Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. A warped work of fiction, if you want to get specific. The characters involved are the sole property of Marvel Comics, Inc. I will receive no financial compensation for anything contained herein.
This story is rated R for explicit sexual content, possible violence, and naughty words. If that bothers ya, best click somewhere else, hoss. This story is not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen. By reading this, you imply that you are indeed of legal age for perusal of such graphic material.
The shortcut through the alley was her route home every evening, tonight being no exception. Her work with troubled inner city teens was rewarding, but the long hours tended to take away from her personal life with Scott. Though Jean loved him, she had lately begun to feel the pull of other men, strange uncontrollable desires. She needed intimacy, and with the schedules she and Scott were keeping, they might as well have been living separate lives. More and more, she found herself feeling melancholy, longing for the days when she had been newly in love, longing for that breathless intensity that accompanied the exploration of each others bodies. Unfortunately, her yearning had a darker side effect, the results of which she was certain Scott would not appreciate.
Logan waited patiently as she rounded the corner, her high heels clicking a measured, staccato beat as she quickened her pace. Moving slightly from the shadows, he risked a glimpse, wanting to be certain it was indeed she. Oh, yeah. It was. The shining halo of red hair confirmed his hope. He closed his eyes and released a nearly inaudible moan as he felt the groin area of his already tight jeans expand with the realization that the object of his desire was so close. In his mind, he was already inside her. He could almost feel her hot, wet, warmth surrounding him, as he slid in and out of her.
As she neared his shadowy doorway of subterfuge, he stepped forward to the edge of the brick egress, allowing his presence to be known. The tap-tap melody of her black pumps skipped a beat then added an extra note as if to accommodate. He came fully out of the gloom, the need for camouflage now removed. Her breath came in little panicky gasps, the vapor curling around her and dissipating nearly as quickly as it was formed. The fear scent emanating from her was nearly tangible. And behind the fear, Wolverine smelled desire.
"I've been waiting for you," he stated quietly, a smile quirking the corners of his full lips.
"Wh-Who's there?" she asked, the quaver in her voice lending it a much younger timbre. He liked that. The bulge in his trousers grew to an almost uncomfortable size. He liked that, too. "Logan?" She squinted her eyes against the darkness, tilting her head as recognition finally hit her. "Is that you?" Jean reached out with her mind to be certain. Touching her comrade's thoughts should have calmed her, but what she found in Logan's head was less than comforting.
"Yeah. It's me, Jeanie," he admitted, his hands punctuating the words with a graceful flourish. "I've been watching you. You leave your window open, ya know. I like what I see. Always have. I imagine myself there with you, in the window, puttin' on a show. For the whole world. Even for your boy, Scott," he spat the other man's name distastefully, then smirked. "I think you like it when I watch."
"I don't know what you mean, Logan," she shook her head, cursing the ignorant vanity that raged through her at this revelation. She did leave the curtains open on purpose. She did like the thought of people watching, admiring her naked form, fantasizing about her skin, her lips, her breasts, and far more intimate places.
He smiled, taking a single step closer to Jean Gray, his glorious redheaded goddess. The sound of her stiletto heel against a glass bottle as she took a step backwards pleased him. Startled, she looked down as the bottle made its tinkling, crunching, somewhat melodic way back down the outdoor corridor. Her breathing was coming faster now as panic took a firmer hold. They'd been friends for so long. Why was he doing this, taunting her, stalking her? Logan knew she might attempt flight at any minute, but it only made him more determined, more relaxed, more sure of himself.
He took another step. Then another. Jean was paralyzed as he came ever closer. If she'd really wanted to get away, she could've sent a powerful mental blast to disable him. But fear and a strange sort of desire mingled within her, complicating the act of escape, if that was indeed her intention. Her chest heaved as he came within touching distance and walked around her in a circle, admiring – or coveting – everything about her. She could smell him now, an exotic mixture of expensive cologne, smoke, and something undefined. If ever there was a smell of sexual energy, this must surely be it. It frightened her and aroused her all at once. She hated it and loved it the same. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer, but was unclear on whether she begged rescue or something more cryptic.
On his second circuitous round, he stopped directly behind her. Jean could feel his breath as it stirred her hair ever so slightly. Her nipples were small rocks of flesh, pressing against the silk of her low-cut blouse, and not from the cold. He came behind her, nearly pressing against her, and placed his left hand at the waist of her skirt, his fingers tracing her belt before coming to rest just below her navel. He did press against her then, and she could feel the swell in his pants through the thin layer of fabric separating their bodies as he gyrated slowly against her. They stood that way for a moment, both of them lost in the moment, their breathing quickening and deepening. Both hearts were racing now, one with a mixture of fright and longing, one with pure unadulterated lust. His right hand rose to her right breast then, squeezing and pressing and pinching as she moaned silently with the sensation his groping hands aroused within her.
"You know what's gonna happen, don'tcha, Jeanie?" he nuzzled her ear, the hunger in his body reducing his voice to a hoarse whisper. His hands still caressed and probed, the left one now reaching down to search a path beneath her skirt. They were smooth, his hands, not the hands of a coarse man, but of a refined gentleman, though his actions were far from genteel. She gasped as the one hand found its way between her legs, and the other beneath her blouse, all of this as he guided her to his original shadowy retreat.
Logan pushed her gently against the alcove wall face first, his warm breath caressing her neck as his hands found newer, moister places to roam. As she felt his index and middle finger enter her, she cried out, slapping her hands against the wall partially in shame, partially in passion. He worked her, probing her small knob of flesh then entering her, forcing her juices to flow unhindered.
"I knew you'd go crotch-less today," he whispered. "I was watching you dress this morning. Just like every morning. I knew. I knew you'd want this."
The revelation only served to soak the darkness between her legs. She felt her body continue its betrayal as she ground her ass against his still fettered sex and her pussy against his masterful digits. His breathing was harsh, as was her own, as he roughly turned her to face him. Looking into his eyes for the first time, she was overwhelmed at the blatant carnality visible there. He truly looked the part of a Wolverine, a dangerous creature.
Jean pressed her hands against Logan's chest and shook her head in negation of what was happening. He chuckled, raising her skirt and pressing hard against her. Her head hit the brick wall with a gentle thud as she attempted to avoid his lips, now determined to find their way to hers. He grunted, pressing his body yet harder against her flesh as his mouth found its prize with an enthusiastic vengeance. It was almost too much for her. His tongue was warm and soft, but hard at the same time as it danced around her own, forcing her mouth fully open and invading every nook and cranny. She found herself wondering what that tongue would feel like in other, darker places as she gave in, emitting little gasps of pleasure as their tongues slid against each other, soft and moist and hard and fast and slow and wet.
How could she let this happen? The thought fled to the forefront of her awareness causing her to pull back slightly. The whispered "no" uttered from her open mouth only made Logan laugh harshly. The way he looked at her now, the way he was behaving, it was like she’d never known him at all. In desperation, Jean pushed against this stranger, this violator, this man she suddenly wanted more than anything, and tried to escape his clutches. Muscled arms blocked her retreat, pinning her harder against the wall, as first one large, lean thigh, then another, spread her legs wide. He stared at her for a moment as a single tear of shame trickled its way over her soft cheeks before falling silently from her chin to her chest. He knew he'd won then, and took full advantage of the conquest.
With one hand at her waist, he used the other to expertly cut the buttons from her blouse with one carefully extended metallic claw, exposing her well-formed tits and pink nipples. He grunted like a savage beast as his mouth descended upon her soft mounds, biting and suckling and licking her to an exhilarated frenzy. Her hands moved to his dark, wild hair as she ran her fingers through it, pulling it first gently then harder. There was no turning back now.
The muscled thighs that had spread her now lifted her slightly as he worked the fastenings of his jeans, eager to release what had been caged. One hand came beneath her ass, lifting her further as his throbbing organ finally found release. She could feel its warmth and hardness against her legs and knew she was in for a big, thick ride.
He moved his other hand beneath her opposite ass cheek, lifting her still more, positioning her for maximum penetration while his mouth still suckled its way from her breasts to her mouth and back again. He dropped her slightly, reveling in her cry of delight as he entered her hard and deep. He kept the position for a moment, watching the total abandonment now apparent in Jean's face, and luxuriating in the sensation of finally having what he'd always craved. Jean Gray. He owned her now.
Lifting and dropping, Logan's beautiful, hard cock found its way in and out of her drenched, tight slit, over and over again. When she tightened her muscles around his organ, it was all he could do to hold back, to keep his strokes measured enough not to release his load. It was obvious from the way she gripped the wall and clenched her thighs around his waist and threw back her head, mouth open, first moaning then making small gasps of pleasure that she loved the feel of him inside of her. He could feel the pleasure dripping from her, and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer. Growling with lust, he quickened and deepened his pace, pounding her pussy until she screamed, her sweating body wracked with wave after wave of rapture. As her eyes rolled back with the intensity of her orgasms, he managed a final, violent thrust before releasing his seed deep within her along with a roar of victory. He held her there against the wall, both of their bodies sticky, sweaty, and shaky, as the culmination of their passion trickled to the dirty sidewalk.
Jean was uncertain how long they remained locked together; she, with eyes closed and head against the wall, Logan, with face buried between her tits and cock still inside her. It was surreal, almost a dream. And she didn’t want it to end, though it shamed her to admit it.
Eventually, he lifted her gently, placing her feet on the sidewalk and brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Logan smiled, narrowing his eyes as he ran his tongue lightly over her open lips. He knew she'd loved every minute of their clandestine fuck-fest. And he also knew he'd have her again. He'd have her as often as he wanted, and to hell with Scott. If Cyclops couldn't keep Jean happy, Wolverine would damn sure fill the position. Fill, being the key word.
"See you soon, Jeanie," he promised. With one last squeeze of her breasts, one last tweak of her still hard nipples, he turned, making a quick exit down the other end of the alley. She could hear his departing chuckle as she held her ruined blouse tightly around her, a few tears of self-reproach making their escape from her eyes, and she knew that this would not be the last time she would experience such bliss-filled humiliation.
As the sky lightened to an early dawn, Jean made her way home with shaky steps and a memorable soreness between her sticky thighs, knowing that no matter what she might tell herself, she'd never change her route home from the teen center. Not now. Not ever.