Domination

Logan was relieved to discover that the majority of his teammates were unaware of his little indiscretion. Jean had apparently told Storm and Rogue, but everyone else remained blissfully ignorant. He comforted himself with the thought that it would not happen again, and in time everything would be forgotten. That night, he was in his room, surreptitiously smoking a cigar, when there was a knock on the door.

“Hold on,” he coughed, putting the cigar out in a glass of water and opening the door. He smiled with embarrassing relief when he saw that it was Rogue and not the Professor. “Hiya Roguey. C’mon in. I’ve become such a damn wuss about the Prof that I’ve taken to putting out my cigars in water.” He added in a voice of mock pity, “It’s shameful, really.”

She giggled. “Ruins ‘em, doesn’t it? That’s why you aren’t s’posda smoke inside!” She punched him playfully in the arm and then coughed mildly, waving her hand in front of her face.

“Sorry,” he grinned, coughing a little himself. “What brings you here?”

She rewarded him with an angelic smile before morphing into Mystique and pushing him to the bed.

“Fuck, Mystique, what are you doing?”

“Shut up.” She was busying herself with the coils of rope she’d brought.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. It was nice once. Now we’re just making everyone angry.”

“Isn’t it great?” She leaned over him, tying one wrist to the bedpost.

“Damn it, Mystique, stop.” He pushed her away too late; his wrist was secured. Out came his claws with a metallic –snikt- sound, and he reached over to free himself. Mystique leapt at him, landing hard on his chest. The resulting suffocation was temporary but long enough for her to dart forward with lightning-quick fingers to tie his second wrist.

That, or perhaps he wasn’t struggling as much as he appeared to be.

His legs were easy. Within thirty seconds Mystique stood before him, gazing down at his prone body with mocking eyes. “Don’t make me gag you, Logan.”

He glared at her silently.

“Now, let’s see here,” cooed the shapeshifter, slinking around the room and finally settling on the foot of the bed. She crooked one leg and, eyes fixed on her prisoner, pushed one long, blue finger into her waiting body and began lazily pumping it in and out. Her other hand was engaged with her breasts and nipples, and in time her head fell back and her lips parted. She had begun to thrust back in time with the rhythm of her finger, moaning softly. Logan watched, rapt despite himself. For several minutes, no one spoke, and the only sounds in the room were moans and wet sucking noises.

Finally Mystique turned towards him, eyes wide and glassy. Her breasts were heaving with excitement and she realized that she felt slightly lightheaded. Part of her wanted desperately to have him inside her that second, but she managed to comply with the plan she’d thought of the night before.

She removed her finger and placed it against Logan’s lips and to their mutual surprise, he opened his mouth and willingly sucked it inside. Their eyes met for one brief, intense second and then Logan closed his and concentrated. Mystique was tart and warm and he found that he enjoyed the taste of her wetness enough to feel disappointed when she finally pulled away. “Good boy,” she whispered, stroking his hair and easing herself forward. “We’re not done here.”

Logan didn’t struggle when she lowered herself onto his face. He welcomed the sweet, musky scent of a woman’s body, and Mystique was no exception. He breathed in deeply and went to work. The activities of their first fuck had given him only a vague idea of what he was dealing with, and so upon burying his face between her legs he expected there might be some difference in her anatomy, but there was none that he could see. She was warm and wet as any woman, and she tasted just as good.

Above him, Mystique gripped her breasts in both hands and rocked back and forth in ecstasy, reveling in the feel of Logan’s warm, wet mouth and his talented tongue. She loved dominating him, loved it, and as she squirmed on his face she thought of the time he had run her through with those talons of his. Of course, she had not enjoyed it when it happened, but in retrospect…

At last her glance alighted on his crotch and his prominent erection. A low growl began in the back of her throat and she reached for her knife. With two deft strokes she cut Logan’s jeans off. No one needs to be told that it wasn’t sympathy that prompted her to free his aching cock, of course—had she the inclination, she might have tortured him all day with it. But she too needed satiation and so, spreading her legs, she lowered her blue pussy over his crotch and slowly impaled herself upon his cock.

There was no chance of his lasting long at this point. He had begun gasping and bucking frantically even as she hovered above him with one more inch to go. With her fingers dancing lightly around her throbbing clit, Mystique matched his rhythm, bouncing fast and hard. Desperation drove the lovers over the brink and they came together, Mystique screaming out her orgasm. They wound down as Logan grunted and gave one final thrust.

“Can you untie me now?”

“Mm?”

“I’m still tied up. Can you untie me now?”

Mystique rolled off his chest and fumbled behind her for her knife. “Mm.” She was completely drained.

“Watch it,” growled Logan. “You’re gonna cut me if you’re not careful.”

She was. A few sleepy minutes passed while she sawed through the ropes, and in the end she flopped limply back onto Logan’s chest. He wrapped one arm around her and stared up at the ceiling while she dozed. There was no going back now.