Title: Can't Fight The Moonlight
Author: Duchess Curry
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Implied Wolverine/Nightcrawler
Summary: It is now late February in this fic.
Archive: Starting it here. But if you can't find it, e-mail me at Duchess_Curry@yahoo.com and I'll send it to you.
Rating: M for language, sexual situations, and violence
Parts: 3 - ?
Status: Work In Progress
Series/Sequel: Sequel to "Because of This …"
Website: Alas, still no.
Disclaimer: All original X-Men characters belong to the Marvel Entertainment Group. I do not own them, I am just borrowing them for amusement purposes. I do, however, own all original characters which I have made up for the sake of the story (won't list them all, because there's a lot).
Warnings: Hmmm .… a little bad languageAuthors notes: It has become very apparent to me that my muse likes to take the form of a hot man wearing a Speedo, and laugh at me when I try to work on anything lately. *Sigh* At least it's not writer's block.
Chapter 3
St. Valentine's Day had come and past. Logan had to keep himself from gagging that the sight of the obviously romantic couples that wandered around the mansion. What was personally worse for him was that his ally in anti-love from the previous years, Gambit, was rather intoxicated from bourbon and love. That sickened Wolverine. The Cajun had always been lovesick over someone on the holiday, but in previous years no one had returned his affections. Now that he had Breaker … Well, it's enough to say that it made Logan feel like he had morning sickness all over again. Now it was the younger Cajun brother who had started to pine after most people with two legs; and that somehow aggravated Logan worse.
He couldn't understand it. It was like the stress that he felt kept re-surfacing, over and over. He trained harder than ever, then rushed up to the nursery, and cuddled his baby daughter close to his sweaty body.
It made no sense to the burley man. He couldn't understand where this frustration was coming from. The perfect mix of anger and pain was fueling him on and on; making him push himself harder than ever. He was kicking almost everyone's asses when he worked with them in the danger room. Even the old X-Men couldn't handle him. Only Skye, who Wolverine himself had taught to fight himself could even come close to keeping up; but even then the sessions ended with the Wolverine storming out of the room after once more dominant.
X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X
With a sigh, Wolverine lay back against his pillow and pulled the thick blankets over him. He let his eyes slide closed and himself fall into a deep sleep. But even now his mind wouldn't give Logan the peace that he sought.
A cold night; the cold air kissing his bare skin … The smell of alcohol mingling with sweat … A warm, furry body hitting his … The look on the face of the statue as it saw everything …
In a cold sweat, Logan sat bolt upright, and old dream haunting him, and shaking him to the core in a way that nothing else could. Breathing heavily, Wolverine got up and pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He walked through the whole school; waiting for just the right moment.
It seemed like kismet. As Logan walked by the strong doors that now encased Cerbero, the Prof wheeled out.
"I want you to read my mind." The Wolverine demanded; in a half growl. Charles sighed and turned around; his weariness apparent.
"Logan, I'm tired."
"I know. But I can't sleep; and I can't get what's stuck deep in my mind off of it either."
"Making you cranky."
"Yeah. I mean no! I mean …"
The Professor sighed. "Alright Logan. Let's go to your room and I will open your mind for you. What do you need to see?"
"The night I spent with Nightcrawler."