Work Text:
Choose One
by Lucinda
Logan settled himself to the ground under a large maple tree. He could hear the sounds of the kids playing, laughing, talking to each other... if he cared, he could try to pick out the words of any individual conversation they were having.
But he didn't come out here to listen to the gossip and speculation and complaints of a bunch of kids, even mutant kids. He had wanted to ty to sort through his feelings. Figure out how this place was affecting him, what it was making him feel. Who was affecting him the most.
Most of the people here were kids, hoping to get an education and learn control in a place where they were accepted, where they weren't hated for being different. But then there were the X-Men... Scott, Jean and Ororo. Scott annoyed him, had a positive talent for grating on his nerves, that was easy to figure out.
The women though... one was a temptress and the other was a goddess. Neither one could ever be mistaken for a normal, ordinary woman. But they were just so entirely different in so many ways...
Jean was built like the classic American Girl Next door, with the sort of curves and proportions that the older movies had so dearly loved. Not too thin, with full breasts and trim hips... and that hair, a red that demanded attention, drawing every eye to her and making the air around her almost sizzle and shimmer as if heated... Jean was downright sexy.
Ororo wasn't the burning heat of a flame. She was tall and lean, all smoothness and sleek grace, dark skin and pale hair, like the moon, or snow at night. Cool and graceful and distant. She was like a goddess on earth, and every bit and imposingly beautiful as a goddess should be. She smelled like rain and growing things, and carried a sense of serenity.
Jean wore close fitting clothing in colors that brought out her own striking hair and eyes, things that hugged and flattered her curves. She brought men's eyes to her naturally, and her clothing made it harder to look away, drawing the eyes to a tantalizing hint of cleavage, a long expanse of leg, or tendrils of hair would fall beside her neck. She was temptation incarnate.
Ororo's clothing seemed almost like an afterthought. She seemed entirely comfortable with her body, and while her clothing didn't try to hide her form, it didn't draw too much attention to her curves. But she didn't need to draw attention to her body, she looked perfect anyhow. Grace and confidence and serenity wrapped in simple elegance. Ororo was a goddess come to earth.
Logan smiled just a bit as it occurred to him that the two women might not like him thinking about them like that. About his views on them, about the curves of their hips and breasts, the lines of their backs and legs. But they were beautiful. Maybe it was a mutation for them, to look that good. But they would't know, after all, he was just sitting under the tree thinking. Unless Jean tried to read his mind, there was no way that they would ever need to know about these thoughts.
He found a maple seed with his fingers, and held it up, almost absently running his finger lightly over the spine of it's propeller. He knew about maple trees, and tapping them for the sap used to make maple syrup and maple sugar... could remember carrying the buckets out to the trees, remember the large vats for boiling the sap down. But he didn't know how or when he'd ever learned such a thing. Maybe he'd caught a glimpse of some documentary and internalized it, put himself into someone else's life.
Jean was like a Maple tree in the fall... blazing with color and confidence, catching the eye and holding it. Watching her, he could tell that she enjoyed the attention. Jean liked being the focus of attention of the people around her, of having people hang on her words. It was in the way she would put herself near them, the way her eyes would get this little gleam when people looked at her. He wondered if it was a conscious change, or if she didn't know. Jean needed people to pay attention to her.
Ororo was like a forest, there and calm and powerful. People noticed when she came in, but it was from the presence of her, of her will and dignity and power. She looked as if the attention, while not a surprise, held little general interest to her. She could deal with people watching her, and she could deal with solitude.
Both of them were appealing. The red haired embodiment of temptation whose lips said 'leave' and who's eyes and posture said 'stay' and the unapproachable goddess who would adjust if he stayed or left.
He knew that Jean would find his flirtations annoying yet at the same time a welcome sign of her desirability, of her womanhood. He had no idea how Ororo would react to someone watching her, imagining himself touching her, flirting with her.
Decisions, decisions. All he was certain of was that he would have to choose one.
end Choose One.