Logan was laid back on his sleeping mat inside his tent. Funny how they all voted for him to have his own tent. Or it would have been funny if Marie, his Marie, hadn't so enthusiastically suggested the whole set up. He wasn't offended or anything, just dented a bit. He just reckoned that she was still scared of being in the same room with him, on account of the fact that he did skewer her a few weeks back . . .
He shook his head and concentrated on getting his thoughts off of Marie before he went to sleep. His thoughts about her were gradually becoming more and more ridiculous, not to mention perverse, and that's a very bad thing. He let out a long-suffering sigh.
She's spoken for, for goodness' sake, and you're still lusting after her? Not to mention that she's half your age! God, for all you know she might even be a third of it!
He turned onto his side and realized that the annoying little voice inside his head did make sense. If only her boyfriend, that Ice Kid, whatever the hell his name was, wasn't so nice, it would have been easier to accept the fact that him and Marie might just be wrong for each other. If only--
Logan's ears perked up. There was some kind of noise, something rustling outside his tent. He closed his eyes and strained his ears for some more noise. Maybe it was just a cat or something.
He jumped up back to a seated position, throwing back the thin layer of sheet that was defending him from the coldness of the night.
His eyes shot towards the entrance of his tent, and lo, it was Jean Grey herself, dressed in nothing but a black top that showed far too much skin and black pants.
In a flash, she was on top of him and kissing him like there's no tomorrow, or rather, like she didn't even have a fiancé. Oh well, if the mouse comes looking for the cat . . . Who was he to protest? Plus, he did have some extra sexual energy stored up in his body somewhere, being able to see, hear and be around Marie again . . .
Jean's hand traveled to his hair, messing it more that it already was, as his hands went under her tank top, feeling the overly smooth skin underneath. Her weight was easing him to a lying position back onto his sleeping mat.
Everything was going perfectly, until his hand traveled over three parallel scars over her skin. They were arranged in a manner that reminded him of something that was his own--
His claws.
He pulled back almost immediately from the kiss and then discreetly sniffed the scent of the woman in front of him. It was oddly familiar and he searched his mind for a brief moment from where he knew that particular scent from . . .
Mystique.[A/N: spelling please?]
Logan glared at the supposed Jean Grey on top of him. Her weight suddenly dropped down on his body. She was heavy, yes, but it would not even be near enough to the weight that he could not carry.
"You know, no one's ever left a scar," she breathed onto his face. "Like you,"
Logan grinned sardonically. "Well what do you want, an apology?"
"You know what I want," she purred, her hands drawing invisible patterns on top of his chest. "What do you want?"
Mystique morphed into the form of one Ororro Monroe [A/N: spelling please?(Again!)] in the same black outfit that only moments ago, Jean Grey was clad in.
What Mystique did next made Logan flinch.
The Wolverine lay there, gaping as every bit of Storm's physical characteristics was transformed to his precious Marie's.
For a brief moment, a thought crossed his mind. He wasn't proud of it, not one bit, but he really couldn't find it in himself to be ashamed. After all, this was Marie that we're talking about. .
His muscles tensed up in preparation to spring up and crush her face into his.
But even before he could move, Mystique morphed back into the form of the good doctor Grey.
"Who do want?" Mystique--Jean Grey--once again breathed to his ear.
Out of sheer reflex, Logan sat back up, pushing Jean off of him.
She gave a soft laugh and Logan, not for the first time, saw as Mystique morphed back to her true form. "Or is this," she started in her deep smooth voice, but the next few words were spoken in a gruff, masculine voice that most obviously belonged to William Stryker, "What you want?"
Logan's eye narrowed in disgust. "I would truly like for you to get out,"
Mystique morphed back to her own form. She grinned maliciously, stood up and slowly walked out of his tent.
Logan dropped heavily onto his sleeping mat and a small 'Oof" escaped his lips. Oh well, it wasn't like he was getting any bruises or something anyway.
He closed his eyes and prepared to fall asleep, being careful to keep his thoughts away from Marie.
Fin
