Silken Ties

 

Author: NA1

Fandom: X-Men - comicverse

Pairing: Storm/Wolverine

Warnings: Intense M/F sexual scene

Spoilers: None

Summary: Ororo has a surprise for her beloved that leaves Logan breathless

 

Nominated Categories:

Romance - Het.

Ingenious Pervertables - Het.

---

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gentle breezes touch my lips,

Cool as ice on her finger tips

Trapping in the ties that bind,

Holding me as pleasures unwind

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

I step back to take in the sight of my handiwork... well, yes, okay, Logan's handiwork. There was simply nothing the man couldn't do.

 

"Thank you for your assistance with the curtains, Logan," I say as I smooth out the fabric to make absolutely sure they are straight. The effect is immediate as I can feel the thick drapes taking the room into shadowed coolness as they block out the midday sun. It has become an already-warm spring.

 

"They were certainly overdue for airing out," I say, checking the fall of the fabric once more, "but I must say putting them up myself is not the easiest of tasks." I step back again and nod, satisfied. "Good, now the only thing that is left is to add the curtain ties so I can open the windows in the morning." I move toward the nightstand where I'd left the curtain tie-backs, the silky cords used to hold the curtains back, but Logan stops me just as I reach them.

 

"Ya' know 'Ro ya' don't hafta put those tie-backs up fer at least a few more hours," he says smiling, blocking the way back toward the windows.

 

"Logan, I would like to rest for the remainder of this afternoon," I inform him, shaking my head, inattentive to his attempt to take my mind from my task, and I try to move past him.

 

"There're different ways to "rest", darlin'," he replies in that low rumbling tone which alerts me to his mindset that he appears to be clearly unwilling to let me get away so easily.

 

"Darlin'," he says, guiding me backward to sit me on the bed, "it ain't gonna take ya' all day ta put up curtain ties. I think they can wait a bit, huh?" I must admit, now that I'm seated, the mattress feels wonderfully inviting and I sigh softly and smile when he urges me down. The mattress dips with Logan's weight as he climbs on the bed and crawls behind me. He lies down in the middle of the bed and stretches out his arm to beckon me to his side, his fingers tickling my elbow. I can't help but smile at his soft ways. I turn toward him and slide up to his side resting my head on his chest. He breathes softly, so quietly; he is relaxed. His hand comes up and glides up and down my back, his nails grazing lightly down the length of my spine. My eyes close as he relaxes me and my mind drifts into calm. It feels cozier in our room now with the new drapes casting a peaceful dimness contrary to the brightness of the day. I feel myself drifting into a state of slumber, my love beside me - this feels perfect and I let out a contented sigh. Mmmm. This is nice. So peaceful.

 

I fall almost into sleep when I feel his fingers come around my ribcage; tickling me, which makes my muscles tighten up in defense. I moan to let him know that it is not pleasant and hope that he will stop. He does. I relax against him again and, wouldn't you know it, he does it again. His hand begins to crawl around my back, fingers playing like a crab's legs around the sides of my ribcage. He wants to play.

 

"Logan..." I say softly as a warning and his hand stops to rest against my back. My head rises and falls as he takes a deep breath and I can sense that he is just lying there, staring at the ceiling... bored. I lift my head from his chest and turn to look up at him. He is. He is wide awake and staring at the ceiling, apparently trying to entertain himself with the shadows dancing there above us. He realizes the weight has lifted from his side and he dips his chin to look down at me. His eyes meet mine, twinkling like elfin blue. He grins, the imp.

 

I shake my head at him with a smile and he gives me that what'd-I-do look. I pull away from him and his hand grabs for me gently, but I am out of reach as I slide off the bed and stand up. He lifts himself up on one elbow looking at me, a surprised imp now.

 

"Where ya' goin', darlin'? Thought ya' wanted to rest," he says to me looking confused. He sincerely seems to have no idea that tickling me is not relaxing.

 

"You are obviously not in the mood to rest, Logan, and if you will not allow me to rest, I might as well finish my task. Perhaps you will allow me to rest later, after you have found something to occupy yourself." His eyebrows come together as he blinks at me. I hope I haven't sounded too harsh; like a parent with a small child. Instead of offering an apology though, I turn toward the windows, but I must say he has incredible speed, for before I take a second step he is there in front of me, blocking my path. I huff impatiently at him and his eyes narrow as he studies me. Then his gaze drops to my hands and a smile creeps across his lips.

 

"I can think o' plenty o' ways to occupy myself," he growls low at me and that sound does something to me. It always does. He knows it too. His nostrils flair and pupils dilate and I avert my eyes. I try to give the impression that it isn't working. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his wolfish grin, because he knows that it is. He knows me entirely too well.

 

"C'mon, Ro," he rumbles as he lowers his face to nuzzle my neck.

 

Oh Goddess.... His hands are on my waist as he pulls me closer; his hot breath on my neck, the scratchy roughness of his whiskers counterplaying the softness of his mouth, his lips..... '

 

Oh... I breathe out a sigh.

 

My fingers tighten around the silky cords, hands wringing and twisting them as I desperately try to keep my mind on my uncompleted task. Somehow though my hands have escaped their capture between us and have found their way around to his back. They move up to his shoulders and, as if they have a mind of their own, they pull him closer.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A hunter tracks its wary prey,

Believing it is time to play

But as time turns who is to say,

Who is hunter and who is prey

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Oh... Why did I let Logan inflame me as I have? I feel my blood running hot and fast and I am sure he can too. Why does it have to be so frustrating and so delicious at the same time? Why should he do this to me and not know this maddening enchantment himself?

 

An idea comes to me with a nefarious glee and a smile forms on my lips. He pulls away a bit, catching my smile, not quite sure what to make of it. He is the one who has made me feel so wanton. He is the one who has distracted me from my tasks and, right now, this beautifully wicked idea swimming around in my head is absolutely intriguing. It beckons me to its will. Logan shall reap the whirlwind which he has sown this day.

 

I give him a sultry, provocative look and step backward out of his embrace. As I turn away, he watches and I throw him a seductive glance over my shoulder, bidding him to follow. He does. He prowls up behind me; his head held low, his eyes now smoldering with desire. I turn to him slowly, placing one hand upon his chest and letting my fingers sneak between the buttons of his shirt to feel the dense, soft hair beneath.

 

He looks down at my hand, then raises his eyes to me. He senses the change in me, but can't seem to figure out what I am up to. That is good... I smile. Before he realizes it I have him backed up against the bed. With one firm push he is floundering on his back in mild surprise. He tries to get himself upright, slipping against the satin bed sheet and barely manages to get himself properly on the bed before I am moving over him like a stalking feline. I settle myself on top of him, straddling his hips. He looks up into my face. My eyes glitter with mischief and spark with the sensual fires that he had taken the time to ignite.

 

He is curious as to my intentions, silently watching as I tug at his shirt, pulling the hem out of his jeans. He remains quiet and still as he watches my fingers unbuttoning the flannel, slowly exposing his furry belly. I lean forward to plant a kiss just above his navel. His ridged abdomen tightens, cording and defining well, under my lips. I sit up to continue; not meeting his eyes. I can feel him looking at me, but ignore the heavy stare as I slowly maneuver the last button through the hole. I glide my hands beneath the material feeling the softness of the hair, sweeping across that broad, erotically muscular chest to push the shirt off his shoulders. Automatically, he leans slightly to one side and raises his arm so I can remove it, then the other. I discard it with a toss and close my eyes for a moment as I let my hands play along his chest, the core of his strength. It expands beneath my palms; the bulging pectorals feeling massive in my imagery. He takes a cleansing breath and allows himself the moment, but he is not content to just let me play alone. He never could do that; just sit back without touching. He loves to feel me, to use his hands to experience every part of me with his sensitive fingers. I love it too... but not today.

 

His hands travel up inside my blouse. I unbutton it still astride him. He opens his eyes to watch me and I let him as I remove it and toss it away to lie with his on the floor. I smile down at him and he smiles back, but not in the same way. His thoughts are on me; his desire for me, his passion for me. His mind drifts in images of pleasing me, showing his love for me, hearing the sounds of my pleasure as he takes me to the greatest heights. Not today.

 

I place my hands atop his as they knead my breasts softly. He's going to wish I had removed my bra right then, because he'll miss the feel of them as we proceed. He blinks in surprise as I remove his hands and gently, but firmly push them above his head. I see his expression change slightly, as he realizes my intention is to pin him down. I lower my mouth to his as I lean my weight on his wrists to distract him. I tease him with my tongue, running it slowly just inside his lips. The kiss becomes deeper and hotter and he seems willing to enjoy the taste of my tongue and even play along a little.

 

His eyes are closed as he takes in the sensations of this long and intense kiss. Then I slowly break away and shift my weight slightly to retrieve the cords that I had set down as I climbed over him. For the moment he is content and lies still, in position, rumbling a bit as he is known to do when he is happy or pleased. His tongue peeks out as he tastes the lingering flavor of our kiss. He feels no need to open his eyes.

 

I take the silken curtain ties and trail the soft, cool tassles along the sides of his belly, up one side and then the other. His muscles twitch from the unusual feeling, but it's pleasant at the same time and he moans softly beneath me. I continue this tender play up along the sensitive undersides of his outstretched arms. His body reacts involuntarily to the sensation by constricting his muscles, causing him to stretch and arch against me as I lean over him. My satin clad breasts rub against his chest eliciting a pleasured sound from the Wolverine. As his body stretches I wrap one cord around his wrist and he tries unsuccessfully to react to it. I chose this moment to make my move because he cannot push me away until his muscles relax again, but I need to move quickly and I do.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The hunter feels he's caught his prize,

Of snowy hair and sultry eyes

But tables turn to his surprise,

By silk clad hands and silken ties

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Logan's eyes snap open just as I finish binding his hand to the headboard. The thick silky curtain cords are perfect for what I have in mind and at least his left hand is snugly secured. His eyes are on his bound hand as he swallows thickly and, as I watch his throat work, I notice that he's broken out in a light sheen of sweat. His eyes come back to me as I remain seated atop his hips and I lightly lick my upper lip as I look into those dark, glittering eyes.

 

I am still holding the second tie cord in my hands awaiting his reaction. 'Will he let me do as I wish?' His eyes narrow and I hear a low warning growl rumble in his chest. The vibration from it seems to ripple through his body, tickling my thighs. I can also see a hint of curiosity in those eyes and I know at least for now he is willing to continue, but I must move cautiously this time. I let my hands play over his chest again, giving him a chance to relax as my fingers play with the hair there. I feel him rumbling again, but it's softer and more subtle, almost like a purr this time. Taking the sound as my cue I move slowly toward his right hand, which is still lying on the bed above his head. His eyes are closed and, with the thieves' skills I still possess, I quickly tie his other hand firmly to the headboard before he can decide if he wants to stop me.

 

He hasn't moved and I wonder briefly if he's put himself into a meditative trance. My hands glide back down the length of his arms as I sit up straight again, letting him feel my touch. His eyes open slowly and they are dark as he looks up at me. I smile tenderly, reassuringly. With one last kiss to brush his lips, I ease off his hips and slip off the bed as I prepare, items to collect for the upcoming fun-fest. I have his attention and those sharp eyes watch my every move. I smile to myself as I make my way out of the room, waiting for an uproar from the bedroom behind me. Nothing of the sort arises and I smile again. My love trusts me.

 

I know perfectly well that he doesn't like to be restrained so I am sure to gather my things quickly and take only a moment or two to return to his line of sight. As I approach the door I can see him struggling against the bindings as he tries to twist his hands out of the cords. He's not frantic, just frustrated and testing the bonds. I hear another growl of frustration and I am sure he's probably admonishing himself for allowing me to put him in this situation. I smile softly and watch him for a moment. I know my beloved trusts me. I know he does. What always amazes me though is how his instincts can be so strong as to override his rational mind and I do not wish for him to panic, so I enter the room.

 

Although I enter silently, he knows immediately that I am there. He stops struggling against the bonds and lifts his head off the bed to watch as I approach the nightstand beside the bed. His expression is serious, but full of curiosity as I set the silver ice bucket down beside him.

 

"Champagne?" he asks with a smirk. I look at him from the corner of my eye unable to keep from smiling myself with the memories of what that man does with champagne, the effervescence on core of my shameless being; taking full advantage of the bubbling action as I lay open, lustful and wanting under his talented mouth.

 

"Not this time," I reply smugly and watch his brow furrow. He stretches his neck as far as he can to get a look inside the bucket. It is empty except for the ice. He frowns trying to figure out what I am up to. I spin around and exit the room one more time, leaving him to ponder the otherwise empty bucket on the table. When I return a few minutes later wearing a silk robe embossed with a leopard skin print, I see his expression change instantly as the mental curtain drops, closing off his thoughts of the curious silver bucket and throwing all his attention to the flowing curves of my robe.

 

He doesn't even notice the object I set down on the table beside the bucket and I throw him another ardent look as I move up against the side of the bed. He looks up with wide blue eyes, looking at me with anticipation of the unknown as I bend over him bringing my face closer to his. I lower my mouth to his and he takes it willingly, even enthusiastically, accepting my probing tongue. I hear his moan of delight as he sucks my tongue deeper into his mouth and the taste of warm chocolate melting in my mouth awakens his taste buds. He moans again appreciatively as he suckles the tiny sweet from my tongue. I am not quite sure though whether he prefers the taste of it... or me. I draw away slowly to look at him closely and he licks his lips, enjoying the unexpected treat. Our eyes lock and a slow smile spreads across my face. His nostrils flair; picking up my heated scent. His pupils jump, doubling in size and nearly eclipsing the sky blue irises. The strategy is working well.

 

'Kay, 'Ro, ya' can untie me now," he suggests in an almost demanding tone, but the arousal in his voice betrays his domineering tone. This is a different experience for him; unnerving. Exciting.

 

"Why Logan... you could have easily released yourself in the time I was changing. Didn't you realize that?" I purr to him seductively.

 

"Yeah? I'm sure I could if I had the skills of a thief," he growls back at me. His eyes are dark and dangerous. The increasing bulge in his jeans tells me otherwise. "I'd hafta break apart yer headboard to release myself, and I ain't got any doubts about whether I can do that, but I don't think you'd like that very much."

 

"No, you are right, I would not like my bed damaged. However, there really is only one small trick to releasing those particular knots," I reply even as my hand moves to the three inch wide black sash of my robe, slowly loosening it and pulling it free. His eyes drop to the sash and he watches as the robe slowly drifts open.

 

"And what's the trick?" he asks distractedly, his voice now gravelly with feral desires. I move toward him, letting the sway of my hips work the robe open enough for him to glimpse what promise awaits, dragging the sash elegantly across the carpet before stretching it between my hands. Slowly I bend toward him again as I answer his question in a near-whisper.

 

"You have to be able to see," I tell him softly as I bring the sash down across his eyes and secure it behind his head. Again his nostrils flair with the absence of his sight and his body stiffens beneath me. He wants to trust in me, but this is very new and unfamiliar territory. He is fearful. I send a gentle breeze to caress his skin and calm his worries.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gentle as the breeze it's found,

It is the hunter who is now bound

The prey has shown her wiles and wit,

And it is the hunter who must now submit

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"Come on, 'Ro, enough's enough. Untie me," he demands and I can hear the irritation in his voice, the almost-anger he feels for allowing himself to be blindfolded so easily. "This game's gone far enough."

 

"Now why should I do that?" I whisper, leaning down to let my lips brush against his ear lightly. He pulls in a breath and holds it and I feel strangely empowered and a bit amused despite myself.

 

"Come now Logan," I pause to run my tongue along the fluted edge of his ear and am rewarded with a moan of pleasure from my 'captive'. The feel of my breath against his ear and neck forces him to turn his face away in a subconscious attempt to block me out... or is it to give me more access? I drag my tongue slowly up his neck until my lips brush his ear again.

 

"You started this game," I whisper, "just because it is not the game you originally expected is no reason to end it now." His arms pull against the bindings, causing the muscles in his chest to striate and his biceps to tighten and bulge as they suddenly constrict under pressure. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists trying to pull his hands through the cords. The backward pressure causes his hands to turn purple and the headboard creaks in protest. For a moment I fear that I've lost his focus. His raspy, heavy breathing now underscored by the dangerous sounds of the beast awakening. However, the denim which is now stretched tightly across his hips as well as his panting breaths contradict his struggles. Evidence that my efforts are not completely in vain and I take a moment to just look at him.

 

Tied up, blindfolded, disheveled, defiant and at my mercy... how absolutely erotic and virile he is. How absolutely empowered it makes me feel to see him like this and to know it is because of me that he is here, like this. I suddenly realize what I have done -what I am doing. I can hear him breathing heavily and growling with each exhalation, but it is neither frantic nor intensely angry. He is anxious. He is aroused. He fights his demons to prove he trusts me. He fends off the haunting images to give me the chance to prove that he can. He is drenched with sweat now, his tanned skin glistening with heavy moisture. The cooling liquid collects in the divot at the base of his throat, creating a little pool of salt water between the tips of his collarbones.

 

I turn to the table with the intention of offering him a drink, but I have not brought anything of the sort yet and must remember to do so on my next trip. Reaching into the bucket, I choose a large cube of ice which begins to melt immediately in the heat of my palm.

 

"Logan?" I say to get his attention as I kneel on the bed beside him. He doesn't turn toward me though, he just lies there panting. I brush his sticky bangs from his sweaty forehead, pulling a few trapped strands from beneath the sash that is fastened across his eyes then press the frozen cube to his lips. The unexpected touch causes him to recoil from it, before he realizes what it is and comes forward again so quickly that I jump in surprise. As Logan crushes the cube between his teeth, I reflect on the quickness of his strike and yet it replays in my mind in very slow motion. His mouth opening, revealing huge one-inch long fangs that grab the ice from between my fingers, the feel of his lips as they briefly close around my fingertips as he claims the desired thirst-quenching object.

 

I watch him swallow and then relax with the relief of the ice on his throat. I now realize the magnitude of responsibility I have taken upon myself and it is enormous. For a moment I have my doubts. Should I stop this? What if something goes wrong? What if I forget his needs as I carry out my plan? What happens if I stop now, after all the trust he's shown me? Would it make him come to doubt me as I now doubt myself? He needs to be able to trust in me. I need him to be able to trust in me. I need to be able to trust in myself.

 

I take a deep breath and the air I expel washes over him. He tilts his chin up slightly to take the full effect of the tiny breeze and I can't help but smile at his appreciation of such a tiny gift. With barely a thought, the air in the room shifts slightly as I send a gentle cooling breeze to caress his heated flesh. Such grand relief it is too and he inhales deeply through his nose; expanding his chest and sucking in his belly as he takes in as much of the cooling air as he can. I watch the thick hair on his chest move slightly with the breeze I've created and the sudden change of temperature in the air causes goose bumps to raise on his flesh and his nipples constrict.

 

He expels the air, apparently feeling much better, and I find my attention continually drawn to the hardened nubs hiding amidst the dark dense hair. I lean forward slowly and capture the one closest to me between my lips. My action surprises him and he gasps with the sudden sensation of pleasure that rips through his body. He is so sensitive to touch. I suckle the tiny button for a few seconds, picking up the taste of his salt, letting my tongue dance across it. The headboard creaks again as Logan pulls against the ties, reflexively reaching down trying to caress my hair.

 

Unable to do that though, he compensates by arching his back; raising his chest up toward my mouth, demanding more contact. I back off. The whole purpose of this is so that he will know. His body drops back onto the bed as the tension in his muscles caused by the sudden, unexpected arousal is suddenly deflated by my departure. He lies there, his mouth open, gasping. I can see the beat of his heart pounding in the center of his massive chest and his jeans look uncomfortably tight at this point. I will be sure to remedy that upon my return.

 

I inform him that I need to retrieve a couple more things and will return shortly, but I'm not sure if he's heard me as he doesn't respond. I rise up off the bed and let my fingernails trail across his chest diagonally, purposely staying away from the areas he would most like me to touch. When he realizes that he won't be touched there as he hears me moving away, he groans and I smile. I move to the window and open the sash to let some fresh air into the darkened room. The freshly hung curtains immediately come to life, billowing in the air current and casting shadows between light and darkness on the walls.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now the hunter is the prey,

Held by silk to tease and play

But even as she plays and teases,

She shows her prey her gentle breezes

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Although my footsteps are silent as I come back into the room, his ears pick up my bare feet sinking into the thick carpet and he turns his blinded face toward me, following me as I near the bed again. He's picked up a scent, sniffing the air in an obvious manner. His sense of smell must be heightened even greater than normal with his eyesight stolen by the blindfold. I see his fists clench and his body stiffens slightly in his bonds.

 

"I smell a bird," he says gruffly, "Ya' didn't bring a bird in here, didja?" His voice is tight with the thought of a natural scavenger being released in the room with him tied down. I had intended it to be a surprise, but he needs to know there is no danger so I pick up the object I'd just set down on the table and place it against his bound fist.

 

"It is not a bird, Logan," I inform him softly as I gently try to thread it through his fingers. He realizes I'm giving him the opportunity to identify the object and he opens his hand. I place it against his palm and he grasps it, feeling it as he lifts his face toward it to get a good scent. "It is just a feather. See?"

 

"That's a pretty big feather..." he says as if I didn't know that already and I smile.

 

"It is an ostrich feather," I tell him as I take it from his hand and place it on the table again. I pick up another object; a purple, silk glove and slide it onto my right hand.

 

"Whatd'ya need an ostrich feather for?" he asks and the question makes me smile.

 

"You'll see." I turn around and look at him. I think it is time to move forward with my plan because I want him to know. I move to the foot of the bed and his head turns to follow the sound of my movements. I unlace his left boot and tug on it until it pops off his foot and I let it drop to the floor with a loud thud, followed by the right one. I reach up his pant legs, one at a time, to roll his socks off before I move onto the bed and kneel between his legs.

 

I watch him as he waits, wondering what I'll do next. His ears twitch slightly at the sound of metal tinging as I slowly unbuckle his belt. He arches his back slightly as I tug the belt through the loops. I let it flop down across his chest and drag the cool leather strap down his torso. His breathing quickens. When he hears the heavy leather fall loudly to the floor he visibly relaxes beneath me.

 

I take my time; neither hurrying nor teasingly slow as I unzip his jeans. I smile softly again, pressing my hand against the bulge beneath the faded denim in order to gain enough slack to bring the zipper to the bottom. Then I slide backward down his legs as I grab the waist of his pants. As I pull them downward, he assists me by lifting his hips off the mattress before settling back down.

 

His fevered skin revels in the coolness of the satin sheets against his back side, gloriously nude, spectacularly masculine. The room dances in shadows of light and dark which Logan cannot see, but I can. The humid air from outside drifts in through the open window, curtains billowing in the hot summer breeze. I maintain a balance with my own cooling breezes.With his enhanced senses, the sensation of warm and cool air must be driving him crazy. Once his jeans are pulled off his feet I can't help but just stand there at the foot of the bed, simply looking at him. He's so beautiful. He always laughs in that rumbling chuckle of his whenever I tell him that, but he is beautiful - strong and healthy, well-muscled and tanned. A short, hard body with wide shoulders and thick arms, a broad chest and narrow hips; solid, ridged abdomen and powerful, hard thighs and.... 'Oh yes, Goddess, there is the 'and'.... I smile. He is even more beautiful when aroused.

 

I enjoy the sight before me - laid out before me - like a holiday feast. I feel so wicked, almost despotic, as I climb onto the bed again while he waits because I want him to know. I slowly move over him as I crawl toward his head, careful not to touch any part of him. I hold myself over him as I come up nose to nose. He inhales slowly through his nostrils; he knows how close I am. He plants his face against my neck and I pull back out of his reach. He groans his dismay; he wants to touch - to feel - he needs to touch. I told you that already, didn't I?

 

I lean forward again, slowly brushing my lips against his ear. He settles down beneath me to concentrate on that single, tiny area. He breathes in deeply and relaxes with a contented moan. I trail my tongue along the shell and circle it around; slowly working toward the center and ending with a tiny wisp of breath into the opening. He shivers and that makes me smile again. I pull back my lip and let him feel the smooth hardness of my teeth against his fragile ear. He groans as I catch and pull on his earlobe, gently playing with it before suckling it into my mouth. His head twists and turns as he vocalizes his pleasure. He's not fighting. It's just for show of course.

 

This is why he does it, this show of defiance. His sounds and actions are exciting and give my body a rush like I have never felt before. He has been on the other side, the side of the dominant and he knows what I need. With his ferocity carefully in check, he has played the role of the alpha to my submissive, both of us reveling in our genders and appreciating the other more. Few have seen me as he has, begging and yes, weeping for a deep kiss while splayed wide beneath his heavy body, eyes watery with my desires impatient and out of control.

 

This is why I am doing this now. I want to see him the way he sees me, to know the ecstacy of a submissive in ultimate surrender. I want him to feel that. I want him to know. And in return he gives me what I need, to know he is mine and at my mercy. He is helpless beneath me, yet so powerful, so virile. He makes me feel so alive. His sounds spur me on and I show more aggression as I assert my position of dominance over him. He is loving it and yes, hating it too. His actions show his protest, but his sounds tell me to go on.

 

When his moans of pleasure begin to sound like desperate groans, I give him a short reprieve and move downward over his neck to his shoulder, kissing and nipping at his flesh with my lips, up his arm toward his wrist, giving full attention to the sensitive flesh on the exposed underside of his arm. He tries to pull inward defensively, but he cannot. I move slowly, taking my time, until I finish at his fingertips. I spend alot of time on the rough palms as he tries to pull them away. Then I move to the other side and begin again the same way, driving him crazy. He snarls, then growls, under my teasing touch, frustration mixing with arousal. The rush of domination courses through my veins and to see him writhing this way gratifies me. He makes me very glad to be a woman; a woman with such a magnificent man willing to accomodate and serve her every sexual whim and desire. Usually he is the one in control of our love making, but I am enjoying this immensely.

 

As I end at his fingertips I run my left hand down his arm, letting him feel the lightest touch of my warm skin to his. He raises his chin slightly, arching his neck and a small grin appears on his lips. He likes this. I let my hand slide all the way down to his armpit and through the thick hair there to continue down his side. His muscles tighten against the ticklish sensation and he lets out a quiet grunt. Then I do the same with my right hand. He's expecting the same thing there, but when my satin-gloved fingers brush against his skin he draws in a breath in surprise. The fabric is cool and refreshing as I swirl my fingertips ever so lightly in tiny circles against the hairless skin.

 

He tries to readjust his arm, trying to get more contact, but I move with him, allowing only my fingertips to touch him. Then again I use my bare hand on his other arm, doing the same thing. The different sensations of warm skin and cool satin confuse his senses. His head rises from the bed, twisting from side to side in an attempt to sort out what he is actually feeling, seeking affirmation for the mix of textural input. Then the sensations are sorted and separated and I know exactly when that happens. He understands his role and dismisses the confusion, the anxiety dissipating once again, allowing him to simply feel. I move off of him to one side as I let my hands circle around each other, mingling the sensations over his chest and abdomen. As I watch my hands moving around his torso, I smile at the image of myself playing "The Shell Game".

 

My touch drives his senses higher and higher as he writhes and undulates beside me. His vocalizations are louder and his movements become stronger. The headboard creaks again as he unknowingly pulls against the bindings. I circle around his belly button, making my way lower. He is so very hard now and as I make tiny circles on his hips he tries to turn into my touch, but I move with him, not wanting to touch him there yet and he growls loudly in aggravation. He is starting to know.

 

Down and around his thighs I make my way slowly to his feet, to the very tips of his toes. As I circle my fingers on the soles of his feet, his knees bend slightly, reflexively pulling away. His toes curl under protectively, making me smile. Big, bad Wolverine. So ticklish.

 

I move back onto the bed, letting my ungloved hand glide up one of his legs as I reach for the feather on the nightstand. My hand comes achingly close to his straining erection and he groans out in frustration as I once again pass it by. The warmth of my palm presses against his belly, settling him somewhat. I let him catch his breath, but only for a moment. I whisper the soft feather against the tip of his manhood, then downward to caress the hardened shaft. He nearly arches off the bed with a loud gasp. I push him back down gently with my hand, removing the torturous, fringy feather. Just for now.

 

His head rolls from side to side in exasperation, sweaty chest heaving as he pants for air, desperate for relief. Poor baby. His face and body are covered in a light layer of perspiration, making his skin shiny beneath the hair and accentuating his overworked muscles. He tries concentrating to regulate his breathing, trying hard to control his reactions as I caress his erection with the soft plume, up and down the sensitive shaft and a light wisp over the tip. His hips bounce lightly on the mattress as he tries so hard not to thrust up against the feathery touch. He seeks more contact, he needs more contact, he craves more contact.

 

His tongue snakes out across his parched lips, obviously dehydrated. I hear his thirst when his tongue and lips smack together. Then I remember. Leaning over again I reach into the bucket for some ice. Placing a cube against his lips, he gladly takes it and grinds it between his teeth. It turns to liquid instantly in the heat of his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps with arid desperation. I reach into the bucket again and he opens his mouth, waiting for another. He can hear the cubes moving about in the silver bucket trying to evade my capture. I finally grasp one and bring it to him.

 

He lifts his head toward me, anticipating the cool object against his lips, but bellowing his surprise as my fingers glide the cube down his bicep and slowly across his chest. His head falls back to the mattress, gasping. I wonder how much more he can take. I wonder if he knows yet.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gentle breezes touch my lips,

She holds the ice in her fingertips

I lie here bound with silken ties,

My freedom found, as passion flies

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

I glide the ice haphazardly across his chest and belly and he strains hard against the bonds. His hands grip the headboard as he pulls back his lips and growls loudly. The sound sends my heart racing, my adrenaline soars and I pause for a moment. He battles with himself and I revel in the sound, feeling wonderfully wicked. I touch the ice to his hips, dabbing at the bones, then gliding down one leg and back up the other, listening to his groans of pretend-agony. Stretching down the length of him I lower my face toward his muscular erection and glance up at his blindfolded face. His head is raised, his neck and chest straining with tension. Sharp canines bared, grinding in frustration, and I purse my lips together lightly and blow air softly down the length of his shaft. He is so hard, the skin drawn taut around the throbbing flesh and the slightest touch is unbearable, a definite downside to having enhanced senses.

 

He groans out loudly, his head and shoulders dropping heavily onto the bed, causing the mattress to bounce lightly like a wave. He's nearly exhausted from this fight, but he doesn't want me to stop. No. He nearly begs for me to go faster, to give him relief. The Wolverine, pleading for mercy. He is starting to know.

 

I sit up and fetch another cube from the bucket and place it against his lips. He opens to let it drop into his mouth and it is disposed of quickly. I reach back into the bucket and grab a handful, splitting the cubes evenly in my hands as I move carefully to kneel between his legs. I caress his entire torso with the ice melting in my palms to cool his fever, rubbing my frigid fingers against his sensitive nipples then down to his lower belly. I watch the muscles there twitch and spasm. I look him over, I feel the power of what I am doing and it invigorates my soul. I think about wrapping my cool hand around him to give him a little something to relieve his overwhelming frustration. I look down at his erection and smile wickedly. His aching cock weeps for me, knowing what it means to suffer for pleasure.

 

Realizing just how hard and ready he is makes my womanhood throb. I've been wet for a while now; watching his reactions to me, listening to the sounds he makes. Knowing he makes them because of me, knowing his lust is mine for the taking, both excites and humbles me. I am sure the scent of my own passion has lent him no relief. In fact I know it is my own sweet scent that has driven him nearly over the edge. Smelling my desire is a torture in and of itself. This man, my friend, my lover, experiences everything first through his nose. I decide to show my love some mercy. My hands cool from the melted ice, I massage his hips and pelvic area slowly and tenderly, letting my hungry fingers roam higher to stimulate his abdomen and chest. Leaning forward leisurely, very gently so he can feel exactly what is happening, I take him into my mouth.

 

He inhales sharply, shocked by the intense feeling of my hot mouth around his throbbing cock. Even his shoulders rise off the bed as his belly tenses and muscles contract. The headboard gives off a loud snap under the tension, his arms pulling hard against the restraints. His body lifts toward me and I see a horizontal crack appear in the hardwood above his head. The heat of my mouth suddenly engulfing him puts him in sensory overload. It is too much. He thrashes, then roars as he thrusts sharply upward. He can't control his reaction, but his powerful move forces me to back away and he roars again in frustration. His discipline gone, his control in tatters, he allows the animal free rein.

 

"Not yet."

 

I watch his face below the blindfold. His nostrils flare, either in anger or sexual arousal, perhaps both. His teeth are clenched, his jaw muscles pulse with tension, teeth grinding until he's forced to relax by the removal of sensation around his granite hard manhood. His head falls back again; mouth agape, gasping for air. I take a deep breath too. He's gorgeous and erotic - so hard and sweaty and heaving and tense. I can see his forehead furrowed, visible even through the silky sash blinding his sight. I want him now, as much as he wants me.

 

I move from between his legs to retrieve the bottle of sandalwood oil from the warming bowl on the table and bring it to the bed. The robe drops gracefully off my shoulders and I watch it flutter to the floor at my feet. Carefully straddling his hips and settling down over him, his erection rests against the small of my back. I pour the heated oil in my hand and rub them both together to coat them evenly. I can hear the sound of quiet growls as he exhales beneath me, waiting. He scents the air and waits, saying nothing. Suffering in the most exquisitely torturous way imaginable, it is the hardest, sweetest work he has ever known.

 

I lean forward, starting at his neck and shoulders, massaging his tight muscles slowly. My touch is soft and tender, not a deep tissue massage, just the type that allows me to feel those hard, bunched muscles beneath his tanned skin. He begins to relax under the warm spread of fragrant oil, not forgetting his arms I caress every inch of his magnificent body. As I come down his chest to his navel, I lift my thighs to get as much of his sides as I can. The warmth of the slick sandalwood touches my skin and the awareness of it gives me an idea. I settle my legs down around him again, rubbing my inner thighs against his trembling form. The feel of our oiled skins sliding against each other makes me ache for him. I lean forward to gently rub my upper body against him, oiling myself up on his greased flesh.

 

I close my eyes as I slowly rub myself against his oiled skin, flattening down the thick hair of his torso even more. I moan against him, my arousal heightened by my own actions. The sounds of pleasure cause him to move beneath me. His hips begin to slowly circle and thrust; looking for me, seeking me out, seeking the source of the heat. I slide back down his body, slicking his skin from his fingers to his toes, touching him everywhere... except there, where he really wants my touch. I work slowly, enjoying the feel of him beneath my hands. I have never done this before; experienced every inch of my beloved with my fingertips. I see the attraction that he has always found in exploring me this way.

 

As I move down his body I slide off the edge of the bed in a slow smooth movement, not wanting to jar him from his otherwise relaxed state. When I finish with his feet, I sit up tall on my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed and look up the length of his gloriously shining body. He lies still. I expect his head to rise up in an attempt to look for me when I pause in my ministrations, but he doesn't move. All I see beyond his huge thighs and stiff erection is his chest heaving with every breath.

 

I frown for a moment and make my way back onto the bed to check on him. His head has fallen back and he's not moving. I touch him lightly on the stomach, tentatively: nervous that I've gone too far, but at my touch, his throat bobs in a hard swallow. He's awake, but lying in an odd position. I look at him curiously, only a bit concerned. His hands are twisted around, grasping the binding cords in his fists, but his arms are relaxed as they hang above his head, his neck arched and head pulled back. I look at him again, my eyes widen with realization.

 

His head is thrown back, arching his neck, presenting his exposed throat... to me. For a moment I don't move, I don't know what to do. He is... submitting... to me. I sit stunned for a moment as that realization strikes me. This is what I've done to him? Was this what I intended from the beginning? I look back down at him, my beloved. Blinking, suddenly feeling in over my head, never having been in such a position before, not with him. He's always been the dominant in our love making. His animal needs that, that primal dominance.

 

But that is the animal. What of Logan? Does he need that too? Or does the man need something more? And suddenly it hits me, the way he makes me feel when he makes love to me, the sense of safety and protection as well as his overwhelming love and passion for me. His own dominance has never allowed him to experience that; that sense of unquestioning trust, of not having to be in control, being able to just relax and enjoy the moment and to be the one protected and made to feel cherished, just as he had always done for me.

 

I swallow back the tears, as I realize the magnitude of this submission, this small gesture making me reel. This is Logan, The Wolverine, The X-Man, as tough as the adamantium encasing his bones. He does not submit. Yet he lies there, his throat bared for me, needing reassurance that I accept my own dominance and will follow the rules of the wild which he knows better than his own nature. Slowly I lean forward, bringing my face under his chin. I open my mouth slowly, nervously taking his throat between my teeth very gently. His breathing quickens at my touch and I hear the softest moan escape him. Yes, this is what he wants. My confidence grows with his whispered groan and I take his throat more firmly between my teeth; biting down just enough to leave the indented mark of my bite. A contented groan, a mere whimper of acceptance escapes his lips, flying high on the sensation.

 

He now knows.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The beast, he fights a growing need

Now to his prey, he must concede;

Her silky ways have drawn me low

To yield to a love I wish to know

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

I begin to move, slowly gnawing on his throat. Then I twist my head to bite and lick at the sides of his neck and down to where it meets his shoulder. He's panting hard and groaning his pleasure of being dominated by me. I carefully swing my leg over him to sit astride his hips and continue to mouth his throat, reaching beneath me to take his solid manhood gently in my fingers. He moans softly at my touch and I feel his hands tighten on the cords. I position him beneath me, rubbing my heated core against the tip of him, our juices mingling as I find just the right angle.

 

I slowly lower myself onto him, inviting him inside on my terms. He gasps softly over and over again, his engorged cock pressing steadily into my snug heat. As he passes through the tight muscles at my entrance, I can't help but moan aloud at the delicious, satisfying feeling of my mate filling me up. To be penetrated, conjoined, filled by him, we become as one. It is the most glorious feeling; to feel entirely whole and complete once more.

 

As he slides into me, I control my descent until I'm seated on him fully with his hard pulsing shaft buried inside my body. I let my muscles relax and my legs loosen their grip on his sides. He reads my body language and takes a moment to relax too and catch his breath. I intend to take this real slow, but he doesn't know that yet. Then he lets out a soft grunt; my signal to continue... or perhaps a plea for mercy.

 

I lean forward slowly, lowering my head to kiss his throat and raising my hips to slide up the length of him. He groans out loudly at the slow teasing sensation and I feel the thick length of muscle pulse inside me as I bite down on the sweaty flesh of his throat again. Then I sit back up, lowering myself onto him again and I take a moment to brace my hands evenly against his ribcage. He huffs out a breath as I seat myself on him again.

 

Staring down at my beloved's blindfolded face, I cherish the sight before me. He's so powerful, so strong and yet vulnerable and completely at my mercy. His thick, broad chest is slicked with oil, defining the large muscles of his pecs and abdominals, the thick dark hair matted and flattened; his face and neck flushed with heat and glistening with perspiration, both effects caused by his extreme arousal. The blindfold stretched tight across his eyes, damp from his sweat and formed into shape across his brow and top of his nose; his jet black hair, wild as usual, but now especially disheveled in ecstacy instead of in rage. Two strong arms, bulging with the strain of his grip on the bindings and his hands, knuckles white in a powerful grip.

 

He takes long, deep, controlled breaths as I take my time; sliding up the full length of him until the connection is nearly broken. Then slowly I glide back down. As I re-seat myself he pants heavily and I watch him as I raise up again. His jaw drops open from the sensation as I draw it out so slowly, and as I pause at the tip, his lungs gulp the air and he groans out in a low, thin, drawn-out song of desperation. I bury him inside my heat once more. Now and again, his instinct to thrust - to fuck - takes him over and he braces his feet against the mattress trying to take over the pace, but I plant myself on him to minimize his leverage, softly humming a negative sound.

 

"Uh uh."

 

He huffs in frustration and drops back to the mattress, waiting for me. I smile softly, because I love him so much. Because he doesn't know what he's about to experience.

 

Once he's settled beneath me once more, I move myself on him; gliding up and down his steel shaft, feeling him seeping inside to naturally lubricate me. The slicker I become, the easier it is to slide over him and the higher his sensitivity becomes. I find myself having to stop again and again as he tries to fuck me over and over, out of habit and instinct, but I am in firm control. He lifts me off the bed, raising his hips high in an effort to take over the pace. I will have none of that. He's not used to this extremely slow pace. That is not to say that our love making is usually fast to completion. Most definitely not. But Logan likes to set a pace that is a bit rougher, a little more urgent. Rough in the sense of being a bit more reminiscent of his animal behaviors; to dominate and mate. What I want for him right now is for him to experience a more tantric style of love making. Calmer, slower, more meditative than procreative.

 

After a few more attempts to persuade me to pick up the pace, he seems to succumb and lies back. It appears to me that he's achieved that 'zone' of pleasurable awareness without the frantic need to race to the finish line. His soft grunts and groans are no longer that of frenzied pleas, but speak out to me of intense pleasure being realized on a level of consciousness he'd never before been shown. I watch his face as I move rhythmically over him, letting him feel the intense sensation of one complete stroke after another. There are no rapid moves here, no half strokes of nearing completion, no rhythm lost in overwhelming ecstacy. He gasps and gulps air, once in a while his fingers reposition and grip the ties more comfortably, but he is in full concentration now.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The huntress now beholds her prey

Bound; held captive in her play,

She beguiles, bewitches, loves and holds

Her prey is lost as passion enfolds

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

My body saturates his fiery flesh and the wet sounds of our love making echoes in our ears. His breaths become heavier, raspier and I know that sound and I feel his thighs bunching beneath me. He is enjoying the sensations and the next groan I hear from him is one of almost disappointment as he knows that soon this will end, because I could keep him here like this for hours, but this is his first tantric experience and I want him to feel the final moments. I begin to quicken my pace, but only slightly, and as I stroke up and down the length of him, I tilt my hips back and forth to produce a new sensation and send a tiny jolt through his system. It works and I hear him grunt loudly with that re-awakening. His hips tilt up toward me, positioning for climax. He doesn't try to take over. He's enjoying this pace too much.

 

I smile down at him, my beloved, and my vision blurs with emotion because I know what he's about to experience for the very first time... with me. I continue to ride him with full, slow strokes and my internal muscles quiver as I near completion too. The very thought of his climax edges me closer to my own. I watch him closely as I feel his legs tighten, the muscles bunching as they tense in preparation, his abdomen rigid when I stroke it with my hands. Tension is not what I want, I want him relaxed. I feel his tension retreat as my hands grace across his solid torso. I havent missed a stroke though, as I ride him with one goal in mind and I watch as it happens.

 

His chin lifts up a bit, his mouth open and panting for air. A raspy, explosive breath is forced from his lungs and he grunts loudly as it overtakes him. One loud grunt and then silence, the sound of panting breaths is all that I hear as I feel his cock surge deep inside me. He spills his hot seed into my womb as he pulsates inside my roiling volcanic grip. His release is slow and calm, unlike anything he's experienced before, as he literally spills over inside me instead of climaxing in a powerful explosion. In this way, he experiences everything up to and through his orgasm. Everything is known to him, and with that realization his head flies back, his back arching off the bed and he cries out in sheer overwhelming pleasure. It is a sound not unlike a sob. And as I feel his heat inside me; tickling my quivering core, I too voice out softly as my body convulses gently around him, gripping him in a rhythmic massage.

 

"Ohhh Logaaan, yessssss."

 

"Uuuuunnnnnnghhhhhhhhhhh," he grunts and groans, his body arched like a bow beneath me. His lungs ache and gasp for air; his climax lasting full minutes instead of mere seconds. I can hear his sobs between gasping breaths. I feel for him and am happy for him at the same time. I continue to move on him even after my own orgasm has ebbed, for I want him to experience this wonderful event to the very last that his body has to offer. Moments later he cries out, nearly sobbing, pleading with me to stop because he knows he'll keep cuming if I keep moving. He will too. But it's his first experience, and I know it is an overwhelming intensity and elect to show my beloved mercy.

 

I stop and lean forward to kiss his lips, my body rising and falling with the expansion of his chest as he gulps air. I kiss his open mouth softly, not interfering with his breathing, then nuzzle against his cheek and neck. We remain united as I gently ease him back down. He doesn't even realize that he's higher than he's ever been and I don't want him to spiral down too quickly and crash. This type of love making takes a long time and alot of patience. Hours after we began, we are now approaching final completion. This is what I love so much about tantric style lovemaking. The orgasm is not the final stage. I talk to him softly, letting him hear my voice so he can follow it back down to finally ground himself again. I let my hands grace up and down his exhausted arms as he slowly comes down, sliping his hands from the bight; first one, then the other. I give each one plenty of attention as I gently rub the tension from them before I try to bring them down to his sides. His muscles and joints are frozen in position above him and care must be given not to cause pain and destroy the magic we'd just shared.

 

Once I've gotten his arms to his sides, I wrap myself around him and just talk to him softly so he can hear me. Soothing words of woods and rain and waterfalls. His mind floats in a wonderful place and I don't want to jar him from it traumatically. As he eases his way out of that zone, I know it because his arms move around me and hold me gently. I lift my head and look at him, realizing he's still wearing the blindfold. Even he must not notice it for I imagine he'd be tearing it away. I smile softly to myself to realize just how deeply at peace he is for him to not care about the cloth across his face. I reach up slowly and lift his head to untie it and pull it away. Slowly he opens his eyes and those big blue orbs seem to sparkle with crystal clarity; a cleansed appearance like I'd never seen in them before. I smile at him and he smiles back softly. Then his arms tighten around me, holding me snugly to him. He doesn't have to say a word. His love and his trust say it all.

 

 

 

 

*~ End ~*