This story came to my mind, after reading a 'What women want' parody.
It's naughty, and the 'f' word, among some others will appear, aswell
as a little smut, though there's nothing graphic.
Warning: If you're a Ro/Lo, Logan/Jean shipper, go away.
This is only for die-hard W&J fans!
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, all Marvel, no money,
no sue, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Summary: After a mission, Wolverine suddenly sees things different...a lot.
Reviews: Pleeeaaaase, I'm starving for these sweet pats on the back(or kicks in the butt,
I don't care, I'll take what comes)!
Now, read and enjoy!
#############################################################################
Sight problems
It was the average 'get-into-your-uniform-and-hand-the-bad-guys-their-butts-on-a-plate'-fight.
Although they were about a two-hundred and fifty of them, their only talents
seemed to be to get into each other's ways and make corny comments about the girl's outfits.
Storm blew her fuse, when the eighteenth asked her if she wore a push-up.
Creating a huge cloud, she let loose a giant lightning bolt, after
mentally warning her teammates via Jean.
Sadly enough, Wolverine was too occupied with fighting, to hear the warning in time,
but looked up-and straight into the blinding white light.
A few minutes later, while the others were busy wrapping up the whimpering goons,
Wolverine lay, blinking desperately, with his head in Phoenix' lap.
"How are you, Logan?" asked the redhead, never paying mind to the glares Cyclops shot her.
"Fine, I guess, aside of these lil' bugs behind my lids", muttered the feral.
Storm was hovering above the two like a nervous cluck.
"Oh Logan, I am so sorry! I thought, you heard my call.
I never would have blinded you by surpose!"
"No prob, darlin', my healing factor can cope with it. I can already see yer cape
flappin' in the wind", replied the feral.
"Dat be mon manteau, mon ami", stated Gambit, more than a little worried.
Back home, after a small check-up by Hank and the confirmation, all would turn out well,
Logan decided, it was best to go to sleep.
Especially, since Bobby found it funny, to lay things in his way and watch him trip over them.
So, after literally kissing dirt for the fifth time, Wolverine made his way to his bed.
Surely by morning, his sight would have restored itself.
*~
Yawning, Logan rubbed his face and rolled out of bed.
He slowly opened his eyes, let them roam through the sun-flooded room, and smiled smugly.
"Told ya so, ain't nothin' my healing factor can't cope with."
Stepping out of his room, he heard Storm coming his way.
Logan turned around to greet her-and his jaw fell through the floor.
Storm was naked!
Ok, she often wore close to nothing, but never inside the house, except for her room.
Logan closed his eyes and opened them again, finally realizing, that she indeed wore her
'say-good-morning-to-the-goddess'-robe, only, that it was somehow..invisible now.
And he noticed something else:
She was shaved.
Her white pubic hair had been trimmed down to a small lightning bolt, and Logan wondered,
if she had done it herself.
Of course, Ororo noticed his shocked expression, and asked anxiously:
"Are you alright, my friend?"
He gave small squeal, and said the first thing that came to his mind:
"I..is that..new?"
Smiling, Storm rearranged her robe, and replied:
"This old, faded thing? Surely not, Logan. Why do you ask?"
Gulping, he managed:
"Looks... nice. Really nice."
Storm laughed amused, and hooked him under.
"Compliments before breakfast? That is indeed new. And here is where I thought,
you could not surprise me anymore."
As they walked downstairs, Logan cursed his small height, because it brought him
face-to-chest with Storm.
A very voluminous, and very bare chest.
Entering the kitchen, Logan stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw Rogue, Kurt,
Jean and Scott sitting at the table.
With a growled "good morning" he entered, trying as hard as possible not to ogle
the southern belle and the psychic.
Of course, his filthy mind betrayed him.
It started to compare sizes, as he headed towards the coffee pot on the counter.
He grabbed and filled a cup, then emptied it in one large gulp.
Cocking a brow, Scott rose and, offering him a platter of fried eggs and meat, asked:
"Sausage?"
Wolverine stared at him, dropped his mug, shrieked and then ran screaming out the door.
Gawking after the feral, he muttered:
"How did he know, it was Jean's turn for breakfast?"
*****************************************************************************
Like? Hate? Just drop me a line-pwease?
It's naughty, and the 'f' word, among some others will appear, aswell
as a little smut, though there's nothing graphic.
Warning: If you're a Ro/Lo, Logan/Jean shipper, go away.
This is only for die-hard W&J fans!
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, all Marvel, no money,
no sue, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Summary: After a mission, Wolverine suddenly sees things different...a lot.
Reviews: Pleeeaaaase, I'm starving for these sweet pats on the back(or kicks in the butt,
I don't care, I'll take what comes)!
Now, read and enjoy!
#############################################################################
Sight problems
It was the average 'get-into-your-uniform-and-hand-the-bad-guys-their-butts-on-a-plate'-fight.
Although they were about a two-hundred and fifty of them, their only talents
seemed to be to get into each other's ways and make corny comments about the girl's outfits.
Storm blew her fuse, when the eighteenth asked her if she wore a push-up.
Creating a huge cloud, she let loose a giant lightning bolt, after
mentally warning her teammates via Jean.
Sadly enough, Wolverine was too occupied with fighting, to hear the warning in time,
but looked up-and straight into the blinding white light.
A few minutes later, while the others were busy wrapping up the whimpering goons,
Wolverine lay, blinking desperately, with his head in Phoenix' lap.
"How are you, Logan?" asked the redhead, never paying mind to the glares Cyclops shot her.
"Fine, I guess, aside of these lil' bugs behind my lids", muttered the feral.
Storm was hovering above the two like a nervous cluck.
"Oh Logan, I am so sorry! I thought, you heard my call.
I never would have blinded you by surpose!"
"No prob, darlin', my healing factor can cope with it. I can already see yer cape
flappin' in the wind", replied the feral.
"Dat be mon manteau, mon ami", stated Gambit, more than a little worried.
Back home, after a small check-up by Hank and the confirmation, all would turn out well,
Logan decided, it was best to go to sleep.
Especially, since Bobby found it funny, to lay things in his way and watch him trip over them.
So, after literally kissing dirt for the fifth time, Wolverine made his way to his bed.
Surely by morning, his sight would have restored itself.
*~
Yawning, Logan rubbed his face and rolled out of bed.
He slowly opened his eyes, let them roam through the sun-flooded room, and smiled smugly.
"Told ya so, ain't nothin' my healing factor can't cope with."
Stepping out of his room, he heard Storm coming his way.
Logan turned around to greet her-and his jaw fell through the floor.
Storm was naked!
Ok, she often wore close to nothing, but never inside the house, except for her room.
Logan closed his eyes and opened them again, finally realizing, that she indeed wore her
'say-good-morning-to-the-goddess'-robe, only, that it was somehow..invisible now.
And he noticed something else:
She was shaved.
Her white pubic hair had been trimmed down to a small lightning bolt, and Logan wondered,
if she had done it herself.
Of course, Ororo noticed his shocked expression, and asked anxiously:
"Are you alright, my friend?"
He gave small squeal, and said the first thing that came to his mind:
"I..is that..new?"
Smiling, Storm rearranged her robe, and replied:
"This old, faded thing? Surely not, Logan. Why do you ask?"
Gulping, he managed:
"Looks... nice. Really nice."
Storm laughed amused, and hooked him under.
"Compliments before breakfast? That is indeed new. And here is where I thought,
you could not surprise me anymore."
As they walked downstairs, Logan cursed his small height, because it brought him
face-to-chest with Storm.
A very voluminous, and very bare chest.
Entering the kitchen, Logan stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw Rogue, Kurt,
Jean and Scott sitting at the table.
With a growled "good morning" he entered, trying as hard as possible not to ogle
the southern belle and the psychic.
Of course, his filthy mind betrayed him.
It started to compare sizes, as he headed towards the coffee pot on the counter.
He grabbed and filled a cup, then emptied it in one large gulp.
Cocking a brow, Scott rose and, offering him a platter of fried eggs and meat, asked:
"Sausage?"
Wolverine stared at him, dropped his mug, shrieked and then ran screaming out the door.
Gawking after the feral, he muttered:
"How did he know, it was Jean's turn for breakfast?"
*****************************************************************************
Like? Hate? Just drop me a line-pwease?