WARNING:
THERE IS EXPLICIT SEX IN THIS STORY. I marked this clearly in the header. The sex is graphic, but all loving and consensual (and not that much worse than a typical romance novel). If reading sex scenes like that would offend you, please don't read this.

If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>

Part 2

After he'd escorted a still agitated Jubilee back to the dorm, Logan strolled over toward the guest cottage the White Queen had assigned the visiting Psylocke. He walked slowly with all his senses alive and alert, hearing the chittering rustle of a squirrel bolting up a tree, enjoying the cool evening breeze, taking advantage of being outside to savour a smuggled, finest Havana cigar.

Finally reaching his goal, he found Betsy Braddock inside, waiting for him. "How did it go?" she asked softly, sympathetically.

Logan shrugged. "About as expected... You and Frost were right though, 'bout me tellin' her myself. Now I figure we'll just wait, give her some time, let her get used to the whole idea."

An elegant, dark eyebrow arched. "Do you want to wait, then?" Her low, melodious voice would have sounded perfectly steady and calm, to anyone without the Canadian's enhanced senses -- but he could hear the undertone of a very tiny, nervous quiver.

"Nah, not on Jubes' account. I care 'bout what she thinks, sure -- but I ain't gonna let her make my decisions for me. How about you, though, Betts?" He eyed her high-collared, long-sleeved, mandarin-style robe, trying to decide what signal it was sending him. "Do you want to go ahead, or wait -- or forget it?"

Instead of replying, she waved a hand at the small couch. "Please, have a seat." She rejoined him a minute or two later, handing him a cold beer and setting down a bottle of mineral water on the coffee table as she settled herself next to him, sitting a bit stiffly, holding herself upright, carefully leaving a few inches gap between them. "I still want the same thing -- a family, a child... with a man I respect, and trust, and care for. And I do respect you, Logan -- that's why the quite conservative outfit you were just wondering about." The corners of her mouth quirked upward slightly at his sheepish grin. "I have no intention of seducing you against your better judgement..." Her lips curled up even more, into a wicked little smile. "...although I wager I could, if I put my mind to it..."

"Oh, yeah, darlin' -- no doubt about that, at all." Logan's grin widened into an appreciative leer, as his eyes raked over the voluptuous curves of the very female body so demurely covered by heavy lavender silk brocade. He relaxed, the combination of her usual cool practicality and her impish humor -- which she indulged in only with a few close friends -- reassuring him that their friendship would survive this major step. "You could seduce a saint -- or a stone -- if you set your mind to it."

She smiled at the compliment, not needing her telepathy to sense his sincerity, her own posture loosening a bit as their comfortable friendship reasserted itself. Then she resumed her previous train of thought. "And I trust you, Logan -- to care, to stay involved in your child's life... but not to interfere unduly... and certainly not to try to take our child at some point in the future. And I *do* care for you -- you've been one of my dearest friends for years now. I respect, and trust, and care for you... and I believe you feel the same. And if you do, as I do, we can both come together now, and then separate again, with no illusions or hard feelings."

"And if we find we like it? You'd be a hard woman to walk away from, Betts..." He finished his beer with one last long swallow and set the empty bottle down with a thump, then reached out to take one of her hands in his, holding it gently.

She shrugged the new compliment off nonchalantly -- but her hand trembled just a bit in his grasp. "If we both want to again, why not? We neither of us have other commitments, at least not at the moment. If just one of us wants to, or wants much more than the other -- well, we're both experienced adults and know we can deal with that, from either side. The good thing is, though, there *can't* be any misunderstandings. You and I *have* to be honest with each other -- between my telepathy and your enhanced senses, neither of us can pretend to feel other than we do, or misunderstand each other.

"That was the root of my problem with Warren, after all..." She went on, haltingly, as her companion just sat there silently, radiating quiet attention without any overtones of pressure. "I would always know exactly what he *really* felt, no matter what he *said* he felt... worse, no matter what he believed he felt, no matter what he tried to convince himself to feel. I always knew what he was *really* feeling, but he was no better -- and, quite honestly, no worse -- than any other, 'normal' man at knowing how *I* really felt, what *I* really wanted. It didn't seem to matter much, at the beginning -- we thought my power would *help* our relationship, actually. But slowly, over time, he started feeling more and more at a disadvantage. That's one of the reasons he always nagged at me to create a permanent bond with him, you know -- besides the basic fact that he wanted what Jean and Scott have. He thought a bond would equalize things, by letting him know what I really thought, without my having to decide consciously to share with him."

He was still holding her hand, rubbing it soothingly, a small movement of rough, calloused fingertips. "And you didn't want that?"

Her hand was trembling more noticeably now. "After Jaspers, and Mojo, and Matsuo and the Hand and Kwannon... No, I didn't want anyone else in my mind, ever again."

"Wings couldn't understand that?" Logan had certainly had more than enough people -- known *and* unknown -- meddling with his mind and his memories to sympathize completely with what he heard, although he tried to keep his voice level, nonjudgemental, so as not to impose his own views and opinions on her.

"He said he did... but he didn't... not really. Part of me *knows* I can't blame Warren for unconscious or subconscious reactions he isn't even aware of -- just like his reaction about not wanting us to have a baby wasn't a conscious, rational, reasoned decision -- I didn't give him time for that -- but just a silly foolish prejudice bubbling up from some childhood influence he hadn't worked through yet -- but the rest of me just doesn't care. It *hurt*, Logan, whether he intended it or not..."

"Shhh... C'me here, darlin', that's it, hold on to me..." Reaching over and pulling her into his arms, he rubbed his cheek over her silky fine hair, inhaling the delicate scent of roses as she clung to him. She felt so fragile in his embrace. He wondered why he hadn't seen that before, why he hadn't noticed this vulnerable side of her. He knew some of her history, from shared experiences, from conversations, and from the files. She'd been through enough to break most women... and survived, and kept going.

Elizabeth Braddock had been a top-of-the-line, world-famous super-model, with all the over-the-top pressures associated with success in high-fashion fantasyland. She'd been attacked by a twisted other- dimensional version of her twin brother, and had killed her failed rapist to defend herself. She'd been a STRIKE agent, and seen her lover and fellow telepath/agent killed during Jaspers' failed takeover of reality. She'd taken her brother's place as Captain Britain, and lost her sight after Slaymaster's brutal beating. She'd been Spiral's and Mojo's captive plaything. She'd fought that murderous bastard Sabretooth, not once, but twice now. She'd gone through the Siege Perilous herself after sending her other teammates through -- leaving only him behind, to be crucified by the Reavers -- and found her mind and soul all mixed up with Kwannon's in the Asian assassin's body. She'd watched her original -- her *own* -- body die of Legacy, while her mind and memories lived on in the ninja's body...

And through it all, she'd kept going. Jean at least came back to herself, even if she did have to live with a few extra memories -- and a few extra children she'd never actually borne. But, although the spectacular redhead could at least recognize herself in the mirror, it was always Jean who got all the sympathy; Betsy usually got none.

Logan clamped down on his thoughts, not sure how much his companion was reading him, not wanting to upset her more, if she was. But Betsy seemed oblivious -- or acted it perfectly -- as she gently eased herself back a little from his hold. "Sorry about that. I'm fine now, really..."

"I don't want ya ta hide what you're feeling, darlin', I want ya ta tell me." He relaxed his arms slightly, but kept them loosely around her. "That's the only way this'll work..." Keeping his eyes open so he could watch her expression, to gauge her reaction, he leaned his head forward and touched his lips to hers.

He saw her eyelids flutter down as she closed eyes shining with unshed tears to better savour the new sensation, he heard her soft sigh, he felt her body soften in his embrace. More than anything else, though, the smell of her wafting in and out around him was a seductive melody to his enhanced senses: her favorite attar-of-roses shampoo and lotion and soap combining into a subtle chord spiced by the faint underlying odor of musky female.

Betsy didn't reply in words -- she couldn't -- but he 'heard' the faint pink-tinged _oohhh, yes..._ as she 'sent' her pleasure, opening her mouth to allow his tongue access. He tasted of beer, and of cigar. Under other conditions she might have been repulsed; now, she treasured the unfamiliar flavours, so different from Warren's usual scent... and taste.

Deepening the kiss slowly, he kept one arm around her back and scooped the other under her knees, and picked her up as he stood up himself. Psylocke was a tall, muscular woman, but he lifted her easily.

When he reached the bedroom, he set her back on her feet, and moved back a step. He ran a finger down the front of the elegant silk brocade robe, then leaned forward to nibble at her lips as he slowly undid the matching fabric belt, and just as slowly slipped the robe down off her arms, to drop and lie puddled around her feet. Under the robe, she wore a loose, princess-cut, chemise-style gown in thin lavender silk with navy lace trim around the top and hem.

Eagle-keen eyes saw a muscle twitch, and Logan moved back another step, leaving his companion room for whatever move she was readying. But Betsy stayed still until his eyes left their reading of her body language and returned to her face. Then, their gazes locked for a minute as she lifted a hand to one of the thin spaghetti-straps running up and over her shoulders, and started undoing the tie there... then the other side also. Pulling the small bows loose, she rolled her shoulders so that the lace straps fell down; the soft silk of the chemise dropped from her breasts past her narrow waist, then -- after catching provocatively on her hips for a moment -- falling to the carpeting to join her robe, leaving her completely bare.

She stood proudly, not flaunting herself, but not hiding either -- offering her body without artifice or pretense. However, Logan caught the very faintest trace of a nervous tremour, as she waited for his reaction. "God, you're gorgeous, darlin'." Stepping in close again, he reached his hands up to cup her large, firm breasts lightly, for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her velvet-soft skin, before his hands released her again even as his mouth stretched up to recapture hers.

With her eager help, he drew off his shirt, while using his mouth to keep in contact, with her lips, her cheek, the curve of her ear. She was gliding her hands over his bare skin now, touching his mind lightly to share with him the sensual delight she felt at finding him so wonderfully warm and hairy. He tried to pull back a little -- he was erect already, his extraordinarily keen senses making him vulnerable to the presence of a naked, willing woman, and his mind for once not having to override his body's instinctive response, but he didn't want his rapidly growing need to rush his companion, especially not this first time.

Sensing his dilemma, Betsy let him pull away a few inches, enough that he could see her small, mischievous grin as she reached down with one long, graceful arm until her hand could cup the huge bulge straining his levis nearly to bursting. "Let's get these off you, love, before they're ruined..." Their hands bumped and she let out a low, throaty laugh as they both fumbled with getting the waistband and fly of his jeans undone, the fabric peeled down his legs. She dropped gracefully to her knees in front of him to pull off his low boots and socks, making a mime show of wrinkling her nose fastidiously at the smell and discarding the offending articles some distance across the room into a far corner.

"Sorry 'bout that, darlin'," Logan grinned down at her, extending his hand to help her back to her feet. He maneuvered her toward the bed and lowered her onto it, pausing for just a minute to yank his underpants off and toss them onto the floor, before joining her in its soft comfort. His mouth slid over hers, coaxing, giving, taking just a little more when her lips softened on a sigh. Beneath his, her body was soft, yielding, surrendering.

She wrapped her arms around him; she was with him now, pulse to pulse, their breathing coming together in a common rhythm. His hands were gentle on her, his lips tender, and each move, each shift, was fluid and patient. He lingered where he felt it pleased her most, going quietly, easily, sinking her a little deeper in sensual pleasure with each stroke of his hands and mouth.

This wasn't about spilling his seed into her as quickly and as often as possible -- it was about taking their existing relationship as friends and teammates to a new and deeper level, starting to forge a bond that would be strong enough to nurture a child. Even if they ended up having to go to Moira for help in conceiving, it was important to both of them to be able someday to tell their child that it had been created in love -- even if it wasn't an exclusive, fairy-tale love.

As the heady musky odor signalling her readiness overwhelmed his senses, he began driving her body higher and higher up the crest of arousal. Each sigh, each moan, each catch of her breath poured through him like wine, intoxicating him as she clung to him, her mouth desperate on his, her body straining towards the climax it knew was coming.

Betsy plunged her hands into his hair, took greedy handfuls of it, when he lifted her upright to race lips and teeth down her body. She was drowning in sensation, his *and* hers, and glorying in it. Still he held her up, his hands grasping her waist, his kisses and caresses assaulting her system, overloading her nerves.

Then he shifted, to lie under her. "Look at me." His voice was rough, raw, his fingers digging deep into her flaring hips. "Look at me, Betts. I want ta see your eyes. I need ta know you want this..."

She opened violet eyes and, through her wavering vision, looked at his face. It was tense, strained... and beautiful to see, his desire for her written all over him. "Yes... I do want this, I want *you*..." Then she cried out, when he lowered her down onto him.

She couldn't breathe, she was sure for an instant her heart had stopped. He was enormous, and hard inside her... and soft, and just the right size to fill her perfectly. Seated astride him, her lush body curved back like a pulled bowstring. Knowing any more direct sensory input would send him out of control, she stroked her hands up and down her own quivering body from belly to breasts. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anything more beautiful, more exciting, than Betsy lost in pleasure. He watched her head fall back, saw the intensity of the climax that ripped through her. To savour the moment, he held himself still, let her revel in her own response. Then she began to rock her pelvis on his hips, and that rhythmic demand spurred him to match it, grunting as he thrust up into her faster and faster until speed was all that mattered. When he could no longer hold back, he clutched her hands, and she let his mind take her and drag her under again with him.

Continued in Part 3...