It was too hot to sleep. Too hot to stay awake. Too hot to do much anything than just suffer silently and keep praying for the urgent return of Storm.

“She just had to pick this weekend to take some time off…” Marie huffed, glancing at the calendar that hung on the wall of the small kitchenette. Ororo had marked three days with bright pink ink. Small x’s seemed to gloat at her misery.

She had gone to bed hours ago, but it was impossible to sleep. Bedsheets felt hot and sticky. She had been tossing and turning until she couldn’t take it anymore.
Since it was late she had taken the opportunity to shed some layers from her usual clothing. It was well past midnight, everybody else was most likely asleep already. She had put on the dark green bikini she had bought few weeks ago. Lower part of it was okay, even more modest than she actually would have wanted. Upper part left very little, if nothing for the imagination. Well, at least it covered her nipples and prevented her breasts from jiggling when she moved.

She grasped a bottle of soda from the fridge, for a second pondering whether she would fit in between cucumbers and avocados in to the luxurious coolness. Then giggled and closed the door. She wasn’t that desperate. She took a step towards the patio doors, and her gaze turned automatically towards the fridge again. She shook her head. She wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

Door opened silently. Somebody had oiled the hinges since she had last been in here.

She walked forward and raised her face towards the sky, letting out a relieved sigh. It wasn’t much cooler, but at least the light night breeze would dry off the sweat from her skin.

Bottle hissed open and she took a sip, letting the sugary coolness invade her mouth and flow down her throat, sliding the glass bottle over her forehead, cheeks and down her neck. It felt heavenly.

She took another sip and closed her eyes, savoring the chills that run down her spine. Moisture on the surface of the bottle felt pure. Clean and crisp, much better than the oily feel of her own sweat.

“Are you going to drink it or fuck it?”

Question startled her and she let out a small shriek, nearly dropped the bottle before she realized that she knew the voice. Logan.

He was lounging on a wicker chair little further down the patio, and raised a bottle of beer as a greeting as she walked closer. He had discarded some layers as well she noticed. Jeans were his only attempt at modesty, and even those he had cut from mid-thigh. Otherwise he was naked.

“It’s too hot to fuck,” she huffed, sitting on to the cool stones and leaned against the chair that Logan was sitting on, twirling the bottle in her hands.

“It’s never too hot to fuck, kid.”

For a moment they sat in silence.

“Why are you sitting alone out here if it’s not too hot to fuck?” She asked. Logan snorted and took a sip from his beer.

“It’s too hot to start looking for a chick that I could fuck, that’s all,” he grunted, discarding the now empty bottle and sitting up from the slouched position. He swung his legs to ground, and she ended up sitting between his bent knees. Not a bad place to be. She was all too tired to care about the possible danger of exposed skin.

“I’m getting another beer. You want anything?” Logan asked. She shook her head, raising the soda she was still nursing.

“I’m good. Hot, tired and horny, but otherwise just fine…” She sighed and leaned back to give him some room to stand up.

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Perhaps it was because of the unbearable heat that turned brains to jelly and made coherent thought process impossible, but either of them noticed her little slip-up before Logan was in the kitchenette, standing in front of the fridge, fresh bottle of beer raised to his lips.
He returned to the patio, small smirk stretching his lips. “You being hot and tired is perfectly understandable. And horny… Aren’t you all brats? Considering that Xavier doesn’t encourage unisex dorms,” He asked, slouching back on to the chair that creaked as in misery under his weight.

“Everybody else have ways to scratch the itch. It’s not a problem to slip out after curfew and find somebody with the same dilemma,” Rogue huffed, taking a sip from her soda, silently wondering whether she had already lost what little she had left of her brain. She really wasn’t having this conversation with Logan, right?

“What’s stopping you, then? I have seen the way guys keep staring at you,” Logan asked.

She turned so that she could look him in the eye. If she really was having this conversation it was only polite to do it face-to-face. “They watch. It’s easier to watch and imagine than to actually do anything. They’re not suicidal, Logan,” she said, reminding him about her mutation. Again Logan snorted, then shook his head, sitting up again.

“If they have a half a brain, they will find a way past your skin, kid,” he said. It was her turn to snort.

“Sure. I bet they would just jump from joy when they found a girl they could fuck with clothes and at least dozen condoms on…” She spat. “What?” She asked, suddenly annoyed when Logan tilted his head, knowing smirk on his face.

“I thought you were smarter than that, kid. Condoms? Yeah. More the better, you sure as hell don’t need any squealing brats of your own crawling around, not yet. But clothes? That’s optional.”

She scrunched her forehead in confusion. Clothes? Optional?

“I don’t know how did you come up with that shit, but last time I checked it wasn’t a good idea to go skin-on-skin with me,” she said, turning her whole attention to the bottle she was holding. “But out of curiosity… What’s your solution, then?” She asked, unable to hold the question at bay.

“Jell-O.”

“Jell-O?” She asked, turning to look at him again. He was completely serious, his eyes roaming over her features.

“Jell-O. Your skin didn’t react with me back at Liberty. Not at first. Back then I thought that it was because you were already so far gone. But you wouldn’t have woken up at all if that were the case…” He swallowed and took a big gulp from his beer. “I was sweating like a fucking pig under that leather. I had so thick layer of muck and filth plastered over my skin that it actually was a small miracle that you got through it at all… Jell-O should be enough.”

“Oh.” She covered her sudden blush, turning away from him. “I… I’m out of soda; I think I’m going to grab some more…” She stuttered.

Her earlier exhaustion and tiredness had turned to something else entirely. Heat accumulating inside of her was now rivaling with the sticky hotness of the air around her.

Fridge felt heavenly, cool air caressing her skin. She thought that she could actually see steam rising from the surface of the bottle as she took it out.

“Put it back.”

She turned to look. Logan was standing at the door, leaning against the doorjamb, hands crossed over his chest. “What?” She asked, not sure if he had spoken at all. Logan stepped in to the kitchenette and pointed at the bottle she was holding.

“Put it back. We’re going for a ride.”

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She followed Logan in to the garage, slightly disappointed. Going for a ride would mean that she would have to get dressed. Logan would have to get dressed. But it wasn’t all that bad. On the bike she would have to hold on to him. The way he drove meant that she would have to quite literally crawl in to his leathers to avoid falling off. So it wasn’t all that bad.

“Where are we going?” She asked when Logan threw her jacket and pants.

“Getting cool… Maybe test a theory…” Logan said, tugging on the black leather pants of his own. Sight of him in skintight, slightly dusty leather did all kinds of funny things for her. She just stood there, staring at him until he was good and finished, zipping up his jacket.

“Need a hand getting dressed?” He asked, sauntering to her and taking the jacket and pants from her numb fingers. “Or… We could probably forget these. You’ll end up with a heatstroke before we’re out of this fucking garage in that leather,” he decided, tossing the bunched up gear aside. His gloved fingers slid over her cheekbone. “You’re burning up as it is.”

She grasped his hand, rubbing her cheek against the leather. For a second it felt cool, almost chilly against her skin. Then the heat of his body underneath registered.
It wasn’t as unpleasant as she would have expected. Nevertheless it felt different; she could almost imagine that there was no barrier between them. She let her hand slide lower, over Logan’s palm and wrist. The jacket he wore was tight from the forearms. Probably any jacket was for him. She could feel the twitch of his muscles through the leather as she kneaded it gently.

“Marie…” His voice was slightly raspy. When she turned to look at him he took her hand. Guided it to the front of his pants. Heat she had felt on his fingertips was nothing compared to the inferno her palm found from there. “If… You don’t have to come with me,” he said, letting go of her wrist.

She rubbed the bulge hesitantly for a moment, liquid heat in Logan’s eyes twirling and escalating to a completely new level. “I want to,” she whispered. Logan nodded.
“We better get going then.”

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“What is this place?” She asked. Logan waited for her to get down before he rose from the bike. Rundown buildings ruled this part of the town. Place looked deserted.

“A friend of mine from the fighting circuit runs a mud wrestling every Saturday in here. I have the keys somewhere…” Logan said, patting down his pockets and finally pulling out a set of keys. She followed him to a door of an old warehouse. “He uses jelly in the ring, says that it doesn’t stain and chafe as much as mud…”
The door swung open and she stepped in to the darkness. She could hear Logan following and the door closing. Lights flickered on.

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They were standing in a huge, wide-open space. There was a large pool in front of her, filled with pink goo.

“You up to some wrestling?” She heard Logan whispering, then he grasped her and suddenly she was sailing through the air. She landed in to the slippery muck with a loud splash, and for a moment she thought that she would drown. Then a strong hand grasped her bicep and she surfaced, coughing and spluttering.

“You… You are an ass!” She shouted, twisting in Logan’s grasp until she had a firm hold from his wrist. She gave it a quick yank. Logan’s grin turned to a rather comical expression of surprise when he tilted over the brim of the pool, falling in and sinking straight to bottom.

She didn’t waste any time. Slippery goo wouldn’t hold Logan down for long. She turned and started wading through it towards the relative safety of the brim, when Logan surfaced behind her with a loud roar.
She swallowed and turned to look.

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It should have looked ridiculous, pink wasn’t really his color.

It looked anything but ridiculous, and she could only whimper, frozen in place when Logan stalked closer.
Black leather he wore was gleaming wetly, shimmering in the fluorescent light almost as chitin. Slimy substance had plastered his fuzzy muttonchops down against his jaw. He raked his fingers through his wet hair, earlike peaks stubbornly standing in attention, slimy goo adding the chitin-like shimmer to those as well. Claws oozed from between his knuckles slowly… Very slowly, as he crept closer to her, his hazel eyes burning in to hers.

Then he was standing right in front of her, leaning slowly closer, fire in his eyes ebbing somewhat, gaining questioning quality.

He was going to kiss her.

“I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” he murmured, then his hands rose to either side of her head, claws retreating. He cupped her face between his palms.

His hard and unyielding lips landed on hers, hesitantly at first, but when nothing happened he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over her lower lip and demanding an entrance.

She was too stunned to respond at first. She was kissing Logan. She was kissing another person. There was practically nothing separating her from him, yet he wasn’t writhing in agony or dying.

The goo covering them tasted of strawberries, but through it she could taste Logan. Tobacco, beer, and something that had to be just Logan. Finally she broke free from her paralysis and did something she had yearned ever since her mutation activated. She let her fingers slide in to Logan’s tangled hair and started nibbling his lips, her tongue dueling with his.

Her head swam when Logan finally released her lips. He was holding her close, his eyes searching hers, his breathing slightly labored. “I’m not going to hurt you…” He renewed his earlier promise, running his finger over her slightly swollen lips.

“I’m not afraid…” She assured him, her chin quivering slightly. “But it’s cold in here…” She said, cursing silently. Out under the sun she was unable to touch him, and uncomfortable hot. In here she was able to do anything she wanted, but the goo felt almost freezing cold against her heated skin.

“Well, I’ll have to warm you up, then…” Logan smirked, one hand sliding under the surface of the goo, down along her side and hip, finding her thigh.

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She cried out loud when his fingers found her already swollen clit through the bikini she wore. “Hush…” Logan whispered, kissing her again, swallowing her cries and whimpers and continued rubbing her sex with slow but firm strokes.

“But you’re wearing all too many clothes, girly,” he suddenly noted, feathering her chin and throat with small kisses, leaning lower until he reached her bikini top. The clasp was at the front, between her breasts. He opened it with his teeth, releasing her breasts from their green prison.

They felt heavy and tight, her nipples hard and throbbing peaks. When his mouth latched on first over one, then another, she arched her back and moaned loudly. It wasn’t possible to feel this good, it wasn’t possible to feel this hot and cold simultaneously, she was going to combust at any given second.

She was riding his hand, one finger already easing in to her tight core from the side of the bikini, thrusting her breasts against his face and trying to find the perfect angle for it, the perfect position that would make her feel even more, that would give her something, the release from the tension that was building at the pit of her stomach.

Logan was in turn suckling and nibbling her sensitive nipples, smearing them with generous amount of the gelatinous goo. She grasped handful of it and eased open the zipper of his jacket, spreading the slickness over his chest and rippling stomach, making him gasp and close his eyes.

He was burning under her palms, his skin scorching hot. She let her fingers slide lower, under the waistband of his pants. She wasn’t surprised when she found out that he had discarded his jeans earlier.

She found the tip of his cock, slippery and hard under her fingers.

“Christ, Marie…” When she opened the zipper of his pants Logan fell backwards against the brim of the pool. Her fingers found his cock again and grasped it, gently but firmly, rubbing it slowly back and forth.

“It’s working… I’m… We’re…” She whispered, unable to form a full sentence.

“Yeah… “ She followed Logan’s gaze. He was staring at her bare hand mesmerized, thrusting slowly against her palm. At the same time his hand was working furiously, trying to pull down her pants.

It wasn’t working very well. She had to let go of him and peel off the lower half of her bikini before Logan got too frustrated and cut it off. She wouldn’t have had anything to wear on their way home later.

As soon as she was free from the offending garment she could feel Logan’s hands over her hips, pulling her closer against him. She could feel his cock, hard and slippery column sliding between her thighs, burrowing deeper in to her throbbing crevice.

“Condom?” She whispered hastily, her hands flying backwards, landing on Logan’s leather-clad hips.

“We won’t need it today.”

“But…”

“I can smell if we need it, darling… Just relax…”
Then she was suddenly so blessedly full that it was impossible to breathe.

Logan’s cock felt relatively cool. Hard and soft at the same time, stretching her almost uncomfortably. Then he did something, moved a bit and urged her to lean against the brim of the pool they were standing in, and it was uncomfortable no more.

It was heaven. She could feel every vein and ridge, bulbous head of his cock sliding slowly in, grinding against her cervix. Her feet were slowly melting until it was almost impossible to stay upright. Logan leaned closer, sliding his hands down her thighs, to the backs of her knees. Then she wasn’t standing anymore. Logan was holding her, his cock still deep in her core, her feet dangling over his arms.

“Good?” His voice was hoarse, strained. He was completely still.

“Huh?” She croaked, wiggling her hips slightly.

“I’m not hurting you?”

“No…”

“Good…” Logan murmured. He nuzzled the back of her neck with his lips, his teeth grazing her skin lightly. Then suddenly she felt his finger on her clitoris, rubbing and twisting the small knob of nerves and she cried out loud. Noise echoed in the hall.

It felt more than good, his cock churning inside of her with increasing speed, his finger teasing her clit. She could see their image reflecting from the now dark, plastic scoreboard, her feet raised and parted, Logan’s darker figure behind her just a blur, like some kind of a monster, wrapped around her smaller frame.
She was falling apart in his embrace.

“Marie… Can I… C…” She knew what he was asking. She didn’t even try to form words to answer. She reached back, grasped his hair and twisted slightly around, ghosting her lips over his. Question in his eyes turned to something else. Possession? Gratitude? She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

He thrust even deeper, his whole body shivering, small incoherent murmur in his throat, flooding her with his seed and triggering her release.