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 3

Betsy awoke the next morning to the unaccustomed -- but decidedly cozy -- situation of Logan curled up snugly beside her... snoring loudly. Smiling fondly at the buzzsaw noise -- which she was honest enough to admit would drive her quite mad if she had to put up with it constantly, but in small doses was endearing -- she stretched languidly, enjoying the overall sense of general well-being of the lingering afterglow.

_Oh, good -- you're *finally* awake!_ There was the very faintest undertone of envy in that coolly sarcastic thought.

_What is it, Emma?_ Betsy sighed.

_We have a problem._ The White Queen sent the visiting telepath a mental image of a shivering, miserable Jubilee crouched behind some bushes outside the guest cottage. _She tossed and turned *all* night, didn't get a wink of sleep -- and kept *me* up too -- then got up and snuck out again at 4am. She's been out there ever since. I could handle it myself, of course... but I thought Logan -- or you -- might prefer to._

_Oh, dear. Yes, thank you, Emma... You're right, it's better if we handle this._

A subtle telepathic suggestion -- and Logan fell into an even deeper sleep. Then, dressed in the same lavender silk brocade robe she'd worn the evening before, Betsy went to the front door, stepped outside, and called out softly, "You can come out now, Jubilee -- and come in."

A long moment's silence, then "How'd ya know?"

"I'm a telepath and a ninja, remember? Take your pick." Seeing the young girl's suspicious scowl as she ushered her inside, Betsy sighed, and explained simply, "Emma told me."

"Geez, Frosty knows?!"

Responding to her companion's badly hidden trepidation, "Yes. But she's not planning to get involved, she understands this is between us." She led Jubilee into the small kitchenette. "Sit. Are you hungry?"

Before her unexpected guest could reply, there was a light knock on the back door, and Betsy opened it to find one of Emma's liveried flunkies standing there. The lime-skinned servant bowed politely, then handed her several boxes, turned and left, all without a word. Glancing down, Betsy arched one elegant eyebrow when she found she was holding several boxes of frozen cherry poptarts. Well, that answered that question -- even if Jubilee herself hadn't said anything.

The silence stretched out as Betsy heated up two poptarts, which Jubilee devoured greedily while her impromptu hostess heated up two more. Then, as the young Chinese-American girl ate the next two somewhat more decorously, Betsy remarked quite casually, "You *do* know, Jubilee -- don't you? -- you really don't have to worry about Logan not loving you any more, whether or not he's with me, whether or not we have this child. And you don't have to worry about any child of ours ever being abandoned, by *either* of us."

The feisty teenager leapt to her feet, scowling blacky. "You stay outta my head!"

"Sit down, Jubilee," Betsy repeated steadily, pouring two large glasses of orange juice and handing one to her visitor as she went on calmly, "I haven't been reading your mind. Anybody with eyes could see how you feel." She set out two more poptarts and then waited patiently, until a visibly deflated Jubilee had seated herself again, before joining her at the table. "I've been wanting to have a child for a long time now -- I wouldn't have broken up with Warren about this if I weren't quite serious about it."

The young girl's flash of belligerence had faded as quickly as it had arisen. Squirming a bit in awkward embarrassment after her outburst had bounced so effortlessly off Psylocke's unshaken, calm demeanour -- so similar to Emma's icy control... and, at the same time, so different -- Jubilee asked more hesitently, "What if something, like, happened to ya? Superheroing ain't the safest lifestyle around, ya know..."

"That's one of the main reasons I'm leaving the X-Men, Jubilee. I'd never expose my child or myself to their risky lifestyle. And that's why I'll be moving back to England, to raise my child -- things are nowhere near as bad for mutants back home as they are here in the States, just ask Kitty or Pete, or Kurt, or Moira or Rahne. But I'm not planning on joining Excalibur or another team, at least not full-time. I'll move in with Brian and Meggan at the manor, probably get back into business -- maybe do some more joint ventures with Emma. I might even try to find a way to use my telepathy openly and productively, in psychiatric work or counseling. But... if anything did happen to me -- and something can always happen to *anyone*, just crossing the street -- well, Brian and Meggan will still be there, I know I can trust them. And as for Logan -- well, why do you think I asked him? I know he'd no more turn his back on his child than he'd turn his back on you, or Kitty... or me."

"How?" Jubilee asked angrily, obviously put out again at her older 'rival' including herself so matter-of-factly in that list. "You been poking around in *his* skull?"

The purple-haired telepath shook her head at the young girl's obviously jaundiced view of most psis' ethics, but decided it wasn't worth an argument -- not right now, anyway. "I could say it's because I've seen how much he cares about you -- and about Kitty, and about Amiko -- and how he's willing to do what's best for each of you, individually. And that *is* a big part of it." Betsy stared at Jubilee consideringly. She needed to draw the teenager in, to make Logan's protegee feel *part* of the relationship she was trying to build with Logan, rather than an outsider to their pairing. Kitty had grown apart from Logan, naturally, with age and time, and Pete came first with her now; Jubilee was still strongly dependent on Logan, and resented having to share him. Betsy needed to show Jubilee they could share Logan without competing... and bringing the teenager into one thing Betsy and Logan had shared for years might be a good way to accomplish that. "But there's another reason why I'm sure I can trust him, and I'll tell you exactly why... *if* you'll agree to let me -- or Emma, if you prefer -- lock that knowledge away so you can't tell anyone else... and so the professor can't read it from you." After all, it wasn't as if Emma wouldn't find out anyway, from Rogue if not from Betsy herself, given how closely the three women were linking to try to help the Southern belle with her control problem.

"So, like, what, you don't trust me?" Jubilee scowled fiercely. Changing tack almost immediately, she went on, "I don't mind not telling the prof stuff, but I'm not gonna keep secrets from Logan."

"Logan already knows. And it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that it's not my secret. Only a few people know this, and everybody else who knows is either not around now, or a difficult read telepathically."

As the older woman had confidently expected, the young girl's love of gossip easily overcame any lingering caution. 'Calling' Emma Frost into mental rapport, blocking the new knowledge away behind subtly camouflaged psychic shields that should elude all but the most directed scrutiny, Betsy told her instantly enthralled audience about the son Colossus had unknowingly fathered during a casual encounter down in the Savage Land, and how Logan had staunchly supported the mother's right to reveal her son's paternity at a time of her own choosing, regardless of what Rasputin might consider his own rights in the matter of Peter-son-of-Nereel.

With things going smoothly, Betsy relaxed her telepathic compulsion on the man snoring away in the bedroom, and the sound of voices talking immediately woke Logan up. A few minutes later, after showering and dressing, he came into the kitchen, his expression mingling contentment and worry quite comically.

"So, like, how was it?" Jubilee greeted him cheerfully.

His face flushed beet-red. "Jubilation! You're way too young ta ask a question like that!"

The two females ignored his flustered blustering. "Logan is a very kind and very considerate companion, Jubilee, you should know that without having to ask."

The older woman smiled at the young girl, who grinned back cheekily, "Hey, I deserve more than *that*! I'm almost sixteen, I'll need to know all about that kinda stuff soon."

"Not if ya want the guy ta live, ya don't, darlin'," Logan growled automatically, but his two companions continued to ignore him.

Betsy's lips curled up into a smug, wicked little leer. "All right, then -- let me just say... Logan is quite right, when he says he is the best at what he does."

"Hey! Ok, hold it right there! I mean it!"

He subsided, muttering, as they both laughed at his mock outrage, but it was obvious Logan was happy at how well they seemed to be getting along -- although trying to hide his pleased surprise.

"But it's time for you to go to class." Before Jubilee could protest Betsy added, "I'm sure Emma will let you off early, to go out with Logan, if you go apply yourself now... Logan, why don't you walk back with her, and ask Emma if she'd excuse Jubilee for the afternoon and evening?"

"It's nice ta see the both o' ya getting along so well," Logan commented when he came back in about a quarter of an hour later. "Frost said it was ok for me ta take Jubes out later today, but I gotta ask... ya sure you're not just trying ta get rid o' me?" Enough doubt could be heard under the joking words that the purple-haired telepath didn't need her powers to know he was at least partially serious in his enquiry.

"Oh, no, not at all..." Turning away from the sink, Betsy let her high-necked, long-sleeved robe drop to the floor, revealing a seductively modified version of her 'uniform'. Her normal outfit was sexy enough -- something Kwannon had adopted which Psylocke had kept, as the telepath had found that both the men's lust and the women's contempt that the skimpy outfit normally inspired gave her easier entry to her opponents' thoughts. Nobody survived years of professional high-fashion modelling with much body modesty remaining (and, after all, she usually assured herself a bit schizophrenically, it wasn't as if it were her own, *real* body she was displaying so blatantly anyway). But the purple leotard, fingerless long gloves and thigh-high stockings she wore now were made of a mesh material so delicate that it was virtually transparent, her large, dark nipples and the neat triangle of even darker pubic hair easily discerned through the shadowy, tantalizing cover, its purple-bordering-on-navy highlighted by a flowing, criss-crossed sash around her waist and matching arm and thigh bindings of flirty lighter blue and cheery red ribbons.

She'd prepared a number of different outfits for the occasion, for a variety of different moods. This one was an open invitation to Logan's wild side -- although it had taken her considerable time and effort to come up with something appropriately decadent that wasn't *too* terribly reminiscent of the Hellfire Club in general or, more specifically and more importantly, its once-past Black Queen... which meant black leather bustiers, thongs and thigh-high spike-heel boots were all *out*. "Still think I want to get rid of you?"

The widely experienced, worldly, even somewhat jaded Canadian just stared, popeyed and slack-jawed. He had to clear his throat a few times before he sputtered, "It's a damn good thing I didn't know what ya had on under that robe, darlin', or Jubilee mighta gotten that lesson she wanted."

"Don't be silly, Logan -- I put this on while you were escorting her back to the school." She pirouetted gracefully in front of him with the ease of the professional model, her demure expression contradicted by the knowing gleam in deep violet eyes. "I thought you might like it."

"There ain't no 'think' about it, darlin'", Logan managed to get out of a suddenly dry throat. All his blood seemed to have drained downward, suddenly. Still goggling at this 'unique' view of his longtime teammate, he saw Betsy's mood shift in an instant. Smirking triumphantly at her effect on him, she stalked toward him purposefully, invading his personal space to wrap her arms around him and push his lips open for a deep kiss, all while rubbing herself against him sinuously.

She lifted her mouth from his after an endless moment. "Let go, Logan." Glowing amethyst eyes stayed on him as she yanked open his shirt and ran her hands over his chest, feeling the wild beat of his heart, the wavering strength of his conscious control over the hard muscles jumping under the hairy pelt. "It's all right, I promise I won't break... just let go, like you didn't last night..."

His hands were shaking, tensed and rough as he wrapped her long, silky hair around his fingers and dragged her head back to plunder her mouth, ravishing it with lips and teeth and tongue. A part of him hung back still, waiting for her to object, telling himself he would -- he *could* -- stop, and slow down, as soon as he pushed her too hard.

But, as her taste seeped ever deeper into him, he was afraid he was fooling himself. And then, it didn't matter -- she melted against him like soft wax, murmuring into his mouth, "It's all right, Logan -- let yourself go. I can stay with you, wherever you need to go..."

He could have sworn he felt himself snap, heard an echo of brittle control breaking. The ever-lurking wildness overcame him, all the years of rigid self-discipline unravelled into nothing.

In his rush to taste her flesh, he ripped the top of her 'leotard' open. The sound of the delicate fabric tearing normally would have snapped him back, but then Betsy wrapped herself around him tightly. Instinctively, he recognized the trembling of her body as desire, not fear, and that knowledge clawed away at his control even more.

He lifted her off her feet so that she was pressed hard against him. Her hands fisted in his hair as his mouth raced over her face and throat. Nearly stumbling in his haste, he headed for the bedroom. Betsy twined her long, supple legs tight around his waist, the thin mesh fabric doing nothing to stop the sensation of her hot wet center pressing against his belly shooting new fire through his blood, as his craving flesh strained upwards toward its natural target urgently, instinctively. He stopped before the doorway and pressed her against the wall, using it to brace her. She was pinned there quivering like a moth, as his desperate mouth clamped over one erect nipple, suckling hard.

Her response was to throw back her head in abandon, and rock against him. She climaxed the instant his teeth closed over her, shocking them both with the power of it as she shared her response with him.

Mindless as rutting animals, they dragged each other to the floor. Fortunately, speech was unneccessary to them both -- fortunately, because speech was impossible as they rolled over the carpeted floor, groping for each other. There were only gasps and moans; no sighs now, no soothing murmurs, only hissing breath and thundering pulses and throaty growls.

Pure animal lust drove him, a craving long suppressed and denied. He yanked her hips high and ripped the rest of her seductive leotard to shreds, groaning as her nails scraped up his back and dug crescents into his massively muscled shoulders. She bucked against his hold as she twisted around to the hard task of getting his jeans and shorts off -- or, at least, down low enough to be out of their way. When her hand finally closed around his freed shaft, his vision scrambled and grayed for a few seconds.

Betsy was beneath him now, writhing against him. Her eyes were nearly black, blind with pleasure, when he fused his mouth to hers again. It was greed, rather than control, that kept him from ending it, that had him sliding down her lush body again, tasting and taking and touching until they were both maddened. Logan reared back up, then, clamped his hands over hers, and plunged into her welcoming warmth. He pumped and thrust, changing the angling of his hips so that he could immerse himself in her, deeper and deeper. His mind had gone dark, leaving only primal instinct as he rammed into her hot wet passage with a feral force that left them both breathless.

She couldn't hold on any longer; she gave herself willingly to each savage stab of pleasure and let her arousal spiral up and out of control, coming back to herself to find him continuing to hammer himself into her. Then his whole body heaved, and went rigid. She saw him throw his head back as if in pain, saw that now it was he who was lost. And, when he shuddered and cried out her name, she almost wept with the joy of it.

Later, after getting dressed again, and having a *very* late brunch, "I don't feel right, going off and leaving ya by your lonesome, darlin', not right after we... ahh... err..."

Betsy was enjoying Logan's embarrassment, but she was too kind to prolong it unnecessarily. "Don't be silly, Logan. Go. Go take Jubilee for a ride, take her shopping, take her to dinner. Show her a good time, talk to her about her classes, catch her up on the latest X-gossip... and talk to her again, about us, and about how it won't affect your feelings for her. I'll have dinner with Emma -- we have some more issues we need to talk over, about Rogue's problem, and other things. I'll meet you back here later this evening."

"Ya *sure*, darlin'?"

"Don't *hover*, Logan. I'm all grown up now--" she smiled at his sudden, appreciative leer, "--and I can manage *quite* well on my own. So, go." As he turned to leave, "And, Logan? Be *sure* to spoil her outrageously."

He looked back at her with a dubious expression on his face. "Ya sure that's a good idea?"

She nodded at him confidently. "Trust me. I know that you think that, in general, she needs more discipline, more self-control -- and you're right, she does. And I know that, more specifically, you don't want her to use her reaction to us as potential emotional blackmail -- and you're right about that too. But she gets enough discipline from Emma and from Sean, here, all the time. What she needs from you right now is proof of your continuing love -- that's the best way for you to show her she doesn't *need* to feel threatened by *our* relationship... or by the possibility that you'll have a child of your own soon."

Continued in Part 4...