Disclaimer: nobody's mine. Please don't sue.
Note: here's to two groups of people. 1.) the folks who can't get enough Logan/Jean fics, and 2.) the folks who can't get enough angsty Logan fics. Guess which category I fall into.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the Flinty Pits of My Heart
The room was smoky from incense, and dim. A grouping of four candles were lit, casting odd shadows on the walls across the room.
Jean moaned quietly. Logan's mouth left a hot trail on her body, slowly winding its way down to her hips. She moaned again, entwining her fingers in his hair.
Logan stopped and glanced up at her. He smiled impishly, then nipped her stomach. Jean gasped and tightened her hold on his head.
"Stop for a moment, Logan," she said before he could continue.
"Why?" he answered, still kissing her stomach.
She forced him to look at her. "Because I said so."
Logan caught the mock severity in her tone. "As you wish, madame. You command, I humbly obey."
"Then get up here and kiss me."
He obligingly slid forward and lay beside her. His hand caressed her cheek and gently he put his lips to hers. Jean opened her mouth to receive his tongue.
It was sweet and slow. Only after they had run out of breath did it end.
"You're the most wonderful person I've ever known," Logan whispered, shyly.
Jean blushed and smiled. Her fingers softly ran over his chest.
"I never want to lose you--I love you, Jean."
She smiled again.
He searched her face for a second, then looked away.
"Logan," she said. He turned back to her. "Make love to me."
His smile was shy as he replied, "Always."
Their physical love was so achingly sweet he felt it throughout his body. He loved the feel of her, the sound of her, the smell and taste of her all so much as to be overwhelming. That was exactly what he wanted. To be so immersed in her that nothing else existed while they were together.
Jean pulled him closer, uttering soft breathy moans and whispering his name as he rocked inside her. Logan gritted his teeth in an effort to stave off his climax.
Suddenly Jean tensed and arched her back against him, crying out. He stopped for a moment, savoring her orgasm with a smile. As she relaxed again, Logan moved with a quicker pace.
She panted for breath beneath him, urging him on with caresses and quick kisses. In only a few more seconds, everything seemed to explode into bright lights. Jean held him tightly as pleasure engulfed his body . . .
. . . Logan shuddered. He smelled no incense. Opening his eyes, he saw no candles. And Jean was not with him.
He did feel the dampness of the sheets. Groaning, he ran a hand over his face. Tiredly he stretched for a tissue from the box on the bedside table.
"You're too old for wet dreams, Wolvie," he said aloud. "Too too old."
Logan quickly cleaned himself off and sopped as much mess off the sheets as possible. He considered changing the sheets. That involved getting up and going to the linen closet--he might run into Jean, who preferred the night hours for 'alone time.'. Or worse yet . . . he might overhear her and Scott having sex. The bedroom they shared was near the closet.
He had overheard them occasionally before. It was the most painful sound in the world . . . Logan hated Scott for that, for being able to physically have Jean. Hearing them shamed him too, for the times he had accidentally eavesdropped on their love-making it aroused him, because he could imagine himself with her. Instead of Scott. Jean and . . . Logan.
He took a deep breath and swiftly wiped tears from his eyes. Thinking about these things wouldn't help him go back to sleep. He decided against stripping his bed and simply rolled to a drier spot.
Sighing again, Logan made a conscious effort to not think of Jean and very slowly drifted to sleep.