Out Hunting

by QuilleCougrr

Logan idly scritched his chest hair, then stretched bone-poppingly towards the ceiling. Just about everyone in the mansion had called it an early night, but he was still awake. Maybe I'll watch some television, he thought, and loped easily down the stairs to the rec room.

It was dark, but it wasn't empty.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, standing just outside the doorway. Vague hints of an image formed in his mind. Remy and a woman, but he didn't recognize her scent. Squeak of bare flesh on the leather couch. Soft noises. Murmurs and quick panted breaths. Logan smelled exactly the moment when Remy pushed the girl's skirt up around her waist, the moment when she went from just enjoying herself to giving in to lust. He breathed harder with them and turned away as Remy gracefully slid his own pants down.

Shit. Logan found himself with a raging erection, and stomped as quietly as he could towards the Danger Room. Work it off, that's what I'll do.

The red "occupied" sign flashed on just as he turned the corner, and Logan headed back upstairs, growling. Except he had to pass Jean and Scott's room, and he had already known why they'd called it an early night.

Ahh, Jeannie. Wish that was me in there with ya. Her moans of passion echoed in his ears; the scent of her lovemaking curled out from under the door and teased his nostrils. Logan's heart beat faster. In his mind, the beautiful redhead straddled him, impaled herself on him, threw her head back in pleasure as she came. It was too much.

I gotta get outta here. I'm goin' down the other stairs. Won't have to pass that room again. As quickly as possible, Logan buttoned up a flannel shirt and snagged his leather jacket. I'm taking the bike, One-Eye, he thought derisively, then swung his leg over it and kicked it to life.

The cold wind in his face helped leach the passion out of him, turning it into anger. Everyone's got someone tonight, he thought. I lose everyone I've ever had.

Logan parked the bike with others not nearly so technological, and went into the bar. It was crowded enough that all the tables were taken, but he found a seat at the bar. He lit a cigar and ordered a scotch, and began to look around.

As seedy as the place was, everyone there still fit into one of three categories. People who go to bars to drink and have fun. People who go to bars to drink and forget. People who go to bars to drink and hook up. Logan wasn't quite sure where he fit into those categories tonight.

The bartender brought his drink, and Logan spun around on the barstool to face the door. Time to decide, he thought, and took a puff of the cigar and a long swig of scotch. The alcohol burned hot down his throat and settled nicely in his stomach. The hunt was on.

Twenty minutes and three scotches later, Logan stubbed out his cigar, slid off his stool, and headed out onto the floor. He hadn't even begun to feel any effects of the scotch. His mind had slipped into the hunt, and that was driving him. I shouldn't have a problem. Plenty o' good lookin' women here.

The beat of the music from the jukebox thudded over the whole bar, making even the clouds of smoke vibrate in time. People were dancing in one area towards the back, and Logan watched, admiring tight clothes over tight bodies, and one woman in particular. The prey was selected. Finally, the song ended, and as a new one clicked on, she stepped off the dance floor next to Logan, close enough for him to pick out the scent of her sweat.

"Buy ya a drink?" he asked gruffly, just loud enough to be heard over the music. The chase was on.

"Sure!" she shrugged and followed him back to the bar. "Tim, let me get a glass of water? And a Long Island Iced Tea," she asked the bartender.

Logan held up his empty rocks glass. "Another scotch for me," he added to her order, putting a twenty down on the bar. "I saw ya dancing," he told her, watching her flip her sweaty dark hair up into a ponytail.

She blushed, which intrigued him. "I saw you watching," she answered, smiling and holding eye contact.

"I'm Logan," he said as the bartender brought their drinks. She downed the half-pint of water in quick gulps, then picked up her drink and took a sip before answering.

"My name's Jen."

Logan lifted his scotch. "Cheers." She clinked her glass against his and drank.

Not fifteen minutes later, Logan was helping Jen onto Scott's bike. The twenty lay forgotten on the bar. It's never too hard to find a motel, Logan thought as he sped towards the closest one he could think of. Behind him, Jen laughed into the wind and held on tight. The hunt was over.

Logan watched Jen watching him as she slipped out of her clothes and he unbuttoned his shirt. "Wow, you're furry," she commented. "C'mere." She slid her fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes and imagined Jean.

He growled and nipped at her neck, then around and down past her collarbone. Jen moaned in response and reached around to hug him, tracing her fingernails down his back. Logan dipped lower and sucked a nipple into his mouth, his left hand caressing her other breast and his right hurriedly unzipping his jeans.

He stood up to pull his pants off. Jen watched him from the bed, drunken lust in her eyes. "I wanna get on top," she announced, and obligingly he lay down. She climbed on top of him and slowly, slowly lowered herself until he was completely inside of her. Teasingly she raised up a bit. Logan closed his eyes and let his mouth drop open a bit. In his mind, Jean tossed her hair back and leaned down to kiss him.

Logan grabbed Jen's hips and flipped her over onto her back, then pounded into her, taking her hard. Jeannie, his mind cried out. Suddenly he didn't want to see this girl's face anymore. He pulled out, his cock dripping, and helped Jen onto her stomach before plunging deep into her again. Jean! Full of self-loathing, he fucked her hard, heedless of her moans turning to little whimpers underneath him. This is what I'd do to her. I'd take her. She'd never come to me willingly. I'd hurt her. I'd fuck her and hurt her. Ahh, Jean! Logan roared wordlessly as he came, then rolled off the girl and onto his back.

"You hurt me," Jen accused, and in his mind he could hear Jean's echo, you'd hurt me.

"I know," he answered. "I'm sorry." I always do, he thought bitterly, and got up to get dressed, wiping himself clean on one of the bathroom towels. "Room's paid for til the morning," he said, and left.

Logan was only at the mansion long enough to pack a bag and trade Scott's bike for the Jeep. Sorry, Jeannie, his mind said, over and over again. Hours later and miles down the road, he decided to hunt again.

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