"So, how do you choose?"
"Huh?"
The Wolverine was drinking with the Rogue between fights. Her attitude hadn't changed much. She was still surly and prickly as all hell, and he was enjoying it. She wasn't nearly so careful when she was all wound up. Later, he'd have sex with someone else while she watched, but this — this — was the foreplay.
It was as good a place as any for it. This bar was a real fighter's bar. Good fighters came here to get better. Great fighters came here to prove themselves. Scouts came occasionally, looking for real talent. There was decent money in MMA these days and the UFC knew damn well that places like this bred a different sort of fighter than could be found in a traditional gym. It didn't have a legitimate octagon, just a metal cage, but it had a few rooms in the back that were also dedicated to the cause — used for anything from sewing up a busted face to making deals. Tonight the Wolverine was hoping to add to the strange action those back rooms had seen. It was why he'd chosen this particular venue.
"Them." Marie waved her hand in the general direction of the cage bunnies, her distaste and her annoyance at his drifting thoughts clear in her dismissive gesture. "How do you choose? Before? After? Is there some kinda specific criteria involved? Or is it like when you go to a buffet and there's a hundred pieces of pie and you pick one at random because, what the hell, you just like pie?"
Logan huffed in amusement and favored Marie with a knowing smirk that she ignored. "What the fuck you got against pie?" He did enjoy winding her up, but he knew he'd probably answer her question, at least in part. It only seemed fair, considering one of the women here tonight would complete their strange erotic tableau before the night was over. Marie had a right to know. Logan grunted. "Ya know, somewhere in there's a real good joke about jailbait and cherry pie."
"You're disturbed, you know that, right?"
The fire in her eyes was leaning towards mischief now rather than hostility. He could see he'd cracked through her facade. At least a little.
"Yep," he said almost pleasantly; a small tug of amusement pulling at his lips. "You don't gotta worry about tonight. I stay the hell away from the jailbait, baby."
Her face grew pensive. "Now."
"Mmph." He jerked in the seat as if she'd sucker-punched him. The memory of closing her fingers around his tags was bright and sharp and hot. It burned. His face. His chest. Jesus Christ, he wanted to go hit something. Hard. "Kid, you come at me guns blazin', you best be prepared for incomin' fire."
And damn her if she didn't smirk and raise an eyebrow at him, her meaning clear. Bring it on.
It pissed the man off, but the Wolverine knew an invitation to engage when he saw one. He knew her vulnerable spots, too, and unlike the man, he wasn't afraid to go right for the jugular.
"Ain't before or after."
"What?"
"The women. I don't pick before or after. I pick when I'm in the cage." He could see that Marie was uncomfortable — and intrigued — and he pressed, because he knew anything that had to do with sex and intimacy was the biggest chink in her armor. He went right for it. "Between rounds, I look over the crowd."
"Lookin' for what, exactly?"
"The ones who don't look like they're really gettin' off on the violence and the blood."
"Isn't that a little hypocritical?"
"How's that?"
"It gets you off."
"No it don't."
"I call bullshit."
"Call it whatever the fuck you want. I get off on lettin' him out." He looked her straight in the eyes. "That's what feels good." He really didn't give a fuck what the Wolverine did, as long as the person he was doing it to consented.
He could tell he'd shocked her a little.
"So you don't like the women who openly get off on violence? That turns you off? Because that doesn't make a dadgum bit of sense, sugar. That's what they come here to see. Why else would they even be here?"
"That ain't it." Logan chuffed in amusement. "I pass on the ones who are half way to comin' just from watchin' the fight, 'cause who the hell likes an easy chase?" He ignored Marie's small, stunned gasp. "The ones who pretend not to like it are more fun. All that repression, huh?" His eyes gleamed. "Usually makes for a better ride." It was less fun when they were too jaded to care. Too easy a victory was unsatisfying both in and out of the cage. He also skipped the ones who were pregnant or fertile and peaking, but that felt like one revelation too far.
"God," Marie gasped, a little shakily.
He went in for the kill.
"After that, it's biology drivin' it as much as anythin'. I go for the same thing men have been hardwired to want since forever. Young. Mid-twenties, usually. Curvy. Healthy. Long shiny hair. Good ass. Big soft lips don't hurt none either. Feels real good on my—"
"Logan!"
"You asked," he pointed out, nonchalantly. "No perfume's a bonus," he continued, as if she wasn't sitting there wide-eyed in shock. "But mostly I just don't wanna smell another man on 'em. I don't give a shit what they do after I'm done, but I liketa be first."
"You— you. That's…" She was so mad she was sputtering.
"Yep."
There was fire in her eyes now, as he'd intended. "I notice you didn't say anything about their level of intelligence."
He'd purposefully left that off the list because he knew it would push all her buttons. Of course he enjoyed women with a sharp mind. "Talkin' ain't what I'm after." His tone implied that he was pretty much just after a warm body to spend himself in, which wasn't the entire truth, but close enough for the purpose of this conversation.
"I didn't know you were that much of a caveman. God!" Her disdain was clear.
"Yeah ya did," he fired back. What bothered her was that she knew it and she still found it attractive, despite her significant feminist leanings. "Christ, Marie. It ain't as if they're lookin' at me goin': Oooh. I bet he does the crossword in pen. I'd totally do him! They want the man who can put down all the rest. Simple as that."
"That's — that's fucked up."
"That's biology," he corrected.
"Oh, please! We're not slaves to those primal urges. We have the ability to reason! We have free choice. It's not automatic! Not every woman spreads her legs for the man who can give and take the hardest punches."
"Not all of 'em, no. But enough to have a damn fine selection to choose from, most nights." Logan shrugged, turning a blind eye to her obvious outrage and finished off his drink. "Kid, what we have are brains shaped by nature in a system where Mother Nature stacked the goddamn deck. Whose DNA do you think gets passed on more often? It sure as fuck ain't the losers they drag outta the cage." He didn't specifically comment on the women, but she heard it well enough if the look on her face was any indication.
"What about mutation?" she hissed, furious that he'd won their biological debate so soundly, and with so little effort. It spoke to another of the reasons women flocked to him like they did. It wasn't all alpha male charisma and his physical gifts. He was no slouch in the brain department, either. While he wasn't a genius, he was sharp and intuitive. His unique gifts, though they were largely physical and animal in nature, helped him read not just his environment, but people, too.
"Every system needs a wild card." The Wolverine grinned at her from across the table.
"So now we're gonna debate chaos theory?" There was a sultry edge to her words. Like it or not, the reckless part of her was responding to the wildness rising in him.
He pushed himself to his feet and smirked down at her. "Nope. Now I'm gonna go kick some ass n'earn what comes after."
Marie shuddered at that, quite unable to control the automatic response to his crude words. She was uneasy and uncertain, but then suddenly found her voice. It was soft but utterly defiant. "You picked her yet?"
That surprised him.
But challenging him now when his blood was running so hot was madness. Clearly her intent was to provoke him.
It worked.
"Maybe. You wanna know who it is if I have?" While he had a vast amount of sexual experience, this game was new to him. Virgin ground for them both. He wondered if Marie really wanted to know, and why. Maybe to size up the woman. Or to watch the woman watch him. More disturbing was the idea of Marie watching him approach the woman after the fighting was over. He wasn't sure he cared much for the idea of a critical audience analyzing that part of it. It was different when they'd all given themselves over to eroticism.
He also wasn't too sure about how to get from the part where the woman consented to the part where Marie watched him have an orgasm. God, he wanted to touch himself right now just thinking about it.
"NO! I just want to know if you had."
She squirmed under his pointed stare and he cut her zero slack.
"Why? You got any requests?" Marie's full lips rounded into a soft 'oh' of shock. "Blonde? Brunette?" Her eyes flashed dangerously. "More than a handful up top? Less?" This shit was fun. He pressed harder. "Vanilla or one of the more exotic flavors?" His gaze slid over an ethereally petite Asian woman and then back to the Rogue, who appeared to be caught between running and coming straight at him, fur flying.
She hesitated so long that Logan thought he'd pushed too far and then she sort of exploded all at once, slamming her beer down on the table in a burst of feminine anger. "Stop deflecting! Stop answering my questions with more dadgum questions! Have. You. Picked. Yes or no?"
"Yes." It was an answer designed to wind her up more than comply with her demand. That order had grated. However, his response was also the truth.
"They why ask if I had any requests? Would you have changed your mind if I did?"
Logan was suddenly aware that they'd reached a tipping point. The space felt devoid of air; that strange energy crackling wildly between them, and he knew his response would define all that followed. Probably more than either of them realized.
"Yeah." He loomed closer, his mouth close enough to her ear that he could feel a strand of her hair catch on his lips. "What happens after is for us both. It hasta be what you need too, darlin'. So, yeah. I would've."
He could tell he'd shocked her again, but her eyes had softened. Warmed. She said nothing, mute with surprise at his sudden capitulation. He pulled back a little, to see her face better as much as give her some space. He was too close for both their comfort.
"You need somethin', you tell me and I'll see what I can do, huh?"
"You promise?"
"No. No promises, kid. But I'll try." He couldn't make the animal do anything. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could give her what she'd already asked to see tonight. That plate was pretty damn full already.
She'd wanted tenderness.
He was feeling anything but tender.
The animal wanted to rip and tear and smash. To put down all challengers and fuck himself into a pleasure-soaked coma afterwards. Marie hadn't really been wrong there.
But as much as the animal wanted the violence, he also wanted Marie there watching. It was as close to sex as they'd probably ever get. Even more importantly, he wanted her secrets. And the price of them — slow, soft sex with a stranger — was one he was willing to try to pay.
"I'll try," he said again in a hushed voice that sounded terribly final, even to his own ears.
"Me, too." Fire in her eyes now, wilder than he'd ever seen. Christ, it made him burn.
"You ready to do this, kid?"
"No, but when has that ever stopped me?"
"Fair enough." The Wolverine looked toward the cage. They were dragging a man out. They'd be calling him soon. His eyes skimmed the crowd, stopping on one particular woman, just for moment, and then he turned back to Marie.
"Sugar?"
"Drink more." It was an order not a suggestion. "It'll be easier if you're lit. Watch for me after. I'll let you know when it's time." She needed complete confidence in him if this was going to work. If she knew she had him spinning, she'd run for the hills. "Bring your drink with you when you come."
"I don't need to be shitfaced to do this, you know."
"I know. You fidget, though. You'll be more comfortable with somethin' in your hand. Least until we're all past the point of no return."
And that was an intimate detail that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with him knowing her well enough to anticipate how to make this experience easier for her.
She looked more nervous than excited.
"It'll be okay."
Her unease suddenly disappeared in a fierce grin. "Screw that. I expect a hell of a lot more than 'okay'." She all but purred the words at him and he could see the pendulum had swung back the other way. She was primed. More eager than afraid, now.
Ready.
Hungry.
"Soon," he snarled, heading to the cage. He needed to burn out some of the animal's wildness or he'd never be able to keep it in afterwards.
The blows fell like hot rain. He took far more than he gave, wanting to tax himself, wanting to expend all that he could now. It was futile. Each blow that fell, each concussive shot that rocked his body and made the pain burn bright and hot and loud was eclipsed by one word ringing in his mind every time flesh met flesh with brutal force.
Tender.
It echoed under his skin and in his head and crawled through him with thorny spikes that dug deep.
Tender.
There was blood and pain and the cataclysmic burst of fury when he rose up, swinging with an inhuman roar.
Tender.
No finesse now, just pure brute force. Smashing and pounding until the final bell screamed even louder than the crowd. This he could do. Here he was strong enough to win. He didn't think he'd be able to do that after. Even with the euphoria of victory burning in his blood as the last bell faded and he was named the winner. Not even then did he imagine he'd be able to do what Marie wanted.
But he'd try.
And when he failed, it would all come burning down around him.
Up next: Ignite. In which the Wolverine turns up the heat...