Chocolate Kisses

When I was finished, I had Logan sit. Pity for him it was a bit awkward because he had to stay perched on the edge of the ottoman rather than reclining back on account of the heavy tribal designs drying all down his back... but I was a girl with a plan. A very wicked plan... And there was the added bonus of the spectacular view as I knelt to do the tops of his feet. Just the sight of his swollen cock jutting up awkwardly from his lap made my mouth water. A fact he was more than aware of. He kept shifting so it would bob and draw my attention.

And then I moved in for the kill.

"Hands next please, sugar."

His head came up fast.

"My hands?" You could see him working out exactly what that would mean. Once I did them, he wouldn't be able to touch me. Or himself. Which was exactly where I wanted him. Helpless. Dependent on me for his pleasure. Oh, I am a wicked, wicked girl.

He did give them to me. Palms down. Fine with me. I can play that game. With a smile, I carefully decorated the tops of his fingers with a series of masculine lines and geometric shapes... and then, just when he'd breathed what seemed a sigh of relief, I kissed him. "Now your palms, cowboy."

The look on his face was priceless. His chin came up and I saw his throat work as he swallowed. The fierce light of determination burned brightly in his eyes as he turned them over, almost daring me to continue. So I set straight to work, naturally. When I was finished, I misted both of us with the lemon sugar mixture. After a few tastes, naturally... And then came the part of the evening I'd been looking forward to the most. The waiting.

Logan didn't go down without a fight. He used every trick in the book, starting with a request to answer nature's call. Nobody would ever accuse him of being shy. He gave me this look, held up his hands and said, "Well I can't fuckin' do it, now can I? I'd hate to screw up all this real fine work..." So we both had a pee. Don't ask how I managed with one cheek covered in henna. I'm a southern lady. We don't talk about such things...

So then the next step. I had the heat up, but I still lit a few candles and then brewed up a very special pot of tea. It's an exotic blend made primarily of yohimbe bark, cinnamon and cloves. It's a natural aphrodisiac that increases blood flow and stimulates the chemical reactions in the body that enhance arousal. I made a pot for Bobby and John once. They claimed it did nothing... but Bobby was back two nights later ready to sell me his firstborn if I'd just let on where I bought it.

Everything was a sensory experience and seemed to take twice as long as usual as we moved carefully, trying to make sure we didn't ruin all our hard work. Logan couldn't use his hands for anything, obviously. So at first I tried to hold a cup to his lips. He cursed when I tipped it too fast and a trickle of hot tea ran over his chin. After that, I would take a swallow and we would share it while we kissed. We drained the pot- and it was working, if the fluttery feeling under my skin was anything to judge by. The only downside was having to pee again. At least by then we had a system... And a good laugh as well.

I misted the designs one last time with the lemon sugar mixture and then reached for the last weapon in my sensual arsenal. By that point, we'd moved to the floor. He was lying on his side, reclined carefully, not really able to move much for fear of ruining the designs. I knelt beside him and rubbed a bit of clove oil between my palms.

"What's that for?" His nose twitched and his tongue came out to wet his lips as he caught the distinctive spicy scent.

"To test your endurance." One has to be very careful with clove oil. It can burn if it's not made properly or has additives. I make my own so that never happens. Mine is mild, made simply from steeping crushed cloves in sweet almond oil for a few days. It has a wonderful scent and flavor but only produces the very mildest tingling when applied to the skin. If you've ever sucked a clove, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I had the sudden urge to smoke a clove cigarette.

Or a flesh one.

He panted softly as I massaged his scrotum with my oiled hands and then groaned when I worked them up the length of his impressive cock, paying particular attention to the tip. When his hips started moving, I turned him loose.

"Christ." His long lashes closed over his golden eyes and I saw him trying hard to even out his breathing. "That's not fair." He was right, of course. I waited until his eyes opened and then dripped a few more drops into my hand and rubbed it over my one unadorned nipple and then down between my legs, shivering as the warm tingle began to creep along my skin.

"Happy now?"

That won me an enigmatic smile. "Happy isn't exactly the word I'd use, darlin'." He rose and sat on the edge of the nearest chair.

I put my hands on his knees and rubbed the insides of his legs lightly with my thumbs. "What word would you use then?"

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if he was listening to his body speak. His hips shifted in the chair. "Wantin'." He blew out slowly. "You got me jammed up real good here."

I sure did.

"How does it feel?" The henna paste on his back had dried to a deep rich

black but the lines on his hands and feet were still a deepening shade of green.

His eyelid flickered as he shifted slightly. "Tight." That would be the sugar. It pulled a bit as it dried. I'd been pretty liberal misting it because as it dried, it would make him more aware of every inch of his skin. "I like the smell..."

"But?"

A wry smile appeared. "But it's frustratin'." He shifted again. "It was nice before, but now..." He moved his hands up from where they'd been resting and then lowered them again. "Now I want..." He huffed softly, uncomfortable now and ready to move beyond this experience.

I knew exactly what he wanted. Which was the point of this evening. I wanted to put him off his stride a little. To inundate all his senses and confuse him- in a good way. Leave him helpless. Vulnerable. And then wind him up and see what happened.

He is so tactile. I knew not being able to touch while being given erotic stimulation would be incredibly hard for him. As hard as opening up and sharing this part of myself with him had been for me. I thought it would be a sensuous experience he would like. And to be honest, I knew watching him struggle with it (while sharing that same struggle) would be something I would like.

I took my hands away from his skin and his eyes opened. "Tell me what you want, Logan." My heart was beating fast and my skin felt funny from the henna on the outside and the tea working on the inside... all intensified by the presence of the naked aroused man in front of me.

"To touch ya." He fingers twitched. "I needta move. To fuck. To come." A dark fire burned in his eyes. "To make you come." He wet his lips and I saw his chin come up in triumph when he saw how his answer had made me press my legs together. I thought my body was tingling before... but now it ached. Dipping his head, he looked up at me through his dark lashes. "Now why dontcha tell me how that makes you feel."

Like he couldn't tell already? I knew he could smell how much I wanted him, even over the exotic scent of the henna.

"Makes me feel…. hungry." He still had that aura of calm assertive energy he always projected, but only just. It was starting to shift towards primal and wild. I moved into the space between his open knees but didn't touch him. I think I wanted to put my mouth on his cock as badly as he wanted to feel it there, but I said instead, "It makes me feel... needy. Wet. Empty inside." I knew he could feel my breath teasing over his groin so I kept talking. "It makes me want to feel you out of control. And the real truth is it makes me want to give up and sit straight down on you right this minute..."

"But you won't."

"But I won't."

He didn't beg me, but a clear droplet formed in the slit at his tip. When I blew on it, he shuddered. "Jesus fuck! More."

Oh, I was definitely planning on giving him more. Just not what he was expecting, is all. "It feels so good for me, Logan." His eyes opened and flicked hard to mine. "Coming with you deep inside."

He made a sort of rough growl. "Tell me."

I felt my hips sway with want.

"There's a satisfaction in the fullness even before the pleasure." Just the brush of my fingertip against his calf made him shiver. "It feels so good. A delicious building tightness that suddenly eases and washes over my whole body. I shake and my toes curl and my legs fall open... while inside, everything squeezes down. Sometimes I can feel your heartbeat inside me then." I slid a hand between my legs to cup myself and watched as his eyes followed it. "But even more than that, it's feeling my legs around you. Feeling you hold me close as the world spins away."

"That your favorite part?" I shook my head. His eyes followed the trail of black designs up my body. Our eyes met. "What is?"

"Watching you let go." He looked surprised. And pleased. "Feeling it happen inside me even as I see it on your face. Strain. Pleasure. Release. Satiation." I tickled my fingers down the backs of his legs, watching him shift uneasily. The drops at his tip had given way to a steady trickle. I could see a wet shine on his shaft. "I love how it feels inside, first the throbbing and then the slick heat that follows. So good, sugar." It also helped ease the last hard thrust he made that were usually deep and a little wild.

He groaned softly. "God."

"Tell me how it feels for you."

"Pressure. A... a drive. S'instinct. Get on top. Stay in deep..." He swallowed hard. He'd watched my reaction. Now he was watching his own. His eyes were glassy and he was less articulate than usual. But he did try. "I get harder. More sensitive. Can't stop it. Don't want to." The tip of his pink tongue came out to wet his dry lips.

"What happens?"

"If I'm on my back my hips come up."

"If you're on top?" I prompted.

"I hafta fuck... to move. When it's real good, I gotta hold ya down and go after it real hard." His crude, honest answer revealed the depth of his arousal. His calm assertiveness was cracking.

"What does it feel like?"

"Heat. Need." He was sweating. "Deep inside there's a... a gush. Pulsin'. Fluid. S'involuntary. I can't stop it."

"Then what?"

"Throbbin'... shakin'... Buckin' hard and gruntin' when it's real good." A shudder ran through his big body. "So spent after I can't even move sometimes. Somethin'- somethin' in my head tells me not to crush ya, but it happens real slow and I don't feel like movin' even though I should. I don't wanna give up what's makin' me feel so damned good."

"I love that. Love your weight on me."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"I love how ya feel under me. So soft and good. Pantin'. Those little hands movin' all over me. Pullin' me into you." He was breathing hard. I was so close...

I wanted to know what would happen if I took this further. Wound him so tight he broke. What would watching me come do to him? What would watching his reaction do to me? I knelt back so he'd have a better view and brought my hand to my breast. Clove scented fingertips rubbed over a plump pink nipple.

"Do you remember the first time you touched a woman's naked breast?" His gaze seemed almost hypnotic as he watched my fingers roll and pluck and caress.

"The first time after I woke up in the snow, yeah."

"How did it feel?"

"Good. Excitin'." He watched my hand on my breast. "Harder. I'd do it harder than that, girl. Make ya arch into me."

I pinched sharply enough to hurt just right and groaned low in my throat. "Mmm... it feels so good, Logan. I love to feel you touch me that way."

He said nothing but his breathing had become erratic.

We spiraled closer to the flames. "Do you remember how it felt the first time you made a woman come?"

This time he only nodded.

I slipped my hand down, rubbing and touching. Wanting to sharpen the memory for him, I raised my hand and brushed my wet fingertips over his lips. He tried to suck them but I pulled them away. He growled in frustration.

I wanted just the scent on his mouth and the taste on his lips to marry up with the image swaying before his eyes so it would trigger that old memory stronger than ever. I wanted the visual and the sensory combined with the passion in his body and the images in his head to be a sort of sensual overload for him, especially as he was denied movement and touch. That it was of his own volition only made a good thing that much sweeter.

Nothing chained him but his own desire to let me take us somewhere new.

"Can you remember how it felt when she let you put your fingers under the lace and you felt naked flesh...?" My actions mirrored my words and I felt myself break into a sweat. I could feel the flush. So close. "Wet and hot..."

"Tight." He growled the word low and deep.

"Slick." I pushed two fingers deep inside. His fingers flexed involuntarily at the sight. "Not as good as you feel..." I gasped out, teetering on the edge. "I want... I want to feel you shove hard into me. Deep." Inside was warm and creamy and wet. Fluttering. "I can feel it... I'm so close, sugar… so close."

"Just a little more, baby. C'mon!" His voice was low and desperate. Rough.

"Mmm! Yes! So good!" I rode my fingers hard.

"Christ!" His eyes were glued between my legs.

"Unnnnhhhh! Logan!" I trembled as I came, keening his name low and long and breathless. The watcher became the watched. And for once, it felt good. Exciting. Seeing his reaction to it was even better. His body was taut. Shaking. He flinched when I withdrew my fingers from my body and rested them on his trembling thigh.

"Fuck! Help me, baby. Touch me! Suck me! Somethin'! I needta-" Under my fingertips his muscles were rock hard with tension.

"You remember the first time a girl slipped her hand in your pants and touched you there?" His hands flexed again. He was thinking of her touch. And mine. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted to come and was trying to hold it back at the same time. "How proud you felt when the size scared her a little." It was a guess, but not too far from the mark if his expression was anything to judge by. I'd know. I felt the same way the first time I saw him excited too.

He grunted. "Yeah." Cocky now. Arrogant. He knew what his body did to women.

"Remember how she squeezed and you nearly spurted all over?" His head fell back, his breath coming in sharp pants. "Remember the taste of her? The wet heat? How it felt to push in deep that first time..." His hips were rocking. He was making animal noises deep in his throat. I squeezed hard on his thighs with my hands and blew warm breath all over the tingling oil that slicked his weeping cock.

"Nnnnngggg... Marie! Baby, please!"

I turned his own words back on him. "Get on top. Stay in deep. Throbbing, shaking, bucking so hard because it feels so damned good... all slick and tight. It's instinct. Come on, sugar! Come!" I dug my nails into his thighs. He tried to stop himself but couldn't. His hips rocked violently, juddering up as he ejaculated streams of creamy white over his chest and

belly.

There. There he goes.

"Unnhh! Unnnngh! Fuck!" God that's hot.

"Yes, sugar! Yes!" Just a little more now.

"Umph!"

There was so much come. It caught in his navel and in the valleys between the rows and swirls of henna. I could feel his muscles going rigid under my palms, again and again, but most erotic of all, I could see a rhythmic pulsing at the base of his cock as his body worked to pump out his semen. It made me want to put my mouth there. So I did. And feeling that cyclical flexing under my lips and tongue made me come again.

That surprised us both. I couldn't resist taking him into my mouth at the end. Sucking the last of his pleasure from him. Helping him ride out the last of it.

We were both dazed afterwards. It was as intense as penetrative sex in some ways. Almost more intimate in others. I wondered if this was the first time he'd ever come without being touched. I'd never made a man do that before. It was the embodiment of my every voyeuristic fantasy.

I knelt up and licked at the thick stripes of pearly fluid on his chest and thighs, cleaning him softly with my mouth as best I could around the henna.

His eyes glowed as I sat back and rubbed my fingers over my belly, showing him how much I liked having him inside me in every way.

Our every sense had been filled up and wrung out until we were spent and trembling and weak. I'm not even sure how we managed to drag ourselves to the bathroom where we brushed the crumbling bits of henna from each other's skin. He liked that part. Once the dried bits are removed, you have to seal the designs with oil first and wait a few hours before you shower. He purred with pleasure as I rubbed him all over with warm sweet almond oil.

He was tired, but he massaged it into my skin too. Clearly, he was glad to have the use of his hands back again and we chatted quietly while we worked, in that loose easy way new lovers have when they're satiated and lethargic. We smiled a lot. Sighed. Kissed and teased.

"What the hell was in that tea, baby?"

That got a smile from me. "Let's just say it was part of the treatment."

Logan's laugh echoed off the tile. "You got any extra to spare?"

I stroked his soft length playfully. "Do you?"

And you know? I reckon we worked out a satisfactory trade... just before we curled up in an old blanket and fell asleep. We were too tired to shower anyway. A nap was just the thing... and then a shower later.

I couldn't wait for tomorrow when the faint designs would deepen to a rich pumpkin color, perfect for tracing with kisses.

The day after that they'd be a rich deep chocolate.

And you know me.

Death by chocolate has always been my prefered way to go...

Author's note: Y'all are awesome! Thanks so much for the wonderful response to this pair of stories. It's entirely possible I'll revisit this Logan and Marie (and Houdini!) again in the future. Feedback is always appreciated; the good, the bad, the ugly welcome. It feeds the muses and also lets me know which bits resonate, which don't, and what you might like to see in the future. Ideas and bunnies are always welcome, too. :)

Coming down the pipeline next:

Cry the Moon
Logan meets a Cree girl at a bar in Mexico. She wants to make a memory. He wants to forget. Logan/OC, W/R (A "Run" outtake.)

In Limine
At the threshold. On a mission for Xavier, a random meeting between the wildest X-Man and a sharp lawyer with a Southern drawl sets fire to the night. AU W/R

In Pride's Shadow
Monstrous dark things live in the shadows and the Wolverine is the darkest of them all. W/R, W/OC Dark. AU

A Work of Heart
Logan comes back from Japan to find a very different Marie than he remembers. Chalk. Ink. Gouache. Watercolor. A young artist reveals a man's heart, one colorful stroke at a time. W/R

Shine Against Me
Logan and Marie and talk about pornography… and then things get crazy. 20+ chapters (and counting!)

Walk the Line
Marie comes back after taking the Cure. "She'd always defend him though, even now – powerless and helpless, and they both knew it. It didn't even need saying. The care of this beautiful man was written in her bones." 9 chapters (at least 4 more to go)

And for those of you who've read this far…. lol I have a W/R novel that I've started that I'm unlikely to finish anytime soon (if ever). Y'all interested in the first five chapters of that one?:

Fine Art
After being on her own for several years, Marie returns to the mansion. Things get painted. Sparks fly. AU