A Whisper of Desire
by
Wolverana



Sitting upon the edge of his bed, half dressed, and less than half sure of himself, Logan shifted a dark blue tie from hand to hand, occasionally resting in moments of pure doubt. His blue dress shirt lay across the back of his desk chair, beckoning him, yet at the same time, taunting him, as though he were an animal unfit to wear such a piece of clothing. Tossing the tie to the floor, he placed his elbows on his knees, then sighing horribly, placed his head in his hands. This night he had feared since the new year, the day when everything was set anew, when things were to change for the better, for people to heighten themselves above all their expectations and strive to be what they always dreamed of. Yet almost a year later, Logan felt like the same man, if not worse. He let himself down, and in doing this, he let others down. He was nobody if he could not fulfil what he expected of himself, what he wanted for himself, what others wanted from him. What he wanted Jean to want from him.

Jean.

Her birthday had collapsed upon him like a falling anvil, the impact leaving him crushed and hopeless to the outcome of the dreaded night. The hours he had spent drudging over endless possibilities of what gift would please her, what might make her look upon him with more than mere friendship. Logan wanted Jean to look at him the way she lovingly glanced at Scott, the way she held his eyes with hers, promising so much, loving so much.

He had decided long ago that in no way could the word ėlust' explain what he felt for the woman. She pulled on the strings of his heart like a puppet master, jerking him around in every which way, causing him more pain then he thought he could bear sometimes. He almost didn't think he was capable of such feelings.

Capable?

He was human, was he not? His mutations did not take away his ability to love another human being, whether it be carnal or a fatherly love, or the love one shares with a passionate lover, or just a good friend. Jean was a good friend, yet he did not know how much longer he could hold himself to that.

The night had been hard for him, watching her across the well dressed table covered in delicacies and simplicities alike, her liquid green eyes fluttering back and forth from her many friends, her smiles full of love and her laugh full of gaiety. Once or twice he had caught her eye and held it, her gaze seeming to drink him in, her smile sending wavelengths of an unspoken secret. He was the one to look away first, momentarily confused.

Scott's absence form the occasion had not helped, his sudden duties dampening Jean's moods for a time, yet as the day drew nearer, her smiles brightened and her laughing increased. Sitting between Remy and Ororo, she sipped her Chinese tea, ate gracefully, her voice like silk when she spoke, her eyes like a caress when she glanced. Her spirits were high as she joked with Jubilee and Remy, listened intently to Professor Xavier's stories of insightful incredulessness, laughed lightly at Marie's upturned nose at beef tripe.

Yet Logan could not help but to feel anxious, the feeling not letting up when Jean's eyes moistened at the thoughtful and loving gifts that were set before her later that night in the X-mansion. She looked dazzling wearing Scott's gift, a necklace of finely cut diamonds which he had given her before he left.

Smiling warmly, she had opened everyone's gift with her delicate fingers, eyed them lovingly and thanking everyone in turn, hugs and kisses exchanged. Heart-wrenchingly, Logan's gift had come last, a small envelope with her name written carefully and smoothly across the front. He almost winced at the number of envelopes he had to go through to make it perfect. Yet that hardly hurt him as much as her reaction to the gift.

A single jewel of a tear glided down her alabaster cheek when she opened it, reading a small slip of paper that was covered in his writing. Wiping the tear away hastily, she clutched her gift to her breast and stood to make her way to Logan. His heart almost stopping, she placed her hands on his face, then bending slightly, she kissed him lightly on his forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered, backing away to sit down. Jubilee crouched down beside her, taking the two slips of paper that were in the envelope out of her fingers and peering at them.

"Wow," she breathed. "Two first class tickets for you and Scott on the Cascadia Tropic Cruise." She passed them to Remy, who had whistled softly.

"Trying to make de rest of us look bad, eh, Logan" Remy remarked, and passed them onto the next curious hands.

"I hear that cruise is supposed to be the most exhilarating experience a couple can experience," Ororo put in, smiling at Jean. Yet Jean did not see, her eyes clouded over, staring at something that was not there.

"I bet that cleaned your account," Bobby said, looking at Logan in consternation. Logan shrugged, his stomach feeling like lead from Jean's reaction.

"It's just a little somethin' for the Birthday girl. Jean and Scott need teh take some time off anyhow, I thought it might be a good idea."

That had been hours ago.

His head still in his hands, he massaged his temples with his index fingers, his eyes shut tight, his stomach lurching every time he thought of that moment in the night. The moment he made her cry. Was she upset with him. Was she angry?

He had no right to write such things to her, his heart's mark cascading across the paper. He felt like a fool, like a primitive beast with no self control, no knowledge of what was appropriate or not. Love made him a fool.

He stood suddenly, having the urge to smoke, to release the tension that had been killing him for too long. The night was over. The Hell was over. He could now relax and continue to live. Yet he did not know how he would be able to look at Jean again, if she would even want to look at him.

Scott was going to want to kill him. Logan knew the younger man could never accomplish such a feat, yet Logan had tread on forbidden territory, and he desperately needed to get back.

A slight knock at his door made him wary, he did not want to have company now.

"What" he called gruffly, a mask of irritation momentarily crossing his features, yet it slipped from him and was replaced with the look of a completely lost man, though Logan could not remember the last time he had been lost.

Jean slipped through the door, she was still dressed in the dress she wore that evening, her hair pinned up, though pieces of it fell against her now tear-stained face, her eyes red, a tissue clutched in her right hand. Logan's heart raced. He had hurt her, and he found that he could not stand to look at her. Unable to say anything, he lowered his eyes, staring at the ground. Jean said nothing either, though he could feel her eyes boring into him. Murdering him. Stupid beast of a man, his angry thoughts raced. Stupid stupid beast. He had been right. He was not capable of loving. Only capable of being harsh, only capable of hurting.

He was forced to look up when Jean came forward, a look of anger spread across her beautiful face, another tear glistening down her cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, but clenched it tight when the palm of her hand raked across his face, an angry stinging sensation burning his cheek, then disappearing, his healing factor replacing the feeling with calm neutral. His only thoughts were of being animal enough to hurt her enough for her to strike at him, hurther enough to make the woman who captured his heart to loath him.

She raised a hand to strike him again, yet he caught it inches from his face, anger beginning to boil in his blood, anger at himself. She struck at him yet again with her free hand, a sob escaping from her, and as he caught her other hand, she struggled viciously in his grasp, and with a single twinge of her mind, she threw him back against his desk, stumbling into his chair and hitting the floor hard, pushing the air out of him. She collapsed on top of him, her wrists still in his grasp, struggling only a moment more before her head came down on his shoulder, her forehead resting at his neck, her whole body convulsing as she wept bitterly. Logan did not let go of her wrists.

Between her sobs, her words struck him harder than any fist could ever manage, leaving him breathless...

By the starlit mere of your wondrous essence
One can only dream
Of such a miracle that is bestowed upon them
Yet I, a single man
Live it every breathing moment of my life
Yet I, a man of scant importance
Live it every time your eye catches mine
Yet I, hardly a man
Can only dream of your love...

Logan froze, his hands releasing the woman atop of him, his gift to her escaping her lips and stabbing him painfully. He could not lie there and listen to the words of the only poem he had ever written flow from the mouth of a woman he had hurt considerably. He sat up off the floor, gently taking her with him, and moving her aside, he tried to get up.

A small hand on his chest stopped him. Forcing himself to look at Jean, her face was blank, she simply looked at him with eyes that cried with more than pain. Her words almost scared him when they came.

"No beast could ever write something like that to me," she whispered, resting her head against Logan's shoulder, surprising him more than anything. "No animal." A sob escaped her again, but she quickly recovered, bringing her lips to Logan's ear. "And I would never come here if I knew that a mere man loved me," she whispered.

Logan's mind cleared. He had angered her by thinking himself to be a beast. She had read his mind when she entered his room. Insulted her by suggesting that she was wasting her own feelings on an animal of a man....never come here if I knew that a mere man loved me... Her words floated about his confused mind.

"I love you because you are more than just a man." Her words struck him yet again, his blood burning hot as her lips brushed his neck with a tender softness. . She loved him. The thought was impossible yet it made Logan's heart race with a fervor he had not experienced in a long time. Jean said no more, but his mind filled with images of himself. Images of how Jean saw him, of how Jean loved him. Of how she wanted him. Images of him being a gentle, kind man with a passion for life like none other she knew, a love for others that only he could have, a love for her she had never experienced, but wanted desperately. "I love you because you are not half as gruff and tough as you seem to be."

Scott loved her, Logan knew, loved her with his life. But how was he any different with his love than her husband, besides the fact that he loved a woman already joined to a man by vows that he could not break. He could not betray Scott in this way, no matter how he felt about the younger man who was his superior in many ways. Yet Jean would not except that. Not now.

She climbed about his lap, placing herself in front of him, his head in her hands, the warmth of her body pressing into his. Her face was very close to his, her eyes mesmerizing him, and he found himself unable to speak. His body was chilled when she tilted his head up, her lips meeting his and brushing them. Her lips had a spellbinding softness that made him want to melt into her. Jean herself was fascinated by the alluring nature of Logan's lips, her thoughts cascading into his mind. Meeting his lips again, Jean lost herself, her hands running down his chest as her lips moved over his, her tongue slipping into his mouth, the heat exciting her dramatically.

Yet Logan hesitated, he could feel his claws poking through with desire, but he knew he could not do this to her. He could not make love to a woman who by marriage was joined to another man. A man who loved her dearly. He tried to break her kiss, Jean struggling to stay close to him, her teeth gripping his lower lip softly which made him sigh and close his eyes. He did not want to lose her. Yet he must.

She released him slowly, though her hands remained on his chest, heat seeping through the white t-shirt he wore. He looked up at her, her green eyes begging so much of him, so much that he wanted to badly to give her, but held himself back.

"I don't want teh hurt yeh," he breathed, "I can't hurt yeh," Never again. He had done enough damage to her. Yet she replied to him with untamed passion.

"Then why are you hurting me so much now?" Confused, Logan let go of her. Stuttering for words, he tried to apologize, and making his mind to get up. She silenced him with her lips, her hands moving from his chest to his back, holding him there. He did not struggle this time. He would never struggle again.

He felt her tongue again, and capturing it gently with his teeth, he caressed it with his own tongue, the heat of her driving him wild. He moved his mouth from her lips to her neck, a moan escaping her, fueling him as he glided his tongue down her throat to where the cut of her dress stopped between her breasts, and twisting her hands in his hair, she held his head there, his tongue teasing her delightfully.

Logan was momentarily surprised when Jean broke away. Momentarily afraid. Yet climbing off of his lap and getting to her knees, she pulled him up with her, desire burning in her face. Once on there feet, Jean led him to his bed, stopping at it's edge and kissing him again, the fervor returned with his own lips, not once minding the size difference between the two.

Jean's hands found their way beneath his shirt, lifting it as her lips continued to move over his, their tongues interlocking and frolicking about. They broke their dance of passion only long enough for Jean to pull Logan's shirt over his head and place herself on his bed, pulling him down on her, then moving in such a way to find him on his back and her straddling him, her lips on his chest.

Making a low sound in his throat when Jean's lips found his left nipple, his right hand moved the slight zipper of her dress down until her straps were falling from her shoulders, a sight that drove him wild. Her mouth and caressed him as she licked and sucked the extreme sensitivity of his chest, his nipples growing hard with desire.

"Darl'n," he murmured, "Yeh know just the way teh provoke me," and grasping the sides of her arms, he brought her away from his chest to his lips, his hands now slipping her dress down to expose perfect ivory globes, her nipples supple rosebuds. Lifting his shoulders off the bed he was able to take one in his mouth, teasing her the same way she had him. Arching her back, Jean moaned softly, her nipple hardening under his caress, her arms encircling his neck, bringing him closer in, needing his heat. In a simple move, Logan found himself back on top of her, releasing her nipple and running his tongue down her body as moved her dress lower and lower until it rested on her hips, beckoning him to remove it completely. Yet he found himself momentarily distracted by Jean's hands, which played at the belt of his slacks, the buckle giving away easily. As she toyed with the button, trying to undo it, Logan reached up to her hair, undoing the clip which held it up so gracefully, and as Jean sat up, successfully undoing and unzipping his slacks, her reddish golden hair cascaded down her shoulders, creating a mane of beauty almost to much to behold.

He kissed her then, his hands tangling themselves in her thick hair, her hands tugging gently at his waist, pushing his slacks down to reveal the hardness of his sex, which she took in her hands, making him growl with pleasure. Closing her hand around the shaft, then moving it up, applying pressure, pleasuring him like he never felt, she then flattened the palm of her hand on the tip of him, applying more pressure, driving him mad, then releasing him she lay back on the bed, smiling seductively.

Needing no more incitement, Logan slid her dress from her, moving himself so he could kiss her thighs as he did so. Her body was hot, and she did not hinder him as he sought to part her beautifully shaped thighs, exposing her own sex, wet with desire. Her lips parted softly and she exhaled throatily as Logan found the part of her she most desired to be touched, and as he caressed it first with the gentleness of his hand, then the subtlety of his tongue, she inhaled sharply, her back arching and her hands closing in his hair, wanting the feeling he was producing never to stop.

The heat of her sex drove him on, and with two fingers he slowly entered her, Jean moving against him, trying desperately to have the feeling last forever. He brought her slowly to orgasm, and when she reached her first climax she bucked wildly, crying his name, begging him never to stop. But he did.

Removing his slacks completely then, he allowed himself to be guided by Jean, her legs slipping around him, pulling him into her, begging him to complete her. To complete them. He entered with ease, and kissing Jean with a newly released passion that almost drove him mad, he started a rhythm she easily picked up, her legs pulling him in further, her lips caressing his, her hands running through his hair, her heart pumping for him.

She whispered his name feverishly, her whisper growing louder with every thrust he took, her body now glistening with sweat that mingled with his own. Her own name escaped Logan's lips, the feeling he was achieving with a woman he never thought he could have brought them both to a climax, their bodies cascading against one another, their cries of utter pleasure filling the room, their heat driving one another wild.

With a final thrust, Logan felt his essence flow into her, and holding her body against him, she cried his name a final time, then lowered herself slowly, her legs bringing him down with her, her chest heaving. Logan himself felt exhausted, resting his head upon her breasts, she stroked his hair. His energy quickly restored itself, yet he only moved out and off of her, a gentle protest escaping her lips. Quieting her with a kiss, he lay beside her, an arm under her, drawing her against him.

Sighing continently, she moved as close to him as she could, and after a few minutes, the quiet sound of even breathing told him she was asleep.

His body hot from the incredible event that just took place, Logan looked up at his ceiling. Feeling dangerously afraid then, he regretted what he had shared with Jean horribly, regretted what she felt for him, regretted what he had done to release those feelings. The beautiful woman could not stay in his arms forever, and he knew he could never share this feeling with her again. He could not shake the feeling that he had taken something away from her that night of her birthday, something he could never replace. She would return to Scott when he came back, and both Logan and Jean would struggle to pretend it never happened, for it would ruin Scott's marriage to her, would break both Scott and Jean's heart.

Suddenly, Logan felt devastated. While his wish for Jean's heart had come true, now that they had made love, he could not enjoy it's memory. It was like a blotch of filth in his mind, a memory that, while it was incredible to experience, was heinous to think back on.

Gently, careful not to wake her, Logan removed his arm from underneath Jean, and taking a quick glance at her beautiful face, he got off his bed and made his way to his closet, quickly getting dressed in a plaid shirt and khaki jeans. Stepping into a pair of shoes, not caring which pair they were, he found himself a cigar and lighting it, he found himself a way outside, the night air cooling him.

Taking a heavy drag, Logan inhaled deeply, leaning on the rail of the small porch. He spent the night there, not once ever thinking of sleep, for he could not. The thought seemed foreign to him. No matter how hard he tried, all he could think of was the havoc he had caused that night, the relationships he had damaged, the wounds he had inflicted.

Throwing his finished cigar butt to the ground, Logan lowered his head, allowing the night to wash over him, take his mind to a place where he did not hurt so much, and he realised the limitations of his healing factor.

He could not heal his broken heart.



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