Deconstruction of a Goddess

Title: Deconstruction of a Goddess
Author: Felicia Hardeski
F_Hardeski@hotmail.com
Archive: Anywhere you want, please let me know so I can check it out.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and if their owners knew what I was doing with them, they’ve have a pink fit.
Rating: R (Logan/Jean/Ro)
Summary: It’s not what you think…


I’ve always known that Logan coveted Jean. It’s not exactly a secret. In fact it is commonly held knowledge around here.

I think it’s little something that performs a dual purpose for Logan; pissing Scott (and her many suitors) off, and boosting his ego.

If it weren’t for sir simmering adoration I don’t think he would have stuck around. You see I never really thought Logan wanted Jean, I always assumed he was addicted to the fact that she wanted him…badly. And were he ever presented with the opportunity; he would never have the balls to take her.

Perhaps that was wishful thinking on my behalf.

Wanting him… desperately… as I did.

Of course he didn’t know that. And I’d rather die before letting him know.

It’s generally frowned upon to crave your best friend in ways that are other than strictly platonic. However, this weather-witch does, and I’m not sure what kind of person that makes me.

I guess some may argue that it proves I am human. That my desire knocks me of the lofty perch many think I reside upon to pass judgment on lesser mortals. If only they knew this “Goddess” resides down in the gutters along with the rest of humanity. What a shock the school would get, what a shock my friends would get. What a shock Logan would get.

This frosty façade is strictly for show. I’ve been rejected enough, been hurt badly enough to be reticent in matters of the heart. Youthful exuberance and fearlessness has been tempered into caution and carefully tended walls around my heart.

Many think nothing touches me.

Everything touches me.

I feel pain, and joy and hurt and love so intensely it has been easier for me to build a wall around my heart than let anything in. I am honest enough to agree that makes me a coward but I was determined that nothing would touch my heart again…and nothing had…

Until Logan.

My friend has been, as always, silent and deadly with his assault on the defences.

I am in love with him. It is not a mere infatuation, and it will not lessen with the passing of time.

It will forever be unrequited, and the only expression of my affection Logan will ever be privy to will be my co-operation when he wants to pull apart the Black-bird, my agreement to ride into town with him on his god-forsaken bike on the rare occasion he pines for company, the extra pack of Canadian Gold will appear in the fridge on the occasions I do the shopping, or cooking his steak extra rare when I am on cooking duty, even though I despise touching meat.

He will never hear any professions of love or commitment from me, and nor do I expect he would ever want them or return them, were I to.

Logan is a loner by choice…

.…at least that is what I believed to be true, until I found him fucking Jean up against a kitchen cupboard, at 2am in the morning.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I hadn’t been able to sleep. Wandering downstairs for a change of scenery, I had passed the kitchen on the way to the outside gardens. A place that was almost strictly my realm.

Noises as I passed alerted me, but I stop at opening the dividing door when I identify the owners of the voices I’d heard.

Logan and Jean.

I silently push the door open a crack and watch, uncertain of what I would see. Uncertain if I want to see anything.

Logan’s standing sideways, with his back almost to me dressed in Xavier School track pants, Jean’s in front of him, presumably against the kitchen bench and out of my line of sight.

“Don’t you get it Logan?” I can hear her say in an even voice. “It’s being coming on so gradually I didn’t realise what was happening until it was too late.”

“Jeanie,” he questions in the softest voice I have ever heard him use. My stomach sinks at his gentleness. A tone I’ve never heard from him before.

I do not know if what is happening is good or bad. I do not know if this means what I desperately want it to mean, need it to mean, or whether it's simply a conversation between two friends.

I watch in sick fascination as he reaches out a hand and snags her wrist. His grip is tight, desperate and she gives a painful gasp. Then ever so slowly, he turns her wrist in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her pulse.

Thump. A tentative, wary beat. I can almost hear it from here.

His eyes are focused on her intently as he raises her hand, placing a soft, reverent
kiss to her inner wrist, just over her pulse.

Even as my traitorous heart wretches, my own pulse raise at the gentle gesture, and I realise I am nothing but a hidden voyeur to the intimate moment.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump. Rapid fire beats.

His mouth plays over her wrist. I find myself falling into that gaze, losing myself inside it. Feeling the gentle whisper of his breath, the rasp of stubble against my own wrist. I raise it to my lips and rub them across the soft skin, desperately wishing….heart breaking….but realising that it was inevitable.

He moves forward, so fast I barely catch it before his mouth is on hers. A streak of red, and clear alabaster skin all I can make out of her.

The kiss is slow and soft, thorough and breathtaking, their first real kiss. I assume. The way she clings to him, the way he moves against her, devouring her, the clumsy bump and positioning of novel lovers proof enough that they’re new to each other.

My heart beats faster than is strictly healthy as his hands move downwards, and he follows to his knees. Dainty white legs appear, and then suddenly the blue satin of her pyjama bottoms flies towards the door.

I slink behind it, not wanting to be seen. After a moment I peer around again.

Jean is running her hands over his chest to the hem of track pants, pulling down. He steps out of them. Leaning forward, her head comes into view as she kisses his growing erection. He groans and pulls her up to kiss her again.

He is so careful with her. It is unexpected to me.

He handles her softly, like the most delicate of china or a newly born kitten. Tears well in my eyes. I crave what she has. The indestructible Storm Goddess- team leader- who has seen death and destruction, brought to tears by unrequited love. I hate that I cannot be happy for the woman I think of as my closest friend because she has something I want.

Am I that petty?

They have moved forward, both in clear view, naked and wholly consumed by each other. His hands move along her sides to her hips, his fingertips brushing over her skin as they move back up her ribs, one of his hands finding and cupping her full left breast. God, it's like his hands were made to hold her breasts.

I look down at my own small breasts, feeling inadequate.

"Jean," he whispers raggedly against her jaw, feathering a series of soft kisses along the side of her neck. "God, Jeanie."

I have never heard a more beautiful sound than Logan’s voice at that moment.

Jean runs her hand down to his erection, grasping it in one hand and steadily pumps it, stroking it with slow, even moves. His head drops back, his eyes closed. A rough groan escapes Logan and Jean laughs delighted. She bites at his shoulder muffling the sound.

I let my hand wander down, and rub my palm softly against the white satin covering my crouch. I flick a finger over my clit. There is no corresponding sensation, so I drop my hand away. I guess getting your heart broken will kill the mood. A tear runs down the side of cheek as I listen to the quiet noises of arousal and love making behind me.

Part of me is disgusted with myself. I knew this would happen. I would’ve been a fool to think otherwise. Any pain I feel as a consequence of the mating before me is my own fault.

But I need to see it.

I need to see the gentle reverence of his touch, the way his body worships her…to burn him from my heart. So I take a deep breath and still my falling tears. And I watch.

Ice forming around my heart, forever releasing it from future devastation.

Jean stands on her toes to kiss him, her tongue running into his mouth. I imagine it swirling around his teeth as her free hand moves to the back of his head, pulling him closer to her, deepening the kiss, kissing him harder. Rousing him form his stupor of sexual arousal.

He does not disappoint. Logan reaches both hands underneath her, lifting her off the floor. She wraps her legs around his waist as he backs her against the wall. Her arms go over his shoulders, her fingers digging into his upper back for support. His dips to her chest pulling one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling roughly, not enough to hurt, but obviously so much that it's almost too intense.

Almost.

Jean moves herself against him, thrusting her pelvis against his. “Logan”, she
half moans, half purrs.

He does not have to be prompted twice, my Logan…Her Logan… His hands lift her by
the hips a little and he slips inside her, thrusting all the way in one long, slow, fluid motion. Jean arches her neck, her back moving away from the wall slightly as she let out the groan to end all groans.

I watch, knowing how good it must feel for her. To get what she’s wanted for so very long. What they’ve both wanted. They’ve both wanted this since they met- perhaps for longer.

“Logan”, She moans again, letting him know she didn’t just need someone, she needed him. Sealing their bond.

“Hold tight, Darlin’,” he whispers into her ear, placing a kiss just below it, against the side of her neck as he moves inside her, pulling almost all the way out, then slamming back inside, hard.

The laugh I'd been about to release at his words freezes in my throat. The logistic of fucking an Amazon like Jean against the wall, are obviously lost on Logan. Superior strength and determination more than make up for leverage, weight and height problems.

If Jeans moans are anything to go by, he is succeeding beautifully.

"Jesus Logan," Jean growls before he does it again and she dissolve into a series of moans.

I look around, scouting for company. With the noise Jean is mg, tg, they’re likely to wake up the whole house. No body’s here though, thank the goddess, to witness my soul’s deconstruction. Here on the polish red-room floor.

Jean’s head is whipping around her hair running like a river of fire across his shoulders and down his sculpted back. She looks luminous as she gasps for him.

"Too hard?" Logan whispers into her ear, his black hair tickling against her neck. She doesn’t answer, lost in bliss. Stopping when he's almost all the way out of her again, she gives a shake of her head, and he slams into her again. Her legs tighten around him, along with the rest of her body. Jean leans her head against his shoulder, eyes closed, kissing whatever skin she can reach, as he starts moving in fast, hard little strokes. At the angle
he’s at, every time he moves, his pelvis brushes over her clit. I can tell Jean is close to screaming.

And then, just when I think there's nothing he could possibly do to make her come any harder he runs his lips up the side of her neck. He places the softest, gentlest of kisses against the shell of her ear. And he whispers, “I love you Jeanie.”

And I am gone.

I scamper off the tiles and sprint down the corridor, as Jean lets out a piercing scream. A moment later I hear him yell her name like a prayer, over and over.

Jeanie..jeanie..jean. Her name echoing in my head.

I only stop when I reach my attic room. I lean against the door I closed behind me and sink to the ground. Emotionally spent, feeling strangely detached. My heart thundering in my chest, and yet still.

Winds outside my window have picked up, rain falling heavily against the glass of my window. I take a deep breath.

I lay there until I can hear the early morning calling of birds, and the first rays of light paint my room in glorious shades of gold and red. Looking up only when I no longer feel anything inside. I walk to my bed and slip between the Egyptian cotton sheets. I shut my eyes. Calm and quite inside.

Frozen completely.

I am the indestructible Goddess after all. I laugh to myself…sometimes we all need a reminder of who we are.