Three years later

He returns in the middle of the night, during a snowstorm. The gates open just as he is about to press the intercom. It is quiet as he steps into the warmly-lit foyer. Charles Xavier is there in an Oxford sweatshirt, a blanket thrown over his lap.

“Welcome back, Logan.”

Logan’s right eyebrow reaches toward the rotund ceiling. He finds it creepy that Xavier is just there waiting.

“I wasn’t waiting for you. I’ve had bad insomnia of late and I happened to hear the bell.” The mutant registration is close to becoming a reality, and he is frequently up at night.

Logan nods. “’S good to see you, Wheels.”

“You as well. Are you hungry?”

“No. Do you have a room I could crash in?”

“Always. You are always welcome here.”

Xavier motions toward a set of elevators. They go up to the third floor and down a long hallway. As he walks beside him Logan notices the smells of wood polish, cleaning products, and familiar people. Xavier enters a code into a brass keypad and the mahogany doors open.

“You may stay in room 334. The door is open. This is the teachers’ wing.”

“Thanks.”

“Come see me after breakfast. I have a job offer for you.”

“Thanks.” He nods appreciatively and walks on down the hall. The smell of new wood and varnish is strong. Also, there are more scents of people he has not seen in three years. Storm. Rogue. He lingers outside her door, wanting to knock and let her know he has returned, but he sniffs again, and smells the sour-sweet scent of sweat and arousal.

He blinks, and turns back toward where Charles left him. He is gone.

She’s just a kid! But it’s been a few years, and that is the smell of a woman in heat, not a kid. He is hard in his jeans. Little Marie. But he keeps moving. Probably a bad time.

He continues walking, past another room. This one smells like Jean. He inhales deeply and catches the mingled scent of Scott, less strong. He wrinkles his nose and keeps walking. Then something else stops him. A soft moan. Coming from Jeannie and Scooter’s room. He knows it is wrong but he stops, listens. Only it is just Jean. Scott is not there. He listens for the sound of another man, or even another woman, but it is just her.

He stands so still he can hear his own heart beat and sniffs again. Jean is also aroused. His cock, hard from days of not getting laid and Marie’s hot scent, throbs more.

He raises his eyebrows, shakes his head, and keeps walking to room 334. He pisses, and shucks his clothes, and sleeps.

.

Voices behind the door. Soft, female voices. He opens his eyes and it is morning. It’s Rogue. She’s laughing. He slips his jeans on and walks through the door. But instead of opening into the hall, it opens into a room that is a mirror image of his. The only difference is that the bed is occupied by a tangle of pale flesh and that instead of the shirts on the floor, there are various bras and panties and women’s clothes.

A woman is on the bed with her back to him. Her skin is white and her hair is long and dark, obscuring the face of the person under her. He sees thin, curvy legs, and as she rises and falls, the side of a breast. Two women. All the blood in his body rushes south.

The brunette makes a throaty moan and tosses her hair back. He recognizes the voice before he sees the white streak amid the dark, and he feels a shocked hum deep inside himself that is not altogether unpleasant.

He adjusts himself in his jeans and when he looks up, the two are staring at him. Rogue is turned so that he can see one of her breasts in profile, a perfect white arc with a pointed pink nipple. A half-smile is on her lips which seem red and wet.

Jean Grey lies under her, head back on a pillow, cheeks and lips flushed, red hair spread all around. Her hand is on Rogue’s hip, bare flesh on bare flesh, and her fingers are pressing in. He inhales. Jean is positively in heat. They both are, but Jean in particular is dripping with arousal. He can’t see it, but he can smell it.

“He’s looking at us,” Rogue says to her lover, falling next to her on the bed. Their hands and legs are entwined and Rogue’s hand moves on Jean’s breast.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Do ya think he likes what he sees?”

Jean whispers something into Rogue’s ear, so quietly that even he can’t hear it. Then they stare at him again.

“He’s very hard.” Jean notes. “Look how tight his jeans are over his cock.”

Logan inhales sharply, watching as Jean’s hands move idly on Rogue’s shoulder.

“He must like it.”

“Logan, do you like it?” Jean asks. There is a quality to her voice that he has never heard before.

“Fuck yeah, I like it.” His voice excites them both.

“Maybe we should let him watch,” Rogue says innocently. How she can look innocent when her hand has traveled between Jean’s legs, idly cupping her, he can’t understand.

“Logan. Sit.” Jean says. He is shoved backward and there is suddenly a chair behind him.

He sits and watches the two women, but they are merely watching him.

“I want to see your cock,” Rogue tells him. His eyes widen. This is the little girl who pouted and said she didn’t want him to go. Who took his tags. All grown up.

“Take off your jeans, Logan.” Jean adds.

He stands up, for the first time feeling some sort of power. They watch him and he knows he has something they want, throbbing between his legs. They can surely see the outline of the hardness that veers to the left.

He is very slow in undoing the button at the top, slow in pulling down the zipper. Rogue makes a throaty noise of appreciation and nuzzles Jean’s neck, all the while caressing Jean’s nipple with the back of her hand. Jean whispers something in Rogue’s ear. He is not sure, but he thinks it is “I wanna see him fuck you.”

He meets Rogue’s eyes and sees that she wants it. This is not necessarily news to him, but the desire in those eyes is more intense than anything he’s seen.

He parts the fly of his jeans and takes his cock out. He kicks the jeans away and it sways with his movement. He can feel their eyes on him even before he even looks up to see them staring.

He gently grazes his palm up the length of himself, hovering at the tip where he is leaking. He thumbs the wetness there and swirls it. Rogue is touching Jean again and when he does this Jean shoves her lips upward into her hand. His lips part and they hear him breathe.

“Yeah, touch it.” He has never dreamed of Rogue being like this, wide innocent eyes, but dictatorial voice. It excites him and he obliges her, slowly spreading his fingers over the length of his cock.

“Now sit down and watch.”

He does. He is sitting on a chair at the bottom of the bed, facing them. Rogue maneuvers Jean so that she is lying sideways across the bed. This way Logan can see as she tosses her hair toward the pillows and then leans down to kiss Jean. Jean’s lips part and he sees a flash of tongue as they kiss a few feet from where they are. His cock surges, the animal in him close to the surface, wanting.

“You like seeing me kiss her?”

“Hmm hmm,” he moans, a surprisingly high sound like a whimper.

Rogue hovers above Jean with her lips barely touching. She turns to look at Logan. “What about it turns you on?”

“Dunno. It’s just hot.” He watches stupidly while Jean rakes her nails up the side of Rogue’s pretty flesh, leaving pink marks. Rogue is kissing her again. Jean moans and tangles her fingers in Rogue’s hair.

“Wonder what else he would think is hot,” Rogue mumbles into Jean’s ear. Jean wraps her legs around Rogue and pulls her close. They don’t look at Logan but they hear him breathing loudly.

The women kiss again, and he squeezes himself.

They turn to him and say in unison: “Hands at your sides, Logan.”

He obeys. He is naked and his erection is sticking up into the cool air. The lack of stimulation is like torture. He squirms on the chair and Rogue gives him a look.

Then she moves down so that she is kneeling at the foot of the bed. “Spread,” she tells Jean. Jean obediently spreads her legs as wide as they will go, revealing a little mound with red curls spilling over it. Rogue leans in and blows gently over the curls, not touching. Jean moans and arches her hips up, making the outer lips spread to reveal her inner folds. Logan sniffs audibly.

“I can smell you,” he says. His voice is roughened and sexy and Rogue feels herself wetten a bit more. He aches to rub his cock.

“He can smell you honey. I can too. You smell... hmm, so good.” Rogue nips Jean’s inner thigh and is rewarded with a moan. She hovers there, then on the other side, ignoring the swollen red flesh that wants her touch. She presses feathery kisses there, then slowly moves in toward the center.

“Yeah,” Jean whispers. “Please.”

“You want it?”

“Hmm.”

Rogue spreads Jean’s lips apart and blows on the fleshy hood at the top. Jean shrieks. “Please, Rogue. Now.”

“You’re ready,” Rogue notes.

She dabbles her fingers in the wetness and then pushes two fingers inside Jean, who keens appreciatively. “Please.”

Logan feels dizzy. He sees the tendons in Rogue’s forearm move in a rhythm and he knows that she is curling her fingers deep inside Jean. Jean is suddenly moving around like liquid from one side to the next. Rogue lowers her mouth to her.

She lazily flickers her tongue in concentric circles around Jean’s red clit. Jean moans in frustration and violently bucks up. “Shhhh,” Rogue whispers, and continues her teasing. The circles tighten and tighten, moving ever closer to their target. Logan feels something dripping down the head of his cock. He still sits with his hands to his side.

“Should I suck at her clit, Logan?”

Jean thrashes below her.

“Yeah. Do it.”

“If you say so.” Rogue begins lapping like a kitten at the taut pink bundle. Jean starts keening.

“Oh, Rogue, you’ve got me so close already. Don’t stop. Make me come.”

Rogue stops. She looks at Logan. Her lips and chin are wet. “Should I make her come?”

“Yeah.” The way his voice sounds, so harsh and needful, makes her wetten. She turns back to Jean and begins to suckle. Inside, her fingers are fluttering. Jean is moving and roiling in waves like the ocean, bucking up closer into Rogue’s mouth.

“She’s so wet,” Rogue murmurs.

“Enough with the fucking commentary already!” Jean hisses. “Make me come!”

Logan feels his scrotum tighten and he breathes in sharply. The two women before him are going to kill him, he thinks.

Rogue is done playing. She is fondling Jean’s breast with her left hand, penetrating her with her right, all the while flicking her tongue lightning-fast over her hard red clit. Jean’s eyes are rolled back in her head and she is writhing and twisting and keening. She doesn’t say a word but the sound coming out of her has a life of its own. Rogue doubles her speed and she screeches and she feels the explosion begin in her clit and radiate outward.

Jean moans weakly and goes limp. Rogue gets up, her hair falling down around her shoulders, and walks to Logan. She straddles him and the chair on which he sits. They are face to face. His cock is pressed into the groove between her legs and it throbs there.

She touches his earlobe gently and he shudders. “Did you like that?”

He nods, threading his hands roughly in her hair. He hanks and her eyes widen. She likes It.

“I have something for you,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” He asks, his eyes searching hers.

She nods. “Later. Something special.”

She kisses him and he tastes Jean. Precum leaks from the slit of his cock and smears her skin. Jean slowly stands up and stands behind Rogue, touching her hair softly.

“You know when I first wanted to fuck you?”

He is too stupefied to speak. He shakes his head no.

“The very first time I saw you.” she says, and stands up. She takes Jean’s hand and presses it to her cleft. She tugs Jean back toward the bed, and they fall.

Jean reaches toward the nightstand and pulls out a large purple dildo. Logan’s eyes widen and Rogue moans at the sight. Jean lays the dildo beside Rogue and lies next to her. She leisurely moves her hand down over her body.

“Spread for him. Let him see you.”

Logan closes his eyes and thinks he might just come. Rogue looks at Jean, not at him, as she spreads her legs to either side of the bed.

“Do you like her pussy, Logan?”

He nods. He can smell her distinct sweet funk. It excites him more than Jean’s, more than anything he has ever smelled.

Rogue is pleased with his approval, and spreads just a bit wider. Jean starts rubbing her with her middle finger. Rogue’s eyes flutter shut and she begins undulating, pushing rhythmically upward. Logan can see the opening of her vagina. He licks his lips and when he looks at Rogue’s face he sees that she is staring at him.

“Fuck me, Jean.”

Jean does not share her lover’s predilection for teasing. She picks up the dildo and screws it into Rogue’s hole, twisting it deeper. Rogue shakes and her breasts jiggle. Logan feels soaked. He has wrapped his legs around the legs of the chair and he is now pumping his hips slightly.

Rogue pushes Jean’s hand away and begins rubbing herself. Jean moves down and takes hold of the dildo and starts slowly churning it back and forth. Rogue makes a noise halfway between a shriek and a moan and her fingers flatten and rub herself harder, back and forth. Her knees are bent and she is humping up toward the ceiling.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Logan hisses.

“Yeah?” Rogue asks.

“Yeah.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything. I wanna fuck you both. Want you to suck me. Want you…” This excites Rogue and he can smell the new wetness that surges out around the shaft of the dildo.

“Yeah. Oh yeah. Jeannie. Do me. Twist it…” Jean starts twisting the dildo as she pushes it in and out and Rogue goes crazy.

“Faster! Do it faster!” she whispers. Logan thinks he has never heard anything so beautiful and he watches mesmerized as Jean pistons the member in and out of Rogue and Rogue rubs herself. “Oh yeah. Just a little more... Fast!”

Jean obliges, and Rogue arches from head to toe. “Just a little... oh god...” and she screams. Jean bites her lip and keeps going. Rogue bucks down hard, thrusting herself even further on the dildo, then upward toward her own fingers that press and rub. Then she stops, hand falling limply to her side. Jean pulls the wet cock from her.

“Now?” Logan asks. Rogue opens her eyes and looks at him. He is naked, sunlight on his beautiful perfect scarless body, cock rigid and red and glistening. Rogue scoots down to the end of the bed, legs still spread.

“Now.”

He is on her instantly, but he doesn’t take her. They stare into each other’s eyes. They can feel each other’s breath on their faces.

“Do you wanna come inside?“ she whispers.

“Oh god yeahhh."

He sees tears in Rogue’s eyes and doesn’t have a chance to wonder why because she sits up and kisses him. She tastes so good.

He can’t stand it.

“I’m gonna lose control.” he warns.

“Do it.” she says, head tossed back defiantly.

He does. In a half-second he is in her to the hilt and she is hissing and writhing like a cat. He can feel her orgasm still undulating through her, and the rhythm that slows in its wake. She is so tight.

“Not gonna last. You tortured me. Oh Marie.”

At the sound of a name no one has called her in years she moans. She is moving in circles, her hips moving around and around him. This last bit he can’t bear and then he feels Jean’s hands on his back and he loses it. He bangs into her violently. He feels her nails on his shoulders and god help him, but she is squeezing herself around him, tightening, trying to make it that much better for him.

He comes. Jean watches him convulse, a perfect masculine specimen, back arched, head thrown back against her breasts, his ass clenched tight as he shudders forward into Rogue. She feels every pulse of it inside of her.

They all three lie on the bed spent, a pile of tangled flesh. Rogue looks at Jean. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what this means, right?” Jean says.

“What?”

“He’s really here.”

Logan lays in a stupor, his spent penis lying limp between his legs, his lips open in disbelief, eyes heavy.

“Yes,” he is, Rogue said, kissing his face, but not really understanding. Then they are all gone.

.

Rogue is yawning and pulling her hair into a ponytail as she approaches the buffet. She pulls a muffin, some fruit, and a piece of bacon on to her plate. “Morning” she mutters to Hank as she pours milk into a glass.

This is what he sees when he walks in to the room. Her thin silhouette, hair back in a ponytail, freshly brushed, marbled with white. She has showered but he can smell the wetness inside her. Just like...

The dream has not been far from his mind for one second this morning. He woke with his sheets damn and crusted and he had to get himself off twice before even coming down for breakfast. He stands in the doorway, some kid pushing past him, watching her. She turns to the side, says hello to some big blue dude, pours herself a glass of milk. She is beautiful, so ripe and beautiful, older, ready, his Marie. He is hard again.

“Hey,” she smiles at a guy and girl who pass her. She is then walking back toward the tables, walking toward him. She hasn’t seen him yet. He sees every aspect of her as she approaches, her confident stride, the light in her eyes, her cute gait as she scouts out a table.

Then her gaze shifts to the doorway. To him.

And it comes flooding back.

Jean. Logan. Oh.

The glass hits the tile floor and shatters, bluish milk spreading in every direction. She feels it soak wetly into her shoes, cooling her toes, and is only peripherally aware what is causing that sensation.

She woke up wet but that wasn’t unusual. The dreams have decreased in frequency, but every once and a while she has one with Jean in it, a dream more vivid than reality. But never, ever, has Logan been there.

She swallows, steps around the milk, and walks to him.

“Hi.”