Painting the Wolverine Red
by
Mercutio


Jubilee stood in her room just after ten in the morning, her arms crossed over her rather skimpy bathing suit. A bright-red bikini with black polka dots, it outlined her curves well. And did she ever have curves. She held her hands up to her breasts, looking in the mirror. Yep, she definitely had curves. She smiled, and pulled on her sunglasses. Whatever her age, she wasn't about to let anyone think that she didn't have sex appeal. Particularly not Wolverine.

And if he didn't like it, then he could lump it.

Whistling, she grabbed her sunscreen and skipped out the door to join the rest of the group outside, X-Men, GenX and assorted others altogether. They all needed more time like this, she decided. What was the use of saving the world if you couldn't enjoy it once in a while? If you spent all your time fighting and battling with all the evil out there, you could forget why you were doing it, and start thinking like them. She knew. She'd spent the time with Wolvie in Madripoor. By the X-Men's standards, everyone there was on the side of evil; some were just worse than others, an' Wolverine was no exception.

She'd clung to Wolverine. Her life for his, and if loyalty didn't cut it by the high-and-mighty standards of the X-Men, then Jubilee didn't care what did. The death of her parents lost her everything meaningful, and saving Wolverine's life had put back that meaning. He meant something to her, and she was not about to lose him.

A quick look out the window on her way down the stairs confirmed that fun was going on while she dawdled inside. Baseball, volleyball, sunbathing, water fights -- like the Danger Room, only with all the dangers transformed into pillow fights and sporting matches. Jubilee wondered if anyone would be up for the game of paintball she planned to suggest. With Wolvie on her team, they'd massacre the rest of them. 'Course, she had more of a private war than a massacre in mind.

Wolverine. Logan. Something ached within her, and his image formed itself in her mind. Strong, broad, suited in his blue and yellows, and usually snarling. Her protector. Her protectee. The one source of stability in her world. The only source of stability she cared to maintain for a long time. He'd been her father, her brother -- and her infatuation. She'd been jealous of any female who came close to him, jealous of all the women Logan had ever looked at much less the ones he'd given his love too. And he'd put up with all of it, and never said anything to indicate that she should behave otherwise. 'Cept when he thought she might be getting into trouble. Wolvie got a little stuffy about letting her get into trouble.

She stopped in the empty kitchen and snagged a Coke from the fridge. Shoulda been diet -- every other American girl her age was on a diet -- but using mutant powers could take up a lot of calories if you worked out every day in a place like the Danger Room. None of the X-Men were in any danger of getting fat. One of these days Remy was just going to blow away in one of Storm's tempests.

Not that she cared about Gambit. She liked him, sure, but then she liked Banshee and Everett and Storm and a whole lot of other people too. She understood the difference between liking someone and loving them. From nineteen looking back on thirteen, it was a big difference. She understood a lot more now, and it altered everything she felt about the man called Wolverine.

Another image flashed through her mind. A recent image, from a visit to the mansion several months before. Logan, out of uniform, out of his clothes entirely, stepping out of the shower. She'd slipped into his room, looking for him, and hadn't realized where he was. He'd noticed her almost immediately, but not before she'd gotten a searing glimpse of his naked body. Wet. Damp. Smelling of his ever-present musk, and the cleanness of soap, the odors close in the confined space of the room. The dark hair covering his body -- everywhere -- slicked down, and the bunched muscles of his upper legs. She liked the way his stomach slid down into his hips, and what laid below... Jubilee shivered at the memory. At the time, she'd been more embarrassed than he had, but it wasn't 'til after he'd pulled the towel around his waist and greeted her gruffly that she'd realized that all she was thinking was, 'I want that'. Oh, there was a difference between liking and wanting, and it hurt. In a flashing, aching, stomach-clenching way. Her childish yearnings didn't compare. The fleeting, giggly dates she had been on, and heard about from her GenX compatriots didn't compare. Awkward fumbling with boys who didn't seem to know anything, 'specially about women or life, did not stand up to the image, that image, of Logan.

She was grown up now, as grown up as she was willing to wait around for. After Logan had married Viper... Jubilee shuddered. That was one royal mistake, and she wasn't sorry at all that Viper was dead. The woman had hurt Logan, and Jubilee couldn't forgive her for that. She wasn't going to wait for him to fall for someone else, nosirree. She met the age of consent in every U.S. state, and most of Asia as well. She'd checked. Maybe Logan would think he was too old for her, but she sure as Rogue and Gambit squabbling was no longer too young for him.

The door pushed open at her touch, and she could suddenly see much better. Such were the perils of wearing shades indoors. Green sprawling lawn met her eyes, and superheroes playing as though they were all at a company picnic somewhere. Which, she supposed, they were.

She searched the grounds, and spotted Wolverine relaxing at a table with Gambit, drinking a beer. The tables set out came straight out of a picnic from the times of Regency England -- tables fit for a grand dining room instead of the outdoors with the linens to match. And his table was right across from the volleyball game. Jubilee smiled. Everything looked beautiful. Nothing confined his hair -- secure, he needed no hat or mask to conceal him here -- which spiked in its usual points, three open buttons on his white shirt revealed dark, curling hair, and the cut of his black pants revealed that he planned to do some athletics later in the day. His bare feet curled into the thick grass; he was letting some of his animal side out, without having to become the beast completely. Jubilee grinned; maybe the Wolvster was finally growing up.

Yes, everything looked beautiful. And it was kind of a pretty day, too.

***

"Wolverine? Logan? Pardon? Excusez-moi?"

A potato chip charged with energy landed on Logan's paper plate, exploding in a burst just loud enough to startle, but not hot enough to burn.

A large hairy hand grasped Gambit's neck. Without turning to look at the strangling man, Wolverine said quietly yet fiercely before releasing him, "I hear you, Remy. I can hear what McCoy is sayin' to Jeannie clear across the pond. Maybe I don't want to listen."

"What are you doing? You can tell Gambit. Gambit can keep a secret."

Wolverine said nothing. Gambit turned his head to follow the other man's gaze. He saw a volleyball game in progress, two on two, hitting the ball across the net. Nothin' special. 'Cept, of course, the participants. Storm and Sam, versus Angel and a very attractive young woman in two even more attractive scraps of red and black fabric. He gazed at her appreciatively. "Gambit see what you're starin' at. He can appreciate de pretty young femme wit de black hair."

The stranglehold immediately returned, along with a low-pitched growl. "That's Jubilee, Cajun. Watch your mouth."

"Dat's Jubilee?!" Gambit felt his throat after Wolverine removed his hand. It didn't feel permanently crumpled. Yet. Perhaps it was time to look for Rogue. Maybe she'd fuss over his injury. An' mebbe she'd like t'hear about how one hairy beast was actin' like Jubilee was his own personal property an' anyone who came close was lookin' to feel some claws.

***

Jubilee didn't miss that Logan had watched the volleyball game closely. Not that she wanted him to catch her looking, of course. She didn't want to be obvious about what she was doing. Not yet.

But she knew he'd been more interested in her than in his beer or in Gambit's conversation.

When the game ground down to a halt with herself and Angel the clear victors, she approached Wolverine, who now looked away as though she hadn't just been the most important thing in the world to him. At least, she hoped that she'd been the most important thing in the world to him. She'd thought about kissing Angel after the game, but hadn't. She didn't mind playing the jealousy card, but Jubilee knew that Logan would be able to smell the other man on her. And he was the only man whose scent she wanted on her body.

As it was, what Logan smelled primarily was sweat. And Jubilee.

She perched on the edge of the table. "Hiya, Wolvie. What'd'ya think of the game?"

"It was good. I guess."

Like he hadn't watched the whole thing! She tried another tack. "Like my outfit?"

He didn't look up. His gaze remained focused on his hands, which were wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle. "Needs more fabric."

She smiled hugely. So she was getting to him. "Why'd'ya think I dress like this? Huh?"

He shrugged. "'Cause y'want to, kid?"

"Maybe it's because I want you to stop calling me kid."

"Whatever you say..."

Before he could finish the sentence and call her a kid again, Jubilee leaned over, her elbows touching the table and her face nearly level with his. Her bikini top covered her decently. If she stood up straight and didn't jiggle. When she bent over, hunching her shoulders together and wiggling a bit, it covered a lot less.

All she heard from Logan was silence. Like what you see, Wolvie? Jubilee asked herself triumphantly. Wouldn't do to say that out loud. He'd spook if she sprung how she really felt on him all at once. Not that it hadn't occurred to her to simply show up naked in his bed. Not that he'd let her past his door -- just the sound of the door opening would have him awake and wary. And she didn't want this man -- soon to be her man if all went well -- wary of her ever.

No, she had a different plan in mind. "Y'know, I think I could scare up a paintball game for later -- afternoon maybe -- wanna play?" He didn't say anything and she wheedled, "C'mon, Wolvie, I promise not to hit you too hard."

He grinned at her, one of the wondrous smiles she'd seen too rarely of late, "You and what army?"

She waved her hand around vaguely. "I'm sure we can get somebody to play."

***

It turned out that a lot of people wanted to play. Even the ever-stern, ever-dutiful Cyclops. 'Course, Scott was calling it a chance to practice their shooting skills, something that they never spent as much time on as they did their mutant abilities, but Jubilee planned to have fun. Maybe a little more fun than anybody else was going to have. Everyone else but Wolverine.

But there was lots of fun to go before the big game, and Jubilee was everywhere. Not with Logan, though. Not for more than a few minutes at a time. She checked in with him before going swimming, brushing herself up against him, knowing that if she could feel his solid, warm presence (always a pleasure), then he could certainly feel hers. Then competed in a 'race' where each contestant could use only their powers to move them. The flyers went first, of course -- nobody else could compete with them. Storm won that handily, but only after using a downdraft on Angel to push him playfully toward the ground. And then it was Jubilee's turn. Not that her powers were much use at moving anything, but for the fun of it. Giggling, she and Gambit used micro-explosions to scoot themselves a few feet at a time toward the finish line while Kitty Pryde ran to the finish on a layer of solidified air.

Hank McCoy scowled down at the pair of them as she and Remy finally crossed the finish line. "I did not create a prize for completing the contest at the most leisurely pace."

Jubilee grinned up at him. "Why not?"

She and Gambit sat on the ground looking plaintively up at the blue beast standing over them.

Two pink ribbons showered down on their heads. "Silliness," Hank muttered. "Rampant silliness."

Jubilee jumped up, brushed herself off and took her ribbon over to show Wolverine. He stood with the Professor, discussing something so boring that she couldn't be bothered to listen to it -- who cared about Charles Dickens anyway? Certainly not her. Not after being force-fed it in the X-Men, not even if Wolvie liked that stuff.

Wolverine turned his head to her. "You remember Mr. Cruncher from 'A Tale of Two Cities', don't you?"

Jubilee made a face. "Not hardly. And I don't want to."

Xavier looked faintly shocked, and Jubilee hoped that he wouldn't tell Emma or Sean to put Dickens on the GenX curriculum. Sure, maybe they needed the scholarly education to go with the more practical stuff. But that didn't mean that she had to sit still for it.

She held up her ribbon. "Got a prize for being the slowest in the footrace. Tied with Remy."

He turned a little red under his tan and her eyes gleamed. Possessive, are we? But Wolverine recovered quickly. "Slowest, huh? You slowin' down, darlin'?"

"Didn't you hear? Slow and steady wins the race." There was one wonderful thing about Wolverine. He was just an inch shorter than she was. She didn't have to lean up to him at all; his face was right there where she could reach it. She hugged him quickly, and when he hugged her back, kissed his lips.

Then she was off. "I've gotta take a shower before the big game! You're going down, Wolvie!"

He looked after her, and thought as Jubilee disappeared into the house. I don't know what race you're trying to win, Jubes, but you're playing with somethin' you can't control. Or was she? He didn't know. Half of him said that these could still be the actions of the little girl he'd known, and the other half -- the half that had pulsed with a heavy urge as her lips met his -- said that his little girl had done a lot of growin' up since she left him and joined Generation X.

***

Once safely inside the doors, Jubilee felt free to breathe. She'd felt Wolverine looking after her, had thought that he'd come very close to responding to her kiss. Not so close that he'd felt he had to back off -- she had been careful of that -- but close enough to make the playful gesture something more than a gesture. A threat, maybe. Or better yet, a promise.

But first she wanted to take a shower. Her skin felt sweaty from the day's activities, and she was pretty sure that there were grass stains from her backwards journey across the lawn to 'win' her race. For what was coming up next, she wanted to be clean and dry. If she changed clothes right now, her sweat would dry on the insides of her clothes, leaving her cold and damp, not to mention smelly. 'Sides, with what she was going to wear to the paintball game, she didn't need an extra layer of dirt making it harder to fit into her clothes.

Once clean and dry, Jubilee reached for her outfit. She'd been thinking about this for a while, and while she hadn't strictly had an outfit made specifically for this occasion, it sure was handy that it'd do. The skintight green suit fit her perfectly. Green wasn't her favorite color, but the black triangles at her neck, wrists, waist and ankles helped. Made it non-dorky anyway. Washable, bulletproof, and easy to change in and out of, the uniform fit her well.

Jubilee glanced in the mirror, seeing her mop of black hair raging over a stranger in night and forest. I hardly know who I am myself. I'm not the same Jubilee. And Logan better notice that, or I'm going to hit him with a lot more than paint balls.

When she joined the rest of the players outside, Jubilee looked immediately for Logan. He'd changed his shirt to a green plaid, but left the rest of his clothing the same. Obviously, he didn't feel at a disadvantage in his picnic clothes. The others had different ideas. A paint ball hit very hard. Not the same as a punch from, say, a Sentinel, but hard enough to leave a bruise on everyone who didn't have super-tough skin, Wolvie included. 'Course, unlike everyone else, he'd heal those bruises probably as fast as they appeared. Clothing ranged from camouflage to uniforms to the duster jacket that Gambit wore. A superhero could afford to be philosophical about skulking through the woods, kneeling in the dirt, crossing streams, and taking bruising hits of paint, an' go out in street clothes -- but why suffer if you didn't have to?

She took a mask, fastened it securely -- a little paint in the face could ruin your whole day -- strapped on a belt with places to store her paint pellets, and got a gun. Not everyone took a mask or a gun. Gambit obviously planned to propel his paint with something other than a firearm, and Wolverine had no need of the mask. 'Course, if someone popped him in the face, he'd still be dead for the duration of that part of the game, but he wouldn't need surgery either.

"Two teams," Cyclops said firmly. "I lead the first, and Wolver--"

"Leave me out of this," Wolverine said firmly. "I'm gonna go out there to hunt. I don't need to waste no time leadin' people around."

"I'll lead the second," Emma Frost, one of Jubilee's teachers, said. "I trust there will be no problems with that?" No one replied. "Good. Generation X, you need some practice working as a team, you'll be with me." She looked at Cyclops. "Your turn."

Wolverine stepped to the side of the ruby-visored man, and Jubilee groaned inwardly. Thwarted! She didn't care what happened for the main part of the game, but it would've been nice to partner up with Wolvie again. It'd been a while. And to have to stick with Frosty because of teamwork! What a lame-oid excuse. As if they hadn't been working together for years now, at least, those who'd been around the longest. She, Husk, Synch and Chamber could 'graduate' up to one of the other teams whenever they wanted, even if Frosty wasn't saying anything about it. The others shoulda gone years ago -- she was the youngest of the bunch -- but Cassidy and Frost weren't exactly egging them to go. Jubilee hadn't bothered to spill that information to the others yet. She had her own plans, and as long as she ended up with Wolvie, she didn't care which team she was on. But first, Generation X was going to kick some X-Men butt. They'd show the White Queen what teamwork was about.

The two teams paired off, and their referee -- Hank McCoy -- led them off to a spot of the woods set aside earlier in the afternoon as their first field of play.

***

Three hours and a lot of paint later, a bloody but unbowed Frosty team sat down on a fallen tree. Generation X clumped together, Jonothan and Paige flanking Jubilee.

"That last round almost killed me," Paige said. Yellow paint dripped from her chin to the ground. The mask covered her eyes and nose, but a well-placed -- or unfortunately placed -- shot had still hit her in the mouth. "And this stuff tastes so gross you wouldn't believe it."

Jonothan gestured, pointed to Paige, then held himself very still, staring into the woods.

While he held his hand over the lower half of his face mimicking laughter, Paige said sourly, "I know, I know. If I'd been paying attention, the Iceman wouldn't have had his chance to pop me like that. A little more warning, and I coulda done something about it."

"Not that you did much better, Jonothan," Jubilee said, pointing to the marks scattered down his legs. "What were you doing on that last one? Trying to take the flag to them? All we had to do was hang on to it, not run it around."

He shrugged, and then looked eloquently at her own figure.

Jubilee grinned. "Hey, my marks don't show. That's what you get for being dressed right. Dirt, paint, it all just slides right off."

Paige sighed, letting as much of herself go as she could. "Next time -- if I'm insane enough to do this again -- I want an outfit like yours. Something that doesn't get wet and sticky and filthy. I'm dead. As exercise, this beats everything we do at the Academy. I feel like we've been out here eight hours, not three."

"Tell me about it." Jubilee did her best to rest, too. Twilight was drawing near; they had already been shot out of the last game of the day. Everyone else was waiting for the game to finish, to congratulate the victors and celebrate small victories won. Then they'd head back to the mansion, probably for some soaking in the pool before carrying the party into the wee hours of the morning. The game was over for Paige and Jonothan, and they looked forward to the rest of this rare vacation from their demanding duties.

But for her, it was just beginning, and she had to rest quickly and pray that her endurance did not fail her, because the best part of the day was about to start.

Soon enough, the last surviving members of the game came up, and everyone clustered together. Banshee triumphantly held up the flag, proclaiming the victory of the White Queen's team. In a shout that held only the smallest hint of his sonic powers, he yelled, "We did it!"

Jubilee jumped up, cheering with the rest of them.

"It was good practice," Cyclops said. "I think we all learned something today. This could be of practical use in the future."

"Cyke," Wolverine said, hitting Scott on the shoulder. "You need to get some beer into ya."

Unexpectedly, Scott smiled. "Make it a lime spritzer and you've got a deal."

Wolverine was about to turn away to head back to the mansion, and Jubilee knew it was now or never.

Quickly, she lined up her shot -- at this range she couldn't miss him -- and got him good on the center of his chest. His shirt had disappeared earlier in the game, and she painted his chest in dayglo yellow.

"Hey, kid! Whaddaya think you're doing?"

She shot him again, this time aiming more carefully, hitting him on the very top of his head, soaking his hair with more of the yellow paint. It dripped down onto his face. The direct shots from ten feet had to hurt -- Jubilee would not have tried it with anyone less durable than Wolverine -- but the effect of the paint was hysterical.

The grouping of other players split apart, some laughing at the sight, and others quietly cautious. Wolverine did not have a temper problem. To call what he possessed a 'temper problem' was much like calling a volcanic eruption a 'hiccup'.

"Darlin', I'm afraid you're going to have to pay for this," he growled.

Jubilee grinned wildly. That was what she'd been waiting for. "You're going to have to catch me first!" She sprinted into the woods, taking the advantage of surprise to get a headstart on him. She wasn't going to be able to get away from him, but then, she didn't want to.

The loud rumbling sound of an enraged male animal followed her, and she ran faster. Maybe it'd be best to put enough distance between them to let him cool down a bit.

***

A moment of silence followed Wolverine and Jubilee's abrupt exit.

"I'll go after them," Cyclops offered. "Obviously something is wrong with Jubilee, and while her idea of a joke was inappropriate, she doesn't deserve what Wolverine could do to her if he catches her."

"When," Banshee corrected.

"Yes, when."

Jean smiled. "No, don't go after them."

"Why not?"

Her smile was enigmatic. She'd caught a trailing thought as Jubilee had disappeared into the woods that had sounded a great deal like please don't follow us. 'Us', hmm? If the girl had said 'me', Jean might have been concerned for her. But 'us' implied something different, something she wasn't about to share with everyone else.

"I just have this feeling that she doesn't want us to follow," she said.

"Not follow?" Gambit asked. He grinned with all the confidence of a knowledgeable Southern man with a French background. "Gambit think dat..."

Jean 'elbowed' him in the ribs telekinetically. "I make a mean mint julep, Remy."

"Do you, chere?" he said, amusement in his eyes at what he had guessed. "Gambit think dat he want to find out about dat."

***

Jubilee gasped for breath. Paige had been right -- playing paintball was harder than their usual work-outs. Her brief rest after the game -- despite deliberately letting herself shot out early so that she could have more time -- had not been enough to restore her stamina. But Wolverine was still not on her heels.

She wondered if he'd stopped following her. If he'd given up the chase after all... if she were simply too uninteresting to pursue...

A ball of paint hit her in the thigh. The armor in her suit protected her from most of the pain, and adrenaline from the rest, but someone -- Wolverine! -- was shooting at her.

She stopped, a sudden wild grin appearing on her face. She looked around, got her bearings, but didn't see him. Which way to run?

Another pellet of paint hit her, this one on the shoulder, and she took off in the opposite direction, towards heavier underbrush. Best to get out of the way... and not make this chase too easy.

Branches hit her in the face, the mask taking the brunt of the blows. Her hair snagged though, hairs catching and breaking as she sprinted, jumped, and ducked her way through the woods. The gathering dimness did not make it any easier to navigate her way through the obstacles.

A snarling figure grabbed her by the arm, and spun her around. "I've got you now."

She turned, flashed a low-grade paf at him -- she didn't want to hurt him, and Wolvie was more sensitive to her powers than to anyone else's pounding -- and ran off again, laughing this time.

"You little witch," he growled.

"Catch me if you can!" she shouted back gaily. Another person might have been scared of the angry beast following her, but Jubilee understood him. She knew him thoroughly, and was aware that he would not harm her.

She darted through the trees, searching for the spot she'd spied out the evening before, after arriving at the mansion. Not too far now. A few steps, nothing more, and she'd burst out of the trees into a small, secluded glen. Pulling off her mask, she glanced around to see him right behind, and sprinted for the forest a few feet away.

A tackling dive brought her to the ground, and three hundred pounds of solid man pinned her to the grass. He pulled up slightly and roughly hauled her over so that she was looking up into his face. He lowered his weight back down onto her lower body, preventing any escape.

Breathless, Jubilee looked up into his face, a laugh caught on her own. Wolverine vibrated with tension and elemental male power, his hands biting into her arms as though he'd never let her go. His expression held what someone else would call anger, and what she was hoping she could transmute into passion.

Slowly so that he'd realize she wasn't trying to get away, she pulled her arm away from his grip, and laid her hand against his stubbled cheek. "Logan." She exerted a subtle downward pressure on his cheek, pulling the adamantine man toward her as easily as though he were made out of paper.

Rough lips invaded her own, bruising her with force and need. Her arms reached up to hold him and pull his head closer to her own. He closed the distance hungrily, his body grinding into hers. The pressure excited her, and she arched against him, telling him as fervently as she could that she wanted this too.

Jubilee heard his claws unsheathe, and he held his right hand above her. She had no fear that he might use those claws to skewer her throat; instead, she felt a rising excitement as she anticipated those cool talons slicing open her uniform and exposing her heated flesh to his gaze.

Instead his weight left her body, a chill taking its place. She looked around frantically, almost ready to yell out before she saw him sitting next to her, head bowed. Oh, no. Not what I was afraid of. He doesn't want me. He really does still think of me as a little kid. And I made him come after me -- I planned this all out to make sure he'd want to tear the clothes off my body, an' instead I make him feel guilty. God, I feel like Lowtown trash.

"Logan--" she said, sitting up.

He extended an arm, careful not to touch her. "Don't come near me. Get the hell away from me as fast as you can."

She closed her eyes, a sob welling up inside of her. It was that bad, huh? So bad he couldn't even bear to look at her, or touch her. What had she done? Wolverine had never done anything to harm her. And she'd hurt the man inside, where she knew he already had too many scars.

All she'd wanted to do was heal a few of those, fill some of the most gaping wounds with herself...

And instead... "I'm sorry, Wolvie," she said, not beginning to cry -- which would at least have been dignified -- but instead starting to blubber. "I'm so sorry."

The words seemed to be dragged up from deep inside him. "It's not your fault. Never your fault."

"It's not my fault?" she asked curiously, her tears shocked into stopping. "It's not anyone else's fault."

His head snapped up. "Darlin' -- Jubilee -- never let anyone tell you that rape is your fault. It isn't."

"Rape?!" she asked, disbelievingly.

"That's what it's called when a man forces himself on a woman. Like I-- I was about to do to you." His head dropped again. "I got no self control. I was on ya, and I didn't care what you wanted -- I was going to take you right there."

Her mouth began to curve. Not too much -- Logan was hurting and that hurt her also -- but somewhat as she realized that what she had been worrying about didn't matter at all to him. She was old enough in his eyes, and desirable, too. Her plan worked perfectly --

-- except that it had made Wolverine feel guilty for actions that she'd done her best to get him to do.

She rolled over, kneeling in front of him. Her hands went to his face, pulling it upward so that she could look him in the eyes. He resisted her pull, but not enough, and she looked into his tormented face.

"Wolvie, I want you," Jubilee said earnestly. "I wanted you to chase me out here, and I wanted you to do just what you were doing. An' and I want you to do what you were doing again. Only more this time."

His lips twisted. "Like an animal?"

"Like a very passionate man. Like you." She kissed him, still holding his face between her hands.

He groaned under her lips, his mouth opening. Her tongue darted inside, finding his and mating with it. "Don't do this, darlin'."

"Why?" she asked, pulling back enough to look at him, her forehead resting on his. "Because you don't want me, or 'cause you're afraid I won't like it? Because I love everything you've done to me so far, and I want more of it."

His hands reached out, flexing on her hips with force just short of bruising, as though reassuring himself of his ability to touch her. Wolverine looked at her intensely, eyes burning. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded, and he captured her mouth, returning her kiss, but with years of experience added to it. And indisguisable desire. His lips twisted on hers, seeking a deeper contact, as though he looked for her soul rather than a mere kiss.

He fell back, pulling her down on top of him. She took advantage of her position, hands spreading out on his hairy -- and heavily painted -- chest. Her hands flexed against his muscles, nails biting into the skin in tiny pinpricks. He groaned, and she bent her mouth down to surround his nipple. Sucking on it, she sat up suddenly, legs falling to either side of his broad hips and started spitting out the paint.

Wolverine chuckled. "You shouldn't'a hit me there if you wanted to do that."

Still making a face, she said, "It didn't occur to me at the time. That stuff tastes nasty."

"We could go back to the mansion -- take a shower--"

"Oh, no, you don't. I've got you right where I want you and you're not getting out of this so easily."

He grinned, then rolled over, pinning her underneath him again. "Darlin', you've got me, an' I ain't goin' nowhere."

His knees slipped between her thighs, stretching her legs in a very pleasurable, very full sort of way. A taste of things to come. He came down against her, all of his body against all of hers, and she sighed deeply at the feeling of that weight, that solid masculine weight.

"You sure I ain't hurtin' you?" he asked anxiously.

Jubilee's face blossomed into an ear-to-ear smile. This was her Wolvie. Gentle and kind as he was honorable. Trying not to hurt her, afraid that he would, that he might drive her away by being his savage, beautiful self. She understood him, understood the things he didn't have to say and would probably never say.

"No. You're not. Not at all." Her hands reached down daringly to grab his hips and she pulled him more tightly against her.

He ground his pelvis against her, and she met him, her need almost as great as his own. She had been anticipating this all day. All year. Most of her mutant life.

"You're killin' me, darlin'," he said.

Jubilee raised her hand to his face, mimicking the position that they had been in when he first pinned her to the ground. With her other hand, she pulled up his right forearm, his wrist pointed toward her chest. "Do you remember where we were?"

He pulled his arm back to give himself room, and then claws sprouted from his wrist. "Yeah, I think I do."

Fabric tore as three adamantine steel claws traced delicately down her body. She had been split neck to knee, so gently that she had felt none of the pain that could have been caused by his sharp claws. She trusted Wolverine, and she wanted him to know it.

That she also got her clothes sliced off was a fringe benefit.

He retracted his claws, hands dipping underneath it, his mouth following in a trail of fire. She moaned, twisting to give him more access to her body. She wanted him, wanted all of him, wanted to run with him, wild and free in his arms.

Then his hands were freeing her body from the remnants of her uniform, and she felt his own body naked against hers. The skin-to-skin contact charged her, and she arched up against him again, wanting nothing more to be surrounded by him, permeated thoroughly by Wolverine.

Reaching between her thighs, he obliged, slipping himself inside her. She was already wet, ready for him, for her mate. He found his rhythm almost immediately, thrusting ruthlessly against her, his body taut and straining, pushing her fiercely against the ground.

If this is savage, Jubilee thought disjointedly, her mind and body overwhelmed by the sensual onslaught, then I wanna go feral.

***

The light of the waxing moon filled the clearing in the woods, tall trees and the stars the only observers of the couple making love on the grassy floor of the glen below.

Wolverine shuddered against her, weight on his forearms, his fingers gripping her shoulders tightly. Jubilee watched his contorted face as he surged into her, coming in a burst of wild passion.

His full weight slumped forward onto her as his body went limp. She liked it.

She held him close, letting his head rest against her shoulder. Her hands wound into his sweaty dark hair, fingers scrunching on his scalp. A bright fullness was exploding inside her chest. She loved him. She loved Wolverine, and he was hers. A rush of feminine possessiveness went through her. She had given him pleasure and he was hers.

And that was a new experience for her. A shiver ran through Jubilee as she remembered all of Wolverine's loves, and how easily he changed from one to another. Could she handle it if he left her? If she meant less to him than he meant to her?

Caressing his neck as her hands wandered downward, she pushed the thought aside. It was a tomorrow kind of thought, the kind that ruined today. And if today was all she might have, then she bloody well was going to enjoy it.

"Sorry," he said in a thick voice, when he finally spoke. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but the light of passion still burned within them. "Didn't take enough time..."

Amused, she asked, "Do you mean that you usually do this slow and gently?"

He shrugged slightly, a movement she felt with her own body. "Somethin' like that."

"What a waste."

His head jerked up. "What're you sayin'?"

"That I like you just the way you are. Duh."

His smile warmed her. She saw it in the light reflected from the gibbous moon. "Y'know, I heal almost as fast from sex as I do from injury."

Jubilee smiled mischievously at him, "You mean you can do this again? Ohmigod! How very!"

He growled deep in his throat, and she felt herself responding to that sound, pressing herself against him. He held himself over her, as if sensing how much she wanted to be connected to his body. Forget sensing. She reached up, holding him to her as fiercely as she could.

His hand reached between her thighs, blunt fingers finding the center of her desire. She gasped with the sudden shock of having pressure exactly where she needed it. "Oooh... that feels so good... don't stop..."

"I won't, darlin'."

His voice thrilled her, and she bucked against his hand, feeling jolts of something she couldn't identify unless they were charges of electricity sparking inside her -- and wouldn't that be a superpower! -- and blindly following them wherever they might lead.

He pushed himself into her again, not removing his hand and she writhed against this fresh assault on her nerves, which were crying out for more sensation, more of his hardness and of what his hand was doing to her body.

"Ohhh, Wolvie. Don't let me go. Too much, I can't-- please..."

"I'm here, Jubes," he said, his breath brushing her ear. "Not goin' anywhere."

She felt his weight against her, really felt that reassuring bulk, and knew that he was there. He poured himself into her, his roar of completion stunning her. The sound set off a deep wanting inside her, and suddenly she was there on the edge of a frightening precipice, and the only thing saving her were Wolverine's arms, the only thing keeping safe as she was blown over the edge.

Blood hammered in her ears, and the stars spun crazily as her over-used senses felt no more.

A steady beat under her ear woke her. Parts of her felt chilled, while the rest of her -- most of her -- laid curled up against something emitting great amounts of heat. She was -- she had been with -- Wolverine!

Her head jerked up suddenly, but stopped as she felt a firm hand pressing her against a furry chest. She lay on top of him now, legs twined between his, the front of her body in contact with him from toes to cheek.

"It's all right, darlin'. Wondered when you'd wake up."

She blushed furiously as she realized what had happened. She'd blacked out as the result of his love-making. As the result of her orgasm. And didn't that make the attempts of whatshisname in the Debate Club look pathetic? Yes, it did. "Now, I guess. What time is it?"

She couldn't see his face. "'Bout midnight."

"I hope nobody's worried about us."

He chuckled. "I think they guessed what would happen. When you ran away... I knew what I wanted to do to you."

"What?" she asked breathless, suddenly anxious for his masculine approval of her.

"Sweetheart, I wanted to catch you and hold you down an'... well, I s'pose I didn't think about what would I wanted to do after that..."

"You felt though."

His hands flexed on her. "Oh, yeah. I did."

They laid there for a long moment, savoring the feel of their bodies against each other.

"So," he asked finally. "Why the paintball game? Why the chase? Why go to all this trouble?"

"I just wanted to make it good for you, Wolvie."

"Make it good? For me?" Wolverine threw his head up and laughed.

Jubilee flinched, pulling back from that laughter.

He felt her withdrawal and bent his head down to hers, his hands lifting her up to his mouth as he kissed her intimately. "No, darlin', I ain't laughin' at you. It's just I never heard anyone say that to me before."

"Then everyone else is an idiot."

"I ain't arguin' that with you." He pressed another kiss to her neck, hot wetness sliding along her collarbone. "You made it good, Jubes. Real good."

"So chasing down young women is a fantasy of yours?" she bantered with him, her hands touching him, trying to return with interest some of what his mouth was making her feel.

He stopped what he was doing, and she almost cried out at the sudden absence of his lips. Wolverine's eyes met hers clearly. "I never wanted to show you the animal in me."

What? She'd already seen him in every possible situation, beserk, calm, happy, grieving... "You mean, you didn't want to act like that with me?"

"No. I'm a man--"

She giggled, and resisted the urge to reach a hand down to brush his groin. Instead she squirmed on top of him. "I'm aware of that."

"Darlin'--"

"I love you just the way you are, Wolvie. Animal, man, every part of you. I wanted you to chase me down. I wanted -- I want -- the parts of you that you don't dare let go."

He crushed her to him without warning. "Jubes, I don't know what I did to deserve you--"

"I think it had something to do with letting me save your life all those years ago. I think I fell in love with you then."

"While you were screaming at me like Banshee for inconveniencin' you?" he asked, voice amused.

"Right then, and ever since. I've just been waiting to grow up."

He shook his head, marveling at that, but not releasing her from his tight grip. "An' I never knew a thing."

"Can I help it if you're naturally dense?"

He answered her with another shattering kiss, his hard mouth claiming hers.

Jubilee let him kiss her from a long while, then pulled away from him. A wild idea flashed into her head, and she grinned as she stood up. She'd felt his hardness, and she knew he wanted her again. As she wanted to be caught again, and held by him.

Wolverine rolled into a kneeling position, capturing her easily, and kissed her again. "What're you grinnin' at?"

No problems with his night vision. Jubilee stepped away from him, backing toward the trees. "Race you back to the house. Catch me if you can!"

She was out of sight in a heartbeat, and Wolverine was right behind her.

Rippling laughter filled the darkened woods, rippling, satiated laughter.



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