoulders, she wandered into the maze garden. Away from the likes of the beautiful Jean and spacious Rogue, this was a place of peace for her to escape to. When an hour had passed and Logan saw no sign of Tori emerging from the rather large maze, he felt something might have gone wrong. Quietly, he eased himself down over the railing and dropped down from his port. Looking through the window in front of him, he ducked down, seeing Ororo turn on her side. Her back now facing him. Only a few steps would take him to the maze's entrance.
As he walked along the trail, following the faint scent of her perfume, he let his eyes wander around. There wasn't much to see besides the large walls of trimmed hedges and the gravel beneath his boots. When he came to a large area, there she was lying just beneath the large ceramic statue of a large Rose-something that Ms. Jean picked out for a womanly effect. Logan ducked behind a hedge and peered at her quietly. Her body heavily fixed upon the matching Roman-based bench. Each curve defining the meaning of poise and grace. Her lips curled sweetly as she formed and read softly the words of the novel she was reading. The moonlight kissed gently against the lettering as the wind stirred her hair. Logan turned away, figuring that since she was okay, It was okay for him to return to his room. Maybe he could have another beer or two.
"Monsieur Logan" Tori called. Sitting up, she crossed her legs and sat her book aside for the moment. Logan stopped in his tracks and turned around. Was he that careless in being stealthy that he couldn't even evade her sense of arrival? She looked toward the twin hedges that lead to her whereabouts. Her gray eyes, bright with color but dimmed by sleep, awaited for him to appear. He did.
"What?" His gruff voice hesitantly formed his speech as if what he had saw, baffled him for the time being.
"Please, stay with me. It's awfully lonesome here... in zhe garden... by myself."
Logan became a bit skeptical of her behavior, but he advanced in her direction anyway. She thought he would have taken a seat beside her on the bench. Instead, she watched him walk around the bench and lean against the rose statue with his arms crossed. Such a manly pose to withhold even in the latest of the hour, such as now. She watched him. From his discontent face to the open coat revealing his chest, the tight blue-jeans that hugged his legs and the hair that cropped his head. He was in a league of his own. Quite older and handsome, but yet, age is nothing but a simple number. She sighed.
"Mon Amour" she read, once again picking up her book. Logan's low growl caught her attention. His face straightened when she looked his way. There was no way he could let her know that he was in terrible pain. The sentinels weren't a pretty good thing to go up against. He didn't really have time to recover from his last battle. Even his healing factor needed time to tend to his wounds. Something even deeper stirred within this slickster's body. Much more than the mere wolverine animalistic behavior. A monster. Bottled up within the corner of his mind like a fiend to his cell. She slowly let her eyes leave him and return to her book.
"Mon Amour, dans nos yeux on peut voir le desin..."(1) Logan grasped his chest and arched forward a bit. Tori turned to face him. She saw that he tried to straighten by propping himself up against the statue. She frowned, putting her book aside once more.
"Monsieur Logan--"
"I'm fine." He winced. "...Tori, really."
When she got up to near him, he growled as a warning. Of course she'd heed. Logan doubled over before the statue, gasping as his heart began to pulsate a bit quicker. His body ached and Tori knew this. She could sense it within his growl. His eyes. His face, so full of anguish. That animalistic snarl erupted into a roar as his head lifted to the air and his adamantium claws extracted. Not being able to stand it any longer, she fell to his side, her hands cupping his face.
"Monsieur Logan!" She screamed, trying to gain his attention. "Look at me, Logan."
He growled, trying to pulled away. A simple tug of war waged between them. Neither would release one another.
"Monsieur Logan! Let me help!--"
"No!!" His snarled voice rang out as he pulled away. He stumbled out of her grasp and she grabbed onto his coat. In an effort to free his coat, he pushed her back.He turned away to run off and his right hand swiped against her face quickly. Screaming, she fell back with her hands cupping her face.
"Logan!" she screamed, as she sat up. She watched as his figure hurriedly jumped through the bushes to escape beyond the trees of the maze garden. Hurriedly, she raced to her feet to follow him. Pushing past various bushes within the maze to get to him. She found herself wandering the streets not too long after. The streets were now vacant and quiet, and with that, he could be anywhere.
"Monsieur..." She started in a whisper. Her words trailed off when she realized how far she'd wandered. Strangely surrounded by abandoned warehouses and apartments. It seemed uninvitingly dark, obscure, someplace a runaway would want to hide. It was a good thing she was an adventurous person. Otherwise, there'd be no way in hell she'd wander even further into these parts.
"Logan...?" She quietly called. On hand clenched her coat closed while the other comforted her cheek. She stopped in the street between two warehouses and looked around. The murky fog was soon coming in from the harbor and the sea's tides were becoming restless. Ravaging grunts sounded within the chilled air from the warehouse to the left. Tori took off toward it.
"Monsieur! Logan! Hello?!" She screamed. Only her echo replied. As the entrance door fell off its hinges behind her, she slowly advanced forward. Shards of broken boxes and glass cluttered the wooden floor. The smell of old age made its mark within the cob-webbed walls of the warehouse. A door rested in front of her. Begging for some attention as a dim light peered from behind its cracks. Tori rushed toward it and pulled on its handle. The door came off it in her hand and nearly topple over her. She pushed it aside and stepped through the doorway. "Logan!"
Logan laid still against the dock. His body limp and drenched in water. It looked as if maybe he had fallen into the water, fought to get air, and when he surfaced, halfway pulled himself up out of the water. Tore ran to his side and kneeled near him. First she checked his pulse. There was one, but he wasn't breathing.
"Logan!" She screamed, pulling him to lay on his back. Bracing both hand behind his head, she pulled him to sit up. With his head against her shoulder, she pulled away at his jacket, getting it from around his shoulders. When it was off, she used it as a head rest for him to lay on. Her hands began to pump against his chest as she counted. that French accent rolled with fear off of her tongue.
"C'mon, Monsieur Logan! Don'tchu die!" She blew a gust of air into his lungs and resumed pumping. "Monsieur, If you die, zhe X-Men will be greatly disappointed! You have to live!"
Her attempt became weakened when his pulse-rate dropped. Her breaths of air became longer as it entered into his lungs. She disengaged herself from him and resumed pumping once more. "Monsieur..." she sobbed. Her hands becoming tired. When she saw that he gave no response she completely stopped in her attempt. She eased back and watched his limp frame, doused in water, motionless and lifeless. Pronouncing him dead, she removed her white, feathery coat and covered him with it. Hesitantly, she fell against him in an uproar of cries. She sobbed against him. Her arms folded against his chest, her head down in a hysterical cry that not even her closest friends of the X-Men would believe to hear.
"Mon....Monsieur Logan..."she heavily cried, pounding her fist against him. His brows furrowed. He tried to snarl but silence only escaped his parted lips. Lips still cursed with what breaths of life Tori had to offer. Slowly his eyes opened to gaze at this grieving woman on top of him. He slowly sat up, careful not to disturb the woman in his task. When he was well propped up, he held her away from him and stared into her eyes. Blurred by tears, yet, frozen in shock, Tori stared back at the man who just laid unmoving beneath her. He removed the feathery, woman's coat from on top of him and pulled it gently around her shoulders.
"Mon...sieur---" She started, just before his hand stretched to her face. She watched his ever movement. His eyes. All within them seemed distant, as if he had no clue to their previous mishap. When his hand neared her bruise, she winced and feared that he may hurt her again.
"Shh. I won't hurt you." He whispered. Tori stared into his eyes. She sighed and leaned her cheek into his hand as it passed along her face and slid behind her neck. He gave her little pressure and she moved forward into his arms. It was then and there that he pulled her to straddle in his lap, forced by precious kisses that only this French woman and Canadian man could introduce. Her head fell back as he nipped at her neck and she murmured his name to the high tides that crashed against the dock. Tori withheld nothing from him, and he gave his all. To each of her gasps, he challenged with his groans. She disengaged herself from his worthy kisses and lingered her gasps into his ear.
"Monsieur Logan? ....Can I have zhis kiss forever?"
Tori whispered in her sleep. Logan, who suffered from the same dream the night before, stood just outside her door. His arms crossed and his dark eyes surveyed her room. The others had been well rested while, he, the one who's most likely to be doing most of the work the following day, didn't get an ounce of sleep. He watched the young woman shiver beneath her sheets. To him, it'd be a sin to even step one foot within her doorway. He needed some resistance so he set his mind on a chilling beer. Once that beer hit his hand, he'd be free to crawl wearily back in to bed. Shutting his eyes against her soft murmurs, he pushed himself to go downstairs. And as the sound got farther away, the remembrance dissipated. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (1)"My love, in our eyes one can see the destiny..."