Title: Feral Attractions Part 2
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this work of fanfiction with the exception of Heather and Todd, the bartender. I make no money from this simple story and only slightly more from my day job.
AN: I have reformed some characters to fit this story and you may be surprised by or despised by what I've done but if you flame me for them, I'll just make s'mores.
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Feral Attractions
Part 2: A Slow Burn In The Gut
The bottle of whiskey was slid across the scarred and nicked bar accompanied by a look of mingled awe and irritation from the poor soul who'd gotten stuck tending that particular end of the bar. Irritation quickly faded into a tolerant grin as the tired bartender eyed the three digit greenback sliding back his way. With a barely contained sigh of relief the man snapped up the bill and went back to restocking the Guinness wells, grateful that the dark figure who'd taken up residency in the corner for most of the night appeared ready to call it a night. His most enduring customer of the night threw back shot after shot like tap water and had a look only marginally less friendly than a den of rattlers, but he was quiet. Not only that but he knew how to give a descent tip. Who cared why he still looked as sober he had when he
first sat down.
"What time do ya close up, bub?"
The bartender looked up with surprise at the unexpected question. Save a few grunts to demand a new bottle of Jim Beam every now and then, the stranger hadn't said a word all night. Todd was used to the silent brooding type coming in, drinking 4 to 5 shots and dragging their asses back out into the night but this guy was way different. He was starting on his fifth full bottle of the night and wasn't even slurring words together. Todd wasn't an asshole. If he had any doubt the guy wasn't as sober as him, he would have personally taken his keys himself three bottles ago. However, Todd didn't like to invite ass whippings so he kept his questions to himself. "We'll close in about half an hour." Todd said, taking a quick glance at the clock behind him needlessly. He returned the muttered thanks with a slight nod and returned to his work, leaving the strange man to his thoughts.
Logan glared at the amber colored liquid with disgust but brought the bottle to his lips anyway. It burned its familiar path down his throat and settled in his stomach like a brick. He shut his eyes feeling a buzzing tingle and sighed as the sensation began to fade. Fuck. What a fucking waste of time. The more he drank the more his fucking mutation kicked in, screwing up his buzz.
He hadn't tried drinking like this in a long time. At least not this particular poison. The daily beers were more like his version of coffee, acting as an equalizer to keep him calm. If he drank enough of them, the noise levels all around him dulled to a more tolerant hum rather than there usual buzzing commotion. Plus he liked the taste. He hated the taste of this shit, but at least it dulled the sounds better and actually gave him a three second tingle if he drank it fast enough. Other than that, it only made him have to take a piss. Logan dragged the bottle back to his mouth and drained it, savoring the fleeting high before making his way to the john. Minutes later following his return from the disgusting excuse of a bathroom, Logan finally decided to take in his surroundings.
As expected, the crowds were a lot lighter than they'd been a few hours ago when he'd come in. This was his second stop of the night, he'd left the last place when the bartender started sending him one too many curious glances. He'd seen the look before and it usually ended ugly. Logan had enough on his mind without adding the nuisance of a bar brawl to the mix. Strangely enough, he didn't quite feel like fighting. Too be honest, he didn't know what he wanted to do except that he didn't want to go back that big fucking museum he called home.
He had no idea when he began thinking of the Xavier's place as home, when he first woke up there nine months ago he had no intention on staying. In fact, his very first thought was to haul ass out when he awoke to the sensation of someone pricking his skin and the panic that once again he was being held against his will resurfaced. He ran through the house with Xavier's persistent but oddly reassuring voice echoing inside, along with the impatient murmuring of what at the time seemed like hundreds of kids all waiting for the dismissal bell to sound. It only dawned on him that he was inside a school and not some well appointed torture chamber, when he accidentally ducked into the Professor's office. But it became obvious it was so much more than a school or even home to the infamous X-men the more he got to know the people who lived there. He had no idea how they managed it, but the motley group in that house had gotten to him, sucked him in and made him want to belong to something.
Still, not willing to give in to anything remotely like a commitment he hightailed it out of there the moment Charles made good on his offer to help. It was more than insight on the old man's behalf that made Charles aware that he was being tested. Logan knew without a doubt that if Charles Xavier had broken his word, he would never entrust them to take care of Marie nor would he ever consider joining their cause. Charles played dirty, tiptoeing around in his gray matter and learning how badly Logan wanted to be a part of something good for once in his life and the telepath used all he'd learned to his advantage. Even resorting to using his own little secret weapon to try to further his cause. Storm.
Logan had to give the old boy points, sending her after him to try and convince him to join the team was a stroke of genius. He tried blowing her off, but her simple words stuck in his head to whole time he'd poked around near Alkali Lake. 'At least I've chosen a side.' she'd challenged him. Charles Xavier had her pegged as his real weakness even before he'd truly realized it himself. He hadn't realized he'd been waiting for something or someone worth redeeming himself for.
Ororo attracted him from the first moment she walked into Xavier's office, but she was like a beautifully exotic bird that you could only watch from a distance. It was that same distant air about her that held him back from allowing his attraction to surface. 'Look but don't touch.' That is what he got the moment she spoke to him in that softly accented voice of hers. Everything about her gave off an aura of regal grace, like she belonged in a house with $10,000 antique vases around every corner and he knew he didn't stand a chance. So he chose to focus on Jean, with her easy smiles and soft touches. She welcomed his attentions. Toss in the satisfaction of ticking off her stick in the mud boyfriend, and he was a happy man. Still, when he lost his focus and allowed himself to consider possibilities, he couldn't help but daydream about the untouchable weather witch.
How wrong he'd been. She was not so untouchable now. In fact she'd been touched over and over again by the hands of the most savage piece of shit he'd ever seen walking. Fuck. What the fuck happened to the woman he thought he saw? Somehow he believed she had more...honor than that.
He never wanted to consider what his senses told him, thinking that he'd imagined the subtle blooming fragrance of lust coming off her when that man-beast, Sabretooth stood practically drooling over her that night inside the Statue Of Liberty. At the time he chalked it up to a strange response to the adrenaline rush of fear and the panic they all felt having to deal with a madman like Magneto, but even then he'd had his doubts. Ororo looked vaguely unhappy to see Creed plunge to his supposed death. If he didn't know better he would have thought they had something going on then. But he knew better. That night was just the beginning.
They must have started screwing around right after he went up north in search of an abandoned military base. That was all it was. Very well and thoroughly abandoned. He stayed up there and kicked around the tiniest of leads for a couple of months until he finally gave up and decided it was time to do something meaningful with the rest of his life. He knew when he got back that she was involved with someone, he'd picked up on the subtle differences immediately. Perhaps the others didn't see it because they'd been around her so long that none of them ever noticed much about her other than the picture of a cool, serene woman she painted herself to be. He'd thought that of her at initially too, until he began to observe her closer.
He recognized her as a sensualist by the way she dressed. In the softest of leathers for the way it felt to the touch. The tight form fitting tops because for her it was the closest she could come to being topless without unwanted attentions. She wore the handcrafted jewelry for sentimental reasons rather than making fashion statement. Even the cape on her uniform suggested how much she enjoyed the feeling of freedom.
Then there was the way she was with the kids, like Marie. She was softer with them almost motherly. He'd wandered up on her garden the morning after Marie first touched him. She was eating her lunch surrounded by flowers with this pleased smile on her face like it was the most thrilling experience in the world. That was the first time he'd seen a glimpse of the woman behind the cool ice princess facade. She did not hesitate to discard her lunch and help him search the grounds for Marie. In fact she hid it well, but he got the impression she was more concerned than he was.
Now he knew the picture perfect woman he'd created in his mind was a myth. His idea that she was somehow too pure for a fuck up like him was all a crock. One of the few women he truly admired and respected was banging a neanderthal psychopath who just happened to be a known associate of her supposed sworn enemy. The same psycho who had apparently decided to toss her like used a dishrag. It was like a twisted soap opera.
It was out of curiosity that he followed her, knowing that she'd started lying to the others about where she was going almost every weekend. He knew she had a lover and though he tried not to dwell on it, the desire to know who he was defeated his ability to respect her privacy.
But she was painstakingly careful. She always showered before she got home until she walked in smelling of hotel soap and barely anything else other than her own natural scent. It ate at him, wondering who it was that put that sway in her hips that hadn't been so pronounced before. She still didn't laugh much, but now the sound lacked the self consciousness he picked up the first time he heard it.
He was surprised that she hadn't wound up at ritzy hotel and when he pulled the bike to a halt outside of the economy roadside motel he knew immediately he wouldn't like this guy. No man worth his shit took a woman like her to a dump like that. Apparently her "date" was already waiting for her inside, because no one else ever entered the room.
He sat there, getting more and more annoyed that his spy mission was going bust and then it began to snow. Frustrated because his uncharacteristic snooping had him sitting like a jackass in the dead of winter like a jealous boyfriend, Logan decided to just confront her and find out exactly what she was up to. He stopped several feet from the door, his ears picking up on the sounds coming from the room and froze. The woman moaning in unabashed pleasure was not the same reserved, almost shy woman he lived with everyday for the past four months. Hell, he'd thought she was stuck up the very first time he saw her. He almost laughed at his own stupidity.
Then something made him still. He took a step closer as he caught an unexpected trace of a vaguely familiar scent and it set his teeth on edge. He wandered around the parking lot looking for Victor Creed for fifteen minutes, refusing to believe his first instinct. But once he gave up trying to convince himself that his mind was playing with his senses, he fought everything he had not to break down the door. He sat there for so long he lost track of time, reminding himself that she was a grown woman, who had the right to choose to fuck whoever she wanted to but it still made him growl low in his throat every time he pictured that animal touching her. It still didn't stop his gut from twisting whenever he reminded himself that she obviously enjoyed it. Yet he stayed. Part of him not believing it was really going on. The other part waiting for the slightest sign of something going wrong so he could gut the bastard if her screams became something other than passionate. He told himself he would stay to make sure she was safe. He had the urge to throw up. Too bad no one could save him.
"Hey, there." a soft voice said, breaking him from his dark memories. He looked up, blinking from his dazed glare at the tread worn hardwood floor and mentally cursed himself for allowing someone to sneak up on him. The attractive petite blonde he'd noticed flitting around the room earlier stood giving him a tiny smile. "You plan on stayin' in here all night."
He recognized the tight black jeans and tighter blue tee shirt as the standard uniform for waitress for the joint, the a, Harry's Place was advertised in bright teal green.
His shoulder lifted with nonchalance. "I ain't got a better plan yet." he said, watching her shift her weight from one foot to the other.
"Well, we close up in about two minutes so I thought I'd let you know before one of the guys forgot about you and locked you in."
She was cute enough, he mused. Maybe a few years older than Marie, legal at least. She had bouncy shoulder length blonde hair, intelligent looking brown eyes with a trace of freckles dashing across the bridge of her nose, not his usual type but maybe he could kill a little time.
"What's your name?" he said, leaning back against the bar as she moved past him to finish wiping a nearby table. He smiled at her annoyed sigh. Men probably hit on her all night in a dump like this. "Look...I'm just makin' conversation darlin'." he reassured.
"It's closing time, not conversation time." she tossed back, not missing a beat as she continued wiping at the table.
"Maybe I'm not in a big hurry ta get home." he told her, not waiting for a reply. "Anyway, what harm could it do to give me yer name. Hell, give me a fake one if it makes you happy."
She paused, unable to resist grinning at him. "It's Heather." she offered, giving him a quick once over. He did not miss the light of interest in her eyes before she moved onto the next table.
"Lemme guess, your wife is mad at you so you're staying out till 4 am to piss her off more."
"Not even remotely close." he said, almost grinning at the obvious fishing behind her statement.
Heather paused her work. "I didn't think you were a married man, anyway." she said. "You don't look like the type."
Her offhand comment caught him offguard. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, not certain why he felt disturbed by the observation.
Giving up all pretense of wiping off the now spotless table, Heather folded her arms across her adequately sized chest and made a show of sizing him up.
Logan resisted to urge to shift in his seat, as her intense scrutiny made him slightly uncomfortable.
She looked thoughtful for long moments before she spoke. "Hmmm....I'm willing to bet money that you are very, very single. In fact, you hate getting too involved with people especially women."
Logan mouth quirked. "Well, Darlin....yer way off the mark. I really, really love getting involved with women." he told her, with a playful wink.
She shook her head in mild amusement. "That's not what I meant and you know it. You have commitment issues."
Logan's smirk faded. He'd been hearing that entirely too much for his liking lately and although he'd known it for a while, it made him uncomfortable hearing it voiced by a complete stranger. "What the hell gave you that idea?" he asked, with a growing scowl.
She smile was secretive. "Let's just say I have a sense about this things."
Logan didn't miss the little flicker of something in her gaze and he stared at her for a long moment. It was her turn to shift uncomfortably.
"All right, what else do ya sense about me?" he tested.
She hesitated for a brief moment before finally meeting his gaze. A knowing smile tugged at her bow shaped lips after a while. "Okay. You've spent a great deal of time alone feeling frustrated with the way you are but you've been this way so long you don't know how to change. You're also really secretive about a lot of things in your life, but have a hard time not being brutally honest with others."
Logan blinked.
"You have people in your life who care about you yet you keep them at an arm's length. But somehow I don't think these people are your family, at least not in a traditional sense. But they could be."
Logan narrowed his gaze, eyeing the woman carefully. She looked a bit mortified that maybe she'd gone to far, swallowing hard as he leaned towards her menacingly. "Who are you?" he asked her, his gaze boring straight into hers.
Her eyes widened, suddenly nervous as she realized she'd said too much. Why this stranger had compelled her to speak so openly, she had no idea. She was usually so much more careful. Her stomach clenched at the question in his eyes.
"You got more than just a sense don't ya, Heather." Logan said quietly, his answer confirmed by the stark fear peaking in her scent.
Still she denied it. "I have no idea what your talking about." she said, releasing an falsely casual laugh. "I have work to do and we closed five minutes ago." she reminded him, coolly.
Ignoring her sudden shift, he slid off the stool and stood beside her. He had no idea why he wanted to push this but he had to know. Something about her intrigued him. "How did you know all that, Heather?" he asked, softly.
She tensed, her hand tightening around the damp towel she held. Fear danced in her coffee colored gaze before they quickly scanned the room. "I think you know why." she murmured, meeting his gaze briefly.
He nodded.
"Now will you leave me alone. I don't need to get fired from this place too." she whispered, fiercely.
Logan tried to bury the surge of compassion her felt but it was hopeless. She was young, a little innocent around the edges and it all reminded him a bit of Marie. "I ain't lookin' ta get you fired." he said, leaning in closer to her to make sure that only she heard him clearly. "I have a few secrets of my own."
She didn't look surprised, just as he suspected she wouldn't. She had to be an empath or possibly even a telepath. He gave her a careful glance, watching her eyes flicker past him to the bar where the guy who'd served him stood there observing them curiously. Logan noticed her reassuring smile and heard the guy go back towards the other end of the bar. He took the pause in her attention as an opportunity to grab a clean napkin from one of the last remaining untouched tables and stared pointedly at the pen she had stuck in the little apron around her waist.
"If you want my phone number, forget it." she said, lightly.
He sighed. "Look, I swear I don't want yer phone number, Kid."
Calling her a kid seemed to rub her the wrong way, as she suddenly frowned at him. "Why don't you go on home to that woman your hiding out from?" she advised sharply, momentarily throwing him for a loss of words.
What the hell was she talking about? In irritation, he snatched her pen from it's tiny pocket as she tried to push past him.
"I don't know why I'm doin' this." he muttered as he scrawled a telephone number across the flimsy square of paper. She was speechless as he slid it across the table along with her pen seconds later. Questions sprang in her eyes as she glanced up from the hastily scrawled address and telephone number. It was one she recognized instantly, since she'd driven by that very same address nearly every day of her life. She blinked at him, seeing what she was looking for in his greenish brown eyes. Hastily she stuffed the little fold of paper into her back pocket.
"You ever get in trouble, call that number." he said tightly, before turning on his heel.
She watched him leave with both a sense of dread and amazement. It was funny. She never would have pegged him for an X-man. It was too bad, too. She kinda liked him.