Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.
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Some classical she had grown to love was playing as the school shook with the return of the X-men, the basketball court folding back for the supersonic jet to make it's vertical landing down into the subterranean hangar. Idly she wondered just how many balls had been lost down it's maw over the years, having another sip of her tea and realizing she had been reading the same page three times now before throwing it at her bed.
The knock at her door came that she had been dreading, having spent the afternoon avoiding him and helping with the kids. Staring out her bay window, the frantic explanation of her friend had been running through her head mingled with visions of Logan looking truly as beaten as he had on coming back from Alcatraz. She couldn't hate the woman, the woman who had everything and martyred herself to save them all. But she could hate the Phoenix that rose from death, the one that took so much right down to a piece of Logan's heart with her.
Hearing the knocking again and the urgency in it, she threw her legs out from under her curled repose and stalked off to throw it open and glare at the man standing there through her watery, angry eyes.
"Marie..." Logan began.
"No, not tonight! Go..." Marie snapped, slamming the door to find it blocked with a foot.
Slamming it again twice before throwing it open in a fit, she turned her back to him and walked to her window to stare out at the night feeling all her hard earned calm shattered. The music played on and through it she heard him close the door that he lingered at. She saw him there in the window looking unsure, so rare to see the Wolverine looking anything other than cocksure and full of indomitable assurance. It was one of the things that had first kindled the childish crush that she had kept in check when he had been off in search of himself, postcards coming in that she dotted on her wall and strung together with string once more dreaming of distant lands to travel.
"I'm sorry fer runnin' off..." Logan said, taking the first few steps towards her.
She waited until she knew he was at her back, spinning about and slapping him hard, glaring into his eyes and seeing defeat in them again. The hurt she suffered was there too, a hint of nose flaring anger rising as he clenched his jaw and held his ground. However much she hated to spill tears for him to see, she was crying her pain as she worked through her anger.
"You think this is about that, about running off?" Marie hissed, stabbing a finger into his chest that balled into a fist as she drew back.
Throwing her punch that was easily caught, he held her wrist firm yet gentle and did the same as she threw another wild attack with her free arm. Struggling to get free, he held her for a moment and then let go, all the while staring at her looking for understanding she didn't want to give him, reason for her rage. Twisting off and wrapping her arms about herself, she leaned against the wall and looked to the floor unable to even see the reflections that littered her room, a mirror here, a window there, the gloss of a photo hung upon the wall.
"Then what's it about?" Logan asked, the spark of a match coming moments before the first aromatic scent of a cigar wafted in the room.
Meeting his eyes in her window, she saw now he was playing dumb, the same pain in them she had seen years ago on the second funeral they had held for the late Jean Grey.
"If only she had stayed dead..." Marie whispered as she held his gaze.
That had him looking with downcast eyes away from her, away from all the hurt that had come after thinking those ghosts were finally laid to rest. She had proved herself a woman in her own right, time away from the school having her own reunions with him reigniting that childish crush she had nursed for so long. The distance between them wasn't so different, the touches lingering longer and without any hint of wholesome friendship between them. It had all cumulated in a nights passion that had her claiming him for herself, and then in one moment she was made to feel sixteen again.
"She was never yours..." Marie renewed.
"I know." Logan whispered, his left to burn forgotten between his fingers as the smoke drifted unto the ceiling.
"Then why?!" Marie snarled as she turned to face him.
No answer came and it only fuelled all her mood, stalking up to him to force him to stare into her eyes. It was worse than the Blackbird now, he wasn't broken and out of his mind, he was the same man whose heart beat to the same large strokes that he lived his life with.
"You're never going to be able to love me with all your heart, not as long as she still has that piece..." Marie said in barely more than a breath.
Her crush had burned hotter than ever and now she was set upon the path that would have her give herself wholly to him if only he'd have her. She was free to love him with every ounce of her being, give herself unto him heart and soul. Looking at him now she wondered if this was truly who he was, the man always looking into the past because he had lost his, the man who could never let go.
His answer came as he turned his back to her and stood at the door with a hand clasped on the knob, clenching so hard veins stood as he struggled not to crush it. Tearing it open and slamming it behind him, she stood there feeling her heart ache as she struggled to breath.
"Because you still love her..." Marie whispered knowing he likely could still hear her.
Finally the storming of his angry strides sounded as he left her door, every one a fresh ache as her heart struggled on. Walking off to flick the lights off and making her way back to her bay window, she sat down to shed those tears and find the strength to wait, wait for him to make his choice. The choice to finally bury Jean and stop living in the past, their future together depending on it so she could freely give herself to him.
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One phone call lead to another and a few more before he knew it, lounging now in the one feature of the suite he had asked for explicitly, a large cast iron soaker large enough for his frame. Room service had come by with the beer and a steak, enjoying both in the bath to some good ol' Rock and Roll that reminded him of napalm in the mornings. Throwing the bone in the trash and prying off the cap of his latest beer with a claw, he slugged it back waiting in anticipation. Eyeballing his phone making a dash along the floor, he reached for it and hit the speaker.
"Your guest has arrived sir, we're showing her up."
"Good." Victor replied, hanging up and tossing it to the counter.
Pounding back his beer and climbing out of the soaker tub, Victor started to towel off with a look to himself in the mirror. Throwing the towel over his neck and drawing a sink of pipping hot water, he got a lather going for a shave just before getting his razor ready with a fresh blade. Now a classic, the idea of anything other than a straight razor had been a novelty when he had first bought it, a constant companion through two world wars to the cold war and beyond.
Clean shaven and running a bit of gel through his hair, he splashed on some aftershave and met himself grinning in the mirror. Hearing the door open along with some the angry stomping of feet, they quieted as the door shut. In those calls he had made there had been a few to certain shops down on Fifth Avenue, giving himself one last look before he snagged two beers from the ice chest and announced himself.
She stood staring at the dress laid out on the bed, the same cut as the classic little black dress but in a dark red that set his blood running hot. Leaning against the frame shower fresh so to speak, dangling a beer in offer as he kept one in reserve, he held her eyes and saw how they widened as she took in his physique. Their first meeting had been desperate and hungry, now he wanted to show her he wasn't just the sort of man that spent his days finding fights in bars and dressing up as a biker.
"Like what ya see?" Victor asked, tossing her a beer.
Catching it and having a look to the cap, he watched her pull out a key ring with a bottle opener dangling from it, cracking hers open for a long swig that put her delicate neck on display. Staring at it hungrily and longing to run his teeth over it, to mark it as his own, he joined her after popping his with the claw of his thumb to down nearly the whole bottle.
"You said you'd tell me everything." Jubilee said with a gasped breath.
"Oh, I plan ta, just where we're goin' they got a dress code and I don't think you'd fit in." Victor said with a lecherous grin.
Dressed for the road, if there was one thing he loved in life it was tailing a lady on a bike sporting a tight pair of jeans or riding leathers. The jacket was her own this time, thrown open to show a band shirt that hinted at her so in a hurry to meet him she forgot her bra. Meeting her own interest with his own, the glance she threw south of the belt had a blush dot her cheeks that had him fighting just not to take her then hoping she'd fight him the whole time tearing at his flesh and biting him.
"You're fucking kidding right?" Jubilee asked, looking down to the dress on the bed and throwing a glance to the dry cleaning that hung at the back of the door.
Turning his back to her and fetching his suit, he walked off to the dresser for everything else he'd need. The flash of teeth as she bit her bottom lip stuck in a moments indecision had him purring low in his chest, pulling on a pair of boxers before his slacks. Finally she proved herself anything but a dainty flower, stripping for him as he watched from the mirror of his vanity, throwing clothing to the floor and revealing herself right down to every bruise and welt form the night past.
Struggling for the faltering control, he fed his beast promises the night to come to gain some of the slack that had been stolen from his hand. Neglige first, it was a strip tease in reverse watching her slip on the silky undergarments as he buttoned up his own shirt. As many years alive and in the company of so many women, he had an eye for them like no other and it fit perfectly. With eyes only for the dress as it was drawn on, he finished tying his tie and walked up to her in silent offer of a hand with the zipper.
Looking down at her and her wind tussled hair, she was a sight to behold and he longed for the time when he could relive the moment past in reverse and the promise of everything else it held. To her credit, she made a show of adjusting his tie only to draw him down to her level until their eyes were dangerously close. Not quite a beast, he saw in her eyes something that she had to fight with herself.
"You better not be fucking with me..." Jubilee hissed, her hands tightly holding his tie.
"Or what?" Victor asked.
The flash of whatever she fought to hold in thrall flared in her eyes, the tang the moment before a lightning strike filling the air as every beat of his heart flushed him with unbridled want and longing. Crushing his lips against hers and savouring the pain as her teeth pierced his flesh, the blood mingled in the embrace. Hands at his throat were met with his own in her hair, snatching up the leash in time to break away before he threw her on the bed and claimed her. Her tongue finding a spot of his blood on her lips was torture, his view of her walking to the door holding a pair of stilettos in hand a delight as her hips swayed to and fro.
"Or I won't come back here tonight, and you can go fuck yourself." Jubilee said without a look back.
Snatching up his jacket and running a hand through his hair, Victor followed after her, taking her against him and grinning at every jealous look thrown their way. The Big Dog was coming through, and the pups were welcome to try after his mate, he'd send them all running off with their tail between their legs.
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