There’s a song quoted toward the end called “You Belong To Me,” by the Doobie Brothers. Guess what? I don’t own it. Please don’t sue me, Mr. McDonald, I find you quite sexy and would be very hurt if you did. Two Sides Of The Same Coin, by stormfreak Chapter Four: Lost in the Translation He had made her cry again. Victor sat on the floor in his bedroom, his eyes on his fiancée, who was asleep in his bed. Lately, it seemed that all he made her do was cry. He hated when she cried. The smell of her tears was strong, mixing with her natural scent. Like now. She thought he was ashamed of her - ashamed of her after the rape she had endured five months ago. Though it was true that Victor hadn't made love to her since, he couldn't quite explain that the two didn't connect. Not really. He was actually in awe of her strength. At the Professor's request, Ororo attended rape counseling, but didn't speak to anyone about it. It must've done some good, though, because after a few weeks, the sparkle in Ororo's eyes began to shine again. She was dealing with it well, and Victor was secretly proud of her. He was actually a little stunned when Ororo began to have nightmares, waking up next to him screaming in Arabic. Ororo was so even-tempered that he had figured that she would say a prayer, burn some incense and put it all behind her. Of course, it wasn't that easy. She would sob uncontrollably, and Victor would hold her, rage pulsating through his veins. He was no more a comfort to her than he was on that night – sound asleep in his bed while some punks pissed and shitted all over her and spray-painted her face and filled every soft orifice on her body with unimaginable shit, all in the name of the USA, not even knowing that she was an American-born citizen. And what did the courts - these blessed United States halls of justice - do when they caught one of the rapists, a young punk named Jason Davis? They set him free. Davis had friends on the police force - mutant haters, just like him - and an "unintended" typo on the warrant set him free. Victor thanked God that he hadn't been present the day it happened. But Ororo had been, as well as Jean and Scott.  It was Scott that had to be bailed out, because as Davis walked by Ororo, he actually patted her on the ass and told her that it was fun, and that they should do it again sometime. Scott had knocked Davis' front teeth out, screaming, “If you ever touch her again, I’ll kill you myself!” And that bugged Victor too. It should've been Victor who was there smashing some kid’s teeth in, not Limp Dick. But he had been afraid of what he would do had he come face to face with one of the men who raped his girl. They did meet up, eventually. At a bar on the west side, Victor intentionally sat next to this Davis guy, gritting his teeth and biding his time. "Congratulations," he said over a mug of beer. “For what?" This guy was already a little plastered. "A buddy of mine is on the force," Victor lied smoothly. "Congratulations on not having to serve time over that Arab chick." Jason Davis lifted his head slightly and began to think – either he spent his nights raping women or he was just really drunk. "Oh yeah, the white-haired bitch," Davis said, a lewd smile curling across his lips. "Yeah, she was a great fuck. Had a tight little pussy and everything. It took a while to loosen her up - but after a couple of hours, all my boys and I were inside of her - shit, some of us at the same time." He chuckled. “Too bad she was a fuckin' raghead - one of those Arab-speakin' bitches." Victor bided his time, buying Davis drink after drink while the kid ran his mouth. By 3 a.m. Victor knew his address, as well as the addresses of the three other men involved. He also knew every gory detail of Ororo's rape. The kid couldn't stop running his mouth. "Funny thing is, she has a man," Davis was laughing through a slurred tongue. "She kept his picture in her wallet - some ugly-looking beast with blonde hair. God, this dude was fuckin’ hideous!” Davis laughed again. “But I bet she wasn't thinkin' of him while I was fucking her in her cute little ass." "No offense," Victor interrupted, barely able to keep his emotions in check, "but you look too drunk to drive. Let me drive you home." So Victor drove Davis home. The next morning, his body was found at the bottom of a 27-story building. Inside his apartment, in his large, sprawling handwriting was a suicide note. As for his three friends, they died in other strange, different ways: one was found at the bottom of Lake Michigan, the victim of car brakes gone bad; another had an unfortunate accident with a 12-gauge shotgun and the third was buried alive under six feet of snow during a freak accident in Ottawa. Not that anyone was arrested. Victor had friends on the police force too. Victor and Ororo's problems started around the fifth month of her pregnancy, when she wanted to have sex again. Victor, who rarely turned down any sexual favor, simply couldn't bring himself to touch her. It wasn't that he wasn't aroused - he spent a great deal of time jacking off now. And it wasn't because he didn't love her, like Ororo had screamed at him one night as she threw his shit around his apartment trying to knock off his head. He didn't touch her because he did love her. What could he do with a woman who was six months pregnant, and rather large to only be in her second trimester? Some chick – the redhead doctor – had told them that Ororo would have complications in her pregnancy due to the beating she took a few months back. Although Ororo seemed fine, there were times when she was obviously in a lot of pain. Sometimes she grew short of breath, and one time, she passed out cold in her greenhouse. Victor was terrified that he would hurt her. Shit - he knew he would hurt her. He had been a tight fit way before she became pregnant, and he would rip her now. There wasn't a gentle bone in Victor Creed's body, and although he could finally admit to himself that he loved her without a feeling of wanting to vomit, he knew that his love for her wasn't going to begin to control the animal in him. Just watching her now, in the moonlight, was beginning to make him swell. She was in a blue silk negligee, her stomach in front of her body. Her belly button poked outward now, and Victor secretly thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Ororo's skin was truly glowing, looking so soft and chocolately that she looked good enough to eat, and her breasts were very swollen now that they were producing some shit that he couldn't spell or pronounce. He wanted to touch her, more than anything. But a touch was never just a touch, not with Victor Creed. So he sat in the corner and did the only safe thing he could do: he watched her sleep. * Everyone still thought she was crazy, but seventy-two hours before Ororo Munroe was to marry Victor Creed, and less than a day before all the X-Men would leave New York and travel to Montego Bay, Jamaica, they X-Men were coming to the strange conclusion that Ororo did indeed love Victor. Their love was a primal event of sorts, a strange domination-and submission thing that really wasn't domination or submission. After all, it isn't submission when one wants to submit, did it wholeheartedly and eagerly. And it damn sure wasn’t submission when the person who was supposed to be submitting ran the damned relationship. Despite the logic in that, Scott still wasn't convinced. "Does Victor love 'Ro, Jean?" Scott asked his girlfriend one night, right before she drifted off to sleep. She had spent the last twenty minutes going over Ororo’s sonogram pictures, muttering about something didn’t seem right. "How would I know?" Jean responded sleepily. "You've been close enough to him to know lately," Scott chided. "Don't get ethical on me - I know you've caught a stray thought or two." Jean had, on the rare occasions that she had been close to Victor, which wasn't without being close to 'Ro. This was mainly with wedding planning, which Victor absolutely despised. It had been the source of one of their main blow-ups, ending with Victor throwing his credit card down. "Here!" he had yelled at Ororo, his eyes blazing. "I don't give a shit what you wear or where we are or any of that shit, and I don't know why I hafta be here. Just tell me where to be and I'll be there." (Translation: Sweetie, you could wear a paper sack and I'll still love you and want to marry you. Just pick whatever you want and I’ll pay for it.) "He loves her, Scott, in a 'let-me-kill-for-you' kind of way," Jean mumbled. "It's actually kind of sweet. He worries that he won't be able to protect her from harm in the future, just like he didn't in the past." "Sounds like an over-possessive asshole to me." "Ororo seems to enjoy it. Scott, Ororo's the kind of woman who wants a man who's..." she paused to think. "...stronger than her, per se. She wanted a man who would tame her. Victor did that." "Tame her?" Scott sat up. "But she's not the wild one between the two."  Jean rolled over and looked Scott in the eye (the best she could, anyway.) “You really think that, Scott?” Jean half-chuckled. “After all this time, you still think Storm’s isn’t the wild one? You’ve known her for years.” Scott smiled sheepishly. “I always thought Ororo had a wild streak in her. But…Creed, Jeannie? That’s too twisted, even for me.” “He seems a bit taken with her, Scott.” “Yeah, but Logan’s taken with her, too, and I don’t see her engaged to marry him.” Scott frowned. “Although that may be a better choice than Sabretooth.” “Only the heart knows what is the best decision, not you or me or anyone else on this team.” Jean closed her eyes. “I think what Ororo needs right now is our love and support, not our scorn. Stop trying to run everything - go to sleep” * 72 hours. Logan knocked back a beer, listening to the Doobie Brothers, and stared out the window in Ororo's greenhouse. He wasn't supposed to be here – this was Ororo’s private sanctuary given to her by Professor Xavier years ago and it was off-limits to everyone - but who the hell was going to stop him? Scooter? Besides, Ororo wasn't coming back any time soon. Ororo was with...Creed. And every time Ororo came back, he could smell the tears. Above the sandalwood and the citrus and the fresh air. Always tears. Why was she always crying when she was around a man she was supposed to love? He couldn't believe it was three days until the wedding and neither one of them had called it off. Or better yet, he couldn't believe that Ororo hadn't come to her senses. He stood up, stretching, and walked listlessly downstairs, finding himself in the doorway of the teacher’s lounge.  She was actually there – must’ve come back this morning, because God knows she wasn’t in her bed last night. (Not that Logan was clocking her like that.) Eyes listless, smelling of tears again. She was picking at her food, nothing but a garden salad, and that angered Logan. He knew she should be eating more, and a whole lot more than some seasoned lettuce. She was eating for two now, and although it looked as if she were eating for three, she was still very beautiful. He had the misfortune of walking past Jean’s office when…Creed…had been there, learning the results of Ororo’s sonogram. “She’s awful big to only be six months, don’t you think?” he had asked. “She’s a mutant, Victor,” Jean had responded. “I’m sure she’s advancing at a fast rate is all.” “She’s still big as a double-wide.” Creed must be picking on her about her new size, Logan thought bitterly. Stupid fucktard. "Hey, 'Ro!" Jean called as she entered the lounge. "I got the results to your last sonogram. And guess what? You were right." "Of course I was right," Ororo joked, a tiny smile creeping across her face. "I'm always right. What was I right about?" Jean and Scott laughed. "Remember how you always joke about being too big to be six months pregnant?" Jean asked. Ororo nodded, not looking up from her salad. "Well, that's because you're not. The last ob-gyn you had must've counted wrong. You're almost eight months pregnant." Ororo dropped her glass, and it smashed to the floor in pieces. "Eight months?" she questioned, a dry heat creeping through her throat. "Excuse me,” she said, standing up quickly. "Ororo, are you okay?" Scott asked, genuine concern in his voice. But Ororo didn't answer. She was too busy fleeing. * No sooner had Storm stepped into the hallway than a rough hand squeezed her wrist. "We gotta talk," Logan rasped, dragging her up five flights of stairs and winding up inside Ororo's greenhouse. “Logan, what on earth is the matter with you?" Ororo demanded the second they were upstairs. "Look." Logan ran a hand through his wild hair and sighed. "I don't know how to say this, so I'll only say this once. I'm sorry for hurting you. Really," he added as Ororo’s jaw set to the bad memory. "I was wrong for what I said. I was…pissed off. But being mad at me is no reason for you to go fucking up your life by marrying that dirtbag Creed-I know you're doin' this t'get back at me-" "What?” "Just call it off, okay?” Logan half-asked, half-demanded. “You’ll be my girl from here on out. I'd rather you be with me than see you with that piece of shit." Ororo took a deep breath, trying to calm her spirit as well as the weather. "You have got to be the most arrogant, self-centered bastard alive, Logan, if you think I'm marrying Victor just to get back at you-" "Get off it, 'Ro! We both know you don't love him-" "How do you know who I love!? If you knew so much, you would know that I do not love you, and I wouldn't be with you if my life depended on it!" "Your life just might depend on it. We both know Creed is a potato salad short of a picnic." Logan said smugly, walking up to Ororo and forcing her to walk backward until her back pressed against the wall. "Eight months pregnant," he hissed at her, eyeing her body in a way that made Ororo want to vomit. "That means you got pregnant in April, darlin'. And you were too busy fuckin' me in April to be fuckin' Victor. We weren't even in New York." He brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "You might wanna break this off before Victor finds out about our baby another way." He kissed her cheek, and Ororo shuddered. “He would hate to know that I shot up all inside his girl.” "Get off me," she hissed. "I'll never be with you, even if Victor and I never get married." Logan pulled away from her, his slate-gray eyes meeting her steely blue ones. For the longest time, he stared at Ororo - at her face, at her body, at her watermelon stomach. “I think you’re lyin’,” he said smoothly. “I think you’ve been waiting all this time for me to say this. I give you credit, girl, you really had me thinkin’ you were taking this engagement seriously-“ “Logan!” “-when all this time you were just waitin’ on me t’call it off.” “You are lying!” “Oh, really? Your body scent says otherwise.” “You are so damned conceited-“ Wolverine interrupted Storm as he leaned forward and kissed her. Not a demanding kiss that robbed her of her dignity, but a soft, gentle kiss that made Ororo's head spin. Logan kissed Ororo…and Ororo kissed him back. He placed his massive hands on her hips, pulling her to him; then pushing them both against the wall. Despite all, Ororo’s hands flew to his hair, raking her fingernails through his hair as she sucked his tongue. "You smell so good," he mumbled into her mouth. "Not like tears, not like when you're with him..." Ororo couldn't breathe. Logan's hands caressed her backside, her hips, her bulging stomach carrying his child - oh, yes, of that, there was no doubt, not anymore – and his touch was so delicat ethat Oror found herself moaning. "Just leave him," he murmured as he put his on her breasts squeezed them. "Just leave him and be with me...you think I'll let a man like that raise my little girl? No fuckin' way, Ororo, no way in Hell...you’ll always be a part of me, Ororo, as long as you have my baby. You’ll never be rid of me.” "Logan," Ororo moaned as he laid her on the greenhouse floor, planting kisses on her neck. Ororo could not able to fight this need she had for affection. She was starved for physical love, and his touch felt so good. Not the way it was when they were first together - a quickie so disappointing that Ororo had buried it deep in her mind - but loving and compassionate. But there was a problem. He wasn't Victor. That was what made their sex so lousy in the first place. Her heart hadn’t been in it. And as good as he felt with his weight against her, growing hard as his lips brushed her neck… Right gesture…wrong man. She broke off their embrace, sitting up quickly; her eyes full of sorrow and regret, Logan could see that. "I'm sorry, Logan," she said softly, sounding truly concerned. "But I love Victor, and I must at least try to work things out with him. I am obligated-" Logan shoved her off of him, and Ororo stumbled, but didn't fall. "You will be more than welcome to see our daughter, Logan, and we can go to court for joint custody if you'd like-" "He won't be with you once he finds out I fucked you," Wolverine spat coldly. "I know," Storm stood up and lowered her head until her face disappeared and she was speaking though an ivory curtain. "But I love him, and I must try-" Something in Logan's eyes made Ororo stop. It was the way Logan was looking at her, no longer full of affection and mutual esteem. Now it was a look of utter disdain, of hatred even. "I used to respect you," he declared, half growling. "I used to think you were a classy broad-" "Logan-" "Now look at you. You're nothing but Victor's Creed's cumbucket. Suckin' it up and swallowin' it down-“ "Jealous?" Ororo laughed cruelly. "Fuck you." "Listen, Logan. You have a bad habit for lusting after women you cannot have. When I wanted you, you wanted anyone but me. You had sex with me because I was the only one available. Isn't that what you told me?" Logan grew silent. "That's exactly what you told me that day, you know. That I would never amount to Jean in your eyes. That I was an ice princess, and I would never have a man. Now you’ve come back to claim me? Did you suddenly get tired of Jean turning you down, or did it dawn on you that Marie is a young girl that doesn’t need to be with you?” “Don’t you ever talk about Marie like that,” Logan growled. “I’ve always thought of her honorably.” “Lucky her,” Ororo retorted. “I may lose Victor after all this - in fact, I probably will. But know this, Logan," Ororo's voice grew louder. "I will never belong to you." Logan moved lightning fast, lifting Ororo to her feet as if she weighed nothing and pressing against Ororo with so much force that her head smacked the wall. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing then with such a force that Ororo cried out. He crushed his lips against hers, shoving his tongue into Ororo's mouth and muffling her scream. “As long as you have my baby, you’ll always belong to me,” Logan growled in her ear. “Might as well quit fightin’ me.” Oh, Goddess, I want this – I want this so badly! But not with him… No sooner had he kissed her, though - no sooner had he smelled her lust and arousal and confusion on her body - that he shaved her back to the ground, leaving Ororo shaking and fighting back tears. "Change your shirt," he smirked, pointing to Ororo's leaking breasts. "You look like a whore." He walked out of the greenhouse without saying a word. For a moment, Ororo sat silently, rocking back and forth in a nervous motion. Then her hands began to move, all over her body, ripping her clothes off. In an instant, the pile of expensive clothing was a smoldering heap on the ground, and a large rain cloud was muffling Ororo's sobs. Never in all her life had she felt so dirty. * "What's your problem?" Victor asked the moment he walked into his apartment. “Good evening, Ororo. How are you?” Ororo chided gently. Victor rolled his eyes. “Good evening Ororo, what the fuck is your problem?” (Translation: Darling, please quit joking and let me know that you are okay.) These damned feral men and their sensitive noses! Ororo thought, irritated. But there was no point in procrastination. The wedding was in three days. Sure, Ororo could wait to tell him then, but…something about it just wasn’t right. She didn’t want to spring the news on him on their honeymoon. Victor cut into her thoughts. “You went to see the redhead doctor today, right? “Victor, her name is Jean. J-E-A-N. It’s not that hard to remember.” “You went to see the redhead doctor today, right?” "Victor," Ororo said softly, "Jean has confirmed that I am nearly eight months pregnant, not six as we thought. The baby is due next month, not in March like the other doctor said." "What the fuck kind of doctor makes a dumb ass mistake like that one?" Victor gave off something resembling a laugh. "Well, shit. We sat through that long-ass appointment for nothing.” Victor remembered that day, the day the doctor rubbed this…goo…all over her belly and swirled this…thing…around her stomach and predicted they were having a girl.  “You okay?" "I am fine," Ororo said softly. "Well, I guess that means we were tearin' it up in April." Victor pulled out a beer, then stopped cold. "April?" "Victor-" "We weren't together in April.” Victor said slowly. “We broke up in late March and you went off on that mission in Malaysia - shit I didn't even see you again until you came back and you were all bruised up-" "Victor-" "You had stolen Limp Dick's bike and you met me at Marrietta's...you were already pregnant then?" He sounded astonished. "Sometime around then, yes." Ororo took a deep breath and began to speak very, very quickly. "I am sorry, Victor. I was not trying to run a scam on you - I just learned today-" "Fine." "What?" Not quite the rage Ororo had braced herself for. "I said, fine." Victor opened his beer and drained it before speaking. "We weren't together. And you said it yourself - it's not like you were tryin' t'run game. I'm disappointed, but it's cool. I appreciate you tellin' me, rather than me findin' out about it." He kissed her forehead. "You made a mistake, that’s all.” He stared at her. “Is that all?” Ororo began to shake visibly. There was no way he was taking it this easily. "It's Logan's child, Victor." "Logan?” Victor yelled, squeezing the bottle in his hand so tightly that it shattered. "Logan!? All the men you've could've fucked and you chose him?" (Translation: How could you hurt me like this?) "Victor-" Ororo felt tears spring to her eyes as she reached for him. "Don’t touch me! Don’t you fuckin’ touch me!” Victor jumped from Ororo as if she had the plague. "And you better not cry. You don't have the fuckin' right to cry!" "I'm sorry-" "Get outta my face, 'Ro," Victor said in a tone so soft that it chilled her blood. He was prowling back and forth, grabbing at his hair. "Just go meditate or hug a tree or some shit. But get the fuck out of my face before you never have a child - not this one or any other." Ororo stood up shakily, afraid to speak or make a noise. This was fear - not submission, which she occasionally got off on, who didn’t?  - but a true run-for-your-fucking-life fear, the kind of fear that the X-Men thought that she had. She shut Victor's bedroom door quietly, too afraid to cry or beg for forgiveness or anything but get her shit together and get the hell out of Victor's apartment. * "What are you doing?" She jumped. He liked that. He hadn’t let her stay in his bedroom for longer than a couple of minutes. "I..."  She was stuttering. He liked that too. "I-I-was getting my things t-t-together-" "Why?" She was nervous. Terrified. Good. Let her be. "I thought you wouldn't want me here-" "Did I tell you that you could leave?" Ororo didn't answer. She was scared. Good. "You're not leaving, Ororo." Victor walked toward her, smelling her fear - her downright terror - and he smiled. A cold smile, a killer's smile, the smile of a man who had a few screws loose to begin with. "You're not leaving this room." "Please-" She was begging. Great! “Just let me go and-“ "Why? So you can go back to him?" Ororo looked up into Victor's eyes, but something in them forced her to drop her own again. "You think I'm gonna let him have you? You're mine, Ororo. Don’t you ever forget that. He brought his hands to her shoulders, feeling her tremble. “Look at me!” Ororo looked up, her entire body shaking. She's scared. Good...good... "Where do you go when you leave my place?" He was ripping off her shirt. "Do you go back to him?" "No-" “Have you been letting him fuck you? I don’t fuck you, so you go to him – is that it?’’ “No!” She was telling the truth. She was too scared to lie to him. “I haven't touched you in five months - tried to do the right thing by you – I told you I didn’t have a soft touch – I tried not to hurt you-“  Off came her skirt, along with the pretty satin panties. “But fuck it, ‘Ro, you wanna be fucked so bad, fine. But I won’t let you go runnin’ back to him-“ “Victor – it’s not like that…it was one time…” He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to know about any times. Even if they had spilt up…it wasn’t that serious, that would make her run to Logan. She belonged to him. Now Victor was going to make sure she never forgot that. He was inside of her with one thrust, causing her to scream and claw at his back. She was choking, choking on her own scream, and still Victor thrust again. She was dry as a desert, causing her pain… Good? No, not good. She was terrified. But he couldn't stop, as he grabbed her by her waist and carrying her, screaming and sobbing to the bed. He threw her down, not caring a bit about her pregnancy - damned kid ain’t mine anyway...why should I care? He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to hurt her because his own heart was bleeding. He lad let her inside, and this is how he was repaid? Learning that she got knocked up by a man he hated – a man he would love to kill? He wanted to fuck her, rip her walls to shreds, which was exactly what he was doing. Let her be scared of me so she’ll leave me, ‘cause God knows I’ll never leave her…this isn't right. I'm hurting her, like they hurt her that night. I killed them so no one would hurt her again… "'Ro, he groaned, trying to pull out of her...but he couldn't. Not as long as Ororo had him in this iron hold. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "'Ro, you're bleedin-'" "Don't. You. Dare." Ororo's eyes opened, no longer teary, but white with anger. "It took all this to make you touch me, Victor? I have to tell you that I'm carrying another man's child?" He ignored that, braced to pull out of her, but a jolt to the base of his spine caused him to howl. What the fuck? Did she…did she just shock me? "You can hate me," she rasped hastily, her legs tight around Victor's waist. "You can call this whole wedding off, if you'd like. You can even kill me when this is all over. But don't think for a second that you can stop fucking me, now after I've waited for months." Lightning outside underscored her words. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding, 'Ro," Victor muttered, astonished. But he knew that she wasn't. She was just as primal and lustful as he was...he learned that the first night he had sex with her so long ago. But something inside of him took over, the side of him that had to protect her and see her safe at all times. "'Ro, you're bleedin'..." "Don't you dare!" she screamed. "I won't let you do this to me, I won't!" "But the baby-" "Goddess, Victor!" Ororo screamed, then began to cry. “I won’t let you do me like this!” She's crying. Not good, not good at all... He moved back inside of her, causing her grip on his lower back to lessen. A moan tumbled from her lips as she raked her fingernails across his lower back. "Victor, please," she begged softly. "Make love to me - it's been so long-" "I'm not gentle," he reminded her, feeling sick. Shit, she was eight months pregnant - she didn't even look remotely comfortable, and here he was, fucking her like he was a wild animal...but I am a wild animal, but 'Ro is not...is she? “Victor, I love you." Ororo's eyes turned back to their clear blue color. "I love you, and I'm so sorry, but please, don't deny me...not after all this time..." Victor thrust himself inside of her, over and over and over again while she shrieked in ecstasy. He knotted his hands in her hair as her insides tightened around her, and he brought his mouth to her huge, succulent breasts and sucked them dry. This was his fiancée - his, and no one else's - no one else could have her, dammit - not now, and not in a million years... He loved her. Thrust, thrust, thrust. I love her. Thrust, thrust, thrust. I-love-her-I-love-her-I-love-her-I-love-her-I-love-her-I-love-her- Thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust-thrust- He loved her because she loved him, despite all. He loved her because she he didn't have to wait until the baby was born to find out it wasn't his - she had looked him in the eye and told him. The way a real woman should. He loved her because right now - at this very moment - she was on her knees for him, at six (eight, rather) months pregnant, letting him fuck her - and it couldn't have been comfortable. But she was loving it - the creamy river between her legs told him that. Victor loved Ororo because Ororo loved Victor with no question and no reserve. Ororo had put her heart on the line for him, and Victor was just now starting to see that. She accepted him for who he was, and made no attempts to change that. She didn't question his past; she was only concerned with the present and the future. She loved him. Thrust-thrust-thrust. She-loves-me. Thrust-thrust-thrust. ShelovesmeandGodhelpmebutIlovehertooandI'mabouttocuminsideawomanwhoseightmonthspregantwithachildthatisntmine… She was screaming again as he poured his seed inside her...not that that was going the paternity or anything like that. He was howling himself, freeing himself of five months of frustration and honor as her arched body bucked underneath him. She was crying out in a language that Victor didn’t know, but he could translate the unmistakable shaking of her pregnant frame. She was so beautiful, in the throes of her primal lust... "God, 'Ro," Victor groaned as he continued to pour inside of her. "You better not leave me - I'll fuckin' kill you if you leave me - I'll kill you myself-" (Translation: Please don't ever leave me, Ororo. I’d die without you by my side.) "I'm not going anywhere," Ororo gasped, lost in the throws of her orgasm. "I'm not leaving you - oh, goddess, I love you, Victor...I never meant to hurt you…" They lay there, her on her side and him spooned behind her, a mixture of sweat and cum and blood and milk and tears and sandalwood and lust...always, that feral lust. She was shaking again, but in a good way - he could smell it on her. Victor wrapped his arms around her gigantic belly and leaned to kiss Ororo’s shoulder, and Ororo tilted her head back so that her lips could meet his. Love. Acceptance. Forgiveness for the way he took her. He held her in his arms for the longest time, listening to her heartbeat in the deafening silence. He stroked her hair, brought his hands back to her stomach, traced circles around her wet Hershey kisses nipples. She eventually drifted of too asleep, but still shaking in her dreams, so lovely that Victor tore himself from her. He didn’t get it. Either Ororo really, really loved him...or she was a very stupid woman. Either way, it scared the hell out of him. I gotta get outta here. Victor threw on a pair of jeans, sans a shirt, walking by the small wet bar that was in his living room on his way to the door. He felt a small smile curl across his lips. A couple of their leftover wedding invitations caught his eye. Lord, I’m about to get married to a woman carrying someone else’s child. The doctors were right. I am a fucking psychopath. Victor stuck an invitation inside his jacket pocket, close to his chest. He knew exactly where he was going. One more person needed an invite. * “Why'd you tell me this While you look for my reaction? What do you need to know Don't you know I'll always be the one…” “He looks awful,” Jubilee murmured. “Poor Logan.” “Poor Logan? Poor us!” Rogue hissed. “We’re not s’ppose ta be heah! This is Miss Munroe’s room – we get caught heah an’ we’ll get a million demerits!” “You don't have to prove to me you're beautiful to strangers I've got lovin' eyes of my own…” “How long has he been listen’ to that same song?” Jubilee asked out of the blue. “Ah don’t have a clue,” Rogue responded. “It’s scaring me.” “You belong to me in this life Anyone could tell Any fool can see who you need I know you all too well…” “You think he’s thinkin’ about Miss Munroe?” “C’mon, Rogue! He’s lovesick, the poor guy. This has gotta be impossible. I mean, the woman you love is marrying the guy you hate?” “You don't have to prove to me you're beautiful to strangers I've got lovin' eyes and I can tell…” "Wolverine?" Rogue stood at the door to the greenhouse. "Go 'way, kid. An' take yer fireworks friend with ya." Logan didn’t bother to look up. "Wolvie," Jubilee said softly. "You have a telegram or something." “Just set it on the table and get the hell out.” He had heard everything the young women had said. Jubilee set it on the counter and the two young women left. Logan lifted his head, his vision blurred from all the hard liquor he had consumed in such a short time. Something wasn't right. The envelope. A saffron color with crude writing on the front. Creed. Creed's writing. A smell so sickening that Logan felt himself trembling with rage. Logan's claws extended, howling with rage and anger as he smashed through the counter, tearing the envelope to shreds. “You belong to me; tell him you were foolin'…” “God, ‘Ro!” Logan found himself talking aloud. “When are you gonna some to your senses? You don’t love him – you love me! “You belong to me…” “Every time you come around, you smell like grief. But when you’re around me, you smell like sandalwood and all things living and beautiful.” “You belong to me; tell him he's a stranger…” “God, you’re having my baby with that scumbag!” Logan screamed. He stood in the midst of the wreckage, every living thing in the greenhouse either dead or dying. “You win, Ororo,” he murmured, breathing heavily. “You win. Just don’t marry him.” But of course, she didn’t hear him. And out of nowhere, the CD began to skip. “You belong to me…to me…to me…to me…to me…to me…to me…to me…to me…to me…” * She was still asleep when Victor came back, draping his leather jacket on a chair and revealing his bare chest. He wondered if Logan had gotten the invitation yet. He knew that Logan would get a kick out of smelling Ororo's lust all over the envelope. He crawled in bed next to her, burying his face in her hair, which now smelled like everything else on her body. It smelled like him, and the feral side of him enjoyed it. His scent marked Ororo as his property. And he knew she secretly liked that as well. It let Logan know that he was fucking her. It let him smell what he'd never have again. Ororo was his, period. Did Ororo think that showering had taken Logan's scent off her? He knew Logan had tried to have her this afternoon. Now it was time for the big payback. “Victor?” Ororo mumbled. “’S me. Go to sleep.” “M’kay.” She shifted to where her back curved against the front of his body perfectly and sighed. “Love you.” “Mmm-hmm” (Translation: I love you too, more than mere words can say, and I know that you know that, so I don’t have to say it at all.) Victor felt drifted off to sleep with a smirk on his face. What better way to get back at Logan than marrying his woman and raising Logan’s firstborn child? * He was covered in flower petals, glass, dirt and pollen, but inside his bedroom, a much calmer Logan picked up a phone and dialed international information. Creed thinks he's gonna just take Ororo without a fight from me? He groaned as he remembered Ororo's soft lips against his own, inhaling the scent of her lust s they rolled around in the greenhouse. She's having my baby. He can't have her. She wouldn't have kissed me if she didn't love me. “What city and country?” a recorded voice droned on the other end of the line. “Montego Bay, Jamaica.” TBC