Author's Chapter Notes:
So, when thinking about the aftermath of Proteus's possession of Logan, I had the idea for some plot-furthering smut. Nothing better than smut with purpose, huh? But, in this case, the set-up for the smut ended up taking up a lot of space, and being so emotional that it was a little hard to transition into bow chicka bow wow mode, and so the actual smut will be next chapter. Sorry for the tease! More author's note at the bottom, so as to not spoil some of the plot.
It was happening again. Logan watched in sick fury, straining against his bonds, as the needle came toward him. He could feel the Wolverine surging to the surface as he gnashed his teeth, snarling at the man in the white lab coat.

“Don’t fight it, Wolverine,” the crisp voice said and he jerked his head, barely able to catch a glimpse of the man in military dress standing behind the high back of the metal chair. Still, he knew his scent — he would know it anywhere, the crafty odor of him strong even through the stench of Logan’s own rage and helplessness.

He was in a frenzy now, struggling and jerking against the bonds, uncaring as the restraints tore through the skin at his wrists to expose the gleaming ivory of his bones.

He locked his feral gaze back on the man in the lab coat, who despite the fear spiking his scent hesitated only briefly before plunging the needle into the vein. Bitter bile choked Logan’s throat as he watched the viscous yellow liquid surge into his bloodstream.

He roared in frustration and agony as the chemicals burned through his system. He could feel the tidal wave wash over him, and then — the worst of it, that seductive undertow of absolute peace, as beguiling as it was false. He tried to fight it but it pulled him under, his vision blurring as calm spread through him, his mind opening against his will to the words of the military man.

“There now, Wolverine...isn’t that better?” the voice asked placidly. “Why try to fight what we make you do? It’s not like you will remember afterwards anyway. Now here are your orders...”

The room spun, and suddenly he was in the cabin’s loft, looking down at Marie. She slept so sweetly, her body curled beneath the covers, her hair in a rich tangle over her bare shoulder. He reached out to touch her, but his limbs didn’t move.

He tried again, and again, before the sick realization hit him. Only then did his hands move toward her as Proteus controlled his body, brushing Marie’s cheek softly with the knuckles of Logan’s hand. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she opened her eyes. Her sleepy brown gaze looked up at him. He tried to yell out, tried to warn her, but he was helpless, trapped, Proteus laughing evilly in his head as Marie smiled softly and opened her arms to him...

“Logan,” she breathed. “Logan!”

_____________________

He jerked awake, on his feet with a roar, claws out and his back against the wall before he was even fully aware. Then the nausea hit, wave after wave of it. He crouched on his haunches, drenched in cooling sweat, as his stomach lurched and roiled. His whole body was shuddering, trembling. He heard a high, keening whine, and realized to his shame that it was coming from him. He choked it off with an effort, trying to suck air into his lungs despite a chest still seized with fear.

Distantly, through the roaring of blood in his ears, he heard Marie’s voice. He knew she was saying something but he couldn’t make it out, couldn’t even cope with deciphering words right now.

“Please,” he rasped. “Please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but she seemed to understand, giving him space but staying close enough for him to soothe himself with the smell of her. He sank further to the ground, finally managing to retract the claws. He buried his face in his hands, struggling to get control of himself as the queasy aftereffects of the adrenaline rush shook his system.

The final image replayed behind his closed eyelids over and over again — Marie, her brown eyes trusting as she welcomed Proteus to their bed...

“Goddammit,” he choked out, scrubbing his hands across his face, trying to erase the image from his mind. “Fuck.”

It didn’t happen, he told himself. Just a nightmare. He never touched her. And the first part of the dream? His mind raced as he tried to sort out nightmare from memory...

“Sugar?” Marie’s worried voice pulled him out of his frantic thoughts a little. “You’re shakin’, baby. Here...”

She settled a blanket around his shoulders and he reflexively pulled it closer around him. It smelled of him and her, and he breathed in the warmth and comfort, feeling the gooseflesh on his body start to subside.

He felt more than heard her sink down beside him. He listened to her gentle breathing, trying to calm his thumping heart, knowing gratefully that she wouldn’t touch him until he was ready for it.

What a fuckin’ wreck I am, he thought bitterly, despising his weakness. She deserves so much better ‘n me. But even as he thought it he found himself leaning toward her, his body hunched until his head rested in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her sleep-warmed skin where her pulse beat strongest.

Her wordless cry of relief was balm to his raw nerves as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into the softness of her body. He found himself with his head pressed in her lap, the thin silk of her nightgown caressing his cheek as he nuzzled into her. This wasn’t about sex, or even love — just comfort. Her actions were almost maternal as she ran her fingers repetitively through his hair, stroking and soothing him, murmuring her reassurances as the last of his trembling faded away.
_____________________

Half an hour later Logan stood under the scalding spray of the shower, hoping the pounding water pressure might ease some of the tension in his stiff muscles. He closed his eyes, letting the water pour over his head.

Now here are your orders...

The voice was suddenly so clear in his head that it seemed to echo through the shower stall. Logan’s claws sprang free involuntarily, shattering the slate tile in front of him. He cursed, retracting the claws slowly, letting the searing pain ground him in reality.

Why try to fight what we make you do? It’s not like you will remember afterwards anyway.

“Those motherfuckers.” He pressed his forehead against the cool tile wall, muttering the words he hadn’t even been able to think to himself before now.

“Mind control.”

No wonder there were so many blanks in his memory. He knew that they had messed with him — waking up in that facility with the metal skeleton was testament to that — but he had thought maybe it was some trauma, some defense mechanism on his part that kept him from his past. He may have wondered at times if his memories had been taken from him, but he had never been sure. Now he knew.

It hadn’t been enough for them to meddle with his body — exploiting his healing, defiling and manipulating his very bones until they had turned him into the freakish killing machine that he was now. That had only been the beginning. The thought of these strangers violating his mind, stealing his free will, over and over, mission after mission...

He felt anger start to spread in his belly, burning away the feeling of helplessness.
_____________________

He ran a towel over his hair, pulling on jeans and a flannel shirt before padding down the stairs in his bare feet. Marie appeared to have given up on sleep too. She was brewing tea, but she had a bottle of beer ready for him.

He grunted his thanks before sitting wearily on the couch, taking a deep draught. Marie sat beside him.

“Maybe you should try to get some sleep, darlin’...” he suggested, but stopped his words abruptly as panic flashed through her eyes.

She carefully put the tea down, her hands shaking slightly. Her voice was raspy with tears when she spoke, looking down at her hands. “I...Logan, I promise, I won’t say anythin’, I won’t force you to talk, jus’ let me stay, let be here with you while you’re goin’ through this...”

He suddenly understood, remembering how Proteus had acted, driving her away while he wrestled with Logan for control.

“Jesus, baby...I’m sorry.” He drew her up against his side, letting her nuzzle into his shirt, her hands in a death-grip on the fabric. “Of course I want you with me. Always.” He felt the tension melt from her, the scent of her relief clouding the air around them. He pulled in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. How long would Proteus be haunting them both? “It’s just...I’m a little scared of how I feel right now.”

“How do you mean, sugar?”

“I feel...” He tried to put it into words, the frustration and fear and rage and helplessness, restlessly snicking the claws in and out a few inches as the words eluded him. “Out of control,” he finally said bitterly. “That’s fuckin’ ironic.”

“It was different this time, wasn’t it? I hadn’ta thought they could get any worse, but this one was.”

He nodded. He looked into her eyes, the now honey-brown depths glowing with warmth and tenderness. He felt the words start to spill from him, drawn out like poison from a wound by her quiet acceptance.

“I remembered some more of what they did to me. Military, and doctors. Not just puttin’ the metal in me. That wasn’t enough for them. They shot me up with chemicals, hypnosis, I don’t even know what else. Makin’ me do things for them, things that I didn’t wanna do. And then makin’ me forget afterwards. And I knew, each time, what was gonna happen and I couldn’t do anythin’, I couldn’t stop them from usin’ me like that, over and over...”

He was pacing now, the anger too overwhelming to keep still. “And then...I was back, trapped in this goddamned body, watchin’ Proteus. He was watchin’ you, Marie, watchin’ you sleep, and then he was touchin’ you...”

He stopped his words, resting his forehead against the wall, grinding his teeth to keep the bitter thoughts back. That she had not even known it wasn’t him, that she had welcomed Proteus to their bed...

“That didn’t happen, Logan,” her voice said, soft and shaken. “He didn’t touch me. Didn’t even try.”

He took in another deep, shuddering breath. “I know, darlin’. I know.”

She seemed to be talking more to herself now. “But he could’ve. We both know it. It scares me too, what almost happened. And neither of us able to stop it.”

“That’s just it, Marie,” he spat out, clenching his fists in frustration. “How many times does shit like this have to happen to me?” He was panting now, his heart thumping in his chest. “I woke up in those damn woods, naked, with nothin’. Nothin’ but my body and my mind, but at least I thought those things belonged to me. But they don’t. They didn’t back then, and they didn’t when Proteus had me. What is it about me that makes me everybody’s goddamned puppet? Fuckin’ helpless, paralyzed, lettin’ other people use me. Even y...”

He choked the words off, but he saw it was too late. She looked confused for a moment and then her eyes grew more distant, the gold flickering stronger like it did when she called on that part of him that lived in her. He swallowed hard as her eyes refocused with a new knowledge in them. “I didn’t mean...”

“Even me.” She finished his sentence, her voice carefully neutral.

He rested his back against the wall, shoulders slumped as he stared down at his bare feet. “Fuck, Marie, I don’t even know what I’m sayin’ right now...”

“No. You’re right.” She stood up slowly, coming towards him until she was just a step away. He forced himself to meet her eyes, expecting condemnation and seeing only understanding. “With Magneto’s powers...I made you my puppet too. Picked you up and threw you down, used the metal in your bones to keep you paralyzed and helpless...”

He swallowed hard again, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “Not me. Proteus. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“But I can. That power is there, it’s in me. And you were there, while I did it. You didn’t have control, but it was your body I was treatin’ like a rag doll. Manipulatin’ you against your will, jus’ like they did. Jus’ like Proteus did.” She reached out a hand, placing her palm flat against his thumping heart. “Logan, it’s okay to be mad at me for that. For usin’ you like they did.”

“I’m not mad at you, Marie. I could never be mad at you...” Her hand brushed up to cradle his cheek, the tender gesture making him close his eyes.

“Maybe that’s the problem.” His eyes snapped open again to meet hers. “It doesn’t have to make sense, Logan. Knowin’ I have that kind of power over your body, it’s gotta bug you. Gotta make you a little angry or resentful at me. It would be awful for anyone, bein’ used like that, but it’s so much worse for you, you’re an alpha...”

The growl ripped from him without conscious intent. Christ, it caught him completely by surprise, the sudden rush of arousal he felt hearing those words from her lips.

He saw her nostrils flare, her eyes glowing golden again for a moment as an electric current seemed to sizzle between them. The corner of her mouth tipped up in a slow smile. The tinge of worry in her scent was being eclipsed now. He couldn’t help inhaling deep as the smell of arousal pooled around her body as well, making his mouth dry.

“That’s what you need, isn’t it, sugar?” He shook his head in almost frantic denial. It wasn’t like that with Marie. He wouldn’t let it be.

Her hand hand snaked under his shirt, gently rubbing the skin of his belly as her molasses-sweet voice rasped equally seductively over his ears. “You’re fightin’ yourself again, Logan, an’ you don’t hafta. You want this. To be in control. To show me that you’re alpha. That I belong to you. Jus’ you. That’s what you need.”

God, her words were twisting him in knots, sending his lust flaming higher even as he tried to deny the truth of them. He couldn’t want that, could he? He shook his head again, but she was moving closer, her breath on his neck now, her body just a fraction of an inch from his. “It’s okay, sugar. I belong to you.” He felt the growl rising up in him again, her words unleashing something dark and primal within him.

She moved the last inch, until her body was pressed against his, the whole length of him. Her lips moved against his skin now, a lick of her tongue and then a whisper, giving him permission, allowing him freely something he couldn’t even admit to himself that he craved. “You want control of me for a little while...” she whispered. “That’s okay, sugar. You take it.”
Chapter End Notes:
This chapter owes a lot to a dark and lovely little story called "Comfort" by the author "M Jules". You'll see the connection if you read it. I don't follow the comics much so I don't know the Hydra storyline and I hadn't really known much about the mind control employed in Weapon X, but it makes a lot of sense to me how Logan might react to that feeling of helplessness. Thanks for sticking with my story, and if you're still here, please review!
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