Disclaimer: Not mine. I only wish.
Continued from part 11: Delicious…Disturbing part 12 by vangiekitty
"Right." Jean got up briskly and began gathering the breakfast dishes. "I'll just do a quick clean-up and we'll get to it." She went about the chore with a single minded intensity, determined to shake off the strange thoughts and do her job in a professional manner. Logan watched bemusedly for a moment, then moved to help.
But inside her brain, the voice continued to whisper and mutter- urging unspeakable things.
All that day, they worked side by side, exploring the area indicated in the Professor's briefing. Jean tried to stay away from Logan, tried to concentrate on finding the hidden base. But she seemed to find herself drawn to him, like an iron filing drawn to a powerful magnet. Somehow, she kept wandering over to where he was working, brushing and bumping against him. Jean found herself touching him at every possible opportunity: rubbing his thigh or pressing her breasts against his arm or back while pretending to look closely at whatever he was doing.
The worst thing was, that half the time Jean was unaware of what she was doing. She just kept finding herself in the middle of some inappropriate action, with Logan glaring at her and trying to keep his distance. She could see he was losing his patience and the tension between them was mounting, but she seemed helpless to stop.
The dark, velvet voice in her brain was keeping up a running monologue by now and she was constantly bombarded by images that were both obscenely pornographic and horribly compelling. She was sure she was picking up some of the images from Logan, doubtless his lust was at fever pitch, she could see that her actions and scent were pushing him slowly but surely past the point of all control. But she was equally sure that many of the images were originating inside her own head, and she was powerless to turn them off.
At last, things came to a head late in the afternoon when Jean tripped a booby trap she should have seen- and would have seen if she hadn't been so damn distracted by the voice in her head and her body's rising needs. It was fortunate for her that Logan was watching her when it happened.
As her foot snagged the dull, silver wire, Logan roared:
"Jeanie!" And, launching himself at her, he pushed her out of the way and took the full force of the small but deadly shrapnel bomb against his own, broad back.
They lay stunned on the ground for a minuet and even though Jean knew she should feel panicked, the feel of Logan's muscular body pressed against hers, practically on top of her, ignited her lust instead.
At length, Logan groaned and rolled off of her and Jean saw with sudden remorse that on the white t-shirt he wore, bloody red rosettes had begun to bloom.
"Oh, Logan! Your back!" she cried. "What happened- what was it that exploded?"
"Nothin' Darlin'," he grated, getting slowly to his feet. "Just a shrapnel bomb that coulda torn ya ta shreds."
Jean recoiled at his tone and said in a small voice,
"I'm sorry, Logan. I know I should have noticed it. I've just been so…distracted. Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm OK." He growled. "We better get back ta camp now, Jeanie. We've done all tha good we're gonna do today."
The walk back to their campsite was a silent one. Jean eyed the blood back of Logan's t-shirt with guilt and shame. She had done that-* her* carelessness,* her* unprofessional attitude. She had known they were going into dangerous territory- hell, they had trained in the Danger Room a thousand times for just such a mission. And yet, even knowing (supposedly) what to do in such a situation, she had allowed herself to be distracted by her own traitorous body! Damnit! Why couldn't she just turn it off- not think about it for a while, banish the voice (which she was beginning to suspect was her own) from the forefront of her brain? At least long enough to do her job professionally.
But Jean knew the answers to those questions. Even feeling guilty and angry as hell with herself, Logan's delicious, musky fragrance still reached out to her. In fact, it seemed even stronger now- no doubt fueled by his adrenaline rush when he had saved her from the shrapnel. //Delicious// muttered the voice in her head. //Just imagine how good he would taste…//
Jean shook her head, trying to clear it. If it was this bad for her, what must it be like for Logan with his super-sensitive senses? God, she must really be putting him through absolute hell! The thought didn't help her guilt any.
*****************************************************
Once back at the camp, Logan pulled the bloody t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Jean gasped to see the jagged pieces of metal sticking out of his back. Surely the bomb would have killed a lesser man!
"Oh God, Logan, I'm so sorry!" she moaned. "Just let me get the first aid kit and I'll try to take care of you!"
"Don't need any flamin' first aid kit, Darlin'." Logan said, tiredly. "Just grab tha tweezers and pull em out. I'll heal up pretty quick after that."
"Yeah, I know your healing factor will take care of it. But Logan, it still must hurt like hell! Just because you heal fast doesn't mean you don't feel pain." She protested.
"I'm used ta pain, Darlin'. Just get tha damn shrapnel out so I can heal."
He sat wearily on a log while Jean gathered the necessary items: tweezers, clean, bottled water, and some paper napkins to blot the blood.
At last, feeling she had everything she needed, Jean straddled the log, sitting behind Logan and gingerly began to pick the jagged pieces of metal from his broad, bloody back. She found that she actually had to pull quite hard because Logan's skin had started to heal around the shrapnel.
Logan endured the extremely painful operation stoically with only an occasional grunt or wince as Jean worked. His muscular back flexed restlessly as she twisted and pried the sharp pieces from his skin, but he said nothing. Jean dropped each piece into an old soup can as she removed them, not wanting to step on them in the future. It seemed she would never be done, but at last, surveying Logan's crimson streaked back, she was satisfied that she had gotten ever last piece of shrapnel out. It was amazing to watch the skin knit together over the ragged holes left by the cruel metal. Finally, Logan's entire back was whole and Jean thought that if not for the bloody smears criss-crossing the surface, she would never have known he had been injured at all.
"Time to clean you up a bit." She remarked briskly, as Logan sighed in relief at feeling his back heal. "Hope this isn't too cold." She added, pouring half the bottle of water over his bloody shoulders. He hissed briefly at the chilly water but allowed her to rub him dry and clean with a handful of napkins.
But being so close to him and rubbing his back with only the thin napkins between them was beginning to get to Jean. While she had been removing the shrapnel, she had been so focused on the job at hand that she had been nearly able to forget her body's needs. And the honeyed, lustful voice had been turned down to a dull whisper. But now that Logan was healed, the heat came rushing back like a bonfire, threatening to engulf her, body and soul. The napkins dropped unheeded to the ground and Jean began to caress the tan, deliciously muscular back before her, giving in to the dark urgings in her brain.
Logan felt the change in the way she touched him, noticed that the air between them was suddenly charged again with a deep undercurrent of sexual tension. He could smell her heat- her desire. Her need for him to take her. He shifted uneasily, his muscles tensing convulsively.
Suddenly he turned and caught her hands in his own, stopping the sensual massage she had been engaged in.
"Ya better stop now, Darlin'." He said, his voice hoarse with tension and barely controlled passion. "I'm sure my back is clean enough now. We better just cook dinner and get ta bed."
"Why Logan, I'd love to go to bed with you." Jean purred. Dimly, she heard herself saying this and was utterly horrified. But the feelings in her body were too strong, the whispers of the silky voice inside her head too insistent. She felt she simply couldn't hold out any longer. Hell, she didn't even want to try. She felt herself giving up, allowing that dark part inside herself to grow and take over the situation. She leaned forward, deliberately displaying her cleavage in the low cut tank top.
"You better let me look at your back again, Logan," she said in a low, throaty voice. "I'm sure I missed a spot." And Jean let her fingers trailed lightly from one broad shoulder down his waist and delicately over the growing bulge in his crotch.
Logan flushed a dull red at the innuendo in her words and the inciting touch of her hand.
"Stop it now, Jeanie. My back's just fine." He said, harshly. "You've just gotta… stop touchin' me. It's too for me- too much temptation. I don't wanna….take advantage of ya, Darlin'."
To be continued…in part 13 J vangiekitty
