Sorry for yet another late chapter, y'all. This apology comes with a public service announcement. Check the air pressure in your spare tire from time to time. Because when your actual tire shreds on the way home from work, the only person who is going to be amused by a flat donut is the tow truck driver. Pffffff!

"Another." The Rogue tapped the bar, ignoring Logan and purring, "Thanks, sugar," at the bartender as another overly generous double bourbon appeared. His lips thinned into a disapproving line. She was lit pretty good already.

Logan's gaze dropped to her glass. There was censure in his eyes and a warning, but he swallowed the words with a shot of his own because she was spoiling for a fight. "S'your funeral, kid," he remarked, leaning a little more into Cheyenne.

She was nestled up against his other side, sipping a scotch and soda. Her hand was already on his thigh and rubbing at the seam on his jeans. A clear sign she was good to go.

"If you pass out, I'm not gonna stop," he remarked, watching Marie bring the glass to her full lips.

"Jesus Christ! I don't need you to take care of me!" She tossed the drink back, eyes watering a little at the burn, and then slammed the glass on the bar with a rattle that made even the too-friendly bartender frown.

Cheyenne slid a little closer, rolling her eyes at the Rogue's tantrum and whispered into his ear, "So take care of me, babe." She nuzzled his neck and rolled her hips against his thigh, indicating exactly what kind of 'care' she wanted from him. "You don't have to stop if I pass out, either," she teased, grinning as it drew a black smile to his lips. She had clearly lost consciousness in his bed before and found the experience enjoyable.

Logan pushed away from the bar. "Let's go."

~ooOoo~

The motel across the street left a lot to be desired, except for its proximity to the bar. The grizzled clerk barely batted an eye as Logan put the bills down for a room for three. With one queen bed. The clerk's bleary gaze followed the Rogue, though, a vision in body-hugging black leather. Big soft dick-sucking lips and that stripe in her hair— she was like some kinda Manga character come to life. He wet his thin, papery lips and fucked her crudely with his eyes. Women like that didn't come into a place like this. He'd never even seen a girl that hot in real life.

Pulling the keys from their slot behind him, he extended his hand toward the Rogue, letting the keys dangle and swing, his intent clear on his face. He wanted her to come closer. Just wanted a little touch. A little taste of that wild beauty the Wolverine was about to fuck. Hardly seemed fair. Mean, hairy son-of-a-bitch like that having two women while all he had was bad porn and an old sock to jerk off into?

His eyes swung to the Wolverine and for a moment he wondered if he'd said the words aloud. His face was twisted with rage and a murderous light made his eyes flash gold. The clerk felt a few drops of urine trickle out as the Wolverine took the keys from his petrified fingers with a grunt.

"You touch her 'n I'll touch you, bub."

He babbled a string of yes sirs and broken apologies, his English scattering in his fear as he stumbled back, ducking his head submissively. He sighed with relief as the Wolverine gave him one last hard stare and then a sniff of dismissal before disappearing up the stairs, flanked by both women.

Asshole.

Those damn cage fighters thought they owned the world.

Sure, women fucked men like them, but they settled for men like him. Steady, if meagre, regular paychecks. Somewhat dependable. Didn't hit 'em unless they really deserved it. He thought of his own woman and frowned. She was at her sister's helping with the new baby, leaving all the work she usually did around here to him.

Fuck her, too.

Tonight he'd imagine the woman with stripes in her hair sucking his dick and he'd leave the dirty sock on the floor when he was done.

~ooOoo~

The moment the lock clicked shut behind them, Cheyenne excused herself, closing the bathroom door with a smile full of promise aimed at the Wolverine.

Logan shed his coat and tossed the room key on the empty stand where the TV would have been, if this was the kind of place that had televisions.

Rogue loitered against the wall and he wondered if her world was spinning because of the drinks she'd gulped down, if she was purposefully putting as much distance between them as possible, or if the little worm downstairs had truly spooked her.

He reached for his tank.

"Leave your clothes on." His eyes flicked to hers. "Tell her, too."

"Not much of a show," he pressed, allowing his curiosity to override his irritation at yet another order.

"You still think this is about me seeing some skin? Newsflash. They have this thing called porn. I'm sure you're familiar, sugar."

A husky chuff of amusement rumbled out of his chest at that, but it faded as her words sunk in. What she'd wanted tonight— it was absolutely about the two of them. It wasn't about seeing his cock. It was about imagining him under her — inside her — with an explicit visual to burn it into her brain forever.

She couldn't say it though; couldn't even give him that much, and that just pissed him off. It disturbed him to feel so torn, angry and saddened by something that also made him irrationally, volcanically hot.

He sat heavily on the bed.

Marie sat in a chair in the corner by the table.

"Closer," he rumbled.

She complied, grudgingly, closing the distance between them by half before sitting back down.

"Leave your boots on, too."

He huffed, more annoyed by the distance between them than another tartly issued order.

"Closer." He pulled his lighter from his pocket and tossed it on the table beside the bed. He didn't want that digging into his ass later, distracting him.

"Shitfire, sugar." She stood, dragging the chair as she stomped closer and spun it, sitting in it backwards about a heartbeat from the bed. Close enough that her knees would touch the edge of the mattress if she opened her thigh wider and slid forward just a little more. "Happy now?" she snapped.

He adjusted himself casually. He wasn't hard yet, but he couldn't resist pushing some of her buttons, especially with her this close. "Sure. listenin' to you bitch and bark orders is a real treat."

He wondered what would happen if he wound her to the breaking point. Maybe that's what she needed. What they both needed. Some kind of physical catharsis before they eviscerated each other for real.

"I'm sure you'll find some way of—"

She stopped abruptly as he reached for his buckle, flicked it open and pulled his belt from his jeans. The worn leather made a slow hiss and the buckle clinked as he held it out to her wordlessly.

A gauntlet, thrown down decisively.

"What the hell?" she hissed. That wasn't a part of the deal.

"Somethin' for your hands, darlin'. You're fidgetin'." He was right. She was jumpy as hell, eyes darting around. Even more uncomfortable in here than she was the first time they'd done this, but he knew she wouldn't back down. Not when she'd been the one who'd expressly demanded this.

Marie snatched it from his hand as Cheyenne came out of the bathroom.

Logan's mouth hung open a second and a quick glance at Marie told him she was about a breath or two away from bolting. He could hear her pulse slamming in his ears. Cheyenne had edited her appearance slightly. Her long dark hair was down, loose around her face. Her platform fuck-me heels were gone and she had stockings on her legs now. The same short flippy skirt and blouse as before, but she'd put on gloves. Gloves, his brain howled.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, wondering what had possessed Chey. Amping it up was one thing, but this bordered on nuclear detonation. The white gloves were cheap and lacy. Eighties Glamour Shots meets slutty club dancer. Even so, just the thought of those gloved hands in his pants made his fingers clench into fists. He didn't think he'd ever gotten so hard so fast in all the years he could remember.

Marie's face was still with shock, pale except for two bright pink stains across her cheeks. Her fingers were gripping his belt so hard he could hear the leather creak and he was suddenly glad Chey had pushed this into a place none of them could hide from. She was the only one with enough brass to be honest about what was really happening. He might be using another woman's body, but it was Marie he was really fucking.

Cheyenne was no rocket scientist, but she was a survivor and she knew how to read people. Her survival had depended on that skill more than once. She saw what was needed and didn't hesitate. It wasn't entirely selfish. She'd never been allowed such freedom with Logan, never been allowed to drive the train, and she wasn't about to let either of them screw up her one chance to have him like this— like a real lover, in a bed and everything.

Logan was on his back on the bed and those gloved hands were rubbing and teasing and stroking him through his jeans before he'd gotten a single word out. Then again, he hadn't really made much of an effort and before long, the imagery and the throbbing between his legs was too much to resist.

He managed to grunt out a, "Leave it on," when Cheyenne's went to pull off her blouse, but she took the order in stride— a shrug and a smirk and then she'd lifted her head from where she was mouthing his cock through his jeans. With a hum of delight, she caught the thick, steely ridge lightly in her teeth. Her lips were reddened and slightly swollen when she lifted her mouth.

"So hard, babe." Cheyenne ran the heel of her palm from base to tip, where his precome and her saliva had wet the denim. "I can't wait. I need…" She caught her lip in her teeth struggling awkwardly to undo his zipper with the gloves. "Damn," she muttered tugging at the button and zipper, but slapping away his hands when he tried to help.

Logan's eyes flicked to Marie. She was nodding, some automatic sympathetic response to gloved fingers struggling with a stubborn fly, but she was also breathless and glassy-eyed with lust. As desperate for Chey to open his pants as he was.

The first stroke almost had him coming in her hands. Fuck. The lace was rough on his engorged skin, the friction almost too much as he rocked up into her clenched fist. Marie's gloves were largely satin or fine leather. Now he knew why. It hurt, but it hurt good and the need to shove in deep and thrust was overwhelming.

Dragging her hands away, he put a thumb at the base of his cock and pushed it upwards in invitation. It ached, full of dusky blood that pounded between his legs and under skin in a maddening, driving rush. That primal male imperative. In. In. In.

Both women whimpered at the sight of his heavy, veined cock rising from the spread of worn denim and thicket of dark hair. He knew from experience it was the girth more than the length that drew that reaction. A steady trickle of fluid leaked from the tip now, a showy testament to his virility and an unmistakable indication of his level of arousal.

Catching his eye, Cheyenne dipped her head and sucked him, swirling her tongue, a maddening touch that was as intense as the gloves had been, just in a different way.

"Unngh." He couldn't stop from bucking up into her mouth.

"Mmm…" she pulled off, rubbing her lips together as she moved over him. "You taste good, babe."

"Sit on me," he growled impatiently. His eyes darkened as he slid his hands up under her skirt. She was bare underneath and he was glad of it, aware her attempt at creating an authentic fantasy experience probably wouldn't bear him popping the claws and cutting through stockings and underwear.

She didn't put a condom on him either but before he could process that, she was rubbing his tip through her slick folds and sinking down fast enough to drive an involuntary grunt from his chest and a shameless moan from her.

"God! So thick! So deep this way…"

Marie's breath stuttered, becoming even more shallow and erratic. She, too, was deeply affected by that first intense moment of penetration.

He shifted, hips flexing as he prepared to thrust.

"Wait a second, babe… please..." His hands tightened on Chey's hips and he could feel his cock slipping deeper as that sweet pink clench gripping him fluttered and softened. "I just need a second…"

"I like a tight fit, honey." Still, he didn't want to hurt her. He moved his hand to touch her but she pulled his fingers away from where they were joined and grinned down at him, pinning his hands above his head with a playful smirk.

"No touching." She might be taking this a little too far, giving a man like him orders in bed, but he'd wanted her to ride him and she had her own fantasies to live out. Pushing his hands flat to the bed with an enthusiastic flourish, she leaned in and kissed his neck, sucking that spot behind his ear that made him quiver. "Keep 'em there." She pushed his wrists against the mattress one more time for emphasis and sat up, eyes heavy-lidded with desire as she took in the powerful man lying supine beneath her spread thighs.

He flexed inside her, watching her shudder. A little reminder of who was really in charge, despite their respective positions.

She rode him with absolute abandon. Slowly at first and then hard enough to make her whole body shake and whimper with the impact. Past propriety. Past embarrassment and shame. Arching and humping and grinding as her face twisted in agonized pleasure. It was purely physical, a surrendering to something wholly carnal and powerfully feminine.

The musk of her sweaty body. The rippling of her taut muscles. The fluttering clench that told him she was going to come. Hard. She did with a hoarse cry, collapsing against him almost immediately.

Logan rolled her to her back before she'd even finished convulsing, pushing her knees to her chest so he could go deep. "I needta fuck," he rasped against her throat, nipping and biting and pushing inside even as she nodded her consent. Her eyes were closed. She was still coming back to herself, anchored to this world by small hands clenched in his tank.

He shoved in deep and then pushed further until she whined. He caught Marie's eye. She'd stretched out her legs to press against the edge of the bed. She felt every last juddering thrust. Every tremble. Every jerking flex of his hips.

She was close enough that he could have put his head on her knee if he'd wanted to. Christ the smell of her, slick and wanting in that leather. Hips shifting in need. Body quivering. All but riding that fucking chair when she could be riding him.

He pounded harder, wild now. On the edge of true violence. His orgasm rose. Cheyenne felt it, recognized the stuttering change in his rhythm and she pushed at his chest.

His eyes blinked open and he was aware that she was pulling at his hair and whispering in his ear, but it took a few moments for the words to penetrate. The animal had him firmly now.

"...C'mon, babe. Let her see…" She pushed at him again, harder this time. "Let her really see what she's missing. Pull out. Come on me. Show her. Let her really see you."

He wasn't able to make words rise, and he had to fight the instinct to just let go; to hold the female beneath him still and plant his seed deep— but what she'd proposed? He liked that. Liked it enough to rear back on his knees and shove up her shirt, fisting his wet cock roughly and grunting out his orgasm as he spattered her flat white belly with stream after stream of pearly ejaculate.

Perched as she was on the chair, Marie not only felt and heard every rasping grunt, but her face was inches away from Logan's pumping fist. She could have leaned in and licked the glistening trickle dripping from his fingers if she'd wanted to. Logan sat back on his heels, cock still in hand, aware but still not quite free of the animal's fierce grip. He licked his wet knuckles, panting roughly.

Cheyenne watched him with a slow smile of utter satiation, petting his thigh with the sole of her foot while he came down. She watched his eyes, that odd sea change from gold to hazel and then she looked down at her belly, humming contentedly as she licked away a stray droplet from her chin. He always came a lot. Tracing two fingers through the iridescent rivulets, she held them out to Marie.

"Go on. Taste him," she urged, completely misreading Marie's utter stillness. It wasn't shyness or even hesitation swimming in her watery eyes. "It's okay, really…"

Shunting aside the animal's primal, enthusiastic response to the idea of Marie taking some of him inside of her, Logan forced the words to rise because he knew Marie all too well. This was so far beyond too much that even the animal could recognize her acute distress. She was gonna bolt any second.

"Darlin'—"

"NO!" She scuttled backwards, falling off the chair and coming up from the floor in a fighting crouch, defensive and bristling, and as wounded as he'd ever seen her.

Violated. Humiliated.

Ashamed.

"Shit." In his haste to reach her, he tripped over his boots, tangled up in a crush of sweaty denim as he jerked his pants up with hands that were still none too steady.

"Stay away from me!" She was almost to the door, face burning. She was shattered, but that magnolia steel kept her hands and voice from shaking her to pieces in front of him.

"Kid, wait—"

Cheyenne was apologizing over and over, even as she stripped off the gloves and used them to wipe away the shivery trickles of semen from her belly.

Marie whirled and he thought for one heart-stopping moment she was going to pull off her glove and use her power against him. Instead she stared at him, tears in her dark, haunted eyes.

"I'm leaving. Now. If you follow me, I will never, ever talk to you again. Do you understand?" It was that cold, flat voice that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I get it."

"Good."

And then she was just gone.

Up next: Char. Scorched earth and a cover from the Man in Black:

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end...

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt...