Work Text:
Taste of Vanilla
by Lucinda
Logan leaned against the tree, contemplating. Beside him was a bottle of water, actually an emptied beer bottle that he'd refilled at a stream. Most of the people who thought they knew him would assume he was considering his last fight, or his next beer or cigar. Or maybe the mess that was supposed to be his memories. Or one of the many people who'd tried to kill him over the years. Or maybe Jean, since he had a habit of flirting with her - it got her all flustered, tongue tied, and then she would go away in a huff - all of which was vastly amusing.
They would be wrong.
His enemies would keep coming - they always did. There would be more beer, and more cigars, though half the appeal was watching other people object when he smoked in front of them. He couldn't do anything about his memories just now. Jean was more fun to rile with an audience, though when she was bothering him or he was bored worked just as well.
While he wouldn't call himself a well educated man, he was far wider read than most would expect. Some of his memories suggested ties to Japanese Samurai, and they were as much scholars as warriors, though he wasn't sure he could trust those memories. Other memories suggested he had once been some sort of spy, and knowing where a codename had come from could often give you clues about what the person or program was supposed to do. There was the added consideration of sometimes reading things would kick up a glimpse, a fragment that might have been a memory, and sometimes it told him things. Like that he could read Russian, or Italian.
No, he was contemplating a dream that he'd had last night. A very vivid dream about a succubus trying to tempt him away from the school with her own delightful body. Tempting him with pleasures of a cool tongue, slender fingers, and gleaming eyes gazing at him through pale hair. A succubus that had tasted like vanilla and sin, and had worn a very familiar face, though he'd never, ever seen those expressions on her. Not when he was awake.
It was his favorite dream.
Hadn't helped matters any that this morning, there was a lot of fuss being made about one of the student's birthday, and he'd seen her there in the kitchen, licking vanilla frosting off a knife after covering over a few dozen cupcakes. The things that he'd imagined that tongue doing...
That was why he was out here, and not back inside. She was tempting, very tempting. All those damn delightful dreams had made that abundantly clear over the years. But she'd never looked at him that way. She'd looked at others with interest, Forge most recently, though he had no idea why the idiot had walked away from her.
She'd never looked at him that way. Never looked at him like she wanted to lap him up, taste every inch of his body, or lure him off to do unspeakably delightful things to his body. If she had, he'd have been there in a heartbeat.
Part of him still debated tracking Forge down and beating him for being such a fool. Another part wanted to howl in glee that the tinkerer wouldn't have her, wouldn't be putting his hands all over her wonderful body, wouldn't be the focus of gleaming eyes.
Another part just wanted to find out if she would really taste that way, like vanilla and passion. If she would make those little noises in the back of her throat if he touched her just so. If the real woman could do that same hip shimmy that had haunted his dreams.
The down side being that she just might call lightning down on his head if he tried finding out. Though it was just lightning, he'd probably survive. Hell, he had survived worse.
Logan looked over towards the mansion, where some of the kids were having a water balloon fight. She was there, laughing as she slipped between the students and the balloons. Her hair trailed behind her, and even without catching more than a few droplets of water, she was temptation. She was temptation all the time.
She glided closer, eyes bright as she still chuckled at the antics of the students. "Logan, you are more than welcome to join us inside."
Logan stood up, gathering his determination and sparing a half thought to thank his healing factor - even if she did blast him, this would be worth it. Had to be worth it.
He caught her in his arms, dipping her down for a kiss, tasting the vanilla frosting on her lips, a hint of raspberry in her mouth, and her own flavor as well, like rain and spring and something sweet and indescribable. Tasted Ororo.
When he finally let his lips part from hers, he murmured, "Why go inside when everything I want is out here?"
Her eyes were wide, and she reached up, on finger just brushing her lips. Then she kissed him, just as passionately as he'd kissed her.
Much better than getting a lightning bolt to the head.
Maybe even better than those dreams.
end Taste of Vanilla.