1. The Twist
He watches me.
The intensity in his eyes frightens me and I was glad when he left that first time, yet played the lovesick teenager bit so the others wouldn't know the awful truth.
I hate him.
The sight of him makes me sick to my stomach, but I can't escape him.
He's in my head.
I hate him because I know him; know him better than any person has ever known him. He's a part of me now; I'd nearly killed him twice, so the bits and pieces of him solidified in me, took root and merged with my self. I hate him, because sometimes....
Sometimes he takes control and I walk through my days a passenger in my own body while he pretends he's me. It's a struggle every day to keep him back. I hear his sarcastic commentary all the time, except when he's using my hands to touch my body.
--Relax, Darlin', it's just a little lovin'--
That's what he drawls, and I can't stop him any more than I can stop breathing.
Jean thinks it's sweet, how Logan asks about me and is always near me, watching me, and even Scott has backed off, somehow convinced there's nothing untoward about Logans' attentions. Sentimental romantic dick. If only they knew the things I know, they wouldn't be so complacent. Logan is not a nice man, contrary to all everyone thinks. Yes, he did save my life and he does behave like he cares about me, but I know differently. His fantasies and thoughts are in my mind; I know all the things he wants to do to me, and some of the others, hurting, degrading things that have given me nightmares.
I dream of being raped by him, being held down, forced to do the things from his mind.
The things he hides.
Maybe he doesn't really know they're there; doesn't consciously acknowledge that he desires them, but they're there, and in my mind, where he doesn't have to be civilized, the part of him inside me makes me live them. I hate him.
I do, because some little part of me enjoys it.
He watches me, has watched me ever since he returned, those sharp eyes seeing far more than I want him to. I'm certain he knows, or at least guesses, that some of himself is living in me. His eyes are speculative and he doesn't even try to hide the want from me. Wherever I am, I can feel his eyes on me, mapping my curves, discovering them with his eyes like the him inside has discovered them with my hands, the him inside nudging me to him, almost purring, "let go" and "come to me, Darlin'". I've lost count of the many times I've actually found myself walking towards him, my body so aroused that the brush of clothes against me was a nearly unbearable caress.
Now I can control my powers.
I. Can. Control. My. Powers.
I know it and he knows it and everyone else at the whole school knows it, especially him and the him inside. I'm terrified that he'll take control of me and I'll end up in his bed, because if I can control them, then so can he if he pushes me back far enough. He doesn't even have to be in full control. All he has to do is take enough to flip the off-switch, walk me on down to Logans' room and keep me...aroused long enough fro...it to happen.
The part of me that likes what he does wants it to happen, wants to be fucked by him, long and hard until I can barely move and I'm sore and satisfied and he's part of me in a different way.
The rest of me is terrified of it, of the hurt and the very physical threat of him. He's so much bigger than I am and without my powers I'll be helpless. He could do me any way he wanted and I wouldn't be able to make him stop.
I'm so scared.
I'm scared and I hate him and I want him and I fear him and I need him, and that's the twist of it.
I think I love him.
You see, hate is the flip side of love.
2. The Way It Is
--Marie. --
I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming because he always wears those pajama bottoms when he invades my sleep. I've never been good at waking myself up from dreams and he knows it; spends his time crawling through my memories. I see him on the dream plane, a funny cross between my room and his room and the med lab, his lean body relaxed, eyes devouring my dream self.
--What do you want, Logan? --
--It's more a matter of what you want, Darlin'. --
--Don't call me that. I'm not your 'darlin''. --
--Oh, but you are, Marie. What are you so afraid of? --
--You have to ask? --
--Not really. I just want to hear you say it. Which are you more afraid of, yourself, or me? --
--Go away. --
--Darlin', you more than anyone knows I can't. --
I want to wake up so badly that my dream self, the one he's facing, is crying. He backs me up against a wall, hands on my body under my nightgown, rough but not uncomfortable so. I wonder if my real body is responding and fervently hope Jubilee and Paige are asleep.
--You like that. --
It's not a question, but a statement. He knows what he can do to me.
--Stop. --
Does he ever listen to me?
--You want it to happen, so why not let it? --
--You know why. --
It's the strangest sensation to be both there inside the dream and looking at it like it's a movie. He touches my face, runs his thumb softly over my lips. I have to fight to keep from capturing it in my mouth. It would be so easy....
--Yes, I do know. --
Like flashbacks, images from his fantasies flash behind my dream self and him, silhouetting them.
--Childish fears of the unknown. Every virgin harbors them to some point. --
--Please, Logan...--
--You know I won't let it be with anyone else. Not Bobby. Not Remy. Not anyone but myself. --
--You can't stop me. --
My voice quivers. I know he's right. He could stop me if he wanted.
--But I can, Marie. It's easy to get control of you. Shall I prove it? --
--Logan, don't...--
His face hardens, hands tightening on my dream arms.
--Wake up. --
My eyes open, breath drawing in with a painful gasp that hurts my chest. My eyes are open and I'm seeing out, but I'm not in control of my body.
"Marie?"
I'm in Logans' room. The door is shut; the light on low and Logan is sitting up in bed watching me. From his position and expression, I gather I've been standing by his bed awhile, perhaps through the whole dream.
"Marie?" He repeats, voice gruff and soft.
I blink, lick my lips. "Yeah?"
"Any special reason why you've been standing by my bed staring at me and crying for the past half-hour?"
Has it been that long?
"Half an hour?" It's difficult to speak. Is he keeping control of my whole entire body, or just certain parts? I bite my lip. A ghost of a touch skims over me and I glance down; half-afraid he's moving my hands over myself. He isn't, it's been my imagination, but I start to push out, trying to regain control.
He laughs, inside my head that is. He laughs.
--Jumpy, aren't you? Relax, Marie. Don't fight it. --
I try to move, and the more I fight, the harder he clamps down.
--The more you fight, the longer I'll keep you here. Relax. You've got the wrong idea, Darlin'. Let it happen. --
"Mm-hmm. You looked and acted like a sleepwalker, but you weren't asleep. You're heart rate was normal." Logan shifts on his bed. "The lights were on, no one was home. Wanna tell me about that?"
No. I don't want to tell him anything. "Not really."
--Go on, Marie, tell him he's here inside you. Tell him you know what he wants from you and you want it too, but you're too afraid to admit it. --
It's difficult to keep track of which one is speaking; I have to watch his mouth to do that, which I'm sure is sending a green light his way. He probably thinks I'm longing for his mouth on mine.
"It's not the first time I've seen you like this. It's the fourth night this week I've woken up to find you here."
"Fourth?"
"First time you've come to, though."
And now I'm not even safe when I sleep.
--I told you it was easy, Darlin'. --
He gets out of bed and saunters towards me. He's wearing those pajama bottoms and they ride low on his waist. My eyes move up to his, something flickering in his, something I'm very aware of. That something I've seen in the eyes of the man that's in my mind.
Desire.
"Why are you here?"
"I...." I try to say that I didn't know, but my mouth won't form the words.
His hand reaches up, almost touching my cheek, but swerves at the last second, finger touching the white streak in my hair, like he did the day he left the first time. "You look so afraid, Marie."
--Kiss me, Marie. I know you want to. Relax. Let it happen. You know it'll feel good. --
Relax and let it happen. He's been saying it so often inside me that I'm used to hearing it. Maybe he's right. Maybe it would feel good....
His hand touches my cheek as my own touches his stomach; I feel his muscles contract, then relax. My touch isn't hurting him. Like in my dream, his thumb brushes over my mouth, slowly curving my lower lip. My lips part, tremble, and his other hand covers mine, stilling the slight movement of fingers that shake from the strain of trying to resist his control. His eyes search mine for a long moment before he asks quietly, "Is that why you're here, Darlin'?"
He sounds so much like the him in my dreams. I try to say no, lick my lips and open my mouth, but somehow his mouth is on mine, nibbling gently, so much gentler than I ever thought he'd be after having him in my mind for months. It isn't a deep kiss, but a searching one, where I just barely taste the ghosts of cigars and the whiskey he savors before bed. He searches and must find, for his fingers slide into my hair, tangling, drawing me nearer, his tongue parting my lips fully and slipping inside. I attempt to evade it and am unsuccessful, the control tightening. I begin to drown in the feeling, pressing against his body, chest to chest and thigh to thigh, warm flesh along my cooler limbs.
His hand slides up to my breast, thumb insistently brushing the nipple, until it hardens into a tight bud. He isn't finished though, not content with only that; he has to keep brushing it, over and over.
--Let go. --
--I can't. --
--Let go. --
--No. Please don't make me. --
--Let go, Marie. --
--Logan, no! --
--Yes. Let go. --
I relax, and as I do, his control on my body lifts to the same degree.
--That's it, Darlin'. Relax. It's just a little lovin'. --
The part of me that wants him surges forward, responding hungrily to his embrace, tendrils of pleasure rolling warmly along my entire body, while the other part, the scared girl, cringes in a corner. The man in my mind embraces her, drags her up onto his lap, and holds her, keeping her from pushing forward to take over.
--Let it happen. --
Images play on the screen of my mind, the fantasies, and the things I know he wants to do to me. They seem like something I've seen in a movie, unreal, but then the pressure of his mouth on mine alters. His hands grasp my rear, the hand in my hair holding me still as his lips now ravish mine, bruising and possessive.
--Relax, Darlin'. --
I jerk, push at him, moan under that pressure, Logan tightening the embrace further.
No. No, no, no! He's going to do it, all those things, and I'm helpless, really helpless; the him inside is going to help him by holding me still....
--This is the way of it. Those romances you read are pretty, but pure fiction. Sex ain't pretty, Darlin'. --
His hand slides over my rear, grasping, yanking me hard enough against him that I feel his arousal at my belly.
--It's sordid and dirty and messy and a helluva lot of fun, but you can't be afraid of the passion. --
Stop it! Let me go!
Am I thinking it to the one in my mind or the one holding me?
He releases me, both hes', and dimly it registers that Logan seems to be as shocked as I am.
--Don't be afraid of it, Marie. --
I back away on legs trembling so badly I think they'll give out.
"Marie...I...." His voice is huskier than usual.
--Embrace it. There's nothing wrong with admitting you want to be loved as a woman. --
I run.
I leave as fast as I can, hurry to the girls' bathroom. The mirror shows someone I've never seen before. That someone looks drugged, eyes weirdly out of focus, lips swelling slightly. They're tender, too. I stand for a long time staring at that person. Myself.
He laughs again.
--One of these days, Darlin' it's gonna happen, and it won't be me controlling your body. You're so ready to be loved and you won't face it. You know it, you want it. I know it. You smell better by the day, did you realize that? Passion's the way of it, Darlin'. It's not pretty, and I won't try to make it pretty. That's the way of it though. We're gonna love each other soon, and put childish things behind. Soon. --
I slide to the floor and bury my face in my arms as I cry. The child I've been cries while the woman I'm becoming sits quietly, wistfully replaying those moments in Logans' arms.
No. I won't let it happen. No. If the emotions I feel in his arms, the out-of-control, lurching, need are any indication of what lays ahead, I'll fight it for as long as I can. There is so much pain in my life already; why would I willingly add to it? How can the end be worth the turmoil?
3. Confession And Carthasis
He sits me down on his bed and pulls a chair over to sit directly in front of me, knee to knee, where he can keep me from leaving easily, just by putting a hand out.
"Tell me, Marie. Tell me what you're going through."
I almost laugh because he sounds like Scott, so concerned about me when I know he really wants to rip my clothes from me and lay me back on the bed.
--Go on. Tell. You can't, can you? --
Inside me, he mocks my hesitation, showing me those fantasies again, only this time anger wells inside me like wildfire. You think you can invade my body and just take over, Logan? Think again.
I open my mouth and the words pour forth. I tell him everything, every painful, humiliating and degrading thing on both our parts, starting with when he was unconscious in the med lab and ending moments earlier, when the he inside had dared me to tell. I spare him nothing, describing in malicious and quite unnecessary detail the fantasies of his that terrify me and whirl in my brain. I explain how it's like having another person inhabiting my body, because he's stronger than the others, and prone to taking control when the whim takes him. I tell him about him using my hands on myself and even how I enjoy that. Then I tell him how I hate him because of all of that.
He flinches a couple times and looks away, but he doesn't get up, doesn't push me away or even touch me except for the brush of our jean clad thighs. When I fall silent, he sits back in the chair, dragging one hand through his thick hair.
"Aww hell, Marie, I was afraid of that. You've been behaving oddly for months, and I wondered...." He sighs. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?"
"You shouldn't have to know those things about me."
"Didn't you hear me? Ah said Ah hate you."
"I heard you, but what you hate are the things no one ever knows. Everyone has a side of themselves they don't show, even you, a side that is dark. It's been that was since we got kicked out of the garden. You have me in there, so you also know that those fantasies that have you so upset are just that: fantasies." Now he leans forward, taking my cold hands in his, having a heart-to-heart when I know he detests heart-to-hearts. "I should have done this sooner, as soon as I noticed, but I wasn't sure...You need to put me in perspective up there in your mind."
"Ah've tried." Why does my voice sound so sullen?
"Have you? Have you really?"
"Yes!"
"You admitted a part of you likes what I'm doing in there; do you really want me to quiet down?"
--I've got a point there, Darlin'. --
I twist my hands in his, but he doesn't let go.
"It seems to me like you're using me as an excuse to explore your own dark side."
"No! It's not like that!" Damn, why won't he just let me go?
--Damn, I'm good, aren't I, Darlin'? --
"Sure, it's like that, Marie. Because if you put me in perspective and reclaim complete control, you'll have to take responsibility for your actions..."
--Responsibility--
"...and that scares you. It scares you because..."
I finally wrench my hands from his and put them over my ears, but he pulls them down, forcing me to hear what I don't want to hear. This is supposed to be about him, not me!
"...because you'll have to grow up. You won't be the pampered, spoiled little girl this whole school feels sorry for and skirts around. You'll have to be a grown woman who faces life head-on and re-joins the human race. Grow up, Marie. I'm through coddling you and I'll damn well make sure the rest of the school is too. You have no excuse for hiding now that you can control your powers. Quite trying to use me as one."
--You'll have to face me sometime, now or later, and I'm not talking about me in here. I know it and you know it. You'll have to come to terms with your attraction to me.... --
He continues in my mind, and oddly, I think Logan knows it; knows the him inside is continuing the speech.
"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I yell, shaking my head, trying to make him stop. Logan holds my wrists down by my hips firmly, yet not hard enough to bruise.
"No."
--No.--
It comes at me in stereo, the look on Logans' face unyielding. He's going to make me face this. I scream. I scream as loud as I can, and curse, over and over until my throat is raw and I can barely make a sound, and he lets me.
He lets me.
To his credit, he doesn't flinch or cover his ears while I scream, although the shrillness must be hurting his keen hearing. I'd thought someone would come and make him stop, Scott or Jean or Xavier, but no one comes and gradually, it occurs to me that they must have given Logan the go ahead. I swallow, aware that the next day my voice will be gone.
"Quite bein' a brat, Marie."
He sounds tired.
--Yeah, Darlin', quite bein' a brat. --
"You're a grown woman. Act like one."
--Act like one. --
"Please...." I'm crying and he's still holding my wrists, looser now, thumbs rubbing softly.
"I said I'd take care of you, Darlin', and that's what I'm tryin' to do. It ain't healthy for you to be keepin' me so active in your mind."
"Let go...." I twist my wrists, but not enough to make him let go. We're face to face, not even a foot apart, and he shifts, drawing me closer.
"If you wanted to, you could pull away. I think you don't want to."
"I do."
"Then go," Logan tugs lightly and I'm on his lap, his hands leaving my wrists to caress along my back and hips, "but don't be afraid of me anymore, Darlin'. I won't hurt you. Those things in your mind are things that'll never happen."
--Won't hurt you, not like that, but the hurts I'll do to you are the ones you'll want. -
"Please...." Tired. I'm so tired and drained that it's easy to simply lay my head on his shoulder.
"What are you asking me for, Marie?"
--Tell me. Tell me you want me, you want what you know I can give you, the release...a catharsis, the end of the turmoil of your own feelings. --
"What is it you want?"
His hand lifts, brushing my hair from my face and I'm reminded of another time when he'd held me and comforted me, back on a train and before I'd really felt him in my mind. I hadn't yet learned the things about him that scare me; that came later, after he had a chance to settle inside me. His fingers touch my face, softly caressing and I turn to them, seeking their warmth upon my skin.
This is what I want.
This.
Logan lifts my chin, stares down into my eyes. "Tell me."
"Ah can't."
"You've told me everything else. There's nothing else left. Tell me what you want, what you're asking me for with those beautiful eyes."
--Tell me. --
The voice inside is kinder now, calmer, less wild and untamed than he'd ever been.
"Tell me." He insists.
"Ah want you to love me." I blurt out, face flushing hotly at the need and the desperation in my voice.
He gathers me to him, cheek near mine, mouth a breath away and I close my eyes for the rejection I'm sure is coming.
"Darlin', I do. I do love you. I thought you knew."
I begin to cry again, body sagging, and a fall asleep in his arms, with his lips pressing gentle kisses near mine and his voice assuring me he loves me.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Obsession is in three parts (so far): The Twist, The Way It Is, and Confession And Catharsis, but I don't consider it a series, since each one is relatively short, more like chapters in a story. If feedback is good, I may add on. Dialogue between dashes (-- --) is in Rogues mind.