RATED 'R'
WARNING - PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!
This chapter contains sexual situations, violence, and offensive language.
If this is NOT your cup of tea, please stop reading now.
Disclaimer - Not mine, none of 'em. Any questions?
The Awakening - Part Four
Logan ran his hands through a mass of luxurious, red hair, feeling it slide over his skin like silken threads.
"Jean..." he murmured, feeling her trembling body pressing close against his own, her fragrance enclosing him in a sweet cloud.
She was warm, wrapped securely in his arms, her fingers lightly tracing a path along his shoulders and up against his neck. He could feel his blood burning and his heart pounded almost painfully, his breath was coming in panting gasps. Pressing his lips against her throat, his tongue darted out and played along her collarbone, causing her to shiver and moan. He couldn't resist nipping softly at her sweet flesh, her delicate frame shifting closer to him as he did so.
His knee nudged her thighs apart, to which she responded by pressing herself wantonly into his firmly muscled body, gripping the intruding leg between her own so she could grind her pelvis against it. Logan could feel her wet heat penetrate through his jeans, could smell her arousal mingling sharply with the heady perfume that surrounded and intoxicated his senses.
Jean's hand slipped under his t-shirt and teased the wiry hair that covered his chest, while her lips danced along the sensitive skin of his neck.
"Logan...Logan..." she breathed in a passionate, pleading voice, her full breasts finding their way into his eager hands.
"Jeannie..." came his answering groan, overwhelmed by her obvious desire.
"Logan...Logan!" Her call seemed to recede, coming from further away.
"Jeannie?"
The red hair seemed to disappear before his confused stare, her form becoming insubstantial in his embrace. Her tantalizing smell seemed to evaporate along with her, leaving only the faintest whisper for him to savor.
"Logan?" the same faraway voice queried.
His eyes opened groggily...to Kitty standing over his bed.
He blinked several times before his eyes could focus, the sunlight pouring through his windows nearly blinding him with its intensity. In his newly woken state, he could see Kitty looking at him strangely, expectantly,...uneasily.
"Umm...I was sent to see if you'd be joining the rest of us for breakfast. Ororo's made her special pancakes," she said, fidgeting nervously.
Logan sat up and found himself entangled in his sheets - damp with sweat - and, to his dismay, uncomfortably erect. Cursing in irritation not completely of the bedclothes' making, his claws suddenly shot out and sliced the costly fabric into ribbons, making Kitty jump. Catching her look of wide-eyed shock, he tried to compose himself and attempted a wan smile.
"Sorry, Half-pint. Didn't sleep too well," he said by way of explaining his obvious bad mood.
"And soooo...you, like, take it out on your sheets?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Something tells me that the Professor isn't going to accept a 'bad dream' as the cause of death for his pricey flannels." She picked up a shred of the cloth and appraised it, absently asking, "It was a bad dream, though, wasn't it?"
Logan's hand came up to massage his forehead wearily. "Yah, you could sorta say that," he grumbled before wondering what she meant. His eyes went back to her, wary and guarded. "Why?" he asked darkly.
Kitty looked as if she wished she hadn't bothered to ask. "Oh...uh, no reason!" she said, forcing a shaky laugh, the ravaged bit of sheet falling unnoticed to the floor. "I just heard you, like, making all this noise when I knocked on your door and then I came in when you didn't answer and you were, like, calling out for, uh...s-someone and thrashing around and uhm..." Her words poured out in a rush and her cheeks became pink with embarrassment at recounting her intrusion.
Logan sighed heavily and pressed the heels of both palms against his eyes. The momentary darkness brought his dream back to life in startling, vivid colour. He could almost feel the tickle of russet locks brush against his face...
He lowered his hands, a good-natured, if still sleepy, smile lighting his features. "Go on down to breakfast, kiddo, I'll be there in a coupla' minutes."
She gave him a relieved nod and padded out of his room, bare feet making no sound as they tread across the thickly plush carpeting.
Once he was alone, Logan pulled the remains of his sheets from his body and tossed them into a pile beside the bed. He sat up, wincing at the tightness in his groin, and cursed softly under his breath.
He walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned the water on in the upright shower, letting steam cloud the small space and obscure the mirror in haze before stripping off his sweat pants. Entering the stall, he let the hot water course over his body, hoping it would wash away the lingering aftereffects of his dream. He closed his eyes under the pounding jet of liquid, allowing it run into his open mouth, both hands braced against the cool tiles that lined the walls.
What the hell's happening to me? He wondered, spitting out a mouthful of water. First I lose it during that damned game of tag th' other night, now this...
He reached for a bar of soap and began rubbing it in slow circles against his chest, lather forming almost instantly. The sudsy cake left trails of bubbles across skin until it finally moved to his lower regions.
When he encountered his stiff, still fully engorged shaft, he couldn't contain the hiss ofsurprise that escaped him, as a ripple of desire shuddered unbidden through his body at the contact. His soap-slick hand slid down its hard length unconsciously, thoughts of Jean instantly flooding into his mind, imagining that it was her deft ministrations that were bringing his blood to a boil, that the hot wetness surrounding him was her own.
In his head, the dream continued from where it had ended so abruptly.
Her naked, white thighs were now wrapped securely around his waist; the hand stroking him so surely became her tight sex clenching him within its virgin grip. The memory of her scent was all around him and the dancing streams of water transformed into fiery tendrils of hair that seemed to be touching him everywhere at once.
"Jeannie..." he rasped, breaths coming in ragged pants.
Several more strokes was all it took before his eyes squeezed shut - almost as if he were in pain, his teeth bit into his lower lip, and his body was racked by a series of jerking spasms.
Spent and shaking uncontrollably, he let his head rest against the soothing coolness of the blue and green tiles, the remaining soapsuds sluicing down his body to swirl at his feet. His dark eyes flickered open to stare at nothing, a shivery sigh escaping his lips, while the turmoil in his mind spun madly.
What am I going to do?
"You can't tell me that you're, like, gonna back out now! You promised to take me to the mall later today to look for a dress!" Kitty cried, bright eyes dimmed by disappointment.
Jean, sipping her orange juice, was aware that the entire table had gone silent at her announcement, all save for her young friend. Replacing the glass beside her empty plate, she shook her head. "Just because I've decided not to go to the Spring Formal doesn't mean I won't help you, Kitty. We'll still go dress shopping today," she said with a little smile. "I just won't be getting one for myself, that's all."
"But Ah thought you'd already told Duncan you'd be goin' with him?" Rogue asked, animosity towards the redhead forgotten as confusion took its place.
"I...well, I'll call him and cancel. The dance isn't for another week, he can find another date," Jean said, only momentarily reconsidering her decision. After all, she had agreed to go with Duncan over a month ago. It seemed a little unfair to change her mind so close to the event and leave him hanging.
"Not likely..." muttered Scott from behind the newspaper.
Jean flashed him an irritated look. "Scott, Duncan is -" she began in a lecturing tone before Kitty interrupted.
"But why, Jean? We had everything planned and it's gonna be, like, the most amazing night of the school year! Everyone will be there, looking incredible and...and it won't feel the same without you!" she said between mouthfuls of Ororo's honey-cinnamon pancakes.
While she chewed the last forkful, Kurt took up her cause.
"C'mon, Jean! You know you want to go!" he said grabbing a startled Evan's hand. Pulling him up, Kurt began to dance an exaggerated tango, Evan following his lead with a laugh. "There'll be music...laughter," he said, twirling his blond partner. "And did we mention...dancing?"
Both his and Evan's eyes turned to stare at her in mock-seriousness before Kurt attempted a dip. Leaning over too far, the usually fuzzy German lost his balance and the two boys tumbled into a heap on the kitchen floor.
The girls all giggled and Scott managed a disgusted snort. Ororo, mixing another bowl of batter at the counter, watched their antics with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.
Evan's head popped up to regard Jean from across the table.
"Aww, Jean, do you want to hear us all beg? This is more than just a dance, it's...it's..." he groped for the right words as he climbed back into his chair. "It's a...team effort!" he finished triumphantly, reaching for another helping of pancakes.
Jean sighed, wishing they'd stop badgering her. Of course she wanted to go to the dance, wanted to dress up and have fun with her friends. But after the other night with Logan in the woods...
Her eyes sparkled as her mind replayed the details of their encounter for what seemed like the millionth time.
She couldn't go to the formal with Duncan, not when her heart was so firmly set on another. Not only did it feel like a betrayal in a strange sense, but the house would practically be empty that night.
A slow, hopeful smile curved her lips as she thought about the things she'd planned for that evening, things that involved her, Logan, and maybe another run around the estate.
And with no interruption this time, she promised silently, goosebumps raising along her arms as she shivered with expectation.
Her friends all started talking at once, each determined to be the one that changed her mind, when a damp-haired Logan strode into the kitchen looking more annoyed than usual. Jean sent him a dazzling smile when she saw him, but he chose to ignore it, instead turning to nod a curt greeting to Ororo. He grabbed a plate, speared some pancakes, and leaned back against the counter to eat, attention riveted on his food.
Jean felt a little crestfallen at his coldness, but determinedly pushed her hurt feelings aside.
He's always irritable in the morning, she assured herself, eyes glued to his every movement.
Logan, despite his earlier release, felt as edgy as a caged tiger as he wolfed down the lightly sweetened cakes Ororo had prepared. All he could smell was Jean's fragrance mixing temptingly with the aroma of cinnamon that hung heavy in the air, which served to agitate him further. He didn't want to look at her for fear his resolve would crumble, but he couldn't help noticing the noise coming from the group sitting around the table.
"What's with all the racket?" he bellowed, staring his students down with a face like a thunderhead.
Every mouth closed abruptly and all eyes turned to regard him warily, even Jean's.
"Umm...it's nothing, Logan. We -" Jean found her voice first - just hearing it made his heart stutter like a schoolboy's.
Kitty jumped up, once again interrupting.
"We're all, like, going to this totally humongous dance next week, and Jean decided she doesn't want to go anymore, so we're trying to convince her. We were going to go shopping for dresses and shoes and everything!" she reported, her eager tone slipping into a petulant whine.
"Kitty! I said we could still go look at dresses!" Jean protested, face flushing.
Chewing his food, Logan turned his hardened gaze in her direction. "What's the matter, Red?" he asked, a nasty smirk on his handsome face. "Not able to cut it with th' guys?"
He saw her recoil from his malicious tone, shoulders drawing up in surprise. He disregarded her reaction, and the unfriendly glare from Ororo.
"Nah, Jean was asked over a month ago," Evan said, digging into yet another helping of food.
"Yeah, and only by tha' most popular boy in school," Rogue added with something akin to pride. She normally didn't stick up for Jean, the person she seemed to be at odds with most, but something in Logan's tone had caused her hackles to rise defensively on the other girl's behalf.
Logan barely registered the anomaly as a flash of jealousy shot through him at the Rogue's words, seizing him quickly, violently, and without thought. Clenching his fist, he quickly took control of his wayward emotions and attempted to refocus himself.
"So if she's got it all figured out, then what's the problem?" he asked, lip curling disdainfully.
All eyes turned to Jean to await the reasoning behind her hasty decision. Under their combined scrutiny, she started twisting one of the silver rings she wore, looking at Logan questioningly as she did so.
"Why do you think I should go?" she parried back at him.
"Because yer a kid, an' kids go to dances so that grown ups can have a night off from babysittin'. Not to mention how you'd be breaking what's-his-name's heart," he said, the word 'babysitting' coming out with a sneer.
Ororo gave him a withering look before rounding the table and placing a motherly hand on the girl's shoulder."Jean, pay him no mind. Not only do I think you would be cheating yourself of a wonderful time, but you would be disappointing your friends and the young man who is expecting to go with you," she said, leaning down to embrace her stricken charge. "What I cannot fathom is that you've been speaking of nothing else but this event these past few weeks.What could possibly have changed your mind?" the silver-haired woman asked, her cheek pressing comfortingly against the other girl's.
Logan met Jean's stare unflinchingly.
"I...I thought I had a reason," she started, wounded eyes watching Logan before shifting to look down at the tabletop. "I guess there never was one..." she murmured, suddenly breaking free from Ororo's arms and running from the room, leaving everyone to look after her, mouths' agape.
All except one.
Going back to his breakfast like nothing had happened, Logan ate mechanically, the food's flavour now replaced by the sour bitterness that flooded through him.
It had to be done, he told himself with all the conviction he could muster. An' I'll keep on doing it until you see how crazy this whole situation is, Jeannie. Yer not old enough to know what you want from life yet. You can't be blamed fer what you think you feel...
He snorted derisively.
But me? I'm supposed t' be an adult, th' one who knows better, and what do I do? Encourage ya...draw ya in deeper...hurt ya...
His eyes closed, shame overpowering every other emotion he currently felt.
He tossed his half-empty plate into the sink where it clattered noisily, drawing the attention of everyone still remaining in the room, before stalking angrily out the back door.
Pounding across the dew-dusted lawn, robins taking startled flight as his passing interrupted their search for food, he sought refuge in solitude from the black mood that was threatening to overtake him.
With one last glance at the house over his shoulder, he shook his head again.
I'm sorry, Red...so sorry...
"Ooohh, Jean! What do you think of this one?" Kitty asked, holding a swath of powdery blue fabric against her chest.
Glancing at the dress without seeing it, Jean nodded absently. "Sure Kitty. Why don't you try it on?" she suggested, glumly watching her friend charge off to find a change room.
They'd been at the mall for hours, and so far Rogue was the only one in possession of a gown for the formal, Kitty turning out to be surprisingly particular for someone so young. Both girls had tried enticing Jean to try certain things on, only to be met with distracted indifference, leaving them exasperated. The last two stores, they'd chosen to stop being so encouraging, instead channeling their enthusiasm into their own causes.
A small part of Jean felt bad for not being more supportive of her teammates, more grateful for their obvious concern, but she couldn't bother. Her head was simply too full of Logan for anything else to matter.
What was his problem this morning? Did I say or do something that upset him? She wondered, his scathing words echoing through her mind every few seconds. She pondered each sentence, tone, every look and gesture from breakfast in an attempt to discover from where his displeasure with her stemmed.
Kitty emerged from the rear of the store, draped in soft folds of the palest blue, spinning around delightedly for Jean's perusal.
"Well?" she asked with a giggle.
Snapping out of her trance, Jean looked critically at the girl for a few seconds. She let a brief smile escape and nodded at her friend. "It's beautiful, Kitty. I think you've found your dress," she said, ready to go back to her thoughts, when an idea suddenly struck.
Kitty, squealing excitedly, was jumping around in front of a full-length mirror when Jean caught hold of her hand and her attention.
"Kitty," she began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Why do you think Logan was so...cranky this morning? Did he say anything out of the ordinary when you went to wake him up for breakfast?"
The younger brunette's face paled for only a fraction of a second before her usual sunny smile returned to beam full force. "Is that what's been bothering you all afternoon? A charm-school reject's grumpiness?" she asked in a surprised tone, patting the hand that held hers.
A high-pitched titter escaped her, betraying her nervousness under Jean's intense stare.
"Jean, Ororo was, like, so right when she told you not to listen to him. What does he know about anything besides fighting and being mean?" she offered, hoping it would appease the other girl.
Seeing the beseeching look in her friend's green eyes, Kitty sighed in defeat and turned away to regard her image again.
"When I knocked on his door, I heard him..." she paused, as if weighing her words. "...Calling out your name. I didn't ask him about it because I didn't want to pry. He did mention, though, that he'd been having a bad dream. Maybe whatever it was he dreamt upset him enough to take it out on you," she admitted.
She spun about quickly and gave Jean a deadly serious look.
"Please don't tell him I told you. I didn't, like, let on I'd heard anything out of the ordinary and I think he'd be mad if he found out I did. Like it was an invasion of privacy of something."
Jean filled with hope at the girl's candor, suppressing it with difficulty as she gave her friend a warm smile. "Of course I won't, Kitty - I really appreciate that you could confide in me."
Kitty exhaled in relief at her words.
"It certainly helps put this morning into perspective," Jean mused quietly, a million ideas flooding her head at once.
Impatient to get home to research a nagging theory, she made an effort to quiet her excitement and continue helping her friends with their preparations for the dance, fully prepared to shop right along with them now that her mood had improved so greatly.
I'll figure this out yet, she thought determinedly, reaching for a dress that had escaped her notice while she'd been buried in apathy.
You won't get rid of me so easily, Logan, not without one hell of fight...
The following week passed uneventfully for Jean, as she perfected her look for the formal and studied for the upcoming final exams. She'd stayed true to her word and not said anything to Logan about his dream, or much else for that matter as he'd been avoiding her religiously.
The day after the episode in the kitchen, after placing Kitty's revelation alongside all the other facts she'd gleaned from the various telepathic 'skims' she'd performed on him unawares, Jean felt like kicking herself for being so stupid.
He was scared of his growing feelings for her, trying to push her away in a vain attempt to deny the truth to himself. All those times he thought on their difference in ages and his position as her one of her instructors...he was using those concerns to build a wall around himself, shutting her out with the one weapon he had left; his hurtful, wounding, disdainful words.
It was that dream he had that must have initiated the start of the barrier, she thought, smoothing a wisp of hair back from her face. Must have been...disturbing...
She let out a triumphant little smile at the thought, fingertips pausing over the keyboard of her computer where she was typing up a report for a project.
A tiny frown replaced the smile as she pondered her next step.
It was Thursday, the night before the formal, and she had hoped to find a moment to speak to Logan in private, convinced that she could rectify the situation if she could just talk with him.
She glanced at the computer screen's clock. 8:37pm.
If you're going to track him down, now's as good a time as ever, a voice in her head prompted.
Saving her work, she switched the computer off, stood up to stretch, and began the hunt for her elusive prey.
The common room was full of students, watching t.v. and playing pool. After casting a quick glance around, she moved on, not spying Logan in the mix.
The corridor she fairly dashed down was dim, the only light coming from irregularly spaced antique hurricane lamps, fat, three-wick candles burning fitfully behind their glass chimneys. The massive door of the Professor's study loomed into view. Light peeked from underneath it and muted voices could be heard coming from beyond the thick, oak paneling. Jean placed her ear at the crack between the door and frame and tried to discern who was involved in the late night meeting.
Professor Xavier, Ororo, and...Hank by the sounds of it, no Logan. She huffed disappointedly.
Traipsing into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water, dejected yet strangely relieved. As much as she wanted to talk to Logan about their situation, something within her wanted to hold back.
She raised the water to her lips and took a deep swallow, idly looking out the small window over the sink, nearly choking in alarm when she saw a shadow moving around in the backyard. Wiping away drops of water from her chin, she set the glass down on the counter and made her way to the sliding doors that led outside, an icy calmness spreading through her body, leaving her numb.
"Courage..." she whispered, striding confidently towards the form that moved within the darkness.
Logan punched and kicked imaginary foes while his muscles burned and begged for rest. Long past recognizing any discomfort, he halted only long enough to wipe the perspiration from his eyes, breathing hard and heavy.
He'd taken to practicing whenever he had a free moment, believing that exertion would sweat his impure thoughts from him like one would sweat out an illness, that exhaustion would deny his brain the energy it needed to produce any more dreams - erotic or otherwise.
So far, it hadn't been working as well as he'd hoped.
He quickly moved back into a fighting stance, performing a series of jumps and rolls, swipes and lunges, flowing from one step to another with the grace of a dancer, until he caught wind of Jean.
Goddammit all...can't I get any peace? He swore inwardly, releasing his claws with an angry gesture.
He contemplated making a dash for the nearby trees to escape her, but shook his head resolutely.
I don't run from anything, 'specially not some slip of a girl! His inner voice growled, claws sliding through the air with each swing of his arms as he continued with his exercises.
A second later, he felt her presence behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he waited for her to speak, hoping she'd take his silence at face value and go away.
It was wishful thinking.
"Logan?" he heard her call out, her tone one of uncertainty.
"What?" he asked, still refusing to look back at her.
"Can we...talk?"
Logan could tell she was nervous, could smell her hesitancy, her fear, overpowering her normal feminine scent. For some reason, that realization made him uneasy.
"Whaddaya want t' talk about?" he panted, pushing himself still harder.
He heard her shift, a slight rustling of clothing, before she answered.
"Us."
His heart stopped. For a millisecond, he couldn't breathe. His evenly timed slashes faltered as the first trickles of dread seeped into his veins.
Stick with the program, grated harshly in his head.
He took a ragged gasp of air, feeling his blood begin to pump once again, and resumed the combination punch-slice he'd been about to perform before she'd spoken.
"Us? What th' hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked, forcing a guttural laugh while his insides churned crazily.
"You know what I mean, Logan," she said gently, coming around to where she could see his face.
"I'm sure I don't," he retorted angrily as he felt his body's treacherous reaction to her nearness. "Why don't you enlighten me?" he sneered.
Logan watched as her eyes traveled to his bare chest, slick with sweat, before connecting again with his own. He shuddered as if her gaze had been an actual caress.
He halted his training and reached for a towel at his feet, wiping away the excess moisture that clung to his skin. Looking at her over the dark fabric as he rubbed it across his face, he tried to sound impatient.
"Well?"
Jean, arms crossed beneath her breasts, bit her lip before opening her mouth, no sound emerging when she did so. Her eyes closed once, as if searching for inner strength, and then opened to regard him, a recklessly bewildered light giving them an inner glow.
"I- I think I'm in love with you, Logan," was said so faintly, he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
The towel fell to the ground, forgotten, as he leaned towards her.
"W-what?" he asked incredulously, not positive he'd hear her even now as his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears.
Jean seemed to have gained added confidence from saying it the first time, and repeated, louder this time. "I think I'm in love with you."
He stared at her uncomprehendingly, as if she'd spoken a foreign language, as he tried to absorb the meaning behind her words. He felt his face go slack with shock and his hands start to tremble. He took an involuntary step towards her.
She - she said...she said...
Control, he told himself. It's all about control.
But she just said...I can't believe what she...
Control, Logan. Focus.
He gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, stilling their shaking while molding his face into a mask of cold indifference.
"You don't know what yer talkin' about," he said with a scornful laugh, making an about-face and walking purposefully back to the house, leaving the towel where it lay and the redhead where she stood.
A cool evening breeze washed over his heated body, threading through the damp hair on his head and chest. He took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow to a more even pace, resolved not to look back at Jean.
Inwardly, he kept recycling all his reasons for doing what he was doing like a litany, trying to keep himself from examining his real reaction to her words, knowing that to do so would be disastrous.
She said...she said...I can't believe, can't understand, it's not possible, his mind muttered amidst all his other thoughts, distracting him from hearing the soft cadence of running footsteps behind.
Jean had waited for all of two seconds after he walked away before stooping down to retrieve his towel and taking off after his retreating form.
What have I done? Why did I say that? Where did those words even come from? She wondered frantically as she hurried after him.
True, it had felt good to finally say what she'd been wanting to tell him for what seemed like an eternity, but by the same token, she'd just left herself completely open.
Open, and terribly, hopelessly, vulnerable.
"Logan, wait!" she cried, knowing instinctively that there was more to his feelings than he was letting on.
He didn't stop at her voice, so when she caught up to him, she grabbed for his arm, only to be shaken off roughly. Taken aback but far from disheartened, Jean zipped in front of him and planted herself directly in his path. He halted and looked at her in irritation.
"I'm not finished," she stated, spreading her arms out when he tried to go around her. A menacing rumble came from his throat but he stayed put, impatience warring with tolerance on his face. "What you said was unfair," she continued, bringing her telepathic abilities to the forefront of her mind.
She didn't really want to use them on him, wanted his reaction to be a natural one, born of authentic desire. But if he maintained this stubborn, bull-headed attitude with her, she was prepared to slip in a suggestive image or two.
After all, she intoned silently, all's fair in love and war...
Logan hadn't responded, just quirked an eyebrow questioningly.
"What you said - about not knowing what I was talking about? It wasn't justified. I may be young, but how does that exclude me from having feelings? At what age are you supposed to be able to love someone? Better yet, when was the first time you fell in love?" she asked, eyes narrowed.
She probed his mind quickly for his real response.
...so many times, so many women over the years...none were like you, Red...none of 'em...
She withdrew.
"None o' your business." His hand went up touch his forehead curiously, as if feeling something tickling his skin.
Clumsy, girl, very clumsy, Jean admonished herself, realizing that her withdrawing hadn't gone unnoticed.
"I know you have some feelings for me," she maintained.
"I do for all you kids - yer my responsibility, I look out fer ya, make sure you train hard and stay safe. There's nothin' beyond that, Red, whatever you may think."
"Nothing?" she scoffed indignantly. "Were you feeling 'nothing' when we sat together watching t.v. the other week? You had your arm around me, and at one point I thought you were going to -"
"It was a mistake!" Logan shouted, cutting her off, eyes flashing dangerously. Visibly taking hold of his anger, he lowered the volume. "It was a mistake," he repeated softly, eyes still hard as obsidian. "I was...wrong...very wrong. If I'd known that my actions would contribute to this - this...supposed infatuation, then I wouldn't have done what I did."
Jean faltered as some of her assuredness slipped.
"What about our training session in the woods the other night?"
"Another mistake, one that'll never happen again," he vowed, pushing past her.
"Was that dream a mistake?" she blurted out in desperation, watching him walk away.
Recklessly, her consciousness touched his mind again to gauge his reaction.
At her voice, Logan had frozen on the stones of the patio. She could feel his shock, his anger, and more powerfully, his shame at the question. Afraid of losing him even now, she pressed the issue while moving towards him.
"Do you call out other student's names in your sleep?" A pace away, she saw him flinch.
"Jeannie..." His voice held a warning tone as she stepped beside him, his head bowed, body shaking.
"Some part of you must want me," she breathed near his ear, her anxiety making her brazen.
She let one of her hands brush against his naked shoulder, the tips of her manicured nails delicately tracing the ridges of muscles that quivered beneath her butterfly-light touch.
Even with her psi-link giving her access to his mind, she was unprepared for what he did next.
He jumped towards her, moving so fast she couldn't have avoided him if she'd tried. His hands darted out, grabbing her upper arms, fingers digging into her soft flesh like twin vices, catching her completely off guard. She gasped in surprise at the ferocity of his actions.
His eyes bored into hers, barely suppressed rage giving them an evil glow, as he gave her a shake.
"What do you want me to say?" he snarled, face an inch away from hers.
"Logan -" she tried, frightened as she felt his thought waves begin to spin erratically, taking a decidedly feral turn.
"How many times do I have t' tell you that yer wrong? That what's been goin' on ain't what you think it is?" he asked in a brutal whisper, eyes slanting dangerously.
Jean watched his fury with wide eyes, tears beginning to well as the bite of his fingers became unbearable. His disjointed thoughts poured into her own, images fading into pure, pulsating colours that she couldn't understand.
I've pushed him too far! She realized with a rising sense of panic.
For the first time ever, she found herself scared of Logan.
"Please, you're hurting me..." she said, trying to twist out of his grasp.
His hold only tightened before pulling her closer roughly.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?" he roared, crushing his mouth down on hers with bruising force.
Jean had dreamed of what his mouth would feel like on hers for months, anticipated its sweetness, the pleasing scratch of his stubble against her smooth skin, the emotions his touch would stir...
This was nothing like what she'd expected.
His teeth pressed painfully against her lips, his tongue forced its way past hers, making her gag reflexively. The speed of his assault had snapped her head back at an awkward angle, and her arms were tingling from his continued exertion, approaching numbness.
She stumbled backwards in an attempt to break free of his hold, succeeding only in losing her footing. She thought Logan would keep her upright but instead he pushed his advantage, following her momentum until they crashed to the ground heavily. A muffled cry escaped her as his body slammed into her smaller frame, a white flash of pain streaking her vision as the wind was knocked from her. Dazed, she felt his hands reach for her wrists, yanking her limp arms above her head where he held them down firmly. She gasped for air when his face lifted from hers and tested his iron hold; he was as strong as she had expected.
"Let me go!" she cried, her voice choked with tears.
Even without being able to see what he was doing, she could feel his legs straddling her slim hips, felt his groin resting intimately against her own. A moment later, her eyes widened in alarm.
She didn't need to read his mind his mind to know that he was extremely aroused - his erection was so obvious that it dug into her thigh uncomfortably.
What she did manage to glean from his turbulent thoughts left no doubt in her mind, though, that however promising this position would have seemed under other circumstances, she did not want to be in it right now.
Heat...fury...lust...rage...
They were primal, animalistic urges consuming him, screaming into her head and blanketing her senses like snow would the ground. She quickly severed her telepathic connection with him.
Just as she did so, his body shifted.
Transferring both of her wrists into the grip of one hand, he reached down with his free one and ripped open her shirt, buttons offering no resistance as they sailed off into the darkness. She heard him growl approvingly at the sight of her exposed skin, her lacy bra now the only barrier between her breasts and him. His fingers cupped a rounded globe through the fabric roughly, and she winced with discomfort at the treatment of her sensitive flesh.
"Please, Logan, get off of me..." she pleaded again, his hand now hooking under one of her knees.
If he heard her, he showed no sign, continuing to arrange her legs until both were bent around his waist.
"Let me up!" Jean ordered, struggling in earnest now.
God, I wanted him so badly, but not like this...not like this!
She twisted onto her side, freeing one of her hands in the process, only to have Logan throw his weight onto her again, capturing her wrist with a grip so powerful she wondered that she didn't hear her bones snap.
Her tear-streaked face was suddenly nose to nose with his, her spiky lashes brushing against his cheek when she blinked. She'd never seen his eyes so wild...
"This, little girl, is what you said you wanted," he rasped, lips pulled back in a snarl.
"Wh-what are you talking about? How could you think I would want...t-this?" she stammered in confused outrage.
"You wanted to know what part o' me wants ya, Red? Well this is it," he said, pressing the bulge in the front of his loose-fitting training pants into her crotch. A cruel laugh followed his display. "You think you know what ya want, that you can handle me, that ya know what's really inside me..." He paused, shaking his head. "When th' truth of the matter is, seeing this side o' me, the real me, has yer blood runnin' cold."
He sniffed the air.
"I can smell yer fear, Red..." he said, finally releasing her and standing up.
Jean rolled over onto her side, her useless arms crossing over her nearly bare chest, face burning with humiliation and a growing sense of despair.
"You're wrong," she said thickly, the new tears building making her throat throb.
Not able to look at him, her hair hanging like a heavy curtain across her face, she heard his footsteps as he walked away.
"Not this time, Red."
And then she was alone.