Author's note: Sorry for the late chapter! It's spring and you know what that means… well, specifically in my world it means a small window of time where I bust ass to put in gardens before the scorched earth (also known summer in Texas) rolls on in. I'm what you'd call a lazy gardener - ie, if I plant it, I want to be able to eat it. To that end, I had a load of dirt delivered to my house that was literally twice the size of my vehicle. It's been a dirty, dirty weekend. And not in the good kinda way. Heh. I rewarded myself with my first ever pair of real cowboy boots. Bourbon colored leather, naturally. Onward!
It was easier than Logan expected. The girl was wilder than she looked and freer than he thought she should be with her body, considering her condition, but it didn't stop him from following her out back on her break.
Beyond the solid brick enclosure around the dumpster was a small private space swept clean of debris and lit with an old yellow floodlight. A tallish stack of pallets with a canvas tarp thrown over them formed a rough seat and there was a can beside them with a few stale cigarette butts. The soft thrum of industrial machinery drowned out most of the crowd cheering on the fights inside, and a grate beneath their feet vented enough hot air that it chased the autumn chill from the small space. An oasis, of sorts. Crude, but private.
Marie watched from the shadows.
The brunette wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly against her small frame. He had the sense it was because she was soaking in his strength rather than because she was shy or hesitant. His hunch turned out to be right. Her hand slid down his chest to cup the swell of flesh under his buckle with an appreciative murmur. It was impressive, even without a full rush of blood.
The touch was prurient, but lacked the tinge of desperate lust that usually colored these sorts of encounters. She hadn't come to the bar for a good time. She'd come for a paycheck. He was a pleasant distraction, at best. A welcome one, though, it seemed. The warm rising musk of feminine arousal and the press of a supple body was an unmistakable invitation.
Nature again. Surging hormones and the cradle of life flush with blood, sensitive and engorged. Aching. A time to bond with her mate. Bring her man close to ensure he would be there to watch over her and her vulnerable young… but without a mate, that inner drive was expressing itself differently tonight.
Logan was willing to accommodate her, however it required more care than he generally used. The awareness that she was not alone in her skin hovered at the edge of his thoughts, mixing with the turbulent swirl of anger and the hot tide of raw lust. Nature pulled at him too, a strange unwelcome urge to protect the small fragile life and the young mother nurturing it. It seemed both contradictory to - and yet also somehow strangely compatible with - his more base, carnal response.
The Rogue made an impatient noise in her throat.
Soft though it was, it fractured the fragile threads holding together the last of his strained patience. Like a volatile chemical reaction, it was the drop that crystallized the rest, shattering the night around him in a shower of heat and sparks. The scrape of a boot. The dull roar from inside the bar. The hum of cars on a nearby highway. Blood pounding. Breath, hot in his ear. And rage. Rage so incandescent it burned away everything else. He fucking would see that fierce creature humbled.
Lifting his mouth from the girl's flushed skin, he spoke. Soft words, carefully chosen for maximum damage. "What do you want, honey?"
Behind him, he felt their impact on Marie. A step back and then another. The rustle of leather. Her arms crossed, in anger, he hoped. Asking the girls what they wanted was not a part of this game. And as usual, he felt more attuned to the woman in the shadows than the one in his arms. That knowledge only pushed him closer to the edge.
"Your mouth," she breathed, tracing the rough stubble on his jaw and chin with a fingertip, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Christ. Her response couldn't have been better. Or more painful. The perfect storm of openly raunchy and acutely uncomfortable. In all the times Marie had watched, he'd never done that. Usually it was their mouth on him. A warmup for what the Rogue really wanted. She liked watching penetration, with fingers or a cock, but not like this. Maybe it was too revealing a request to make or too intimate an act to watch. Hell, maybe she just didn't like seeing the Wolverine on his knees before anyone else. Who knew?
"Where?" He thumbed a distended nipple, and felt the shudder run through her.
She caught his hand and pressed it between her legs. "Here." The soft thin skirt provided little in the way of a barrier. It was bunched between them in moments, panties brushed impatiently aside; his fingers sliding easily in the slick welcome with her hand wrapped around his wrist.
He immediately understood the appeal. Swollen and sensitive as she was, the stimulation of his mouth would be overwhelmingly intense. Soft insistent lips. The wet flick of his strong tongue. The warm suction of his mouth. The rasp of the rough stubble on his chin and the tickle of the longer hair along his jaw.
Turning his his head, he caught Marie glancing back down the alley. He pinned her with a stare. No fucking way was he going to let her run now. She'd demanded this and he was going to make her pay. Give her what she'd asked for but nothing she wanted. Make her watch every last uncomfortable minute.
It was crude and base. The Wolverine was much too close, roused by instinct and scent and a fierce violent longing to put the Rogue in her place. How dare she demand this in exchange for the answers he craved? He feasted. Lewdly. Openly animalistic in his enjoyment of the girl's waton response and Marie's silent outrage.
The scent. The taste. The quiver in the girl's thighs as they clenched and squeezed. Anger bled into arousal and he grew harder. His objection was moral rather than physical and he wasn't even sure he could do what Marie wanted until he felt the girl's hands pull tight in his hair as she took control and rode his mouth to a tremendous orgasm.
He could feel the fury bleeding from Marie, a snarl of savage emotions barely contained as he pulled the girl to her feet and moved in behind her, his intent clear. Her legs were shaking and she was flushed and sweating, her hands braced on the bricks and her fingers spread wide. She was watching him over her shoulder, still shaking with aftershocks and half-wild. Panting and uncoordinated, her limbs heavy were slow to respond, even as she spread her legs to accommodate him.
Hauling the thick cock from his pants with little ceremony, he rubbed it against her, crudely stimulating them both, but as he moved to push inside, he saw she'd dropped one hand from the wall to curl around the soft swell of her belly. It was an unconscious, protective, gesture; cradling her child as a strange male moved in close, crackling with energy barely leashed.
Her response had been instinctive. She'd wanted him. She wanted him still. His face and cock were shining wetly, and yet even in that moment of post-orgasm bliss, her first thought was for her child. Abruptly he realized that his hand was on her belly. That he'd seen the soft naked swell and couldn't help himself. He'd put his hand on it and thought of Marie, pregnant.
Logan froze, suddenly acutely uncomfortable and painfully aware of the weight of Marie's stare as he staggered back and fumbled with his jeans and belt. Both women were gazing at him in disbelief; a shocked sort of horror that was strangely similar despite being driven by two very different emotions. He didn't say anything to either woman.
He just wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shook his head and walked away.
~ooOoo~
Marie caught up with Logan at the back edge of the parking lot where the uneven ground gave way to tall trees.
"Coward," she sneered. His long strides stopped abruptly. Gravel crunched under his his boot as he turned.
A low growl of warning rumbled in his chest.
The Rogue laughed. "I totally called your bluff. I guess I win."
"Do you?"
Her cruel smile faded. "Of course. You ran, so I don't owe you any dadgum answers."
"Bullshit." His tone implied he thought she probably wouldn't have given him any real answers anyway. Her eyes narrowed at the insult. "You said fuck her. I did. Now talk."
"You didn't fuck her. You ran away in a streak of yella with your tail between your legs."
"Say that again, and you and me are gonna go, right here. Right now." Considering his gift and hers, it would — ironically — probably be a far better fight than anything they'd seen in the cage tonight.
"I'm shakin' in my boots, sugar." She was clearly spoiling for a fight.
"Go fuck yourself." He turned, almost wrenching the handle off the door of his truck as he flung it open and climbed in.
To his surprise, Marie climbed in the passenger seat. Jesus Christ. He should have known. Girl never could resist a fight. The bloodier, the better.
"I knew you couldn't do it," she spat.
That just made him madder. He'd run, he'd give her that. But he'd also fucked that girl. "Hey, I fucked her, honey. Just not with this." He cupped his crotch crudely, licking his lips to send the point home with the maximum amount of collateral damage possible.
Marie rolled her eyes but her fists were clenched. "Oh, please! You know what I meant."
He made a dismissive noise in his throat. "Talk."
"No way. I don't owe you a damn thing. You totally choked." She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I thought you wanted answers. I thought you wanted to hear about my baby."
"Not at the expense of someone else's," he growled, on the verge of true violence. His eyes flashed gold and it was all he could do to pull a few rough words from the animal's maw. "I couldn't…" Not even for her. Not even for the answers he wanted.
He didn't apologize. He didn't even look at her. He wasn't sorry. He was furious. Angry with her for putting him in that position. Angry at himself for not being able to follow through, despite what was at stake. Sick at what he'd done. Sicker still that parts of him had enjoyed it. And above all, the terrible realization that it hadn't really been about that girl at all. It was that he couldn't touch her and not picture Marie with her belly lush and rounded with new life.
It was a circular sort of thinking that wound back around to where it began. Where the fuck was her baby?
"You didn't play by the rules."
Did he ever? "Start talkin' or get the fuck out."
"No." She turned to face him. "The spirit of the law and the letter of the law are two different things." The Wolverine bristled at the idea of any law but his own. "We disagree, so we'll just call this one a draw." Her eyes were drawn away to follow one of the cage bunnies as she moved across the lot towards a shitty turquoise Chevelle. "Since you noped out before, how about another chance? Do her and I'll talk."
Logan was momentarily struck mute by the Rogue's sheer audacity.
"Well," she prompted when he didn't respond.
"Christ. What the hell are you after, kid?" For fuck's sake, his dick was still wet from before. Face, too.
"What do you think?"
"No," he snarled.
"Last chance, sugar." Marie's eyes followed the girl as she made her way slowly across the gravel lot, swaying a little, and moving her hips to a song that only she could hear. "Tick-tock."
For one terrifying moment, he thought he would kill her. The black rage rose, swelling and churning until he couldn't breathe, or see, or think. Until he had to give in or tap out. He reached for that place where the fury clicked off and everything became mechanical, devoid of feeling altogether. He'd been a soldier for two centuries. The familiar cold calculation settled over him like an icy blanket and everything was suddenly crystalline clear and bright.
He wiped his mouth and jaw, got out of the truck and caught up with the girl easily. Focused, with a specific goal in mind.
Marie was going to pay.
"What's the matter, darlin'?" An endearment chosen specifically to wound. "Leavin' early? Pretty girl like you shouldn't be goin' home alone." His jaw clenched. Under the whiskey and perfume, she smelled of smoke and sex and the reek of another man's musk.
Despite that, it didn't take much effort to get what he wanted. She knew who he was and had seen him in the cage. Not the usual sort of fight groupie, this one. She had violet and indigo hair, ear gauges, Docs instead of the usual fuck-me boots, and a tattoo of the Xenomorph queen from Alien on her neck. The piercings in her lip and eyebrow glinted in the moonlight.
She was also stunning. Flawless skin. Lithe and strong with breasts perky enough that she didn't need a bra and a tank sheer enough to emphasize that fact. In contrast, her soft floaty black skirt was startlingly feminine. A black leather trench with the collar turned up against the cold wind completed the strange ensemble. He thought she looked less like a cage bunny and more like a human who wished she was a mutant.
None of it mattered. It took only a handful of minutes and even fewer words before he was leading her back to his truck. Marie had locked the doors, but that didn't even slow him down. He hadn't intended to fuck the girl inside it anyway.
Screw the Rogue and her rules. He deliberately defied them all. He hadn't told the girl about Marie and now she'd have a goddamn front row seat. Even if she closed her eyes, she couldn't escape. A black smile pulled at his mouth. She'd feel the rocking of the truck and hear his grunts and the girl's moans whether she wanted to or not.
Pushing the girl's back up against the driver's side door, he went right after it. The girl licked at his jaw while he pushed up her top and pinched her nipple sharply, figuring a girl with that many piercings probably wouldn't mind the pain. He was right. Her tongue skated wetly over his skin. She was remarkably sanguine about the fact that she clearly wasn't the first woman he'd been with tonight. Maybe because she had no moral high ground to claim there.
He didn't use a condom, either. Just heaved the girl up and shoved in hard. He didn't even care how sore she would be as long as Marie felt it. The truck rocked. The girl moaned and ground against him, still obviously sensitive from before and he was suddenly aroused by the idea of fucking one woman while wet with another. Better yet was knowing that Marie couldn't escape any of it.
She was right on the other side of the glass. Listening to every filthy word. Hearing every dirty grunt and the rhythmic clink of the girl's studded leather choker smacking against the window.
He fucked harder, rocking them all, hoping Marie felt every thrust into the girl's body like a wound to her own heart. He deliberately met Marie's eyes through the tinted glass, baring his teeth in defiance. She looked every bit as devastated as he had hoped. For a moment he enjoyed her terror, feeling like some kind of god, drunk on lust and revenge and drowning in the scent of pussy and the feel of his own power.
Suddenly, the clouds shifted and the moonlight on the glass reflected his own savage face back at him. It was twisted and cruel and he was unexpectedly, painfully, aware of how out of control it all had become. He froze, his focus sliding back to the girl in his arms, realizing her body had turned rigid, her scent starting to turn acrid with fear. He had no idea how long she had been that way.
He pulled out abruptly, registering the girl's wince as he backed away in revulsion, shaken and reeling.
When had it become this?
He barely registered as the girl looked at his rapidly wilting cock with a snort of disdain, smoothed down her skirt and went to her car without a backwards glance. Tucking himself away with a grunt, he braced himself for what was coming. Even unable to meet her eyes, he could feel the weight of Marie's stare through the smoky glass.
Without warning, the truck's engine roared to life. Gravel flew as the tires spun and caught. The bed fishtailed, brake lights bleeding in the dark as Marie peeled out and left him standing there, shocked and ashamed.
And pissed, too.
Girl had taken his ride.
An echo of an old memory washed through him. Driving away from her, leaving a desperate kid alone on a snowy road in the middle of fucking nowhere. He was under no illusions that she'd stop the truck and let him catch up. Not now.
Maybe not ever.
Up next: Slag. The aftermath of the nuclear blast. Barren. Bitter. Desolate...
Buckle up, folks. The ride's fixin' to get rough.
Also, I'm going to do my best to get the next chapter up on Thursday because next weekend is big-ass-dirt-pile, round two. (Hmm.. what color boots should I buy next time?) ;)