Author: furygrrl
Archive: Just ask first
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, I just wanna borrow them for a little while.
Rating: PG
Author's Note: I know Logan favours cigars, but I've seen our favourite Canuck smoking a plain ol' cigarette before (ie. Wolverine #6)
"The Awakening"
He sat.
The wind ruffled his dark, unruly hair. His nostrils flickered ever so slightly with each breath. His pulse leapt at his throat, almost unseen beneath his tanned skin.
Legs crossed, feet bare, eyes closed. He sat.
My mind is cleared, he thought to himself.
Inhaling deeply and then expelling, he attempted to focus his energies. It had been a long and strenuous week and he'd been looking forward to these few moments of solitude. He could feel the sunlight, warm on his bare chest, the wind lightly playing over his body, the moisture of the ground dampening his pants.
He revelled in pure sensation.
Breathing in slowly, his nose twitched.
Ignore it, he told himself sternly. You're here to relax...
He fought against taking another breath, but couldn't maintain his current state without doing so.
Perfume.
He could smell it stronger this time. Soft, slightly floral, and altogether distracting. He opened his eyes with a sigh of frustration.
He didn't see her immediately, but his senses told him she was nearby. A flicker of crimson flashed in the sunlight across from him, just beyond the newly blooming cherry trees. He continued to sit, waiting to see if she moved on. He could regain his tranquil state if she did.
A shadow appeared under the heavily blossomed trees; a hand materialized to lift a branch up so that the body it belonged to could pass underneath. Petals rained down on the figure, releasing their sweet scent into the air. He sighed again, tasting pollen on his tongue. He watched her emerge from beneath the branches, her mouth making a little 'O' of surprise when she caught sight of him sitting a few feet in front of her.
"Oh, I'm sorry Logan. I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go to the other end of the garden," she said, eyes already seeking a new destination.
"Don't bother, Red. I was just leaving," he half growled.
"No, please. Don't go just because I came along. I'm looking for a quiet place to be alone. From the looks of things, so were you. If we're both quiet, I don't see a problem, do you?" she asked, her smile revealing her white teeth.
He grunted, a sardonic half-smile on his lips. "Quiet, yeah. But we won't be alone," he said, relaxing his rigid posture and stretching back on the new grass.
Jean came and sat down next to him. "Sometimes quiet is enough," she replied, her hand sweeping an errant lock of hair back behind her bare shoulder.
He didn't bother to reply, just watched as she made herself comfortable.
She wore a pair of shorts and a tank top, her hair hung loose to her waist. When she crossed her legs, he could see grass stains on her bare feet. She immediately copied the meditational position he'd so recently abandoned. She took a breath and closed her eyes, arms out-stretched, hands resting lightly upon her knees.
Aside from the bird calls, chirping insects, and gently rustling leaves, silence once again descended.
Logan watched her a minute longer before resuming his calming exercises.
His first deep breath told him he wouldn't be able to concentrate as he had before. Her smell was all around him, mingled with the freshness of the blossoms that had settled in her russet locks. Her fragrance, under normal conditions, was a tantalizing whisper. Now, seated next to her, his heightened senses were punished with pleasure - leaving him feeling intoxicated.
Opening an eye, he stole a glance at his student.
She was motionless.
He let his gaze wander over her absently. He noted how long her lashes had become, how their sooty darkness contrasted with the paleness of her cheeks. Her lips, full and rose-tinged, were moist with gloss. His eyes travelled down the sleek curve of her neck, noting her fine bone structure, rounded shoulders, swelling breasts...
He immediately snapped back to himself. Disturbed from the turn his thoughts had taken, he moved, about to rise.
Jean's eyes fluttered open. "Where are you going?" she asked, watching him stand.
"Can't concentrate. Not your fault, Red. Go back to the exercises. You're doin' fine," he grumbled, turning to stalk away.
She reached a hand out, catching his. The gesture surprised him, causing him to hesitate. He could feel her softness, incongruous with his own rough skin.
"C'mon Logan, you don't have to leave. We could just sit and talk. We never get a chance to do that anymore. I can do the relaxation thing later," she said, a pleading tone creeping into her voice.
He nodded slightly, still facing away from her. She was right. They didn't get much of an opportunity to talk outside of school or training lately. As one of the Institute's mentors, he had a responsibility to his charges whenever they may have need of him.
But that isn't the reason you want to stay, is it? a voice whispered inside him.
Shaking his head to rid himself of that thought, he turned to Jean. She still held his hand in hers, a beguiling smile lighting up her face.
"Am I right or am I right?" she asked, tilting her head, her eyes conveying her amusement.
Extracting his hand from hers, he stifled the irritated growl that threatened to rumble from his throat. Instead, he lowered himself back onto the ground and stretched out, leaning against the tree behind them. "Whaddaya wanna talk about, Red?" he asked. "Make up? Shoe styles? The latest Boy Band?" Sarcasm leached into his words.
If she heard it, she paid it no mind. Laughing, she flipped onto her stomach, propping her chin in both hands. "Boy Bands!" she giggled. "How did you guess?" Her eyes, half-lidded, locked onto his.
Pulling a crumpled package of cigarettes from his pocket, he found it hard to look away from her. Her eyes were a more vibrant green than anything the garden had to offer, they sparkled like emeralds in the dappled sunlight, enthralling him.
Opening the cardboard cigarette pack, he reached for a smoke.
"Let me get that for you," she murmured, eyes now transfixed on what he held in his hands.
His movements stilled as he realized what she was attempting. A cigarette trembled in the pack, began inching its way out, slowly, almost teasingly. Logan didn't know why, but he could feel his blood warming, spreading throughout his entire body. He looked up from her display of telekinesis, only to find her gaze once again riveted on his face.
Still staring at him, she mentally brought the cigarette up to his lips, her face unreadable. Logan grasped the smoke from mid-air and stuck it in his mouth, decidedly uncomfortable. He struck the first match with such violence, it snapped, causing him to curse. His second attempt was more successful. He inhaled gratefully and flicked the used matchstick across the grass.
Blowing rings of smoke, he regarded Jean with a raised eyebrow, seeming to say with that one expression, 'You said you wanted to talk, so talk'.
She rolled onto her side, letting one hand rest in the new blades of grass. A rueful smile played over her lips. "It's funny," she said, sweeping hair over her shoulder again. "I finally get a few minutes to spend with you, and have no idea what to talk about." Her gaze dropped to the ground.
Logan couldn't be sure, but he detected a nervous quality to her, a tension. "Just tell me what's on yer mind, Jeannie. How're things at school?" he asked.
"Fine as usual. The semester's almost over, exams are coming up, but I'm not worried," she replied, still flicking her fingers through the greenery.
"Something about training botherin' ya?" he continued to probe. Not only was it his job, but her demeanour suggested she was trying to hide something.
She shook her head in the negative before looking up at him again.
"I can't help ya with this 'conversation' without some participation from your end. Give the old man a hand here," he said, tapping ashes onto the ground beside him.
"You're hardly old, Logan," she murmured, face obscured momentarily by her wind-blown hair. The few cherry blossoms that had intermingled with her bright tresses suddenly caught her eye. Reaching for a section of hair, she began plucking the velvety petals out, letting them flutter to the ground like confetti.
"You've missed a couple," Logan said, butting his cigarette out in the moist earth.
"I can't see them..." she groused, sitting up and twisting her body in an effort to locate the remaining few.
Muttering imprecations beneath his breath, Logan slid over to her, making sure to wipe his hands free of dirt and ashes on his pant-legs before touching her.
Gently, hesitantly, he let his fingers slide into the shimmering strands. The texture was as he'd imagined it; soft, silky, as delicate as the blossoms that nestled within. Jean had stopped moving as soon as she felt his touch, and so sat facing away from him. He waited for her to swing about and ask him what he was doing - playfully push him away while telling him she didn't need him pretending to be her hairdresser.
But she didn't. She sat still and silent, her body trembling faintly; Logan took no note of the latter. His attention was riveted on how sensuous her hair felt brushing against his wrist.
He marvelled at the sensation. It was as if a tendril of living flame draped across his skin, causing his flesh to tingle and burn in a most pleasant way. His fingertips slid down the length of the strands, freeing the tiny flowers, trying not to pull.
He felt Jean's shoulder against his bare chest, cool and soft against his muscled hardness. He wondered briefly how they came to be touching, but the thought quickly fled as the wind stirred her hair, tossing it across his upper body. He suddenly found himself with a face full of the gossamer threads, tickling the sensitive flesh beneath his ear lobes and along his throat.
His blood surged almost painfully, pumping hot and furious, as her clean, feminine scent engulfed him.
As the wind settled, so did her hair, exposing the tender flesh of her neck. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the hollow between neck and shoulder, the urge to simply let his tongue dip into that depression and taste her.
The full weight of her body leaning into his was what brought him back to reality. Her back pressed into his torso, the fabric of her shirt crushing the hairs on his chest. He could feel her fingertips splayed atop his thighs, her head resting almost fully in his palm.
Had he moved or had she?
It didn't matter.
Shocked and disgusted with himself, he pulled away, drawing his hand from her hair. His sudden movement caused Jean to turn and face him.
"What's wrong, Logan? Aren't you going to finish the job?" she asked suggestively, the look of innocence she wore belying the connotation of her question.
Logan stood, staring down at her with wild eyes. "Jeannie, I...I can't," he whispered brokenly, thoughts awhirl.
She couldn't possibly be referring to - ?
I must be going through some sort of hormone overload - or a mid-life crisis, he thought to himself.
Running a hand across his face, he fought for composure. Jean stood, drawing close to him.
"Is something wrong? You look flustered," she said, genuine concern in her tone.
He shook his head as an image flashed through his brain - one of him grabbing her roughly and plundering her mouth with his own. The vision was so substantial that he felt his tongue snake out to wet his lower lip in anticipation. Catching the offending lubricator between his teeth, he stared at Jean helplessly, wondering why this hunger seemed to come upon him all at once.
True, he hadn't been with a woman for what felt like years sometimes, but he'd always been able to control these primal yearnings without difficulty. He was a strong person who controlled his body, not the other way around.
And Jean - she was one of his students. Someone who trusted him, who looked to him for guidance and assistance, not lessons in depravity!
Besides, an inner voice told him matter-of-factly, she's still a kid. What would a girl her age be doing trying to entice (he nearly choked at that word) a dinosaur like you? She's probably got half the guys in her school after her and boyfriends for every day of the week.
The idea was more than far-fetched; it was crazy.
No, Logan, if you're going to get all bent out of shape over something, it'll be for some cool, long-legged broad - one that's out of pigtails and knee socks. Not that there's anything wrong with a little dress-up now and then...
His last thought brought a chuckle.
His silent inner reasoning left him feeling foolish about the whole situation. He looked to Jean sheepishly.
"Sorry Red, didn't mean to spook ya, just having an age-related episode." He let a laugh escape while reaching for another smoke. She appraised him, eyebrow arched and arms crossed beneath her breasts, as if not fully convinced by his response. She remained silent though.
Grateful for that, Logan lit his cigarette. "I'm heading in, got stuff t' finish. Anything else you wanna cover before I take off?" he asked, filter dangling from his mouth.
She shook her head in the negative, eyebrow still raised, concern etched across her visage, not completely masking another look he couldn't quite place. He speculated as to what may have been going through her mind at that moment as he turned and sauntered off, trailing a puff of smoke behind him.
Jean remained standing where he'd left her for several minutes, locked in the stance she'd adopted at the time of his departure. Her gaze, staring in the direction he'd taken back to the mansion, was turned inward. Her mind combed over the entire incident that had just passed, lingering on certain details.
It was no accident that she'd stumbled on Logan during his exercises, a time she knew he'd be far from the Institute and completely alone. She hadn't chosen her attire to soak up the sun's wan rays, nor had she dabbed herself with expensive perfume or left her hair unbound for no good reason. It wasn't by chance her skin had met with his.
She shivered at that last thought, desire flooding through her veins. She could feel goosebumps prickle along her arms.
She sent a silent thank-you to the newly blooming fruit trees she'd had the good luck to pass beneath before arriving. Their adornment proved to be a valuable asset to her already impressive arsenal.
Despite her excitement, she could feel a weariness creeping over her.
I should take a nap before the evening meal, she thought.
Lying down in the spot Logan had abandoned, she luxuriated in the golden beam of daylight that suddenly slanted into the clearing. She threw an arm across her eyes, yawning.
It was hard work, she considered sleepily, using her powers to suggest passion with subtlety, to hint at desire with delicacy, to impart visions of lustful acts that would seem as natural as an errant thought.
A grin curved her lips.
That last image I sent to him nearly did the trick. Next time, she vowed, he won't hold back...I won't let him.
We'll see how he views this 'kid' after round two, pigtails and knee socks indeed!