Title: The Awakening
Author: fury_grrl
Archive: Just ask first
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, I just wanna borrow them for a little while
Rating: NC-17
Summary: X-Men Evolution Series. The creators of 'Evolution' forgot about one of the most profound Marvel romances of all time. I'm here to remedy that....
Warnings: None

Author's Note
I know Jean's young in the series - but not under-age (Personally, I like to view her a little older than they portray her). I also 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 perfectly white teeth.

He grunted, a sardonic half-smile on his lips. "Quiet, yes. 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 cheek. 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?" he asked, sarcasm lacing 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 grass.

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 - ? His student? With him? 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.

* * * * *

She 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 my 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!

The Awakening - Part 2

Jean sat alone in her room, a pen clutched between her teeth, notebooks and papers strewn all about. Music played quietly in the background as she read through an over-sized textbook, occasionally jotting down a blurb in a book she had in her lap.

Finally, letting the pen fall from her mouth, she closed both books. Stretching enormously, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. A glance at her bedside clock told her it was later than she'd expected.

Almost 2 am. Another exciting Friday night has passed me by, she thought with a grimace.

Gathering her homework, she dumped in unceremoniously into her school bag. Even though the hour was late and she'd spent the entire day without a moment of rest, she found that she was far from sleepy.

What to do now...she wondered, mentally checking to see who was around.

The Professor - asleep.

Ororo - awake but reading in bed.

Scott and Mr. McCoy were still installing new equipment in the lab.

Kitty, Kurt, Evan, and Rogue were at an all-night movie marathon at the town's ancient drive-in; they wouldn't be home until after breakfast that morning.

The rookies had been asleep for hours.

That just leaves little ol' me, she thought with a sigh. She glanced around for the book she'd been reading earlier that week but couldn't find it. Deciding that was a good thing, she opened the door to her room and made her way downstairs.

She stopped briefly in the kitchen to grab a Diet Coke and then proceeded into the living room. Not bothering to turn on the light, she flopped onto the couch and felt for the remote on the side table. Turning the tv on, she flipped through the channels while simultaneously using her teke to pop open her soda can. After taking a sip, she tucked her bare legs underneath her and continued to surf through the boring programming that presented itself.

Infomercial, talk show re-run, lame movie, infomercial, infomercial...she sighed again. Caving, she tossed the remote beside her, letting the infomercial for 'Body by Jake' continue.

"...and that's not even the best feature of this body-sculpting doo-hickey, is it Jake?"

"Nooooo way, Janice - who, by the way, ISN'T an actress, but a satisfied customer - this here Ab-tronic Muscle-fyer with added Pec enhancement thingies has soooo many great features, I'd be, heh heh, Hard Pressed to list them all!"

"Tee hee hee! Did you hear that, super-excited studio audience? Hard Pressed!! Jake, you're not only buff and sexy, but you're extremely amusing! Tee hee hee..."

<super-excited studio audience claps and cheers and laughs>

"It'd take more than the 50 bucks they pay to get me that excited," Jean mumbled, sipping her drink again. "More like they spike the complementary orange drink before the show."

Studying the show's host, Jake, she noted his physique with a critical eye. 'Firm, but not rock-hard. Defined, but not wholly sculpted. Skin's smooth, not hair-covered like a real man should be...' She closed her eyes a moment, letting an image of Logan stroll through her thoughts. "Mmm-hmm...now that's a man." She whispered, feeling herself flush.

Suddenly, she heard the growl of a motorcycle engine in the driveway and watched as the beam from its lone headlight arced brightly into the room in which she sat.

Logan! She thought excitedly. He wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow morning! Since their moment in the garden a week ago, she hadn't had any opportunity to be with him alone, and had to settle for crossing his path as often as she could; this was a lucky break!

Sitting up, she took stock of herself; fresh from her earlier shower, attired in her tiny pink baby doll t-shirt and matching boxer 'jammies, hair slightly damp and gently waving around her face, she knew she presented a fetching sight.

Hearing boot-heels click on the outside walk, she took a deep breath and steeled herself. Take it easy, Jean girl, you know what to do, she told herself silently, lightly moistening her lips with her tongue. Feeling prepared, she waited for the front door to open.

When it did, she nearly jumped. She heard him drop his bag on the floor of the marbled foyer, heard him clomping about noisily for a minute before coming into the living room.

She could feel the familiar tingle of nervousness and nausea threatening to sweep over her as he approached, but clamped both down firmly.

You're not a little kid anymore! She admonished herself. You're a woman grown - how are you going to make him see that if you don't even see it yourself!?

"Hey Red, whatcha doing up so late?" he called softly from behind her, standing in the doorway of the room.

"I was lonely, tv's the only company around tonight." She said, making her voice sound small and a little sad. Turning to look at him, she could only make out his silhouette framed in the hall's light. Silently, she willed him to sit with her, praying he wouldn't just go to bed.

"Looks like lousy company t'me..." he observed, watching Jake and his not-an-actress assistant Janice getting tangled up in their workout machine.

Jean smiled at him, knowing he could see her in the backwash of light. "Tell me about it." She said before turning her attention back to the screen.

Her heart beat erratically, waiting to see what he would do next.

He hesitated a moment, then walked away.

"Damn!" she muttered under her breath, surprised when pinpricks of wetness formed in her eyes.

She swiped angrily at the tears before they could fall, disappointed with herself.

You should have done something different, she fumed inwardly, running a hand through her hair.

She stared unseeing at the television for another minute, letting her thoughts tumble about aimlessly before deciding to retire her room. She'd had enough of the overly perky Janice, the obviously drunk studio audience, and the borderline retarded host, Jake.

* * * * * *

Logan went to turn off the hall lights.

Standing in the darkness, one hand on the heavy oak banister of the grand staircase, he debated whether or not to go to bed, or to sit with Jean and watch some bad tv.

He was still pumped from the long ride back to the mansion and as such, knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right away. All he'd been able to think about down that last stretch of highway was kicking back with a cold beer and letting himself veg in front of the tube.

Just because Jeannie's around doesn't mean I still can't do that, he told himself, quietly making his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. She'd probably be glad t'have someone to sit up with, he continued in his mind, dropping the twist cap into the garbage.

Walking towards the living room while taking a healthy swig of the foamy brew, he firmly tapped down the sense of expectation he felt building inside him. He knew the feeling was because of Jean, because they were alone, and because, despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her all week.

He wasn't going to let his emotions take control of him this time.

* * * * * *

Jean was about to turn off the tv when a hand grabbed for the remote just before she touched it. Jumping back in alarm, she looked up to see Logan clutching it, an open Molson in his other hand.

He smiled at her, amused. "Didn't mean t'scare ya." He said, chuckling. Taking a mouthful of his beer, he sat down on the opposite end of sofa, parking his still-booted feet on top of the coffee table.

Embarrassed at being caught off guard, she glared at him. "You didn't scare me, just startled me, that's all. I thought you'd gone to bed." She said indignantly, reaching for her drink.

He continued to flip aimlessly through the channels before responding. "Don't feel like bed yet." Was all he offered, not looking at her.

Jean's hands twisted in her lap, unprepared for what to do next. She'd lived this exact scenario in her mind for months, always appearing confident and knowledgeable during her daydreams. How different she felt now, like the schoolgirl Logan thought her to be.

Pushing such negativity from her mind, she instead uncurled her legs from under her body to let them stretch out beside her, toes almost touching Logan's denim-clad hip.

"What brought you home early?" she asked, thankful that her voice remained steady.

He'd settled on an old western flick, one that she'd never seen before. Men wearing the traditional cowboy garb argued fiercely, brandishing guns at one another.

"Finished what I was doing ahead of schedule." He mumbled, eyes glued to the movie.

"And…..what was that?" she asked, once again telepathically checking on the other occupants in the mansion.

Ororo was now sleeping, Scott and Hank had travelled off to their rooms by way of the back stairs fifteen minutes ago, and everyone else was deep in slumber.

"Sumthin' for Chuck." Logan replied, turning to face her. "Top secret." He said with a wink.

She stared at him earnestly, catching his eyes with her own, watched as his face slowly lost the teasing expression it wore. He broke contact first to return to his movie, gulping down the last of his beer. He looked at the empty bottle suspiciously, as if wondering where all the liquid had disappeared to so quickly.

"Want another one?" Jean asked softly, leaning forward. She could feel her unfettered breasts shift with her movement, straining against the ribbon closure of her shirt. She held out a hand for the bottle.

"Sure." He said, fighting to keep his eyes off the whiteness of her cleavage. His pained look was strangely reassuring. Taking the bottle from him, she followed the now-dark hallway to the kitchen. She placed the empty on the counter, opened the fridge, and extracted three bottles.

'I don't want to be jumping up for new beers every five minutes', said the logical part of her brain.

She handed a bottle to Logan before she sat down, placing the other two beers on nearby coasters.

She heard the air escape as he twisted off the cap, watched the shadows play over his features as he drank. She shifted a little closer to him, trying to be unobtrusive. She could smell the leather of his coat, which he still wore, the faint perfume of tobacco that always clung to him, and now, the tang of alcohol. His smell was enough to cause her stomach to knot, warmth flooding to her lower region.

She pretended to be interested in the movie.

"What's this movie about?" she asked, fingers playing with her hair. Gently, lest he suspect, she probed the most outer portion of his thoughts, hoping to slip in a suggestion.

"Good guys fightin' the bad guys." He answered simply, just as she touched on a random thought.

'...hair smells so damn good! Like summer and rain and warmth...' echoed through her head. She held her breath, not daring to hope that he was thinking about her. Seeking another thought, her mind pushed a little deeper.

'...just a child, just a child, a pretty child Logan, not a grown woman, not yet....'

She retracted back into herself, the vehemence of that last thought leaving her shaking. She wanted to hang her head and cry.

He could appreciate how good she smelled, how attractive she was, could acknowledge his tentative interest in her, but it would come to nothing, she realized futilely. No matter what she threw at him, he would still see her as 'Jeannie', the twelve-year-old, the kid who pestered him mercilessly when she first arrived at the Institute.

He shifted positions, drawing her attention. She used his movement as another chance to slide closer, this time noting his sidelong glance her way; wary and a little stern.

"I'm cold." She said by way of explanation, shrugging her shoulders. He reached out a hand and felt her leg as if to feel for himself, causing electricity to shoot from that point of contact. His hand jerked back immediately, as if he, too, felt a shock.

"Should be wearin' more clothes." He grumbled into the neck of his bottle, pointedly looking away from her.

He must have seen her slump at his comment because, to her great delight, he lifted the arm that was closest to her, signalling her to close the gap between them.

Numb from excitement, she pulled herself over, trying without much success not to snuggle into him. The comforting weight of his arm draped around her, and she let herself lean into his chest.

Her heart beat like a trapped bird, wanting to be free. She could feel his heart thumping solidly through his flannel shirt, through her own thin nightshirt. She attempted to match his steady rhythm, idly turning back to the television for distraction.

The main character was in deep conversation with a beautiful, bonnet-sporting girl, her hands clutching his.

She spouted all sorts of passionate endearments, her eyes overflowed with tears, her bonnet fell off to reveal her dark hair. All the while, her hero looked off into the distance, as if he couldn't trust himself to look at her face and remain strong.

Jean was aware of Logan's cheek near her temple, could feel his breath stir the strands of hair closest to him. She heard his throat work as he downed another gulp of beer. She couldn't help herself as her mind slid back into his with the delicacy of a surgeon. She mouthed a quick thank-you to the professor for insisting on all the extra practice sessions over the last few months. Without them, she'd be too clumsy to perform with such skill.

Overwhelming feelings of restraint greeted her, surging through his brain, iron barricades that seemed to tremble faintly as if under great pressure.

She let a whisper of desire float into his thoughts, saw a red haze cloud her vision as he registered it, adding to the growing feeling kept within the barriers in his mind.

Coming back into herself once again, she knew that only a slight push would release all that pent up emotion. The only question was how to accomplish it.

* * * * * *

Logan felt as if he was coming down with a fever; his skin was flushed and overly warm, his breathing had quickened. He could feel his pulse throbbing all throughout his body, from his fingertips to his toes, and more specifically, in his groin.

It's your own fault, he snarled inwardly. Thinking you could withstand a beautiful, half-dressed STUDENT, one you couldn't keep out of your head for the last week. What kind of fucking moron are you?

Angry with himself, he swallowed the last of his beer.

Before he could reach for one of the others, now beaded with condensation, one of them raised up and floated towards him, the cap popping off in mid-air.

He snatched it, fighting to ignore her feathery hair tickling under his jaw. He downed more of the amber liquid, focusing totally on the movie.

Just get yourself away from her. Pull yer goddamned arm off'a her shoulders and walk. Nothing would be easier, he argued silently.

But he couldn't bring himself to move. She was so soft and warm, nestled in the crook of his arm like a kitten. Her fragrance aroused him unbelievably; the same smell he'd grown to crave since she'd stumbled upon him during his calming exercises.

"Where are the others?" he asked suddenly, voice tight.

She replied in a dreamy murmur, "Everyone but Kitty, Rogue, Evan, and Kurt are in bed. The other four are at the 'Dusk 'til Dawn' movie marathon that's being held at the drive-in. They won't be home until morning."

He couldn't be sure, but he detected a satisfied tone from her at that last statement.

He grunted and placed his beer bottle on the side table, fishing a cigarette out of his coat pocket with his free hand. Xavier didn't like him smoking in the house, and he usually respected that, but he'd be damned if he didn't need one right then and there.

A thin tendril of smoke was curling above his head when he heard Jean yawn, then felt her head drop to his chest. A hand affixed to his shirt and her legs crowded even closer to his, one of her knees slipping slightly over his thigh. Feeling her breasts rubbing against his torso through the filmy fabric of her night attire redirected all the pounding blood to his pelvis.

Doesn't she know what she's doing to me? He wondered wildly, feeling half crazed with want.

He felt his control slipping further and further away from him….

* * * * * *

She burrowed into him a little more, affecting a yawn while letting her head rest on his warm chest. She gave a contented sigh and her hand snaked up, positioning itself just below her chin, gripping his shirt. Her legs pressed more firmly against his, as if she was trying to get comfortable. The warmth that had pooled in her midsection became more intense, leaving her wet and aching.

A low growl rumbled from Logan after a minute of her shifting. Curious, she raised her head to look at him, hoping she hadn't irritated him. His face was inches from her own, she could see the faint stubble of hair poking through the skin of his chin.

She met his heated gaze unflinchingly, eyes wide. Her hand absently twisted a button on his shirt.

She heard the hissing of his cigarette as it was dropped into the bottle of unfinished beer at his side.

His eyes roamed agitatedly over her face as if looking for something. She noted absently that his heartbeat was a little faster, his breathing, shallower. His arm tightened around her almost imperceptibly, the leather of his coat making a creaking noise. She tilted her head a touch higher, silently inviting him to do what she knew he wanted to do, what she prayed he wanted to do.

His mouth descended, she felt his hot breath on her own parted lips, could feel her eyes closing in anticipation…

<BAMF!>

A cloud of smoke surrounded them both, the smell of brimstone heavy in the air.

Jean leapt from Logan's arms as if she'd been scalded, coughing and waving her hand around, trying to dispel the acrid fumes.

"Oops! Sorry meins Freundes! I did not expect anyone to be here so late!" Kurt said from behind the sofa before vaulting over it to plop unceremoniously between the two original occupants. "My bad!" he crowed with a laugh.

Jean regarded her teammate with a mixture of anger and shock, noticing Logan rising from his seat to gather his empty bottles.

"Kurt, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Why aren't you at the drive in? Where's everyone else?" she asked.

"Oh, dey should be here any second, I decided to jump ahead of them so I could claim the best spot on the couch!" He said, patting the cushion under his rump. "We decided to leave because Kitty kept falling asleep, Evan felt sick from eating too much junk food and Rogue kept complaining that she didn't like any of the movies." He explained. "I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you and - Logan? Didn't I see Logan when I arrived?" his head swivelled around, confused.

Realizing that Logan had left the room, Kurt leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially. "Why are you hanging out with Mr.Crabby-Pants anyway? Are you being punished for something?"

"No, we were just watching some tv, that's all." She said mildly, belying the extreme disappointment that threatened to suffocate her. She mentally flipped up the room's light switch to banish the ruined atmosphere.

The front door opened amidst hushed giggles, loud 'sshhhs!', and numerous footsteps. Kurt stuck out his tongue and bounced on his cushion while Kitty and Rogue, supporting a rather green-looking Evan between them, came into the now brightly lit room. Jean stood up and made her way around them to the stairs.

"Hey Jean! Aren't you, like, gonna stay an' watch some late night tv with us?" Kitty asked, lowering Evan down onto the other sofa. Rogue sat down next to Kurt and they began to argue over the remote.

Jean turned to her and smiled wanly. "No thanks. I think I've had enough television for one night."

She retreated up the heavily carpeted staircase, wondering where Logan had gone off to.

Voices from the living room floated up to her as she padded softly down the upstairs hall; …"Oh! 'Body by Jake'! This is, like, the BEST infomercial ever!"… "Ja! Leave it here! I want to hear him talk about his 'Abba-dabba's again!"… "Aww, c'mon y'all! We watched him for 3 hours last weekend! Don't none 'a ya appreciate variety?"… "We should try to get in as part of his studio audience if he makes another infomercial." …

Opening the door to her room, she paused on the threshold, one hand still gripping the knob. Turning her head to look down to the other end of the hall, her eyes involuntarily sought out where his door would be, shrouded in the blackest of shadows.

If I went to him now, would he…? No, the moment's passed, she thought morosely, stilling the trembling that threatened to overtake her slight frame.

She shut the door behind her and prepared for bed, debating her next move.

* * * * * *

Logan waited until he heard the soft click of her door closing before moving from his dark vantage point outside his own room.

Had she come to me, what would I have done? He asked himself, the glittering of his troubled eyes the only light in the gloom.

That thought, coupled with her lingering scent on his skin, kept him awake long into the rest of the night.

The Awakening - Part Three

"Jean! C'mon! Get a move on!" Scott called from the hallway as he passed by her bedroom door.

"I'll be right there." She replied, tightening her ponytail. She regarded her image in a full-length mirror, and, satisfied with what she saw, replaced her hairbrush on her vanity.

She made her way downstairs where her friends were waiting, all in training gear, listening to Storm as she gave them instructions.

"Ah Jean, there you are. I was just explaining to everyone what this session was going to entail." Storm said, her snowy hair catching and reflecting the bright sunlight that slanted through the foyer windows.

"Basically, this will be a glorified game of tag. Your job is to simply not get caught by myself, Beast, or Wolverine, before reaching the designated location. You may chose to work in teams or alone, whatever suits you." She continued pleasantly, eyes touching on each member of the group as she spoke.

"Where or what is the 'safe point'?" Scott asked.

Storm smiled, "That," she said, "is also part of the game. A green flag has been hidden somewhere within the boundaries of the estate, signifying the finish line. Once you reach it, you will be safe. Should you get tagged by one of the pursuers in the meantime, you are out of the game. If this occurs, return to the starting point. The Professor will be stationed there to monitor the game and provide further instruction should it be required. There is no time limit, so as long as you remain 'free', the game is on. Any questions?" she asked.

Jean waited quietly to see if anyone needed clarification, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Auntie O', where will you, Wolverine, and Beast start? With us? Evan asked, skateboard resting in his arms like a child.

"We will start from pre-selected points. You may see us, then again, you may not." The mocha-skinned woman replied with a grin.

When no one else spoke, Scott took charge.

"Okay team, let's get started." He said, leading the way outside.

Jean followed him, already plotting her course of action. She could feel sweat dampening her palms and wiped them down the length of her clinging, black bodysuit, the giddy nervousness that always came with a training session beginning to surge through her blood.

The late afternoon breeze brushed softly against her face, and she breathed in the rich smell of moist, spring earth with pleasure. The ground sank wetly beneath her booted feet, the recent rain having saturated it thoroughly.

We'll be easily tracked, she noted absently, eyes looking to the sun to see where it lay in the sky. It sat just above the western horizon, fat and golden, on the verge of setting.

The Professor's voice echoing in her mind drew her gaze. He was seated in his wheelchair a few feet away, woolen blanket draped across his legs.

"Are we ready to begin?" he asked silently, sipping from a steaming mug.

Jean nodded along with the others.

"Good. Then on my mark...GO!" he shouted telepathically.

Jean lifted herself up immediately and pushed herself forwards telekinetically, drawing away from the group. She saw Kitty grab on to Kurt, disappearing instantly in a cloud of smoke. Evan dropped his skateboard and found, to his dismay, that the soil was too sodden to utilize it effectively.

Cursing under his breath, he left it where it lay and dashed off, heading around the side of the manor.

Turning her head, Jean could see Scott following her, Rogue a step behind him.

A shadow on the ground ahead told her that Storm had taken to the air as well and was right above them. Veering suddenly, Jean avoided her teacher's swooping dive with ease. A shout of surprise from behind announced that one of the others wasn't so lucky.

A copse of trees loomed in the distance and Jean decided to head for them, knowing the marker wouldn't have been left in the open, also realizing that she needed cover if she was going to remain untouched.

Once within the leafy shade, she lowered herself to the ground and took a quick look back. The broad expanse of lawn was empty except for the Professor. Scott, Rogue, and Storm were nowhere to be seen.

Scanning the wooded area with her eyes and mind, she couldn't detect any unusual movement or careless thoughts nearby.

Okay Wolverine, it's time to turn this game around, she challenged silently, a wicked smile curving her full lips.

Let's see how you do as one of the hunted...

Steeling herself, she began to run, attributing the flapping butterflies in her stomach to the thrill of the chase.

* * * * * *

Logan perched on a tree branch high above one of the many paths that meandered through the estate, waiting to pounce on whomever was unlucky enough to pass beneath him.

Grinning, he hoped it'd be Kitty or Kurt, knowing he'd scare the bejebus outta them.

You wouldn't mind if a certain redhead crossed yer path either, an inner voice whispered slyly.

An image of taking Jean by surprise, dropping down on her and grabbing her roughly in a full-body tag suddenly flooded his mind, causing a flush to creep up his neck.

The memory of her scent assailed him, causing him to tilt his head back in longing reverie. Closing his eyes, he recalled how she'd looked several nights back, before they'd parted last; her slight form crowded against his, hands grasping his shirt, all soft skin and silky hair.

Kurt's interruption had been a timely one, stopping him before he let the situation get out of control.

But it is out of control, the slick inner voice taunted in an amused tone. You can't stop thinking 'bout her, can't sleep without dreaming 'bout her, can't wash away that sweet smell 'o hers with all the cold showers in the world….can ya? The voice laughed mockingly.

Her age ain't botherin' ya so much anymore, is it?

Frustrated and angry at the turn his thoughts had taken, Logan resisted the urge to growl, instead turning his attention back to the ground.

Still seeing nothing, he leapt lightly to the gravel path, annoyed with the inactivity of his chosen location.

"Huntin's so much better'n waitin'. He said quietly, teeth bared in a feral grin.

* * * * * *

Jean paused behind the bole of an old oak tree, panting heavily. Whipping her head around, she gazed back down the dirt path she been sprinting along, looking for any sign of Beast.

He'd sprung from some bushes about a mile back, startling her into panicked flight. She'd instantly immobilized him with her mind and dashed off, running without thinking. When she thought she was far enough away, she'd released him, breathless with the amount of control it had taken to keep him still for so long.

Quiet, indistinguishable traces of his thoughts could be heard from where she crouched, so she decided to wait. After another few minutes, the echoes were gone, and she was alone.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she straightened up and tried to brush the muddy streaks of earth from her legs.

"Thanks a lot, Mr. McCoy." She huffed softly, having skidded into the ground during her escape.

Realizing that her cleaning efforts were futile, she turned her attention once again to her surroundings, re-evaluating her position.

She didn't recognize the path. Peering ahead, she saw a swath of grassy meadow that wasn't familiar either. Pondering what to do next, she blew a wisp of hair from her sweat-dampened face.

Retracing her steps would mean running into Beast again, and that certainly wasn't very appealing, leaving her with the only choice of pressing ahead into the unknown, which was equally distressing. The estate was so massive that it stretched on into unexplored acres, and she could find herself wandering in the middle of nowhere very quickly - far from the action, and a certain person.

Using her teke, she picked herself up and slowly moved across the meadow.

The sky had deepened to a twilight mauve since the last time she'd noticed it, the sun having completely set while she'd raced under the shadowed boughs. The sun's parting rays of amber and rose were already fading away, retreating from the darkness that approached with alarming speed.

Jean wondered idly how she'd fare under the cover of night. She also contemplated how she'd be able to locate that damned flag without being able to see it.

Oh well, the marker wasn't what I was really after anyway, she admitted silently, not able to quell the mischievous smile that appeared when she thought of what she was really seeking.

Once again within the cover of a treed area, she released her telekinetic hold, feet immediately sinking into the damp loam. Not wanting to be caught off guard again, she cast out the invisible threads of a mind probe as far as it would reach before starting an easy, distance-eating lope.

It was only minutes later when she heard a voice in her head.

"...like why does he keep looking at me like that? It's, like, totally unnerving!..."

Good, it's only Kitty and most likely Kurt, Jean thought, relaxing at the recognition.

Her head had begun to throb painfully with the constant effort of using her powers, so reluctantly, she let her brain take a break, instantly losing the connection to her young friend. Speeding up, Jean hastened towards where she'd 'felt' Kitty's thought originate from.

* * * * * *

Stalking through the now night-blackened foliage like a jungle cat, Logan paused to sniff tentatively at the air, searching for a fresh scent. He'd just come from tracking Evan for a couple of miles, finally managing to flush the kid into Beast's path about a half-hour ago. Since then, his sensitive nose hadn't picked up on anything new.

Then all at once, he caught an irregularity mixed in with all the traditional smells of a typical spring evening. He inhaled deeply, eyes narrowing, as his mind quickly categorizing each separate odor, until all had been accounted for except for one.

His teeth gleamed in the scant light as he smiled.

After laying sleepless and tormented because of what that same fragrance had evoked in him over the past few days, how could he NOT know who it belonged to?

"Gotcha Red." He rumbled with pleasure, tracking her now with silent ease.

* * * * * *

A moment after she first detected them, Jean came upon the two younger members of her team as they strolled along a connecting pathway.

"Jean! Like, where did you come from?" Kitty squeaked fearfully upon seeing the taller girl emerge from the gloom.

"No idea. Just followed this trail trying to dodge Mr. McCoy." Jean replied, a little out of breath.

"He's not, like, after you, is he?" she asked quickly, hand on Kurt's arm in case they had need of a quick retreat.

"No, I left him behind." She said reassuringly. "Have you guys encountered anyone else?" Jean queried, hoping they had word of Logan's whereabouts.

"Ve managed to elude Storm earlier on, but just barely!" Kurt said excitedly.

"Yah, it was, like, totally intense!" Kitty gushed, hand still clutching Kurt's arm.

"Evan vas tagged by Beast, and Rogue, by Storm - or so Scott tells us. Ve bumped into him just a little while ago, still hunting for de finish line." Kurt continued, completely immersed in the shadows, the slight phosphoresce of his eyes the only indication he was really there.

"Umm..what about Wolverine?" she asked, trying to appear casual, though her thoughts were racing.

Where could he possibly be hiding? She fumed inwardly, hands curling into fists of irritation.

"We haven't, like, come across him yet, thankfully! He'd probably, like, leap out of some bushes all crazy and frothing at the mouth, giving me a heart attack! If he's the watchdog guarding the flag, I totally don't want to find it." Kitty said with conviction. Kurt patted her hand soothingly.

"Not to worry, Katzchen, I vould 'port us away before - ah-ah-AHHHHHH!!" Kurt screamed suddenly, stumbling back against Kitty and then disappearing in a "BAMF!" of smoke, taking the other girl with him.

Unexpectedly alone and more than startled at Kurt's outburst, Jean spun around and into a defensive crouch, staring blindly into the dark. Her heart beat erratically as she used her mind to erect a small barrier around her body, the pain in her head returning as she exerted her will.

She knew it was just a game, one that she had no interest in winning, but she also didn't want to get caught, especially if it wasn't Wolverine doing the catching.

She heard a flicking noise, saw a spark flare and die, before a flame sputtered to life from the end of a match a few feet away from her. As if entranced, she watched as the light reflected off the face of the man who held it, languidly scorching the end of a cigarette dangling from between his lips.

"Logan." Her lips formed the word without sound.

The meager light revealed that he'd decided against donning his uniform -dressed simply in black denim and a black t-shirt, allowing him to become a shadow within the shadows.

Taking a long haul of his newly lit cigarette, he leaned back easily against the trunk of a tree opposite her position, not making any move towards her. He extinguished the still burning match with a breath.

"Isn't this the part where you run?" he asked, face no longer visible. Jean detected a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Isn't this where you try to tag me?" she retorted, glad that the darkness hid her trembling as she issued her challenge. She had difficulty admitting that her quaking stemmed from fear; fear that she had misjudged him, misinterpreted his actions from previous days, misread the entire situation.

Fear of rejection.

She heard him chuckle, a low, rich sound, one that she'd heard too seldom.

"Try, Red? You should know by now, I never try. I 'do'..." he answered, tossing his half-finished cigarette on the ground before him, its smoldering tip leaving an orange trail as it dropped. She heard, rather than saw, his booted foot mashing it into the soft earth.

The blood quickened in her veins as she watched his form detach itself from the all-encompassing murk to stride towards her. She straightened up shakily while retaining the shield, her knees suddenly having turned to jelly.

He came within inches of her, as close as the mind-generated barrier would permit him. He placed one muscled arm above her, resting a palm against the rough bark of the tree she'd backed up into. She could see his face now, see how the night had changed his eyes to pools of ebony and cast shadows across the rugged plains of his face, giving him a cruelly beautiful look.

Jean's gaze lowered from his, down to his lips, his thickly corded neck, to the wide expanse of chest hidden beneath the cotton of his shirt. Her hand itched to touch him, to slide under the fabric and feel warm flesh against warm flesh….

The sharp 'SNIKT' of blades extending from his other hand snapped her attention back from its wandering admiration of his form. She watched as he raised his razor-like claws into her line of vision, and then, almost caressingly, let them stroke down the edge of her shield, his own eyes following the movement.

She found his adamantium touch, even on such a superficial level, undeniably erotic, opening floodgates of liquid heat into her lower region. A throbbing pressure between her legs became so apparent, so overwhelming, that she had to suppress the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

"We don't need this, now, do we?" he murmured, indicating the barrier with another lazy stroke of his claws. "Unless you've decided to run while ya' still can…"

Her face came under his scrutiny again and she told herself to breathe, unprepared for, yet elated at his words. Despite the nearness of her looming victory, a perverse feeling of naughty playfulness still remained, urging her to not capitulate so easily.

Returning his look, she smiled teasingly, and pushed the shield outward, forcing him back a step.

"Not so fast." she began, dropping the teke-induced obstruction completely, "Since I haven't been caught yet, I see no reason to surrender willingly." And with that, she darted down the trail, leaving Logan staring after her.

His initial reaction to her words was one of bewilderment, until he replayed what she'd said in his mind and detected her suggestive undertones.

His answering smile was decidedly wolfish. "So, she wants to play, does she?"

All doubts and misgivings were cast aside or forgotten, his blood having turned to fire at the prospect of hunting her down anew.

Except when I catch up to her this time, there'll be no mercy, he vowed silently, the forest floor flying beneath his feet.

* * * * * *

Jean felt the muscles in her legs beginning to burn, protesting the harsh pace she'd set.

"No pain, no gain." She managed to gasp out, hair waving behind her slender figure like a scarlet banner. She paid no heed to the discomfort, knowing it would all be over in another minute.

Everything I've put up with today will have been worth it if Logan is end result, she reminded herself.

She braced for his assault, knowing that even at top speed she was nowhere near his equal, and waited to feel his weight come crashing against her.

Squinting, she could see a moonlight drenched meadow ahead, inciting her to increase her current velocity.

That is the perfect place for me to end this little competition, she thought, heart fluttering from more than the exertion.

She stumbled onto the lightly dewed grass and paused, legs trembling and lungs heaving. She couldn't move another step if her life depended on it.

"Jean!" a voice called. Dizzily, she looked up, absently wondering how Logan could have gotten ahead of her.

Only the person waving to her from a few yards distant wasn't Logan.

It was Scott, standing beside a flapping piece of cloth, its colour indistinct from so far away.

No! It can't be! She thought wildly, staring at her teammate's frantic gestures with a sense of despair.

Hearing a triumphant growl behind her, she spun sharply, just in time to take Logan's running charge full in the chest.

Tensing involuntarily, she waited for the painful impact she knew was to come when her body met the ground, only it never came. Opening her eyes, she half expected to find herself planted in the wet sod, nose-first. Instead, she was looking up into Logan's eyes, and could feel his arms wrapped protectively around her smaller frame, his body half covering hers where it lay.

She realized at once that he hadn't noticed Scott, as naked, uninterrupted longing was evident in his expression. His arms had tightened marginally around her, fingers of one hand tracing a gentle path down her back, eliciting a tremulous sigh from her. At the sound, his eyes focused on her slightly parted lips.

His face started to lower to hers when Scott chose to announce his presence once again.

"Hey! That was a pretty rough tag, Wolverine! Is Jean hurt?" he called out, concerned.

With sinking disappointment, Jean waited for Logan to leap back from her at hearing the younger man's voice, and was more than surprised when he didn't. Granted, his head whipped up from hers hastily, but upon spying Scott's shadowy form a good distance away, he remained sprawled against her.

"No worries, Cyke. Just knocked the wind outta her." Logan replied before turning back to face her.

Desire, now mingled with frustration, coloured his features. Jean felt his arm move unhurriedly from beneath her, letting the tips of his fingers brush tenderly up the length of her neck as he did so, his thumb teasing the underside of her jaw.

He made his way to his feet, the sudden absence of his weight atop her leaving Jean feeling bereft. She accepted the hand Logan presented to help her up, not able to meet his eyes.

Without further words, he left her where she stood to go to Scott who waited beneath the fluttering flag.

Jean wrapped her arms around her body, trying to retain what remained of Logan's warmth. She heard him congratulate Scott on his achievement, then announce that he was heading back to the mansion for a late dinner. Scott warned him to leave some food for the rest of them with a good-natured laugh, before turning to his friend.

"Jean! How could you let anything stop you from attaining success, especially after all the effort you must have put into getting as far as you did? Your goal was right in front of you, yours for the taking, and you just let it go." He groused, agitated at her failure. "I know it was just a game, but still…"

As she watched Wolverine disappear into the night, Jean could only nod her head in agreement.

"Scott," she said with a sigh, "you have no idea how right you are. It was right in front of me...all mine" her voice trailing to a low murmur.

"But the game isn't over yet." She swore vehemently. "Not by a long shot."

The Awakening - Part Four

Logan ran his hands through a mass of luxurious, red hair, feeling it slide over his skin like silken threads.

"Jean..." he murmured, feeling her trembling body pressing close against his own, her fragrance enclosing him in a sweet cloud.

She was warm, wrapped securely in his arms, her fingers lightly tracing a path along his shoulders and up against his neck. He could feel his blood burning and his heart pounded almost painfully, his breath was coming in panting gasps.

Pressing his lips against her throat, his tongue darted out and played along her collarbone, causing her to shiver and moan. He couldn't resist nipping softly at her sweet flesh, her delicate frame pressing closer to him as he did so.

His knee nudged her thighs apart, to which she responded by pressing herself wantonly into his firmly muscled body, gripping the intruding leg between her own so she could grind her pelvis against it. Logan could feel her wet heat penetrate through his jeans, could smell her arousal mingling sharply with the heady perfume that surrounded and intoxicated his senses.

Jean's hand slipped under his t-shirt and teased the wiry hair that covered his chest, while her lips danced along the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Logan...Logan..." she breathed in a passionate, pleading voice, her full breasts finding their way into his eager hands.

"Oh, Jeannie..." came his answering groan, overwhelmed by her obvious desire.

"Logan...Logan!" her call seemed to recede, coming from further away.

"Jeannie?"

The red hair seemed to disappear before his confused stare, her form becoming insubstantial in his embrace. Her tantalizing smell seemed to evaporate along with her, leaving only the faintest whisper for him to savor.

"Logan?" the same faraway voice queried.

His eyes opened groggily...to Kitty standing over his bed.

He blinked several times before his eyes could focus, the sunlight pouring through his windows nearly blinding him with its intensity. In his newly woken state, he could see Kitty looking at him strangely, expectantly,...uneasily.

"Umm...I was sent to see if you'd be joining the rest of us for breakfast. Ororo's made her special pancakes." She said, fidgeting nervously.

Logan sat up and found himself entangled in his sheets, damp from sweat, and, to his dismay, uncomfortably erect. Cursing in irritation not completely of the bedclothes' making, his claws suddenly shot out and sliced the costly fabric into ribbons, making Kitty jump. Catching her look of wide-eyed shock, he tried to compose himself and attempted a wan smile.

"Sorry, Half-pint. Didn't sleep too well." He said by way of explaining his obvious bad mood.

"And soooo...you, like, take it out on your sheets?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "Something tells me that the Professor isn't gonna accept a 'bad dream' as cause of death for his pricey flannels."

She picked up a shred of the cloth and appraised it, absently asking, "It was a bad dream, though, wasn't it?"

Logan's hand came up to massage his forehead wearily. "Yah, you could sorta say that." He grumbled before wondering what she meant. His eyes went back to her, wary and guarded.

"Why?" he asked darkly.

Kitty looked as if she wished she hadn't bothered to ask.

"Oh..uh, no reason!" she said, forcing a shaky laugh, the ravaged bit of sheet falling unnoticed to the floor.

"I just heard you, like, making all this noise when I knocked on your door and then I came in when you didn't answer and you were, like, calling out for, uh...s-someone and thrashing around and uhm..." Her words poured out in a rush and her cheeks became pink with embarrassment at recounting her intrusion.

Logan sighed heavily and pressed the heels of both palms against his eyes. The momentary darkness of vision brought his dream back to life in startling, vivid colour. He could almost feel the tickle of russet locks brush against his face...

He lowered his hands, a good-natured, if still sleepy, smile lighting his features.

"Go on down to breakfast, kiddo, I'll be there in a coupla' minutes."

She gave him a relieved nod and padded out of his room, bare feet making no sound as they tread across the thickly plush carpeting.

Once he was alone, Logan pulled the remains of his sheets from his body and tossed them into a pile beside the bed. He sat up, wincing at the tightness in his groin, and cursed softly under his breath.

He walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned the water on in the upright shower, letting steam cloud the small space and obscure the mirror in haze before stripping off his sweat pants. He entered the small stall, letting the hot water course over his body, hoping it would wash away the lingering aftereffects of his dream.

He closed his eyes under the pounding jet of liquid and let it run into his open mouth, both hands braced against the cool tiles that lined the walls.

What the hell's happening to me? He wondered, spitting out a mouthful of water. First I lose it during that damned game of tag th'other night, now this!

He reached for a bar of soap and began rubbing it in slow circles against his chest, lather forming almost instantly. The sudsy cake left trails of bubbles across skin until it finally moved to his lower regions. When he encountered his stiff, still fully engorged member, he couldn't help but gasp in surprise as a ripple of desire shuddered unbidden through his body at the contact.

His soap-slick hand slid down its hard length unconsciously, thoughts of Jean instantly flooding into his mind, imagining that it was her deft ministrations that were bringing his blood to a boil, that the hot wetness surrounding him was her own.

In his head, the dream continued from where it had ended so abruptly.

Her naked, white thighs were now wrapped securely around his waist; the hand stroking him so surely became her tight sex clenching him within its virgin grip. The memory of her scent was all around him and the dancing streams of water transformed into fiery tendrils of hair that seemed to be touching him everywhere at once.

"Jeannie..." he rasped, breaths coming in ragged pants.

Several more strokes and his eyes squeezed shut almost as if in pain, his teeth bit into his lower lip, and his body was racked by a series of jerking spasms.

Spent and shaking uncontrollably, he let his head rest against the soothing coolness of the blue and green tiles, the remaining soapsuds sluicing down his body to swirl at his feet. His dark eyes flickered open to stare at nothing, a shivery sigh escaping his lips, while the turmoil in his mind spun madly.

What am I going to do?

* * * * *

"You can't tell me that you're, like, gonna back out now! You promised to take me to the mall later today to look for a dress!" Kitty cried, bright eyes dimmed by disappointment.

Jean, sipping her orange juice, was aware that the entire table had gone silent at her announcement, all save for her young friend.

Replacing the glass beside her empty plate, she shook her head.

"Just because I've decided not to go to the Spring Formal doesn't mean I won't help you, Kitty. We'll still go dress shopping today." She said with a little smile. "I just won't be getting one for myself, that's all."

"But ah thought you'd already told Duncan you'd be goin' with him?" Rogue asked, animosity towards the redhead forgotten as confusion took its place.

"I...well, I'll call him and tell him. The dance isn't for another week, he can find another date." She said, only momentarily reconsidering her decision. After all, she had agreed to go with Duncan over a month ago. It seemed a little unfair to change her mind so close to the event and leave him hanging.

"Not likely..." muttered Scott from behind the newspaper.

Jean flashed him an irritated look. "Scott, Duncan is -" she began in a lecturing tone before Kitty interrupted.

"But why, Jean? We had everything planned and it's gonna be, like, the most amazing night of the school year. Everyone will be there, looking incredible and...and it won't feel the same without you!" she said between mouthfuls of Ororo's honey-cinnamon pancakes.

While she chewed the last forkful, Kurt took up her cause.

"C'mon Jean! You know you vant to go!" he said grabbing a startled Evan's hand. Pulling him up, Kurt began to dance an exaggerated tango, Evan following his lead with a laugh.

"Zere'll be music!" he said, twirling his blond partner. "Laughter! Oh! And did ve mention...dancing?" Both his and Evan's eyes turned to stare at her in mock-seriousness before Kurt attempted a 'dip'. Leaning over too far, the usually fuzzy German lost his balance and the two boys tumbled into a heap on the kitchen floor.

The girls all giggled and Scott managed a disgusted snort. Ororo, mixing another bowl of batter at the counter, watched their antics with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

Evan's head popped up to regard Jean from across the table.

"Aww Jean, do you want to hear us all beg? This is more than just a dance, it's...it's..." he groped for the right words as he climbed back into his chair. "It's a...team effort!" he finished triumphantly, reaching for another helping of pancakes.

Jean sighed, wishing they'd stop badgering her.

Of course she wanted to go to the dance, wanted to dress up and have fun with her friends. But after the other night with Logan in the woods.... Her eyes sparkled as her mind replayed the details of their encounter for what seemed like the millionth time.

She couldn't go to the formal with Duncan, not when her heart was so firmly set on another. Not only did it feel like a betrayal in a strange sense, but the house would practically be empty that night.

A slow, hopeful smile curved her lips as she thought about the things she'd planned for that evening, things that involved her, Logan, and maybe another run around the estate.

This time, with no interruption, she promised silently, goosebumps raising along her arms as she shivered with expectation.

Her friends all started talking at once, each determined to be the one that changed her mind, when a damp-haired Logan strode into the kitchen looking more annoyed than usual.

Jean sent him a dazzling smile when she saw him, but he chose to ignore it, instead turning to nod a curt greeting to Ororo. He grabbed a plate, speared some pancakes, and leaned back against the counter to eat, attention riveted on his food.

Jean felt a little crestfallen at his coldness, but determinedly pushed her hurt feelings aside.

He's always irritable in the morning, she assured herself, eyes glued to his every movement.

* * * * *

Logan, despite his earlier release, felt as edgy as a caged tiger as he wolfed down the lightly sweetened cakes Ororo had prepared. All he could smell was Jean's fragrance mixing temptingly with the aroma of cinnamon that hung heavy in the air, which served to agitate him further.

He didn't want to look at her for fear his resolve would crumble, but he couldn't help noticing the noise coming from the group sitting around the table.

"What's with all the racket?" he bellowed, staring his students down with a face like a thunderhead.

Every mouth closed abruptly and all eyes turned to regard him warily, even Jean's.

"Umm...it's nothing, Logan. We-" Jean found her voice first. Just hearing it made his heart stutter like a schoolboy's.

Kitty jumped up, once again interrupting.

"We're all, like, going to this totally HU-mongous dance next week and Jean decided she, like, doesn't want to go anymore so we're trying to convince her. We were going to go shopping for totally awesome dresses and shoes and everything!" she reported, her eager tone slipping into a petulant whine.

"Kitty! I said we could still go look at dresses!" Jean protested, face flushing.

Chewing his food, Logan turned his hardened gaze in her direction.

"What's the matter, Red?" he asked, a nasty smirk on his handsome face. "Not able to cut it with th' guys?"

He saw her recoil from his malicious tone, shoulders drawing up in surprise. He disregarded her reaction, and the unfriendly glare from Ororo.

"Nah, Jean was asked over a month ago." Evan said, digging into yet another helping of food.

"Yeah, and only by tha' most popular boy in school." Rogue added with something akin to pride. She normally didn't stick up for Jean, the person she seemed to be at odds with most, but something in Logan's tone had caused her hackles to rise defensively.

He barely registered the anomaly as a flash of jealousy shot through him at the girl's words, seizing him quickly, violently, and without thought.

Clenching his fist, he quickly took control of his wayward emotions and attempted to refocus himself.

"So if she's got it all figured out, then what's the problem?" he asked, lip curling disdainfully.

All eyes turned to Jean to await the reasoning behind her hasty decision.

Under their combined scrutiny, she started twisting one of the silver rings she wore, looking at Logan questioningly as she did so.

"Why do you think I should go?" she parried back at him.

"Because yer a kid an' kids go to dances so that grown ups can have a night off from babysittin'. Not to mention how you'd be breaking what's-his- name's heart." He said, the word 'babysitting' coming out with a sneer.

Ororo gave him a withering look before rounding the table and placing a motherly hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Jean, pay him no mind. Not only do I think you would be cheating yourself of a wonderful time, but you would be disappointing your friends and the young man who is expecting to go with you." She said, leaning down to embrace her stricken charge.

"What I cannot fathom is that you've been speaking of nothing else but this event these past few weeks, what could possibly have changed your mind?" the silver-haired woman asked, her cheek pressing comfortingly against the other girl's.

Logan met Jean's stare unflinchingly.

"I...I thought I had a reason." She started, wounded eyes watching Logan before shifting to look down at the tabletop.

"I guess there never was one..." she murmured, suddenly breaking free from Ororo's arms and running from the room, leaving everyone to look after her, mouth's agape.

All except one.

Going back to his breakfast like nothing had happened, Logan ate mechanically, the food's flavour now replaced by the sour bitterness that flooded through him.

It had to be done, he told himself with all the conviction he could muster.

An' I'll keep on doing it until you see how crazy this whole situation is, Jeannie. Yer not old enough to know what you want from life yet. You can't be blamed fer what you think you feel...

He snorted derisively.

But me? I'm supposed t'be an adult, th'one who knows better, and what do I do? Encourage ya...draw ya in deeper...hurt ya...

His eyes closed, shame overpowering every other emotion he currently felt.

He tossed his half-empty plate into the sink where it clattered noisily, drawing the attention of everyone still remaining in the room, before stalking angrily out the back door.

Pounding across the dew-dusted lawn, robins taking startled flight as his passing interrupted their search for food, he sought refuge in solitude from the black mood that was threatening to overtake him.

With one last glance at the house over his shoulder, he shook his head again.

I'm sorry, Red...so sorry.

* * * * *

"Ooohh, Jean! What do you think of this one?" Kitty asked, holding a swath of powdery blue fabric against her chest.

Glancing at the dress without seeing it, Jean nodded absently.

"Sure Kitty. Why don't you try it on?" she suggested, glumly watching her friend charge off to find a change room.

They'd been at the mall for hours, and so far Rogue was the only one in possession of a gown for the formal, Kitty turning out to be surprisingly particular for someone so young.

Both girls had tried enticing Jean to try certain things on, only to be met with distracted indifference, leaving them exasperated. The last two stores, they'd chosen to stop being so encouraging, instead channeling their enthusiasm into their own causes.

A small part of Jean felt bad for not being more supportive of her teammates, more grateful for their obvious concern, but she couldn't bother. Her head was simply too full of Logan for anything else to matter.

What was his problem this morning? Did I say or do something that upset him? She wondered, his scathing words echoing through her mind every few seconds. She pondered each sentence, tone, every look and gesture from breakfast in an attempt to discover from where his displeasure with her stemmed.

Kitty emerged from the rear of the store, draped in soft folds of the palest blue, spinning around delightedly for Jean's perusal.

"Well?" she asked with a giggle.

Snapping out of her trance, Jean looked critically at the girl for a few seconds. She let a brief smile escape and nodded at her friend.

"It's beautiful, Kitty. I think you've found your dress." She said, ready to go back to her thoughts, when an idea suddenly struck.

Kitty, squealing excitedly, was jumping around in front of a full-length mirror when Jean caught hold of her hand and her attention.

"Kitty," she began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "why do you think Logan was so...cranky this morning? Did he say anything out of the ordinary when you went to wake him up for breakfast?"

The younger brunette's face paled for only a fraction of a second before her usual sunny smile returned to beam full force.

"Is that what's been bothering you all afternoon? A charm-school reject's grumpiness?" she asked in a surprised tone, patting the hand that held hers.

A high-pitched titter escaped her, betraying her nervousness under Jean's intense stare.

"Jean, Ororo was, like, so right when she told you not to listen to him. What does he know about anything besides fighting and being mean?" she offered, hoping it would appease the other girl.

Seeing the beseeching look in her friend's green eyes, Kitty sighed in defeat and turned away to regard her image again.

"When I knocked on his door, I heard him..." she paused, as if weighing her words, "...calling out your name. I didn't ask him about it because I didn't want to pry. He did mention, though, that he'd been having a bad dream. Maybe whatever it was he dreamt upset him enough to take it out on you." She admitted.

She spun about quickly and gave Jean a deadly serious look.

"Please don't tell him I told you. I didn't, like, let on I'd heard anything out of the ordinary and I think he'd be mad if he found out I did. Like it was an invasion of privacy of something." She whispered conspiratorially.

Jean filled with hope at the girl's candor, suppressing it with difficulty as she gave her friend a warm smile.

"Of course I won't, Kitty - I really appreciate that you could confide in me." Kitty exhaled in relief at her words.

"It certainly helps putting this morning into perspective." Jean mused quietly, a million ideas flooding her head at once.

Impatient to get home to research a nagging theory, she made an effort to quiet her excitement and continue helping her friends with their preparations for the dance, fully prepared to shop right along with them now that her mood had improved so greatly.

I'll figure this out yet. She thought determinedly, reaching for a dress that had escaped her notice while she'd been buried in apathy.

You won't get rid of me so easily, Logan, not without one hell of fight.

* * * * *

The following week passed uneventfully for Jean, as she perfected her look for the formal and studied for the upcoming final exams.

She'd stayed true to her word and not said anything to Logan about his dream, or much else for that matter as he'd been avoiding her religiously.

The day after the episode in the kitchen, after placing Kitty's revelation alongside all the other facts she'd gleaned from the various telepathic 'skims' she'd performed on him unawares, Jean felt like kicking herself for being so stupid.

He was scared of his growing feelings for her, trying to push her away in a vain attempt to deny the truth to himself. All those times he thought on their difference in ages and his position as her one of her 'instructors'...he was using those concerns to build a wall around himself, shutting her out with the one weapon he had left; his hurtful, wounding, disdainful words.

It was that dream he had that must have initiated the start of the barrier, she thought, smoothing a wisp of hair back from her face.

Must have been...disturbing...

She let out a triumphant little smile at the thought, fingertips pausing over the keyboard of her computer where she was typing up a report for a project.

A tiny frown replaced the smile as she pondered her next step.

It was Thursday, the night before the formal, and she had hoped to find a moment to speak to Logan in private, convinced that she could rectify the situation if she could just talk with him.

She glanced at the computer screen's clock. 8:37pm.

If you're going to track him down, now's as good a time as ever, a voice in her head prompted.

Saving her work, she switched the computer off, stood up to stretch, and began the hunt for her elusive prey.

The common room was full of students, watching t.v. and playing pool. After casting a quick glance around, she moved on, not spying Logan in the mix.

The corridor she fairly dashed down was dim, the only light coming from irregularly spaced antique hurricane lamps, fat, three-wick candles burning fitfully behind their glass chimneys.

The massive door of the Professor's study loomed into view.

Light peeked from underneath it and muted voices could be heard coming from beyond the thick, oak paneling. Jean placed her ear at the crack between the door and frame and tried to discern who was involved in the late night meeting.

Professor Xavier, Ororo, and...Hank by the sounds of it, no Logan. She huffed disappointedly.

Traipsing into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water, dejected yet strangely relieved. As much as she wanted to talk to Logan about their situation, something within her wanted to hold back.

She raised the water to her lips and took a deep swallow, idly looking out the small window over the sink, nearly choking in alarm when she saw a shadow moving around in the backyard.

Wiping away drops of water and spittle from her chin, she set the glass down on the counter and made her way to the sliding doors that led outside, an icy calmness spreading through her body, leaving her numb.

"Courage..." She whispered, striding confidently towards the form that moved within the darkness.

* * * * *

Logan punched and kicked imaginary foes while his muscles burned and begged for rest. Long past recognizing any discomfort, he halted only long enough to wipe the perspiration from his eyes, breathing hard and heavy.

He'd taken to practicing whenever he had a free moment, believing that exertion would sweat his impure thoughts from him like one would sweat out an illness, that exhaustion would deny his brain the energy it needed to produce any more dreams - erotic or otherwise.

So far, it hadn't been working as well as he'd hoped.

He quickly moved back into a fighting stance, performing a series of jumps and rolls, swipes and lunges, flowing from one step to another with the grace of a dancer, until he caught wind of Jean.

Goddamnit all! Can't I get any peace?! He swore inwardly, releasing his claws with an angry gesture.

He contemplated making a dash for the nearby trees to escape her, but shook his head resolutely.

I don't run from anything, 'specially not some slip of a girl! His inner voice growled, claws sliding through the air with each swing of his arms, as he continued with his exercises.

A second later, he felt her presence behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he waited for her to speak, hoping she'd take his silence at face value and go away.

It was wishful thinking.

"Logan?" he heard her call out, her tone one of uncertainty.

"What?" he asked, still refusing to look back at her.

"Can we...talk?" she asked.

Logan could tell she was nervous, could smell her hesitancy, her fear, overpowering her normal feminine scent. For some reason, that realization made him uneasy.

"Whaddaya want t'talk about?" he panted, pushing himself still harder.

He heard her shift, a slight rustling of clothing, before she answered.

"Us." Came her reply.

His heart stopped. For a millisecond, he couldn't breathe. His evenly timed slashes faltered as the first trickles of dread seeped into his veins.

Stick with the program, grated harshly in his head.

He took a ragged gasp of air, feeling his blood begin to pump once again, and resumed the combination punch-slice he'd been about to perform before she'd spoken.

"Us? What th'hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked, forcing a guttural laugh while his insides churned crazily.

"You know what I mean, Logan." she said gently, coming around to where she could see his face.

"I'm sure I don't." he retorted angrily as he felt his body's treacherous reaction to her nearness. "Why don't you enlighten me?" he sneered.

Logan watched as her eyes traveled to his bare chest, slick with sweat, before connecting again with his own. He shuddered as if her gaze had been an actual caress.

He halted his training and reached for a towel at his feet, wiping away the excess moisture that clung to his skin. Looking at her over the dark fabric as he rubbed it across his face, he tried to sound impatient.

"Well?"

Jean, arms crossed beneath her breasts, bit her lip before opening her mouth, no sound emerging when she did so. Her eyes closed once, as if searching for inner strength, and then opened to regard him, a recklessly bewildered light giving them an inner glow.

"I- I think I'm falling in love with you, Logan." was said so faintly, he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

The towel fell to the ground, forgotten, as he leaned towards her.

"W-what?" he asked incredulously, not positive he'd hear her even now as his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears.

Jean seemed to have gained added confidence from saying it the first time, and repeated, louder this time, "I think I'm in love with you Logan."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, as if she'd spoken a foreign language, as he tried to absorb the meaning behind her words. He felt his face go slack with shock and his hands start to tremble. He took an involuntary step towards her.

She - she said...she said...

Control, he told himself, it's all about control.

But she just said...I can't believe what she...

Control, Logan. Focus.

He gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, stilling their shaking while molding his face into a mask of cold indifference.

"You don't know what yer talkin' about." He said with a scornful little laugh, making an about-face and walking purposefully back to the house, leaving the towel where it lay and the redhead where she stood.

A cool evening breeze washed over his heated body, threading through the damp hair on his head and chest. He took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow to a more even pace, resolved not to look back at Jean.

Inwardly, he kept recycling all his reasons for doing what he was doing like a litany, trying to keep himself from examining his real reaction to her words, knowing that to do so would be disastrous.

She said...she said...I can't believe, can't understand, it's not possible, his mind muttered amidst all his other thoughts, distracting him from hearing the soft cadence of running footsteps behind.

* * * * *

Jean had waited for all of two seconds after he walked away before stooping down to retrieve his towel and taking off after his retreating form.

What have I done? Why did I say that? Where did those words even come from? She wondered frantically as she hurried after him. True, it had felt good to finally say what she'd been wanting to tell him for what seemed like an eternity, but by the same token, she'd just left herself completely open.

Open, and terribly, hopelessly, vulnerable.

"Logan, wait!" she cried, knowing instinctively that there was more to his feelings than he was letting on.

He didn't stop at her voice, so when she caught up to him, she grabbed for his arm, only to be shaken off roughly.

Taken aback but far from disheartened, Jean zipped in front of him and planted herself directly in his path.

He halted and looked at her in irritation.

"I'm not finished." She stated, spreading her arms out when he tried to go around her. A menacing rumble came from his throat but he stayed put, impatience warring with tolerance on his face.

"What you said was unfair." She began while bringing her telepathic abilities to the forefront of her mind.

She didn't really want to use them on him, wanted his reaction to be a natural one, born of authentic desire. But if he maintained this stubborn, bull-headed attitude with her, she was prepared to slip in a suggestive image or two.

After all, she intoned silently, all's fair in love and war...

Logan hadn't responded, just quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"What you said - about not knowing what I was talking about? It wasn't justified. I may be young, but how does that exclude me from having feelings? At what age are you supposed to be able to love someone? Better yet, when was the first time you fell in love?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

She probed his mind quickly for his real response.

'...so many times, so many women over the years...none were like you, Red...none of 'em...'

She withdrew.

"None o' your business." His hand went up touch his forehead curiously, as if feeling something tickling his skin.

Clumsy, girl, very clumsy, Jean admonished herself, realizing that her withdrawing hadn't gone unnoticed.

"I know you have some feelings for me." She maintained.

"I do for all you kids - yer my responsibility, I look out fer ya, make sure you train hard and stay safe. There's nothin' beyond that, Red, whatever you may think."

"Nothing?" she scoffed indignantly, "Were you feeling 'nothing' when we sat together watching t.v. the other week? You had your arm around me, and at one point I thought you were going to-"

"It was a mistake!" Logan shouted, cutting her off, eyes flashing dangerously. Visibly taking hold of his anger, he lowered the volume.

"It was a mistake." He repeated softly, eyes still hard as obsidian. "I was...wrong, very wrong. If I'd known that my actions would contribute to this -this...supposed infatuation then I wouldn't have done what I did."

Jean faltered as some of her assuredness slipped.

"What about our training session in the woods the other night?"

"Another mistake, one that'll never happen again." He vowed, pushing past her.

"Was that dream a mistake?" she blurted out in desperation, watching him walk away. Recklessly, her consciousness touched his mind again to gauge his reaction.

At her voice, Logan had frozen on the stones of the patio. She could feel his shock, his anger, and more powerfully, his shame, at the question. Afraid of losing him even now, she pressed the issue while moving towards him.

"Do you call out other student's names in your sleep?" a pace away, she saw him flinch.

"Jeannie..." his voice held a warning tone as she stepped beside him, his head bowed, body shaking.

"Some part of you must want me..." she breathed near his ear, her anxiety making her brazen.

She let one of her hands brush against his naked shoulder, the tips of her manicured nails delicately tracing the ridges of muscles that quivered beneath her butterfly-light touch.

Even with her psi-link giving her access to his mind, she was unprepared for what he did next.

He jumped towards her, moving so fast she couldn't have avoided him if she'd tried. His hands darted out, grabbing her upper arms, fingers digging into her soft flesh like twin vices, catching her completely off guard. She gasped in surprise at the ferocity of his actions.

His eyes bored into hers, barely suppressed rage giving them an evil glow, as he gave her a shake.

"What do you want me to say?" he snarled, face an inch away from hers.

"Logan -" she tried, frightened as she felt his thought waves begin to spin erratically, taking a decidedly feral turn.

"How many times do I have t'tell you that yer wrong? That what's been goin' on ain't what you think it is?" he asked in a brutal whisper, eyes slanting dangerously.

Jean watched his fury with wide eyes, tears beginning to well as the bite of his fingers became unbearable. His disjointed thoughts poured into her own, images fading into pure, pulsating colours that she couldn't understand.

I've pushed him to far! She realized with a rising sense of panic.

For the first time ever, she found herself scared of Logan.

"Please, you're hurting me..." she said, trying to twist out of his grasp.

His hold only tightened before pulling her closer roughly.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!" he roared, crushing his mouth down on hers with bruising force.

Jean had dreamed of what his mouth would feel like on hers for months, anticipated its sweetness, the pleasing scratch of his stubble against her smooth skin, the emotions his touch would stir...

This was nothing like what she'd expected.

His teeth pressed painfully against her lips, his tongue forced its way past hers, making her gag reflexively; the speed of his assault had snapped her head back at an awkward angle, her arms were tingling from his continued exertion, approaching numbness.

She stumbled backwards in an attempt to break free of his hold, succeeding only in losing her footing. She thought Logan would keep her upright but instead he pushed his advantage, following her momentum until they crashed to the ground heavily. A muffled cry escaped her as his body slammed into her smaller frame, a white flash of pain streaking her vision as the wind was knocked from her.

Dazed, she felt his hands reach for her wrists, yanking her limp arms above her head where he held them down firmly. She gasped for air when his face lifted from hers and tested his hold iron hold; he was as strong as she had expected.

"Let me go!" she cried, her voice choked with tears.

Even without being able to see what he was doing, she could feel his legs straddling her slim hips, felt his groin resting intimately against her own. A moment later, her eyes widened in alarm.

She didn't need to read his mind his mind to know that he was extremely aroused - his erection was so obvious that it dug into her thigh uncomfortably.

What she did manage to glean from his turbulent thoughts left no doubt in her mind, though, that however promising this position would have seemed under other circumstances, she did not want to be in it right now.

Heat...fury...lust...rage...

They were primal, animalistic urges consuming him, screaming into her head and blanketing her senses like snow would the ground. She quickly severed her telepathic connection with him.

Just as she did so, his body shifted.

Transferring both of her hands into one of his, he reached down with his free hand and ripped open her shirt, buttons offering no resistance as they sailed off into the darkness. She heard him growl approvingly at the sight of her exposed skin, her lacy bra now the only barrier between her breasts and him. His fingers cupped a rounded globe through the fabric roughly, and she winced with discomfort at the treatment of the sensitive flesh.

"Please Logan, get off of me..." she pleaded again, his hand now hooking under one of her knees.

If he heard her, he showed no sign, continuing with lifting her legs until both were bent around his waist.

"Let me up!" Jean ordered, struggling in earnest now.

God, I wanted him so badly, but not like this...not like this!

She twisted onto her side, freeing one of her hands in the process, only to have Logan throw his weight onto her again, capturing her wrists with a grip so powerful she wondered that she didn't hear her bones snap.

Her tear-streaked face was suddenly nose to nose with his, her spiky lashes brushing against his cheek when she blinked. She'd never seen his eyes so wild...

"This, little girl, is what you said you wanted." He rasped, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Wh-what are you talking about? How could you think I would want...t-this?" she stammered in confused outrage.

"You wanted to know what part o' me wants ya, Red? Well this is it." He said, pressing the bulge in the front of his loose-fitting training pants into her crotch. A cruel laugh followed his display.

"You think you know what ya want, that ya can handle me, that ya know what's really inside me..." he paused, shaking his head, "when th' truth of the matter is, seeing this side o' me, the real me, has yer blood runnin' cold."

He sniffed the air.

"I can smell yer fear, Red..." he said, finally releasing her and standing up.

Jean rolled over onto her side, her useless arms crossing over her nearly bare chest, face burning with humiliation and a growing sense of despair.

"You're wrong..." she said thickly, the new tears building making her throat throb.

Not able to look at him, her hair hanging like a heavy curtain across her face, she heard his footsteps as he walked away.

"Not this time, Red."

And then she was alone.

TBC...