A/N: Here's the run down on what this fic is about: it started off as an AU college drabble in my other fic Love Me Do, a collection of smutty and fluffy drabbles for various Marvel pairings. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I got mentally stuck on it, wrote way more chapters than I intended, and finally gave up trying to keep deluding myself into thinking it was still a drabble. So I removed all of the chapters from Love Me Do and put them here in this new fic, which will update every Wednesday.

Some warnings: this has no set ending in mind. I want to keep it around ten chapters, but I cannot guarantee that. There will be occasional appearances from Victor Creed and my OC Jackie, but only when it pertains to the plot or Logan's tragic broody manpain backstory. This fic also contains strong language and graphic smut, and this will be the last time I offer that warning. It's rated M for a reason, although that doesn't actually kick off until the second chapter.

Also, I don't own X-Men. If I did, Sabretooth would make an appearance in every single movie, shirtless.

I cocked my head and studied the huge canvas laying on the floor. It was big enough that I'd need to view it from a few steps back to see it properly. A bit farther away and somehow up, so I could look down on it. Maybe on that table?

I got up and clambered onto the table. No one else was in the classroom. In fact, I couldn't hear anyone at all. I glanced at the windows and was shocked to see only darkness. How long had I been here? I shook my head to get rid of the thought. That wasn't important. If Professor Ororo liked the painting I'd made, she'd turn it into a promotional poster for the study abroad trip to Rome and I'd get a scholarship to go too. I considered what I'd made, shuffling back and forth on the cleared surface of the table to see it from different angles.

Then I stepped on a paper that slid out from beneath my foot and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I was on the floor and in pain. So much pain. And there was no one here to help me. Oh god, I was going to die like an old person, fallen and unable to get up. Where was life alert when I needed it?

"I swear to the baby fucking Jesus, if you kids are dicking around in—"

I lifted my head with great difficulty and saw the manliest lumberjack in the world. He looked like he'd just stumbled out of a forest, got into a combination street-fight-slash-hockey-game, and came to this university to steal yo girl.

I was willing to be stolen. Or taken. My body was ready for him to take me real hard.

At least that's what I thought until I tried to stand up. Then I realized my body wasn't ready for anything at all. I almost fell back on my face again before strong arms caught me, pulling me against a chest like a barrel.

A barrel of manliness.

"You all right, kid?" a gruff voice asked.

"I—" I forced myself to close my mouth before I started stuttering and did a mental check of my body. "I think I landed on my ankle."

"Here." the lumberjack-angel set me back on the table and knelt in front of me. "Let me look at it."

I almost wept at the sight of such a beautiful man on his knees in front of me. I was just a shy girl from a small neighborhood in Mississippi, one of those super religious, conservative, hard right village of fuckers. And I thanked God every day I got out of that environment, but I still hadn't quite adjusted to the normal world where you could sit next to a boy who wasn't your husband and people kissed before their wedding day.

And now I had a gorgeous man paying attention to me, and I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing while he felt up my ankle. It was literally the most action I'd ever gotten in my entire life. Sure, I'd kissed Cody, but in comparison, I didn't think that even came close to—

"Kid?"

I blinked and looked back down at my lumberjack-angel. "I'm sorry, what?"

He cleared his throat. "Said it wasn't broken. Probably just sprained. You hit your head any?"

I felt my entire face turn red with embarrassment. He thought I'd hit my head. Less than two minutes, and he probably thought I was some weirdo idiot.

"M'fine," I mumbled before my Southern manners kicked in. "Thank you for helping me though. Um, why are you here so late?"

"I was meeting with one of my players to talk about his grades," he said.

I had no idea what he meant by players and that must have shown.

"I'm Logan Howlett."

"Um … my name is Marie," I offered.

"The Wolverine?"

"What?"

"You really don't know who I am."

I was so confused, but at least I managed to stop myself from answering that he was a beautiful lumberjack-angel derived straight from the wet dreams of women everywhere.

"Should I know you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You go to school here?"

The man said that like it should answer everything, and I felt more and more stupid by the second. He seemed to sense that and took pity on me by explaining.

"I'm the coach. Led our team to the finals for three years running. They called me the Wolverine when I played because once I had the ball, I fucking held onto it." He stopped and abruptly stood up, clearing his throat. "Uh, sorry about the language. What are you doing here so late?"

"Painting," I pointed at the canvas on the floor, grateful to have something to say. "I'm making a poster for Professor Ororo's study trip to Rome."

His expression cleared and he grunted. "Yeah, she's been trying to wrangle me into that for a while. But it's almost seven, kid."

I blushed again. "I just lost track of time. I'm sure I'll be fine though, so I'll just—"

I almost crumpled again when I tried to stand up. The only thing that stopped that from happening was my lumberjack-angel when he caught me once again.

"Whoa, hey. You shouldn't put weight on that so soon. I can uh … " he glanced around the room like a real doctor might jump out of the shadows. "I can bandage it up for you and get you an ice pack."

"O-okay."

Then I was flying. I gasped and clutched at his arms as he swung me up in his arms and strode out of the new room, carrying me bridal style. My heart pounded, and I clung to him while he walked down the hall.

"You all right?" he suddenly asked. "I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

"Nope," I squeaked.

His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway of the Liberal Arts building I focused on breathing evenly and slowing my heart rate so I could speak in a normal voice.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Jeannie's room."

"Who?"

"Uh, Dr. Grey."

I groaned before I could stop myself. He looked down at me in amusement. Dr. Jean Grey was the head of the Psychology department and the very epitome of a bitch. Everyone knew she cheated on her husband, the Lit Ed professor. She didn't even have his last name, and the rumor was that she fucked one of the coaches and—

I gasped loudly and stared up at the no-longer mystery man.

"You're Dr. Grey's wild, mystery lover! She makes thinly veiled references to you all the time!"

His brows furrowed. "Is she still telling people we're fu—uhhh … sleeping together?"

"Oh yeah."

"Godda—" he stopped the curse and then growled out, "We're not involved anymore. Here, can you lean against this wall?"

I didn't have a chance to reply. He sat me down, and I tried to rest as much of my weight against the wall as possible. Logan Howlett, aka Dr. Grey's not-so-secret-lover who is apparently not-so-much-her-lover either, jimmied the door handle and hip checked the door just right to make it open. I caught a glimpse of the plaque on the wall before he picked me back up again and carried me into Dr. Grey's office. I let him manhandle me and set me down on her desk. I didn't mean to be ungrateful, but I didn't understand why we had to be in the queen bitch's office.

"Um … Mr. Howlett?"

He turned around and looked back at me from where he was rifling through the stuff on Dr. Grey's shelves. His face looked a little flushed. Had I been too heavy for him? I glanced at his biceps straining against the flanel shirt covering them and quickly ruled out that possibility. Maybe … I noticed the dog tags hanging over his shirt. All the men who served that I'd ever known were super strict about respect.

"Sir?" I tried again. "Why are we here?"

He walked toward me without an answer, and I had a brief fantasy that he was going to ravish me right there on the desk. Instead, he went around the desk and opened a few drawers.

"First aid kit," he announced, holding one up. "If I can get your shoe off, I'll wrap up your ankle with some gauze and I'm sure there's an ice pack somewhere."

"You don't need to bother—"

"Stick your leg out."

I automatically complied, and he knelt in front of me again. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he slipped my shoe off, but I still gave a hiss of pain. I closed my eyes while he worked until it was finished and he stood up again.

"I can get you something for the pain," he offered.

"Say no to drugs," I blurted out.

He smirked. "I'll keep that in mind if anyone offers me some. But I meant an ice pack. Or maybe I could—wait, let me see your student ID."

Once again, I obeyed without thinking about it. I pulled my ID out of my pocket and handed it over.

"You're twenty?"

"Yeah, I'll be twenty-one in a month," I said, even though I didn't understand why my age mattered right now.

"All right," he gave it back and leaned in close. "In that case, let me … kiss the pain away."

My jaw dropped open. "Is this a practical joke?"

His face closed off and he pulled away, but I kept babbling.

"That's really mean. Are people going to jump out and laugh at me now?"

"Laugh at you?"

I looked down and scowled at my stupid ankle. "Well, we both know you're way out of my league."

"Darling," he lifted my chin back up. "Don't say shit like that. You're beautiful and a damn good artist and I want to kiss you. If that ain't what you want, I'll get you your ice pack and call you a ride home, but don't you talk bad about yourself."

I stammered in shock for a moment and then finally whimpered out, "Please?"

He caught on that I wanted the first scenario and immediately leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. They were so warm. My whole body felt warm. I couldn't believe the Logan Howlett wanted to kiss me. In fact, it almost sounded like he wanted to say something else when he offered to make the pain go away. Was he going to say fuck? I'd only known him for about twenty minutes, but that seemed like something he'd say.

He drew back, and we both panted in the quiet of the room.

"Do you want—"

"What were you—"

We stopped and each waited for the other to continue. I gathered my courage and went first.

"What were you going to say?" I asked. "Earlier? It wasn't kiss."

"I was going to offer to fuck the pain away," he said lowly. "But if you're not that type of girl, I understand."

I was a virgin. The only boy I'd ever officially dated was Cody, who turned out to be a creep, although I'd gone on other sporadic dates with different people. I didn't do one night stands because I didn't want to get white girl murdered, but this man—this lumberjack-angel—had helped me, been nice to me, offered to call me a ride, made sure I wanted this … I felt safe with him.

And I was so sick of being a "virgin." I'd learned in my humanities class that "virgin" originally meant someone whose blood had never been used in a ritual before, but Christians just had to go and change the interpretation to fit their "moral views." So technically, the whole campus was full of virgins.

But that didn't stop people from giving me shit about it. Not that I wanted to make a decision this big based on their opinions, but sex sounded awesome, and I didn't like the possibility that I could be seriously missing out. And maybe if I just went ahead and got it over with, like pulling off a bandaid, it wouldn't seem like such a big, scary thing anymore.

Plus, I really wanted to have sex with Dr. Grey's former lover on her desk. I hated that bitch so much, and it was literally the best fuck you I could think of. It didn't hurt at all that the man in question was the hottest guy to ever speak to me, either.

"Prove it," I said.

He made an adorably confused face, like a lost puppy.

"I'm sure there are condoms in here somewhere," I waved my hand around to indicate the office. "So prove that you can—fuck the pain away."

I stumbled a little on the swear, but at least I didn't stutter. Even though I was blushing again, once I made up my mind that I wanted something, I was determined to get it. And the man's face changed from confused puppy to hungry wolf in an instant.

"Fuckin' hell, darlin'."

He caught my lips in another passionate kiss that made my toes curl inside my tennis shoes. I let out a small moan when he hitched up my leg around his waist and the hard bulge in his jeans ground against me. Too soon, he pulled back again, only to dip his head down so he could whisper in my ear.

"You're damn well gonna learn my name tonight."