Wolverine Confidential

He reached the door and wanted to hack his way through it. God damn Xavier, and her too. They could both go straight to hell. Xavier had calmly pronounced that the sessions were over, that no more were needed, and looked at him like he was some kind of pathetic fool. Did he really expect him to believe that drivel? He'd seen a lot in his screwed-up life, more than either of them, things that he'd rather forget, but at least he knew what the score was. He had disgusted her, she wanted rid of him. Did they think he was a fucking moron? He knew exactly what had happened.

He could see it in her eyes and face that last time. How long was it now, six weeks? It felt like a century. God, he didn't want to think about it. Shame poured through him at the memory and he cringed inside. He'd disgusted her and she'd bailed. She was trying to hide her disgust but he knew better, he knew what he saw and by God, she owed him an explanation. She could damn well tell it to his face, the little coward, hiding behind Xavier. Clenching his jaw and letting out one last muffled curse, he hammered on the door to her office with both fists.

"The office is closed. Please leave a message with the service." She said matter-of-factly.

"Open the door, Katherine, or I'll rip it to shreds." Silence. A chair scraping on the floor. More silence. Then he could faintly hear her moving around, her footfalls coming closer to the door.

"Logan, I can't talk to you right now. I'll call you a little later." She said through the door. Her naturally calm voice was hesitant, shaky. Good, she was upset. About fucking time.

"Oh, I don't think so. You're going to talk to me now and tell me what you said to Xavier for him to give me such a line of bullshit. You're going to see me now, Katherine." He gritted out, barely able to hold his voice in check.

"What happened to 'Doctor' Katherine? And I certainly don't have to open the office for you Logan. I haven't heard from you in over a month, so I'm sure you don't have an emergency. You stormed out of here..." Her words stopped abruptly as the sound of splintering wood filled the air.

"Oh shit." She muttered as she threw a bare arm over her eyes and backed up from the door. Bits of wood and plaster pitched out and around the lock and frame, pelting the rug with pieces of debris. After the first shower of splinters, she peeked out at what was left of her abused pine door. He stood on the other side, his chest heaving, and glared at her, with his arms hanging at his sides, and those menacing claws dragging down past his knees. He looked lethal, taking ragged breaths, and so amazingly handsome that she had to hold her breath for fear of gaping at him. He was angry with her, and he had every right. But she did not have an answer to this, and anything more could only make it worse.

So, she cocked her head as if curious and said nonchalantly, "Well it's good to see you too. Would you please put those away?" she said, gesturing to his hands. Turning, she began to calmly walk toward the inner door to her office. "And," she said over her shoulder, "You're going to pay for getting that fixed, you know."

Damn her. How did she do it? Make him feel like such a fool when he was around her. Xavier's little talk had left him in a state of near rage that he was unsure how to handle. He'd walked the 40 blocks here, trying to shake some of his emotions, but he was losing the battle. The closer he came to the office, the angrier he had felt, and the more confused. God, he was a miserable fuck. X was right to think him pathetic.

He watched her walk across the reception area, the afternoon light flowing in from the high windows, spaced between the tall shelves, going all the way to the second level, stuffed with books and papers, like some ancient, messy archive. The sunlight seemed to glow as it filtered in from the second floor landing, alternately slanting down, so that she walked in and out of the light. It was as if she was there, then gone, then there again. The light seemed to do odd things in this room. It looked and smelled like her, lilac, mint, strange and beautiful. He had first come here to 'have his head examined,' and she'd laughed at that. But the strangeness and beauty of both the room and the woman intrigued him and unnerved him.

"Head examined?" She let out a little snort. "Good grief, no. I'm just trying to help you get a few answers. Not much head examining to do, really." She smiled and gently laughed, turning up her face, and looked at him squarely. Her eyes were large, inquisitive, and the color of the ocean, blue-green. No one has eyes like that. "Professor Xavier has asked for me to help you find out a little more about your background. Perhaps a few of the things that are hard to remember. But what about you Logan, is that something that you want to do?"

"Sure. Whatever." He nodded dumbly at her. He'd gladly do whatever she wanted; walk on his hands, bake muffins, let her jab pins in his feet or eat roaches, to stay here. And he didn't quite know the reason why. She began to talk and ask him questions, and he found himself following the movements of her mouth. Her lips were full and luscious, as she formed her silly little questions. The pink-purple color reminding him that she had other pink places that he wanted to see and touch and kiss. Leaning forward, he would answer her questions, watch her lips and fantasize about locking his arms around her, slanting his mouth over hers, and kissing her until she was weak and limp in his arms. Then he'd separate those lovely thighs and push himself into her until she screamed his name and came for him, over and over.

"Logan, are you with me?" She asked, glancing at him with a questioning look. He had to shake himself out of his adolescent stupor. Jesus, I'm some idiot schoolboy. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Yes, I'm... I'm with you. What was that last question?"

And so it had gone, him answering her questions. Talking about his life in a way that he had never talked before. How in the hell did she get it out of him? He always hated talking, this shit should stay buried. Her little kind, encouraging, shrinky talk worked, he guessed. The "How do you feel about that?" bullshit had cut through something finally. He liked her, and God knows he desired her, but he should have never, ever, let her in. Somehow, she had squirreled her way into his mind, and on that last meeting, he had come apart. He'd remembered things that should have damn well stayed in locked in hell. Xavier knew what he was doing, the asshole. The images landed on him like a load of shit, and he had to fight his way out, but there was no way out. Then, after what seemed like an eternity of torment, he found himself being cradled in her arms, and he was sobbing like a damn baby. Jesus Christ, what a fuck he was. A fuck who was standing there watching her walk away after she had eaten his heart and soul with a fork and spoon.

"Wait just a minute, you." He called sharply to her. She was striding through the beams of sunlight, like some magical fairy queen, dressed in her simple cotton dress that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her feet were almost bare in her sandals, and her legs, outlined by her movements and the flow of her simple shirt as she strode away, made his groin tighten. She should have been considered plain, her long black hair pinned back in a simple style. She should have just looked plain and bookish; she certainly didn't put anything into it. But her simple attire only crystallized her beauty and made her seem almost ethereal, untouchable, -clean, simple, pure.

Everything he wasn't. Everything he could never be, never have, never even touch. She'd put him here and then she exiled him, like the creep he was. Goddamn it all, he'd had enough.

He caught up with her at the entrance to the inner office, and grabbing her arm, he spun her around with more force than he intended. She lost her balance and pitched to the side, one arm flailing out and hitting the door, pushing it with her hand to try stay upright, her free arm reaching out. He caught her partly to control her stance and partly because he could not stand to be this close without touching her. The door slammed shut behind her, her body hitting against it with a soft thud.

Oh God, please don't touch me, she thought, as the contact sent a shock wave through her that made her dizzy. I can't do this. She closed her eyes, trying to regain some control, but all she could do was reel from the exquisite pleasure that was pouring through her veins like molten lava. She knew what this was. Stop it, stop it, and get control, she pleaded with herself. She tried to take a deep breath, but that only brought his smell closer, a subtle, clean, leathery, and male scent that she had craved and had missed. Because she could do nothing else, she finally opened her eyes and looked at him.

His face was inches from hers and the torment in his eyes racked her. He looked tired, the circles under his eyes revealing sleepless nights. The nightmares. She knew about these. Every night he was butchered, again. And would wake up in a cold sweat, pacing and prowling for the rest of the night. He had done better for a while, even sleeping through till morning every now and then, but she could see that that respite was over. She closed her eyes against her empathy, her guilt, and God help, her riveting need. But, he took it for something else.

"You don't have to be afraid of me for Christ's sakes, I'm not going to hurt you." He said as he relaxed his hold on her, but did not let her go.

"I'm not afraid of you Logan. I know you would never hurt me." She watched his face and saw the flicker of relief pass over his eyes and the tensions set in his jaw loosen slightly. Then he tensed again and put a hand on her face, pushing her head back to look into her eyes.

"What did you tell Xavier?" he gritted out, frowning and pinning her with his gray, wolf stare. Daring her with his look.

"I..." taking a deep breath, she carefully said, "I told him that we had uncovered some memories that were very painful and that I believed we had done what we could." She paused for his reaction, but none came. He continued to frown at her, as if waiting for something. "I said that I am not a therapist, only a diagnostician, and that you should next be attended by a real doctor, not a research scientist."

"What else?"

"What do you mean, what else? Nothing else. That's what I said. He asked if there was any difficulty and I said no. I just think I'm out of my area of expertise."

"Katherine, please cut the bullshit. There was 'a difficulty.'" He mocked. "You can't expect me to believe that you didn't tell him about me lying on your floor, blubbering like a fucking baby? A pathetic fool. And how you were too disgusted to even see me again. Referring..." he spit out the word as if it was poison, "...referring my ass."

She looked up at him, and could see the pain and shame in him. Oh God, he'd misunderstood. He'd misunderstood everything. How could he have seen it that way? God, what a mess she'd made. She had botched this and he thought it was him. She hung her head, feeling a complete failure, and let out a sigh. Why had she agreed to this? She felt him move and looked up to see his mouth curl, the shame eating at him. Well, no matter what happened, she could damn well clear his head, tell him what she had done and why.

"Logan, I have never, ever felt disgusted by you. Never." He absorbed that for a minute, seemed to relax his hold, and she continued, "It was altogether a different reason that I did not call you, that I 'referred your ass.'" She took a deep breath, "I was losing professional distance."

"What the hell do you mean, professional distance?"

"I..." she hesitated, not knowing what or how to say it. She wasn't even sure what she meant. She did know that she often found herself, staring at his face, his hands, wanting to touch him, glide her fingers over his jaw, his throat, lay her hand on his shoulder, and not, God help her, to comfort him. He fascinated her. She wondered about his life and wanted to know everything, and not at all for the research. She had completed, as far as she was concerned, what ever it was that Xavier had wanted. But he needed to know the truth, and she could find the courage to say it, to release him from his unfounded shame.

"I... was becoming attached to you."

"Attached?"

"I..." Oh, just say it, you can't do any more harm than you've already done, she told herself. "I became attracted to you, Logan. I didn't feel that I could do anything else to help you professionally, as long as I was feeling..." She paused and swallowed, "Feeling... romantic about you." There, at least she had said it, and let the chips fall. Now he could be disgusted.

"You're attracted to me?" He said it, trying to put this part into his thinking but it wouldn't fit yet. "You weren't turned off by my..., my breakdown?"

"No, no. Of course not." She frowned and shook her head slightly, as if the idea was silly, trying to make sure he understood, and stopped blaming himself for nothing. The closeness with him, she loved it, she craved it. "I appreciated it." Yes, she thought, that's a better word than craving, "Your sharing that part of yourself with me." That sounded dumb, but his grip on her was changing. The shock and feel of his hands on her face and on her arm, was intensifying somehow. Automatically, without being able to stop herself, she leaned into his hold on her. In response, he took a step forward, his leg pushing closer to her and bringing his lower body in contact with hers. Lightening fed her blood and her breath hitched. She looked up at him. His face was more relaxed now. He still looked a little confused, but he was intent now, focused. No matter what, tell him the truth so he can be free of this, she told herself. "I think of you as this dark warrior, wounded yes, but tremendously strong and very fierce. I didn't think of it as any breakdown." Her breathing was getting faster. He blinked slowly, and lowered his head a few inches toward her. She watched his mouth, and spoke as if from a distance and whispered, "I loved it. I craved it, I craved you." His hand, resting on her face, spread out more firmly over her jaw, turned her head fully up to him, as he lowered his mouth the rest of the distance to her lips. Sealing his mouth over hers, a groaned escaped from the back of his throat and she fell into a sea of sensation. She felt her heart hammering in her chest. The roar in her ears would not override the flood of ecstasy that was his mouth moving on hers.

He could feel her heart pounding underneath his chest as he pulled her more tightly into his embrace. Her lips were warm and soft and smooth and he wanted to consume them, he was not getting nearly close enough to her. His head was swimming in the fresh clean scent of her, the light mint taste of her mouth. He pushed harder into her lips, deepening the kiss, until she opened for him. And with that opportunity, he used his tongue to capture and explore more of her, the luscious insides of her lips and cheeks and teeth.

She was trembling, he could feel tremors in her that could be fear or passion, he didn't know which and he was not going to ask. He pushed against her body, wedging her firmly against the door, braced his feet and angled his knee between her legs. She sounded out a little whimper as he lodged his lower body into the V of her legs. He whispered, "Katherine..." but he could not say anything else. She wouldn't accept him, he knew that, but she was allowing this much, and he would take anything he could have of her. He moved the kiss to the corners of her mouth, then over her face and to lobes of her ears, dragging his mouth down her throat, raining kisses over her skin. Then, he was dipping down to kiss and lick the delicate skin all the way down to the tops of breasts. She flinched at the touch and raised her hands to his shoulders.

"Logan, I..." she started, but then stopped, as he tried to distract her from any objections. Sucking and pulling gently on the delicate skin between her breasts, he made sweeping moves across her chest placing feathery kisses all over her skin, causes her to moan and arch toward him strongly. Good, he thought, you beautiful witch, you're real after all. Then, throwing caution to the wind because he was already damned, he brought his leg up and forward to press against her, at the juncture of her thighs. She moaned again and trembled, and as he stroked his leg against her, she went slack. Then he wedged her closer to him, took both her arms, pulled them above her head, and pinned her with his hands and body. He pressed his leg and the rest of his body against her, pressing and grinding himself closer until they both knew how it would be. Then, he placed his mouth back on her lips in a violent, hungry kiss.

She was completely mastered by him, and she gloried in it. His large, muscular body completely surrounded her, contained her, as he worked magic on her senses. Her blood pounded in her veins and a deep pool of warmth spread out through her body, fueled by a hungry ache in her center. She could not move from where he pinned her, nor did she want to, so thoroughly exquisite were the pleasures singing through her core and limbs. His scent and touch was all over her, and she wanted to lose herself in it. He was breathing as though he'd run a mile, and his sweet breath raked across her skin where his lips had trailed, leaving cool and warm sensations that seemed to be able to bring her to the edge of madness. She watched the grimace of pleasure on his face, and she could feel the hard edge of his erection. She had dreamed of this, shamefully.

Stop him. I've got to stop him, she thought. He did not know what he was truly getting with her. But after weeks of feeling his absence, she did not think she had the will to stop him. She was too greedy. But her guilt flew at her one last time, breaking through her lust-filled brain. He deserved to know.

"Logan..." She said again.

"Katherine, don't say anything, please. I won't hurt you. Please..." His voice was full of passion, need, and a glimmer of desperation. He seemed to give up on trying to communicate and moved his head to her breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth and suckling her through her thin cotton dress.

"Oh God, Logan. I..." She was coming apart. She could hardly think of what she was trying to say. "I...I've got to tell you something."

"It can wait." He muttered, then as if he thought more, he said, "Don't worry. I'm not sick and I never get sick. We're safe." He ground out, as he unfastened the buttons on the front of her dress and took her naked breast in his mouth with another groan. She trembled and jerked from the sensation, and tried to find some sliver of coherency to help her explain to him.

"That's not it. I'm..., I'm not normal." She said in broken sentences. "I'm not a normal woman. There is something different about me." She said in fractured tones between the thrills washing over her, the delight he was causing by moving back and forth between her breasts. At the same time, he was stroking her, riding her on his leg until she felt that she would scream with the pleasure of it.

"You're normal enough for me." He muttered, it seemed he was hardly hearing her. He wasn't listening. His lean body was braced forward and she could feel the steel tension in his arms and legs. He wasn't going to listen, listening was over. If she stopped him now, he would only believe her rejection. She looked down at his head, his mouth on her breasts, his dark hair shinning and his day old beard scraping her delicate skin. She didn't want to fight it, she wanted to arch into him and contain his rising flesh with her body, until she was consumed by him. From the first moment she had seen him, heard him speak, looked into his steel blue eyes, and learned of his life, who and what he was, it was want she had wanted. Xavier, and everyone else who would disapprove could go to the devil.