To: Eiluned

Title: Giving In
Author: Dragon_Within
Fandom: X-Men (AU)
Pairing: Jean/Logan
Rating: R-NC17
Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to own them, Marvel has those rights.

Jean stared out the window, her forehead pressed against the pane. He was gone again, left in the middle of the night without a word, without a note. She should be used to it by now; it wasn’t the first time that it had happened, and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Still, just because she knew about it didn’t mean she had to like it. She stared out the window, her eyes scanning the moonlit yard, her ears straining for the tale-tell sound of his motorcycle. (Or rather, the one that he’d confiscated from the garage). She reached out with her mind, hoping for a glimpse, a touch of his. Something, anything to let her know that he was still alive.

Damn him. She thought, angrily curling her fingers into a fist. And damn me, too. From the moment that he stepped into her life, he had turned it upside down. She used to know exactly what she was doing, where she was going, what her goal was and how to go about getting it. Now, the whirlwind known as Logan had turned everything she knew, everything she was into disarray. Did he know that he affected her that way? Probably. He seemed to know everything about her, just by looking at her.

A movement by the front gate caught her attention, a shadow amongst the shadows. The clouds shifted and a familiar figure appeared striding toward the mansion. The moon was behind him, but Jean could see enough to notice his torn clothes and the odd shift in his gait. Her mind touched his briefly, seeing images of violence, anger, pain, before she pulled back. She sighed softly. Logan had taken up cage fighting again; she tried to convince him that he’d be better off using the Danger Room, but he wouldn’t listen to her. Then again, when did he ever?

He paused when he got closer to the mansion and sniffed the air. Jean knew Logan had heightened senses of hearing, sight and smell. He could usually tell what was going to happen before it did happen, simply by using his animalistic instincts. She watched as he scanned the area, his eyes finally coming to rest at the window where she stood. In that split moment, her eyes met his. Even through the darkness and distance, she could see the intensity of his emotions reflected in his eyes. Her breath caught; she looked away, pulling away from the window at the same time.

She met him in the front hallway, looked him over silently, then softly turned on her heels and padded barefoot toward the lift that will take them below to the medical lab. Logan regarded her equally as silent, but fell in step behind her. Jean could feel the heat of his gaze on her back and colored slightly. She cursed silently when she heard his low chuckle. Damn him. And damn me, too.

She reached the medical bay and pulled out a myriad of supplies. Logan’s mutation was an accelerated healing factor, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t stitched him up from time to time. She never knew what kind of condition he’d be in when he returned from one of his little midnight forays. Jean feared the day when he didn’t return at all. She nodded toward the examination table. “How many was it this time, Logan?” Her soft voice made the hum of fluorescent lights loud in comparison.

“Ten or so”, Logan grunted as he perched on the corner of the examination table and took off his shirt. “Didn’t take no names, just gave ‘em what they came for.”

She wanted to ask why, but she knew it was a futile question. She wasn’t entirely sure that he knew why he did what he did, and if he did, she really wasn’t entirely sure that SHE wanted to know. She shook her head slightly and began to catalogue his wounds. Slash marks on his back, arms and chest with pieces of dirt, fabric and… fur?... stuck in them. She cleaned them out quickly but gently and applied a healing ointment over them. She knew that Logan didn’t care about the healing ointment, but it made her feel better.

“Okay, where else?” She tossed the dirty swabs into a nearby trashcan, and glanced back at him. He was sitting with a large hand pressed into his inner thigh and a small grimace on his face. Logan wasn’t one to express pain much, so when he did, Jean knew something was wrong. It was then that she noticed the trickle of blood seeping out from under his fingers and spreading onto the table.

“Ain’t nothin, darlin’. Just a scratch on my leg.”

“A scratch, my ass.” Jean ignored Logan’s raised eyebrow and smirk. Time around him had certainly colored her language. Not that she’d been ‘Miss Prim and Proper’ in the past, despite what others thought of her. She shook her head again, pulled his hand away and gasped softly when she saw the gash. Most of the time, Logan’s cuts and scrapes had long stopped bleeding by the time Jean saw them, but anything that was still seeping blood was serious indeed.

Whomever Logan had fought with had thought to end Logan’s life by stabbing him in the femoral artery. Logan’s healing factor was the only thing that kept him from bleeding out, but for some reason, the gash had not closed all of the way. Something must still be there, blocking the wound from knitting itself together.

“I need to see…” Without warning, Jean grabbed the sliced edges of Logan’s jeans and ripped the denims open, further exposing his leg and the gash.

“Ya know, if ya wanted my jeans off ya could’ve said so.” Logan teased her softly. He leaned back on his hands and watched her intently.

A small smile played on the corner of her lips for a fraction of a second before fading again. She felt his eyes burning into her, but she was more concerned about his leg than anything else. Using her telekinetic powers, she pulled a lamp over to her and shone the bulb directly at the gash. She probed at it gently trying to determine if there was something in the cut that was keeping it from healing properly. Ah… metal.

“Knife tip.” It wasn’t the first time a knife had broken off in his body, but it was the first time that one had become lodged into an artery. Anyone else would have bled to death within minutes. “It’s lodged at an angle that’s keeping the artery from closing all the way. I can’t tell if it the cut is as far as the…” Her voice trailed to a soft murmur, but she kept probing.

“Thanks for admirin’ the wound. Just clean it up and I’ll be on my way and ya can get back to yer beauty rest.”

“Hush, Logan. You’re not going anywhere until I know you’re going to be alright. Do you want something for the pain?” Jean could feel the heat radiating from his body, could feel his eyes on her. It warmed her, made her feel light-headed at times, confused her. In the deepest part of her heart and soul, she fantasized about his hands on her skin, how his callused flesh would feel against hers. She locked that thought deep inside her mind, behind a multitude of walls and barriers, so deep that no one, not even Charles Xavier could get to it. Her hair fell into her face, blocking her light. "Logan... hold my hair for a moment, please."

“Don’t need it.” He answered her question about the painkiller, but didn’t make a move to touch her head. “Don’t wanna get blood in yer hair.”

“That’s what shampoo is for,” she tossed him a grin and flipped her hair over her shoulder. When she glanced down at his leg, her hair promptly fell in the way again. “Please Logan? I can’t see…”

Jean sensed his hesitation, but focused on removing the piece of metal from his leg. A moment later, she felt her hair lifting out of the way and the heat radiating from his hand. She could imagine what that hand would feel like, warmth spreading over her body as he ran his calloused fingers over her skin. She closed her eyes briefly, but that just made the sensation worse, instead of better. Damn it, focus Jean! She heard him breathe deeply and felt a gentle tug on a few strands, as if he was trying to feel her hair without her knowing it. Her stomach gave a little flip; she wanted him to do that. She wanted him to run his fingers through her hair, pull her head back and… Her thoughts were interrupted by a small gasp from him.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Just a little more…” She could sense the pain inside him, rolling from him in waves. She knew she was as much the cause as the knife tip. She finally grasped the intruding piece of metal and pulled it free. Instantly, Logan’s healing factor kicked in and the wound began to close, slowly, but surely. “Got it.” She looked up, and felt the brush of his hand on the back of her neck. Her skin tingled at his touch, as if little charges of electricity coursed between their bodies. His eyes were closed; Jean took that moment and let her eyes roam over him. What was it about him? What was it that drew her to him like a moth to a flame? What was it that made her want to…? She took a breath and started to draw back. “Logan, I got it. I got the knife tip.”

His eyes were still closed; his nostrils flared slightly as he took a deep breath. Jean knew that his sense of smell was stronger than anyone else’s; she also knew that he could smell her excitement at his nearness, and that excited her even more. She felt her cheeks flush, even as the realization hit her. His fingers slowly curved around the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him.

“Logan…” Her voice was soft, protesting, but her heart wasn’t into it. His hand on her neck, his very presence made her feel weak at the knees, and as much as she might hate it, she wanted it. Wanted him. Her eyes involuntarily flicked from his eyes to his lips and back again. Her innermost wants and desires battered against the barriers she’d erected from the first time she met him. He was wild, he was dangerous; he was far from anything that she ever thought she wanted, but she wanted him. Her lips were dry; she moistened them with her own tongue. He sat there, watching her. She saw the passion, the raw desire in his eyes and wanted to lose herself there. “Logan…” she whispered.

“Jean…” his voice was warm and mixed with a low growl. His breath was heavier; Jean could sense the tension inside of him, as if a war was raging inside of him. She had no doubt that it was, as usually he was the one to pull away first, knowing that she would never give in. This time was different. This time, it would be up to Jean to either pull away… or give in to what they both wanted.

“Logan, no.” Her mind protested, even as her body cried out for more. She wanted to feel his hands, wanted to feel his body, wanted him to enter her, take her, make her cry out in pleasure. She felt guilty that she wanted him so much. She wanted to push him back on the table. She wanted… No! She wanted to give in, but she couldn’t. She shook her head and started to pull back from him. “Logan, let go.”

His hand was still wrapped around the back of her neck, now tightening slightly. Jean knew she couldn’t best him physically, but she knew that she was far superior mentally, and even his adamantium couldn’t hold up to her telekinetic powers. She wasn’t afraid; in fact part of her was even more turned on. She still wanted to give in to him, but that part was being beaten back down into the recesses of her soul. She slowly started to gather her power. “You won’t hurt me, and I don’t want to hurt you. Please let me go.”

Instead of letting her go, he pulled her closer, his legs slowly encircling hers until her body was almost completely pressed against his. She could feel the strength of his body, the heat radiating off of him; she could sense his erection even without having to glance down at his crotch. For a moment her control slipped. Jean was not as sweet and innocent as she sometimes liked to pretend to be. She’d had a couple of wild nights when she was a teenager, sneaking out, meeting up with a boy down the street. They’d shared a joint and a bottle of wine, and spent the rest of the evening in ecstatic exploration of each other’s bodies.

The memory came unbidden to her mind, brought to the forefront by the feel of his body. She moaned softly, the control she’d gained slowly slipping away once more. Logan touched her wild side, touched that dark part of her that wanted to be free, free of the restraints of responsibility and protocol. Free of her self-imposed inhibitions. Free. “Logan, I can’t…” And then her lips were on his.

All logical thought fled the moment she kissed him. He’d opened his lips, inviting her to slip her tongue inside, to explore the depth of his mouth, an invitation she gladly accepted. She moaned deep in her throat and allowed her hands to slide up his arms and around his neck as she deepened their kiss. Her fingers entangled in his hair, even as his hand did the same, his other hand sliding down her back to cup her buttocks. She moaned again when he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and grazed the tender flesh with his teeth. She loved that, loved how it felt, how he felt in her arms. She pulled back slowly, allowing her lips to stretch against his teeth; when her mouth was free, she met his eyes, hooded with passion. There was a single moment when she doubted herself, doubted what she was doing, but it fled. She latched onto his mouth again, sucking and nibbling on his own lips. He’d awoken her passion, and she wanted more.

His hand slipped under the hem of her t-shirt. Jean could feel his blunt nails as he gently raked them over her skin. She echoed his movement by gently raking her own nails across his shoulder and down one of his arms; she was rewarded by a deep moan of his own. Her body felt like it was on fire as she pressed herself closer to him. She wanted to take her time, yet there was something inside her that screamed ‘hurry, faster, harder… now, now, now!’ She ignored is as best as she could by burying her fingers deep into the thickness of his hair, making a fist and pulling his head back as far as she could. Her senses were overloaded with his (or maybe hers?) animalistic lust. She nipped at his chin and scraped her teeth along his jaw, feeling the rough burn of his beard stubble against her lips and cheek. She captured his earlobe with her teeth and flicked it with the tip of her tongue.

She could taste the copper tang of blood on his neck, but instead of disgusting her, it fueled her desire. Compared to his rough and tough appearance, she was porcelain china. Her hair, waves of red and gold, shimmered like fire in the soft fluorescent light of the med lab, while his was thick, matted and tangled in so many places. It often reminded her of a bird’s nest, sticking up all over the place. Her green eyes, normally soft, were bright and hard like emeralds. Her skin, unlike his rough leather, was silky smooth, soft and supple. They were ‘Beauty and the Beast’ personified. Only this time, Beauty was no wilting wallflower.

Both of his hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks before slipping back up to her waist. Before she knew it, he was lifting her, turning and moving her to his place on the bed, even as he was moving to stand beside it. She reached for his shoulders and pulled him on top of her, her nails once again dragging on the flesh of his arm. His mouth found hers, teeth capturing her lips, drawing the slightest flow of blood from his bite.

She cried out against softly when he bit into her lip. She could taste the fresh blood, but she didn't care. The pain only seemed to feed her desire. The last barriers in her mind were falling. She felt her thoughts drift into his, melding, becoming one with him. She’d only truly experienced that sensation once before; she’d shied away from it then, but now she welcomed it wholeheartedly. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel all of him. Nails found bare skin on his back, then his sides. She could feel the hardness of his erection through the denim of his jeans and ran her hand up and down, pressing her palm against it. Her fingers fumbled with the button, even as she felt his hands pulling at her clothes.

Any other time, the fumbling of clothes and body limbs would have been humorous, but at this moment, it seemed to heighten their want and desire. Logan managed to kick off his boots and remove his jeans, even as he pulled hers down her long legs. He paused and stared deeply into her eyes, giving her that one last chance to back away before it was too late. Jean felt his mind, that core of anger and chaos that never truly went away. She felt his passion for her grow even more by the second. She answered him by pulling him to her again; he tore away any remaining barrier between them, ripping away her shirt like it was a piece of paper. Communicating with touch now, more so than words, he pressed his body against hers.

Jean gasped as the cool air hit her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that radiated off his body. Her lips were sore, and would be bruised in the morning, but she didn’t care. Her fingers bit into his skin; her mouth followed. She gasped again when his wiry chest hair rubbed against her taut nipples. They were sensitive, like most areas of her body. She felt like she was drowning in the sensations of her own body, plus what she could feel emanating from him. From the moment she met him, she knew this was inevitable, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge that fact. She moaned deeply when she felt his erection pressed between their bodies; her legs fell open, she whimpered in anticipation.

He breathed her name, kissing her deeply as he reached between their bodies. His hand brushed over her opening, gathering the moisture between her lips and spread it over her sex. Jean arched her back and lifted her hips slightly, wanting to feel his fingers as he explored her. His fingers found her protruding clitoris, causing her to jerk involuntarily with each tap. “Logan…” her voice was soft, almost pleading.

With a groan, he shifted and positioned himself over her. He guided his erect cock to her opening, moaning at the warmth and wetness as he slid the head past her lips and inside her body. He shifted again, propping his weight up by his arms and hands; then with a soft grunt, he thrust deeply. “Oh God…” Jean bit her lip to keep from crying out loud. Logan was bigger than she’d anticipated, wider. He filled her, stretched her walls, almost to the point of being painfully uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her; Jean knew that. He started to pull out, but she pulled him back to her.

“Don’t stop.”

“Ya sure?”

She answered by pulling him back to her, cutting off anything else he might have said. One leg wrapped around his waist, effectively pushing him deeper inside. She kissed him fiercely, moaning into his mouth, the weight of his body pressing into her. She ran her hands over his body, wherever she could touch, the course wiry hair, the smoothness of his skin. She wanted to take it all in, wanted to experience every little sensation, the pleasure and the pain. Jean had been with others before, but Logan was different. She arched her hips upward; the other leg found its way around him. It hurt, but it was the sort of pain in which one finds deep, immense pleasure, and Jean had found hers.

Logan pulled out a fraction; then thrust in again, over and over quickly setting a pace. His chest brushed against hers. One hand clamped tightly on her hip, the other made its way up her body to clasp her breast. He rolled her taut nipple between a thumb and forefinger, causing Jean to cry out again in pleasurable pain. His mouth engulfed hers, his tongue warred with hers. He was gentle, yet fierce. Jean could sense him holding back, not wanting to hurt her anymore than he was going to.

Let go, she whispered in his mind. Love me the way you want to…

She heard an echo of a howl in her mind, and felt him thrust deeper and deeper inside of her, even as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, biting the tender skin there. She dug her nails deep into his skin, as she clung to him. Small grunts and groans accompanied his own and accentuated her panting breath as she moved with him. She’d have bruises all over her body, she’d be sore for days, but she didn’t care. She bit, nipped and scratched where she could. She grabbed his hand and held onto it tightly, even as her inner muscles clenched tightly around his cock and moved in sync with him.

Her cries, her moans, her panting breath grew louder and more intense with each thrust. Her entire body felt raw and on fire. She grabbed the back of his head by a fistful of hair and pulled his face to hers, capturing his lips and dragging her teeth over the skin. She cried sharply and reflexively tightened around his cock when he hit her Grafenberg spot. “Yes!” Her voice sounded harsh and ragged to her ears, full of lust, passion and desire, and completely unrecognizable as her own. She felt a low burning throb building up inside of her. With her free hand, she raked her nails from his shoulder all the way down his arm; then clasped her own breast, twisting and pinching the nipple. Her body started to shake and she knew her climax was near. She clenched tightly around his cock, her hips and back arching up to meet each thrust, her eyes shut, mouth open. She couldn’t control her thoughts. She wrapped around his mind, as tightly as she wrapped her muscles around his cock. A soft mewling sound grew into an intense cry of pleasure that ricocheted off the walls of the medical lab.

Her climax overtook her in wave upon powerful wave. Her entire body shook and shuddered, as her voice cracked with her passionate cry. She felt intense pain, intense pleasure, on higher levels than she'd ever experienced before. In that moment, she was completely opened up to him, heart, mind and soul. She knew the depth of his feelings for her; that knowledge was almost as powerful as the climax that rocked her to her very core. She kissed him fiercely before she climaxed again.

Logan threw back his head and gave an almost animalistic howl as he came and continued to move through his climax. With a final thrust, he emptied himself, then slowly covered her body with his own. They were covered with scratches and bruises and a thin sheen of sweat. Jean closed her eyes, nearly exhausted. She didn’t know how long they’d been lying, legs entwined, while she listened to her pounding heart slow to its normal pace. Logan’s breath was hot on her neck where he’d buried his face, their fingers still laced together. She could only imagine what she looked like and found herself smiling a little bit. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She could smell his scent and the musky odor of sex that permeated the air. Touching his mind briefly, she could sense his thoughts even if she couldn’t read them. She’d always been able to do that, but now it was stronger than ever. Jean felt an odd sense of peace and realized she’d been a fool to resist him for so long.