Call Me Deliverance II: World Down In Fire
by
Barbara Metzger
Disclaimer: Wolverine and Jean belong to Marvel. All else belongs to me.
Charles Xavier's Mansion
Logan studied the neatly stapled papers in his hand a final time, flipped it neatly back in order and retired it back into Henry McCoy's front pocket with a pat. 'You're shittin' me,' Logan narrowed his eyes to determine if this was one of Hank's famous, intellectual pranks.
A scientist whose extraordinary intellect and expertise in many areas of science rivaled those of Charles Xavier himself, Beast brought his furry, blue self up to full height. 'I'm writing a research paper. I am not 'shitting you', my friend.'
'Hank,' Logan began but was cut short.
'Humor me Logan.' McCoy's brows knit together, ready for the battle. 'This would be a valuable study.You are a man of controlled instinct. Channelled rage in times of fight. A berserker on a path, if you will. I want to study your control in depth, that includes all types of stimuli...including exposure to the opposite sex. How can you ascertain what is comprised in the conception of instinct by limiting the different angles of my approach?' The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, sure that he had argued his case to his favor.
For all of three seconds Logan appeared to consider his request. Then with finality of tone, he threw words over his shoulder as he sauntered away. 'I love ya like the mother fuckin' smartass ya are, but cha ain't gonna study my ever-lovin' charm with the women. So go find yerself a test tube and fuck it.'
Hank tossed out a last resort bargaining chip to the quickly retreating man. 'Jean and I still have got that program idea floating around! A collaberative effort you might say.'
Logan turned with a smile but continued walking backwards. 'Yeah? Finish it.'
* * *
Five weeks later
Logan took the elevator down one level and walked down the hallway towards his favorite workout area, The Danger Room. He bypassed the suit up area, perferring instead to enter his play room in jeans, simple black T-shirt and lug sole boots. The only outward sign of an ego was small lettering over his chest that said, 'Kill or Be Killed.'
Suddenly Logan smiled and retraced his steps to stand in front of Scott Summers locker.
Logan had been pissing the devil all day, with everyone. Especially Scott. By the time lunch came around, even the Professor dropped a hint that perhaps he might enjoy an especially long and intense Danger room session. That was all the encouragement he needed. Last time he played the program, he'd had the authorization to turn off the safeties. He came out of the room on a stretcher and his authorization was history. Scott was the one who suggested that idea.
Looked like that was all about to change. He felt excitement. Intense, lapping anticipation. Emotional restraint was not his strong point. It was gonna feel good to get back into his customized levels.
With stealthy precision, he silently opened the compartment and taped a nudie pic over the picture he kept of Jean on the otherwise bare walls. Logan took a second to appreciate his work. 'Who says that boy doesn't have taste?'
Logan paused for a second to access his body's internal clock. It was around 8pm. Good, he'd have hours of rip and slash to sweeten his disposition. Logan wondered vaguely if he should alter his favorite program. When he designed it, weeks ago, it was the most cutting edge program in the system. It did manage to send him to the med-lab with a case of healing factor overload, he remembered fondly. Still, it flowed rather quickly in this facility and it was sure to be old stuff by now. He was looking forward to Beast and Jean's improvements. He kneeled down in front of the security eyehole, same system that safegaurded entrance to Cerebro.
'Welcome Logan.' The voice gave him a little Pavlov's dog thrill. The heavy metal doors opened to reveal a calmingly dark command center blinking with color coded buttons and digital whirring. A cleverly concealed access keypad popped out of the wall as the computer ran through the welcome program. He walked to it and punched in a series of command codes. The computer made confirmation.
'Random terrian generators online.'
'Solid Hologram interferance patterns online.
'Manipulating high-resolution force fields.'
'Shi'ar system merge. Com-nav one. Com-nav two. Com-nav three. Com-nav four. All systems reset to Zero-grav field.'
'Program ready.'
Logan exited the master control room onto a cliff overlooking a vast valley below him. A sculpture of sentinal rock formations rising out of thick forest canopy.
The computer acknowledged his presence as repelling equipment materialized on his body.
* * *
The Program
He could not tell for certain how high he was above the ground. He looked at the cliff above him, then down and estimated the distance from the top of the green canopy below him to the floor was 120 feet. As he hung supported by his harness, line in one hand, and slack in his other, Logan pushed his nose into the wind to scent the air. Nothing. A wind without smell nor taste blanketed targets. He also knew being the only thing in this simulation with a smell to distinguish made him more a target than anything out there.
Spending precious seconds in the open, Logan scouted from his vantage above. His binocular sight detected his destination. A small movement of red fabric atop a stick flapping in the breeze on a rocky pire half a mile to the north.
'Computer.'
'Yes Logan?'
Logan verbally entered the last code. 'Kill or be killed.'
After a moment the computer confirmed. 'Safeties off. Voice replacement initialized.'
The computer's voice returned, unmistakably female and layered with sex. 'Where ya been baby? I've missed you.'
It'd been too long. 'There ya are darlin'. Why don't cha get into something comfortable and I'll meet cha at the flag in a few.'
'Of course Logan,'the computer purred. 'The usual?'
'Of course baby,' Logan grinned.
Allowing himself to taste the beginnings of the adrenaline pumping within him, he settled into a comfortable dangerousness and pulled his equipment's safety release with a deep breath. Olympic movements marked his form as Logan fell free through the air with the direction of a bullet. Darkness recognized darkness and he was swallowed into it without a ripple.
* * *
The Wrong Game
Jean Grey emerged from the hallway into the Danger room's control center. Walking to the observation window she looked down to see Wolverine's progress into the program that left his body and ego battered 5 weeks prior. Being the head medical doctor, she was also the chief observer in charge of giving Logan back his permanent 'proto-type program' access, Jean sat down for a spell of objective observation.
Wolverine flushed through the undergrowth of the holographic forest working his way through an army of foes in rapid succession. His curved lips so often set into a severe frown were set into a remarkably relaxed smile as he suddenly broke 10 feet straight up into the air like a demon possessed. In savage elegance, he effortlessly whirled and slashed out with his claws, simultaneously decapitating two rushing targets. Acrobatics and gravity landed his blades into a killer beneath him before back flipping to a rocky outcropping graffittied with blood. He looked wild and his body pulsed with potential energy.
Jean shook off the ridiculous idea that she could feel the vibrations from that great a distance. Looking over at the monitors, it almost came as something of a shock when she realized Logan wasn't performing at a normal heart rate but actually steady, slow beats as if in deep trance.
For a second Logan sniffed the air and suddenly looked up at the observation window. She saw his mouth turn up slightly. He seemed to be able to detect the holographically disguised observation room from within a working program. 'Ridiculous. He can't sense me from there,' mused Jean as she backed away to complete a brief report. She clucked her tongue. 'Hmm, I don't think I've got any problems returning permanent program control without supervision at all.'
Professional observations done she looked around the room as if what she was about to do was bad and straightened from her easygoing slouch against the leather chair to watch him. Really watch him. With a few controlled mental clicks of the master panel, the moniters zoomed in on his body, and Jean became painfully, irrevocably aware of him. Did he know how he affected her? Probably. The newness of having Logan live at the mansion had worn off and her marriage to Scott had settled on her shoulders like a comfy sweater. Yet, Logan continued to flirt with her. Alone or with company. It didn't matter, much to her pleasure and Scott's displeasure. It wasn't that she wanted to start a love triangle, it's just that Logan was comfortable with his sexuality and she was starting to understand that and enjoy it like the bit of innocent fun that it was. She was happily married to Scott. She liked to think that she was a practical woman. A realist. Logan was just too intense for her, unpredictable, relationship wise. Once again, she mentally repeated, 'I am happily married to Scott.' That's what she told herself on an almost daily basis. A few more times and she might actually begin to believe it.
* * *
Wolverine scented Jean in the observation room above him. His heart started beating a bit faster at the hidden strain of her watching him, and he knew she was. Somehow he could feel it. Her scent semed to dominate his sight and sound. Not just because it was Jean, but because it was woman.
He was nearly in full berserker mode, and the only thing that he needed to put him over his controlled edge was lust or blood. In this situation, if this were the real world, he of course would choose blood. But this wasn't the real world. This was play time.
Through long training Logan had achieved a certain kind of balance between the liberation of energy and the maintenance of a calm, lucid mind. He wasn't in the mood for calm and lucid tonight. He didn't realize what he was really in the mood for before he started the program. He thought what he needed was a good fight. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps what he needed was a woman and six hours to make her his whore.
That thought became infinately more to his liking as he thought more on it. Whoever it was gonna be, he was gonna crouch her on all fours and make her feel everything. Logan felt a familiar crackle around his body as he let the lust run. He opened himself up to full berserker mode as the heaviness between his legs started pounding in his head simultaniously forcing his vision from blur to cutting focus.
A sound. Logan turned abruptly to his right. His almost black eyes eclipsed with a feral glow of red like an animal caught in camera flash. He allowed the wildness to erupt and he crouched there alert and wary. After gauging the distance of his target, he held one hand above his head for balance and waited. He had lost a certain edge going full berserk and he unconciously let out a low growl as he attacked. His movements were quick so his animal cries didn't matter. As a dark face appeared above him Logan kicked upward knocking the body to his level where he struck with deadly force into his abdomen, popped his claws then carved through the rib cage. He let the body slide off the bloody blades onto the ground below just a group of his friends prepared for attack. Seeing their friend in an unnatural pose atop a mountain of dead, they all scattered evoking Logan's instinct to chase.
Logan catapulted into the forest with a inhuman roar that erupted from his hard muscled belly and the cries of his prey rose into the air then eerily faded as if they had never existed.
Logan's throat felt dry. He was sweaty. His body was warm and he wanted to add a pretty young thing to his game for the night. He filled the entrance to the control room and visibly shook with a dangerous presence not to be fucked with. 'Jean,' he raked her body then purr growled, 'Darlin' You come up here to watch me?' His voice paused for effect then moved closer to stalk her. 'Or play around?' Logan unnervingly stared at her figure push kick her chair slowly against the farthest wall in a primative collapse to fight or flight. He watched he swallow and it only made him want to challenge her further.
'Cause I want to fucking play around.' Logan promised as he unconciously bared the teeth on one side of his mouth. 'Or fuck.' His closed the distance between them and bent down to whisper into her neck. 'Scott ever crouch you on all fours?'
* * *
Jean looked away and refused to say a word as he whispered other obscene things in her ear. Wolverine'e eyes bored into hers. His deep even breathing pushed at the pulse in her neck. Jean's face was suddenly far hotter than the blush that bloomed on her cheeks. She had intended to leave immediately after her initial observations. She had not only intended to. Wanted to. But she was hypnotized watching him command his kills. It fulfilled her on a primative level. Rather like watching the strongest male come home with all the meat from a successful hunt.
This was how he acted after all assigned missions. She knew Logan wasn't any different after running a program..and yet here she was.
Sudden realization hit her. Think. Focus. Focus. This was exactly how she wanted him. The timing was a bit odd to spring sexuality/aggressiveness tests on Logan but, ever the scientist, the idea grabbed her. Help him keep his lust then shove him into her and Beast's test program. But how? She hurridly searched her mind for an appropriate action and grasped at talk to give her the time.
'Logan. This isn't how we should be. You're not yourself. Your testosterone is a bit off the charts right now. This behavior--'
He cocked his head and said with a fierce intensity. 'I'm very much myself right now Jean. Look. If you didn't want to be here, you would have run long ago.'
To make his point he turned his head away for about ten seconds, then back, to stare her down again. 'You're still here.'
Logan was like a wolf that constantly provoked the healthiest female of the pack for mating rights. The only thing that stopped him from public sexual advances was the presence of Cyclops, instinctively protecting her from every angle.
Well she wasn't in public now. She was alone.
Very much alone.
Jean refused to look away, determined to force down his challenge. She stared back, showing him her strength. It rose solid to meet his sudden realization that she wasn't going to act the submissive.
Logan was slightly taken aback by her unwavering gaze, but soon recovered. It was a delicious unexpected event to witness. His urge to throw her against the nearest wall and take her only increased, yet he kept his breathing steady. The only thing that gave him away was the heart monitor behind his shoulder. Jean noted with fascination that it read at 112 beats per minute. Now was the perfect time to suggest he make a go of the new program.
She needed to clear his head of fog.
Suddenly Jean ripped her arm out of his grip. Then gathering her sexual tension into an aggressive physical blow backed with mental firepower, she launched into his jaw with a warrior cry, 'Uhhggaaarrahhh!' Logan's head whipped up and back as he flew through the air, landing unsteadily on his hands and knees.
He lay there groaning with his forehead to the ground for several seconds, then suddenly, snapped it up. The sleek powerful muscles of his body tensed and his tongue slid out slowly to lap blood that spread from the corner of his mouth.
A twitch of black humor pulled at hers. 'Crouching on all fours I see.'
Wolverine stumbled up and retreated backwards against a console, his eyes never losing contact with her own. 'One of these days, you're gonna bring my world down in fire Jean. I can feel it.'
He let a strained silence fall between them. She knew without any further comment that she had won. This time.
'I have a proposition for you.'
Logan mentally pulled away from her until he could no longer react to her warm body. 'So what.' He looked her up and down, noticing her jaw click in cleverly concealed irritation. 'You're playing a game with me Jean. For you, a dangerous game. What is it you want?'
She half expected him to leap at her but he kept his distance. 'I'm going to watch you have sex,' and before he could react she threw a small disc at him. 'The program.'
* * *
Into the program
Logan leaned back in a euro-styled leather chair and with deliberate effort controlled his rising erection from making his position too uncomfortable. He tapped the side of his head slowly. Narrowed his perceptive eyes. 'So you want to know what I really like? Come on in and find out baby.'
She tried to keep her eyes level with his. However, her peripheral vision registered his lewd hand movements. She ignored him as best she could. 'You'll have to come forward a bit Logan. For the best results I need to have closer contact than this.'
A low laugh escaped his lips and he slumped down even futher so his legs balanced out over the edge of the chair. 'Have a seat,' he said as he patted his erection. 'Nobody's gonna know but me, you, and the Professor...and somehow I'm guessing somebody told him to keep his mind as far away from us as possible.'
A thousand remarks perched on her tongue then died there as she bit her lower lip in obvious discomfort and silence.
'This is the only way I'm gonna let cha be a bad little girl tonight' He stated it in such a way, that it gave Jean no room for debate. 'I'm gonna play this little game of yours but you gotta play mine.' Logan watched her warring emotions and loyalties play over her face, causing her lower lip to pout out slightly. It begging to be sucked. His erection jerked suddenly bringing her attention back to the proposition at hand.
Logan's voice was rough velvet as he assured in a way that tested her resolve, 'I ain't gonna fuck you.'
Jean looked at him from a side angle. 'You promise?'
'No,' he admitted. 'But for the next 2 minutes I can stand to have you sit on my lap if you don't move around to much.' He leered. 'I'll be fun. Come 'ere. Two minutes.'
The clocked ticked. Jean still didn't move.
'You're cutting into your time Jean, you're down to...what? A minute and 45 seconds?' He followed her eyes to the great bulge in his black jeans, and gently squeezed the length of him through the denim. 'The only way, you're gonna make this thing disappear from sight is if you throw yourself down on it, so pull up your skirt and take a front row seat.' She began to slowly get up from her chair and lifted her skirt along her upper thighs as Logan watched. 'One minute and 30 seconds.'
His reminder quickened her movements and she positioned herself above his slightly spread legs and sat down. She positioned her legs outside of his and braced her body slowly downward with the palms of her hands against his broad shoulders. Logan pushed her hips down so fast she almost felt as if he had penetrated her. The bulk of him tore away from his lower abdomen straining to push into her through the layers of material.
The awareness that she had been fighting all night was being quickly thrown aside and she closed her eyes and gasped at the sheer hardness that pushed a shallow trench inside of her. It was maddening because it only teased her, pushing through the moistness that stained her underwear.
'One minute darlin.' He bucked her slowly. Suggestively. 'What am I thinking?' He voice went even deeper. 'What do I like?'
Preparing to enter his mind, Jean tightly shut her eyes trying to expel all outward stimuli. She entered his mind.
She had her eyes closed and with his senses he studied her breathing and heart rate climb as she rifled through his vivid sexual preferances. He could smell and feel her soaking him down to the denim in response. Through her material, with a gentle, solid and insistant pressure, he began to rub the swollen nub of her flesh that nestled within a pouting kiss. She started writhing and moaning against him with subtle ghost movements like in a dream. He made sure to trace her contours with his middle finger. He wanted to do more but held himself for a bit longer.
After a small cut of time had passed he whispered to her subconcious, 'Wanna know what I really like Jean?'
With a unrestrained snarl, Logan pushed aside the wet cotton, then her moist folds, and slide all the fingers between his index and pinkie straight up to her neck. 'Time's up darlin'.'
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