X-Men: Hold Me Thrill Me Iss Me

Disclaimer: Characters portrayed in the following are not mine and I did not create them.

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Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me:

Logan seized Betsy by the arms and threw her onto the bed; her surprise echoing in the dormitory with an audible yelp. The curtains flapped ceaselessly, warm breeze blowing in from a temperate spring Sunday over the Graymalkin grounds. Television switched off, no longer the news relaying slow events, Logan undid the top buttons on his shirt and prowled. She looked up to meet his gaze, a sudden fire lit behind his eyes that blazed a trail down the luscious length of her body. A bottle of still water thumped onto the chest next to his bed. Her suspicion grew. Lines travelling out from his eyes creased, he was narrowing his focus; his ears straightened, teeth bearing and nose scrunched. These were signs of the predator. She knew them from him intimately and was well aware of what his intentions were. All day she had paraded round in front of him, boob-tube and hair in a ponytail, neck exposed and a dark shade of lipstick that he bet wouldn't come off without some serious rubbing. Trousers on her legs were bound together at the waist with laces, he found the criss-cross enticing, but much more than any of those, she had a thin silk choker, purple, to match the persuasive deep hue of the few strands that framed her cheeks.

'What are you going to do?' She swallowed, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The path he tread switched from side to side; he walked over to the light and fan switch and offed them. Rolled up his sleeves, red and white plaid shirt open and whisking in the wind. She saw the hair covering his grizzly chest, firm muscles suggesting big thick arms to hold and squeeze her. It reminded her of the prairie. Fingers sought for the bottle, she needed a sip, ruffling the covers and backing into the headboard. Her shoes were still on.

'What you think I'm gonna do? What you want me to do?'

He was giving out a snarl.

She felt intimidated.

But playing along.

Pacing, he kicked off his shoes and went around to take her from the side, arm presented from her and then off the bed and into his embrace. His breath was hot and moist, she was overwhelmed with his scent, sweat, salt, blood and iron in the muscles. A light-headedness came on. He kissed her heatedly, hands gripping tight and even hurting a little. His stubble grazed against her chin. She relented and opened her mouth slipping her tongue in to give him some. She stroked the blistered lips, passing over his little muscle and kissing the spit between the two of them. Her mouth was expert. Eventually he relaxed his clutch and she curled her arms under his and held at his back, their heads moving at an angle in the curtained sunlight. Betsy moaned somewhat and he took control, holding her face tenderly in his palms -- strange for someone with his appearance and primal demeanour -- and they looked into one another's eyes. There was human sensitivity far off, the instinct expected within his core less than total.

He spoke to her.

'You been waltzing around all day shaking your ass under my nose, Betts. Comes a time when a man can't take it anymore.'

'Maybe I want you to take it.' She mouthed impudently.

Forceful, he hooked about her waist and put a hand on her left breast. The expression changed suddenly.

'I'm gonna take you.'

'Any way I want?' She sighed, craning her neck as he sucked at it and then up into her ear. She shivered and stared at him, all mixed emotion.

'Whether you want it or not.'

And his fingers passed down beyond the exposed flesh of her belly and into the waistline of her True Religions. Holding him close, her mouth spilled out puffs of hot anticipation as she stroked his neck in return and tickled the inside of his chest, rolling the thin black curls in her palm while he dug into her pants. She needed this. Needed a burly bastard to throw her down and drive her senseless. Had to have it rough. Sometimes. Logan was a sensitive lover, but like an animal, needed to be goaded into extremes. Her flirtation with the others was to make him angry and possessive. Her wiggling was to draw his attention when he didn't have it to spare. Her words and pouts were to remind him of the spark that got lit when they teamed up. The tongue in his ear and sucking on his lobe as his working-man's fingertips brushed through the elastic of her lacy black panties and into the small mesh of curls at her mound was to remind him of all the things she could do with her mouth. The whispers were to throw him off balance -- of course they weren't working -- she noticed that straight off when he growled shut up and twisted his wrist inside her trousers angling just right to part the folds of her sticky labia and ease his middle finger along her pussy.

'Mmmmm...' Betsy bit her lip and held them ear to ear, her knees shaking slightly as Logan directed their stance in the window. He began pulling further out, the stretch of the lace accommodating a quick flick and rub with his thumb over her reddening clitoris. '...Aahahh -- Logan -- someone, mmmm, someone will see us...'

He grunted: 'Don't care,' and pulled her in for a biting ferocious kiss, crushing her left breast and then gripping her neck tight as he fingered her. Her throat quaked and she saw the colours of desire graffitied in large letters in the dark. Luminous presence, the kind she saw in ultraviolet light. 'Ummm,' she said, his wrist flexing dangerously, the arm delving into her underwear. It was covered in the same kind of black hair on his chest. She buried her face into the nape of his collarbone, the constant jabbing and tug on her insides both invasive and exhilarating. So private, so personal, just the kind of spectacle she got off on.

Ponytail whipping around to rest under his jaw, he took hold of her shoulders and shoved her dragging his big palm through the reflective material of her top and back onto her tits. Mouth open she tongued him. His finger slipped into the widening ring of muscle, sensing its dilation at intimate intrusion. Betsy's eyes went big, spacey, she made an aaaahhh sound and then he went back stroking with the liquid seeping out over her clit and between the folds. A new trickle was absorbed into the black lace. He withdrew and pushed her up against the curtain, the white frame of the balcony door flung broad to blow in on them. Beams of sun cast down, birds tossed and parried in the blue. She heard the sounds of her friends down below. She flushed.

'Dirty,' he growled, hands on her again and another fierce kiss. Everything with Logan was fierce and animalistic. He was everything she wanted and needed and was like a lover should be. He made her feel like a supernova.

'Not here,' she screamed in a hush 'Ororo's on the patio! Ohhhh,' his hands despite her caution were untying the laces on the trousers and yanking them down 'Logan...! Oh my god,' he ran coarsely up the long length of her legs, smooth and Pacific brown '...aaaahh! Logan! Stop it, stop...' and then plucking down the band of lace and deciding to part the strip hidden in the cleft of her privates 'you bastard... what if we get aaahhhh caught? ... Jesus...'

He took his tips and feed them in and through the strip pulling to one side and then leaning in on his knees to lick the few streaks of her taste running down her inner thigh.

'You're pretty messy for an upper-class broad.' He said, pausing to gauge the scowl and marvelling internally at how beautiful she was. Red in the face, red further down. He couldn't think of a better way to remember her.

Then his tongue was on her, two big hairy arms tying her legs together around the thighs, the shins angled away from each other, her arms bracing on furniture. She puffed and bent her head back, succumbing. When he went lightly over her kneepit she buckled and collapsed her arms onto his shoulders, issuing a long strangled groan Ororo was sure to hear.

Betsy's pussy was leaking onto his finger. It made the route easier for him and a whole lot more unbelievable for her. His tongue made a few artist strokes over her clit, the button angry and riled amid small tufts and darkened folds. He tried to spell his name, getting lost along the way and having to start again at the L and the O and the G. Keening noises came out. She was shaking. Her eyes glimpsed outside, mouth open and remembering to swallow for all the good a dry mouth and no saliva did her.

Warren was outside playing badminton. She thought of how good he was at this. Scott and Remy and Peter were also on the pitch. Almost every man she had fantasized about in vests and shorts, all hair, all muscle, all sweat, all fuck. Her knees shook, Logan was ploughing his finger up into her and threatening to go into her anus. Betsy whimpered, he was going to fuck her up royal. She thought of his little body all tense and her underneath, pinned and squirming, like a spider security tag. Unable to escape and being driven higher and higher until she felt like peeing herself and then the clench of the cuntmuscles and the stomach and the bubbling internal and then she just cries yes and yes and oh, I'm coming, baby yes Logan I'm coming... and he kept fingering her, digging knuckle deep into her ass and she shook and shook and gripped his head and let herself orgasm hard. The back of her head knocked against the doorframe, she gritted her teeth to stop from yelling and gushed wetly and then he slowed with her guidance and then was out of her and she felt a little hollow but for the come waves surfing about in her belly.

'Oh my god... oh my god... Logan... fuck me... fuck me, love...'

He took her hand, his sticky and then him licking it off and tossed her back onto the bed. She landed with a thump and raised herself, legs parted -- where had her underpants gone? -- and tossed her hair behind her head. This was it. She suddenly needed to be very naked.

He ripped his vest off and threw it away pouncing and then in-between her legs again with a wet palm lathering her cunt and when she quivered taking it to her mouth and her sucking on it. Betsy bent and fumbled with his belt. The jeans came off. His cock came out, she took it in hand and vigorously sucked him into her salivating mouth, hungry. He tapped her off and she lay back bowing as he tugged and tugged at the boob-tube and then off keeping her ponytail intact. He held the length of hair and kissed her long and deep as he entered her. She melted around him, the fluid penetration like slipping into warm waters. Her legs tangled in his, it felt so awesome to be captured so, as if they were somehow incomplete when not joined. A stray thought of carnality passed through his mind -- she sensed it and blushed. Random feelings surfaced the way convection swims molten wax about in a lava lamp. She wanted to fuck and be fucked, to be on all fours -- and he started moving inside of her, every facet of his thick dick recognisable in the confines of her pussy -- she wanted to ride him, turn about, twist, squeeze, vibrate orgasm ripple on his cock and spray over his neck and jaw to simply dissolve into white noise in the heat of his lust.

'Logan...! I, ungh, aaah... fuck...'

Whatever she wanted to say, it was lost.

He wasn't concentrating in that way anymore. The side receptive for that communication was shutting down. She was pinned, cat-like, shoulders into the mattress and breasts bobbing while he stared down at their joining and pulled in and out, digging and shoving into the depths of her cervix. Teeth left a mark on her neck, just above the choker. She thought he was about to sever her jugular. Somewhere inside, that idea excited her. Fangs and claws, three sharp fine glittering fingers invading her genitals, excavating a needy keening scream of a come from her thrashing purple-haired head. Legs entwined. She was going to have to hold on. When he got like this, it usually ended up with unconsciousness. Everything she needed, right here. Just the way she aaaaahhhh liked it.

'Ha...! Oh -- holy fuck! Logan! Aahh!'

And her dirty mouth only served to fuel the situation. It was bad enough she kowtowed to his physical strength which he found a bit of a turn-on, she had to go panting and swearing in his ear too. His ass clenched, he put a little extra effort into the next few thrusts, really getting in deep and she opened her legs a little wider to fit him.

'Logan!' The whiteness was coming on, the tunnel vision. '...oh shit!' She shook down there, the muscles trembling and he could feel it in the length of his shaft. Her eyes closed hard and tight, the sight of an endless sea crashing against iron rich cliffs of Devon, the infinity of it all paling in comparison to the burn in her loins, the kind of wavering tension a slinky has under a thermite blasting stove. 'Fuck, Logan, baby, fuck... I'm going to come, I'm coming, ah...oh'

And he piled into her all the raging strength of his lust, pulling at her nipples with one free hand and smothering her mouth so she couldn't breathe properly even though there was a rush in her nose to replace it and then a few clumsy but effective swats of his hand against the zero-space of her clit in-between their sweating bodies and she was panting but not really because he was kissing her and the whole world went white, her head tossing to one side and thighs quaking and all the while a strangled groan he thought a man more likely to make echoing from deep down within Betsy's soul. 'Fuck, oh fuck! I'm coming... yessssssss...!' And biting her lip while she motioned up and down, the inertia of his kinetics shaking her entire body into a come and she went limp and could finally focus on him.

He was making little grunts, the kind of squeal a lion in heat will do -- were spilling from his mouth, the sensations between her thighs dulling by the minute but still enough to blur her vision. She stroked his face, the full weight of him pressing down now, staring so honestly into his eyes saying: I love you, baby, please come for me please come baby... and he licked up her neck, all the visible bubbles of perspiration collected on his tongue that still tasted of her pussy gone and then with it his resolve and what the hell was he doing, he was pulling out of her, the disappointment on her face apparent but then as she was thinking and seeing him jerking his glistening cock while straddling her that it was his turn and the glow in her belly reminded her that she had come just a few minutes ago, so actually it was alright and then a high growl as his head angled unnaturally and she grabbed his nuts tight leaning in to catch a full load spewing out the end spraying her because she wasn't fast enough all over her mouth and jaw, coating the choker and running in trails down her neck and tits and then before it was too late she sucked down the last few spurts, humming deep in her throat as he shot his last and her palm stopped squeezing it out of him.

Logan moaned something fierce and collapsed next to her, Betsy still busy gathering the loose rivers of his release and sucking them clean off her fingers. She lay on her back, the sun having moved to shine over her feet on the bedspread. Laughter, or the exhausted equivalent of bubbled out her lungs, and Logan raised himself, head and cheek by her groin and accepted a sticky finger from her. He grimaced playfully -- funny to see him do so -- but licked nonetheless.

'Won't let it go to waste, love.' She said, grinning.

They couldn't know they had been seen.

Outside the birds played.