Disclaimer: The X-men are not mine, I am theirs. Or something.
Hey, People seem to like this one so I am continuing it. I think you can all see where this is heading, but eventually, in a round-about way. Yes, I like porn with a plot. I want to see Jean and Logan doing the nasty as much as any of you but I want them to agonize about it first. I want them to not be able to help themselves.
By the way, can somebody tell me if there is a site for this sort of story? Instead of Plot-What Plot, it would be Plot-Yes-Plot-Then -Sex. Anyway if not, somebody please start one and let me know! :) vangiekitty@aol.com
DELICIOUS......DISTURBING part the next
Early the next morning after an unrefreshing shower, Jean slumped dowstairs to meet Logan in the
garage. She felt mean-spirited and dull so before leaving her room, she spitefully sprayed on a choking
cloud of some super-sweet perfume that a well-meaning, elderly aunt had sent her last Christmas. Even
Scott (who was usually oblivious to such things) had exclaimed at the cloying odor when she had first
opened the box to smell it. It had been a sort of joke around the mansion for a while. Jean had called it
her "skunk spray". Naturally she returned a beautiful thank you card to the aunt who sent it and just as
naturally, she had never worn it.
But now, she drenched herself in it, coating her neck and wrists with it so that the sweet stench
hung about her like a kind of olfactory armor.
"Let him smell me through *this*. she thought to herself angrilly. Jean hardly knew why she was
going to such lengths to antagonize Logan but she told herself that she felt safer with his anger and disgust
than his ardour and desire. But she didn't want to analyse her actions further than that. She just wanted to
get on with this mission and on with her life. So, smelling like the world's biggest candy and flower shop,
she martched determinedly into the garage.
Logan was leaning against the black hummer they were taking on this partially cross-country trip
and looking rather wistfull, as though he wanted to talk everything over. But when he caught a whiff of
Jean's perfume, his eyes turned hard and the muscles in his jaw began to twich.
"No," Jean noticed with a spitefull kind of joy, "Logan does not like this scent at all. Not one
little bit!"
They stowed their bags in the back and she climbed silently into her side of the hummer,
savoring her victory. She was the master of her fate! She was the captain of her soul, and no stupid
genetic trick that her body was trying to play on her would change that one bit! So why did she feel
kind of lousy anyway? But she refused to be moved. She was making a point, wasn't she? She buckled
up and waited as Logan did the same. Without a word between them, they were off.
At first Logan drove without comment and though he turned the vent on full, it did little to
dispell the sweet stench that filled the cab. Goaded by his silence, Jean at last spoke up.
"Got nothing to say to me this beautifull morning, Logan?" she asked tauntingly with a little smirk.
"Yeah, Darlin', I got something to say. Now you *do* stink. Happy?" And he turned impassively
away and, of all things, lit up one of those huge, stinking cigars which he usually smoked outside in
deference to the clouds of smelly smoke they generated.
Soon Jean was coughing and her eyes were tearing dreadfully. "What the hell do you think you're
doing?" she demanded, when she couldn't take it anymore.
"Giving you a taste of yer own medicine, Darlin', how do ya like it?"
"Logan, how dare you? Your disgusting, smelly cigar is a million times worse than my perfume!"
"Oh is it? How do you know how a smell that strong makes me feel? Well, I'll tell ya, it makes me
feel like pukin' my guts up! I told ya how sensitive my sense o' smell is; I smoke these things just to deaden
it a little! One squirt o' that stuff you're wearin' would've been enough ta let me know how ya feel! Ya didn't
have ta take a flamin' bath in it!" He turned back to the road but his eyes blazed with anger. Jean caught
savage, incoherant blasts of emotion from him as he continued driving way too fast down the dim, early-
morning rural road.
"Well," she told herself, "Now I have what I wanted: his anger instead of his desire. I should
be safe from the kind of scene that happened in the woods the other day. So why do I feel so mean and
nasty? I'm just doing what I have to do, right?" She felt utterly alone and utterly miserable. Soon, however,
she began to feel another sensation: utterly sick. The stench of her perfume was even getting to her, she
had to admitt. And the foul cigar smoke wasn't helping any either. But she wasn't about to say anything
to Logan; that would be like admitting defeat. Grimly, she set her teeth and tried to hold on to her gorge.
"I am fine." she told herself firmly. "I will *not* puke." But telling her stomach not to eject her
breakfast and making it obey her directives were beginning to be two different things. To top it all off, it
was stuffy in the cab of the hummer and the thick woolen cable-knit sweater she wore seemed hotter and hotter.
Jean began to get overheated and it made the queaziness in her stomach that much worse. She felt faint.
"What should I do?" she asked herself in a strange, detatched way, "Throw up or pass out?"
By now Jean had had enough but was scared to open her mouth for fear of tossing her cookies
all over the interior of the hummer. She hated to risk touching Logan again after what had happened last
time, but right now, sex was the last thing on her mind. Urgently, she tugged at his sleeve.
"What?" Logan growled, glaring straight ahead at the road. She pulled on his sleeve a bit harder
and finally, he looked at her. She was positively green and Logan's anger turned quickly to alarm.
"You Ok, Darlin'?" he asked, his angry mood melted entirely at the sight of her looking so faint and
ill. She shook her head violently and almost lost it. Weakly, she pointed to the side of the road, but he was
already pulling over and running around to her side of the vehicle to drag her out into the open air.
Afraid she would be violently ill, Jean pushed away from him and staggered into a nearby clump
of bushes. There she lost what felt like every meal she'd ever eaten. Looking at the steaming mess in the
branches of the innocent bushes made her dry-heave again.
Jean hadn't thrown up in a while and she had forgotten what an utterly wretched experiance it was.
She knelt in the matted grass with her head hanging down and trying to catch her breath.
"At least it didn't come out my nose too!" she thought thankfully. "But it's bad enough as it is.
Where's a water fountain when you need one? I'll *never* get this taste out of my mouth!" Just then she
heard Logan behind her saying anxiously,
"I've got a jug o' distilled water, Darlin', if you think you can sit up."
"Don't come over here, Logan." she warned in a hoarse voice. " 'S disgusting. I'll come there."
She half crawled to the sound of his voice but couldn't quite mannage to stand.
"Here Darlin'." he said tenderly and lifted the gallon jug of water to her lips. She rinsed out her
mouth and swallowed convulsively once or twice. Then, to Logan's surprise, she suddenly grasped the jug
and and tipped the chilly water over her head with a little gasp.
"Now, Jeanie, why'd ya do that? Now you're soaked, Darlin'! Ya might get sick." Logan sounded
so confounded at her strange behavior that Jean had to laugh, though it came out as more of a croak.
"In case it slipped your notice, Logan, I'm alraedy sick. And the reason is this damned perfume!
Do you have any soap in your bag? I want to wash this stink off me." Logan produced a bar of Ivory soap
and a washcloth from his travel kit and Jean proceeded to take a cat-bath right in the field. She got as much
of the cloying odor off as she could but she was thoroughly soaked in the process. The wet sweater, she
knew would dry but her dripping bra she found impossible to stand. Wet wool or wet cotton she could
deal with but both together? "Uh-uh." she thought. "One of these has got to go!" Since Logan had turned
to give her some privacy, Jean simply unsnapped her bra and fished it out. As she was pulling it out her
sleeve, however, the strap on one side snapped. "Oh well," she thought with resignation. "It was an old
one anyway. I'll get a fresh one out of my bag at the first rest stop we come to." She left the old bra in the
field, under a bush, not wanting Logan to know she had removed it.
All in all, Jean reflected, she felt refreshed after her little bath, if still a bit cold and shaky. She
climbed back into the hummer slowly and leaned her head back on the soft leather seat.
"Logan," she began but he was already saying,
"Jeanie," with an ernest look on his face.
"Me first, Logan, please." she said weakly. "I'm so sorry I was such a bitch to you this morning. I
guess I just couldn't deal with what happened between us. But there's no excuse for me acting like an
immature idiot. I was stupid and mean, can you forgive me?"
"Only if you forgive me, Darlin'" he said in a low, ashamed voice. "I never ment ta make ya ill,
Jeanie. Hurtin' you is the last thing I'd ever want ta do. But damn it!" He slammed his hands on the steering
wheel in self disgust, "That's all I seem ta know how ta do lately!"
"Oh, no, Logan. You don't get all the credit for this little scene, my dear. Don't forget, I started it!"
she pointed out. "And ended it too, all over myself." she added in such a mournfull tone that Logan had to
laugh. His rich, hearty chuckle rumbled up from his deep chest and filled the cab. Suddenly the whole
day seemed brighter to Jean.. She smiled a little herself and then couldn't help laughing along with Logan,
he had such a catching chuckle!
"It wasn't *that* funny." she said as their burst of hillarity finally tapered off.
"Guess not, Darlin', but ya *do* look a little like a drowned rat." Logan said, grinning. Jean sighed,
but not unhappily.
"Oh, I know, but maybe I deserve it." she said meditively.
"Well, if it comes ta that, we both do." Logan answered softly. "Ya know, we've been actin' like a
couple o' kids today, pouting and snappin' at each other. We just need ta give it a rest and grow up.
After all, we're adults. We can work all this out- it's not such a big flamin' deal, Darlin'."
"That's right! That's just exactly what I've been telling myself all along!" she exclaimed "I should
have just taken a calm attitude towards this whole thing but I let myself get pannicked. ..... Not like
Professor Xavier was such a big help in keeping me calm." she muttered under her breath, thinking
resentfully of the "You are doomed to have indescriminate sex, it is your biological destiny" speech he
had given her yesterday. It had made her feel helpless, desperate. And look where those feelings had
gotten her- right into a silly, hurtful fight with Logan, a friend she truely cared about. Maybe if the Prof.
had been more understanding and supportive the whole ugly scene could have been avoided!
"Yeah, I went to him too and he gave me some mumbo-jumbo about genes and drives. Load o'
crap- ya know?"
"Exactly." she answered. "That's exactly what it is, Logan. We should just ignore all that....stuff
and go on being good friends and finish this mission together. We'll put all this behind us and concentrate
on the buisness at hand."
"So we're callin' a truce, Darlin?" Logan asked, smiling. "No more tryin' ta stink each other out?"
"No," she agreed smiling. "I think I can promise you never to wear that particular perfume again."
"Good," he said, with feeling. "That stuff could make a strong man cry, Darlin'! And likewise, I
promise no more cigars in enclosed areas."
"Thanks, Logan." she said fervantly. "Well, we'd better be getting along, I guess."
"Guess so." he answered. Jean wanted to reach across the seat and squeeze his hand for
reassurance but she didn't. It might not be quite safe. In the enclosed cab of the hummer, the rich, musky
fragrence that was Logan's scent began to reach out to her. She wondered drowsily if her own scent was
affecting him as well. But before she could think about that possibility or the implications of it, she fell
into a deep, dreamless sleep. The delicious scent followed her down and drawn by it as an iron filing is to
a magnet, she shifted towards Logan in her sleep untill her head rested against his thigh. Logan sighed and
looked down at the beautiful face and crimson hair spread over his jeans like a silken shawl. His hands
itched to caress that beauty and her rich, inviting scent filled him with desire and fear for what the future
might hold. He didn't want to hurt her, but he wasn't sure he could help himself. His knuckles whitened
as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Better just keep driving. It was better that way...safer. Just keep
driving. So he did.
Hey, People seem to like this one so I am continuing it. I think you can all see where this is heading, but eventually, in a round-about way. Yes, I like porn with a plot. I want to see Jean and Logan doing the nasty as much as any of you but I want them to agonize about it first. I want them to not be able to help themselves.
By the way, can somebody tell me if there is a site for this sort of story? Instead of Plot-What Plot, it would be Plot-Yes-Plot-Then -Sex. Anyway if not, somebody please start one and let me know! :) vangiekitty@aol.com
DELICIOUS......DISTURBING part the next
Early the next morning after an unrefreshing shower, Jean slumped dowstairs to meet Logan in the
garage. She felt mean-spirited and dull so before leaving her room, she spitefully sprayed on a choking
cloud of some super-sweet perfume that a well-meaning, elderly aunt had sent her last Christmas. Even
Scott (who was usually oblivious to such things) had exclaimed at the cloying odor when she had first
opened the box to smell it. It had been a sort of joke around the mansion for a while. Jean had called it
her "skunk spray". Naturally she returned a beautiful thank you card to the aunt who sent it and just as
naturally, she had never worn it.
But now, she drenched herself in it, coating her neck and wrists with it so that the sweet stench
hung about her like a kind of olfactory armor.
"Let him smell me through *this*. she thought to herself angrilly. Jean hardly knew why she was
going to such lengths to antagonize Logan but she told herself that she felt safer with his anger and disgust
than his ardour and desire. But she didn't want to analyse her actions further than that. She just wanted to
get on with this mission and on with her life. So, smelling like the world's biggest candy and flower shop,
she martched determinedly into the garage.
Logan was leaning against the black hummer they were taking on this partially cross-country trip
and looking rather wistfull, as though he wanted to talk everything over. But when he caught a whiff of
Jean's perfume, his eyes turned hard and the muscles in his jaw began to twich.
"No," Jean noticed with a spitefull kind of joy, "Logan does not like this scent at all. Not one
little bit!"
They stowed their bags in the back and she climbed silently into her side of the hummer,
savoring her victory. She was the master of her fate! She was the captain of her soul, and no stupid
genetic trick that her body was trying to play on her would change that one bit! So why did she feel
kind of lousy anyway? But she refused to be moved. She was making a point, wasn't she? She buckled
up and waited as Logan did the same. Without a word between them, they were off.
At first Logan drove without comment and though he turned the vent on full, it did little to
dispell the sweet stench that filled the cab. Goaded by his silence, Jean at last spoke up.
"Got nothing to say to me this beautifull morning, Logan?" she asked tauntingly with a little smirk.
"Yeah, Darlin', I got something to say. Now you *do* stink. Happy?" And he turned impassively
away and, of all things, lit up one of those huge, stinking cigars which he usually smoked outside in
deference to the clouds of smelly smoke they generated.
Soon Jean was coughing and her eyes were tearing dreadfully. "What the hell do you think you're
doing?" she demanded, when she couldn't take it anymore.
"Giving you a taste of yer own medicine, Darlin', how do ya like it?"
"Logan, how dare you? Your disgusting, smelly cigar is a million times worse than my perfume!"
"Oh is it? How do you know how a smell that strong makes me feel? Well, I'll tell ya, it makes me
feel like pukin' my guts up! I told ya how sensitive my sense o' smell is; I smoke these things just to deaden
it a little! One squirt o' that stuff you're wearin' would've been enough ta let me know how ya feel! Ya didn't
have ta take a flamin' bath in it!" He turned back to the road but his eyes blazed with anger. Jean caught
savage, incoherant blasts of emotion from him as he continued driving way too fast down the dim, early-
morning rural road.
"Well," she told herself, "Now I have what I wanted: his anger instead of his desire. I should
be safe from the kind of scene that happened in the woods the other day. So why do I feel so mean and
nasty? I'm just doing what I have to do, right?" She felt utterly alone and utterly miserable. Soon, however,
she began to feel another sensation: utterly sick. The stench of her perfume was even getting to her, she
had to admitt. And the foul cigar smoke wasn't helping any either. But she wasn't about to say anything
to Logan; that would be like admitting defeat. Grimly, she set her teeth and tried to hold on to her gorge.
"I am fine." she told herself firmly. "I will *not* puke." But telling her stomach not to eject her
breakfast and making it obey her directives were beginning to be two different things. To top it all off, it
was stuffy in the cab of the hummer and the thick woolen cable-knit sweater she wore seemed hotter and hotter.
Jean began to get overheated and it made the queaziness in her stomach that much worse. She felt faint.
"What should I do?" she asked herself in a strange, detatched way, "Throw up or pass out?"
By now Jean had had enough but was scared to open her mouth for fear of tossing her cookies
all over the interior of the hummer. She hated to risk touching Logan again after what had happened last
time, but right now, sex was the last thing on her mind. Urgently, she tugged at his sleeve.
"What?" Logan growled, glaring straight ahead at the road. She pulled on his sleeve a bit harder
and finally, he looked at her. She was positively green and Logan's anger turned quickly to alarm.
"You Ok, Darlin'?" he asked, his angry mood melted entirely at the sight of her looking so faint and
ill. She shook her head violently and almost lost it. Weakly, she pointed to the side of the road, but he was
already pulling over and running around to her side of the vehicle to drag her out into the open air.
Afraid she would be violently ill, Jean pushed away from him and staggered into a nearby clump
of bushes. There she lost what felt like every meal she'd ever eaten. Looking at the steaming mess in the
branches of the innocent bushes made her dry-heave again.
Jean hadn't thrown up in a while and she had forgotten what an utterly wretched experiance it was.
She knelt in the matted grass with her head hanging down and trying to catch her breath.
"At least it didn't come out my nose too!" she thought thankfully. "But it's bad enough as it is.
Where's a water fountain when you need one? I'll *never* get this taste out of my mouth!" Just then she
heard Logan behind her saying anxiously,
"I've got a jug o' distilled water, Darlin', if you think you can sit up."
"Don't come over here, Logan." she warned in a hoarse voice. " 'S disgusting. I'll come there."
She half crawled to the sound of his voice but couldn't quite mannage to stand.
"Here Darlin'." he said tenderly and lifted the gallon jug of water to her lips. She rinsed out her
mouth and swallowed convulsively once or twice. Then, to Logan's surprise, she suddenly grasped the jug
and and tipped the chilly water over her head with a little gasp.
"Now, Jeanie, why'd ya do that? Now you're soaked, Darlin'! Ya might get sick." Logan sounded
so confounded at her strange behavior that Jean had to laugh, though it came out as more of a croak.
"In case it slipped your notice, Logan, I'm alraedy sick. And the reason is this damned perfume!
Do you have any soap in your bag? I want to wash this stink off me." Logan produced a bar of Ivory soap
and a washcloth from his travel kit and Jean proceeded to take a cat-bath right in the field. She got as much
of the cloying odor off as she could but she was thoroughly soaked in the process. The wet sweater, she
knew would dry but her dripping bra she found impossible to stand. Wet wool or wet cotton she could
deal with but both together? "Uh-uh." she thought. "One of these has got to go!" Since Logan had turned
to give her some privacy, Jean simply unsnapped her bra and fished it out. As she was pulling it out her
sleeve, however, the strap on one side snapped. "Oh well," she thought with resignation. "It was an old
one anyway. I'll get a fresh one out of my bag at the first rest stop we come to." She left the old bra in the
field, under a bush, not wanting Logan to know she had removed it.
All in all, Jean reflected, she felt refreshed after her little bath, if still a bit cold and shaky. She
climbed back into the hummer slowly and leaned her head back on the soft leather seat.
"Logan," she began but he was already saying,
"Jeanie," with an ernest look on his face.
"Me first, Logan, please." she said weakly. "I'm so sorry I was such a bitch to you this morning. I
guess I just couldn't deal with what happened between us. But there's no excuse for me acting like an
immature idiot. I was stupid and mean, can you forgive me?"
"Only if you forgive me, Darlin'" he said in a low, ashamed voice. "I never ment ta make ya ill,
Jeanie. Hurtin' you is the last thing I'd ever want ta do. But damn it!" He slammed his hands on the steering
wheel in self disgust, "That's all I seem ta know how ta do lately!"
"Oh, no, Logan. You don't get all the credit for this little scene, my dear. Don't forget, I started it!"
she pointed out. "And ended it too, all over myself." she added in such a mournfull tone that Logan had to
laugh. His rich, hearty chuckle rumbled up from his deep chest and filled the cab. Suddenly the whole
day seemed brighter to Jean.. She smiled a little herself and then couldn't help laughing along with Logan,
he had such a catching chuckle!
"It wasn't *that* funny." she said as their burst of hillarity finally tapered off.
"Guess not, Darlin', but ya *do* look a little like a drowned rat." Logan said, grinning. Jean sighed,
but not unhappily.
"Oh, I know, but maybe I deserve it." she said meditively.
"Well, if it comes ta that, we both do." Logan answered softly. "Ya know, we've been actin' like a
couple o' kids today, pouting and snappin' at each other. We just need ta give it a rest and grow up.
After all, we're adults. We can work all this out- it's not such a big flamin' deal, Darlin'."
"That's right! That's just exactly what I've been telling myself all along!" she exclaimed "I should
have just taken a calm attitude towards this whole thing but I let myself get pannicked. ..... Not like
Professor Xavier was such a big help in keeping me calm." she muttered under her breath, thinking
resentfully of the "You are doomed to have indescriminate sex, it is your biological destiny" speech he
had given her yesterday. It had made her feel helpless, desperate. And look where those feelings had
gotten her- right into a silly, hurtful fight with Logan, a friend she truely cared about. Maybe if the Prof.
had been more understanding and supportive the whole ugly scene could have been avoided!
"Yeah, I went to him too and he gave me some mumbo-jumbo about genes and drives. Load o'
crap- ya know?"
"Exactly." she answered. "That's exactly what it is, Logan. We should just ignore all that....stuff
and go on being good friends and finish this mission together. We'll put all this behind us and concentrate
on the buisness at hand."
"So we're callin' a truce, Darlin?" Logan asked, smiling. "No more tryin' ta stink each other out?"
"No," she agreed smiling. "I think I can promise you never to wear that particular perfume again."
"Good," he said, with feeling. "That stuff could make a strong man cry, Darlin'! And likewise, I
promise no more cigars in enclosed areas."
"Thanks, Logan." she said fervantly. "Well, we'd better be getting along, I guess."
"Guess so." he answered. Jean wanted to reach across the seat and squeeze his hand for
reassurance but she didn't. It might not be quite safe. In the enclosed cab of the hummer, the rich, musky
fragrence that was Logan's scent began to reach out to her. She wondered drowsily if her own scent was
affecting him as well. But before she could think about that possibility or the implications of it, she fell
into a deep, dreamless sleep. The delicious scent followed her down and drawn by it as an iron filing is to
a magnet, she shifted towards Logan in her sleep untill her head rested against his thigh. Logan sighed and
looked down at the beautiful face and crimson hair spread over his jeans like a silken shawl. His hands
itched to caress that beauty and her rich, inviting scent filled him with desire and fear for what the future
might hold. He didn't want to hurt her, but he wasn't sure he could help himself. His knuckles whitened
as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Better just keep driving. It was better that way...safer. Just keep
driving. So he did.