Title: Running with the Wolf
Author: Sonni
Email: sonni@primus.com.auGenre: Vignette with a little mystical help
Rating: Strong PG to potential R for adult concepts in places
Pairing: Logan/Storm
Setting: Post movieverse
Summary: The ancient ones work their magic.
Disclaimer: The characters of X-Men belong to Marvel Comics and Twentieth Century Fox Pictures. I'm only borrowing them and will return them in roughly the same condition in which I found them. As for making any money out of this - are you kidding?
Archive: List archives and anyone who has my other stuff. Otherwise, just let me know.
Feedback: Please?Author's Notes: A prelude to my story Bubbles. \\ denotes start and end of flashback sequence.
-----------------------------The ancient ones watched him from their mystical enclave. They had identified him as the one - the only one - some time ago.
Just as Hera had Zeus, their goddess needed a mate. For even though Ororo controlled the winds and the elements, the ancient ones knew she needed an anchor.
He had to be a strong, intelligent, passionate and powerful male whom the Goddess Ororo could love as an equal.
When they came together physically, he needed to be strong enough to ride the lightning the ancient ones knew they would create together.
Turning their gaze to a small town, the mystics turned their attention to the man on the motorcycle.
Years on his own, surviving by his wits had left him immune to the idea of love and that he had an equal mate somewhere.
The ancient ones needed to work fast. Summoning their powers, grey clouds began to fill the skies over the township and lightning flashed across the sky.
As the raindrops hit his face, Logan looked heavenwards and smiled. How often had Storm saved their arses in one mission or another by conjuring up one of her skyshows?
The rain was getting heavier now and hailstones were starting to pelt with painful intensity. He had better take shelter. Where was a bar when you needed one? The only place that had an awning to save Scooter's precious cycle from being turned into a dented mess was a bookstore.
Beggars couldn't be choosers.
While I'm in here, I might as well check out some of the shelves, he thought as he began to roam the store.
Mysteries... no thanks - too much like work... romance... it's a chick thing... sale bin... hey I'm game - what have we here?
Logan looked at the book and raised an eyebrow. "Women Who Run With The Wolves", said the cover in bold type.
Living in the mansion had made him think more about the future. Fuck, he had thought far too long about the past and his past as it was. As for getting any answers - well that was a joke. He needed someone who could go toe to toe with him yet fight for herself at the same time.
He remembered one incident from his time at the Professor's. Her poise and intelligence mingling with the mystical sensuality she wore as comfortably as those leather pants.
\\"Magneto's right: there is a war coming. Are you sure you're on the right side?" "At least I've chosen a side."\\
He had a choice to make now. She was a creature of nature and so was he. While 'Ro could control the forces of nature, Logan wondered about another natural force - passion - and whether the woman who was filling his thoughts could control that.
Logan hoped not. This wolf was not known for his subtlety and if he timed his journey right, he would be back at the mansion by New Years Eve. He needed a beer to think about how he would pursue 'Ro and make her realise running with this wolf was not such a bad idea after all.
He had chosen.
Logan ran from the bookstore and into the bottle shop across the street. He was heading towards the beer, when a sign made him stop.
"Champagne - Make it a New Year's Eve she'll never forget."
An idea began forming in his mind and a wicked, almost lethal grin came across his face.
Even though he was a beer drinker from way back, Logan suddenly realised champagne could be used in ways he had only just started to consider.
After midnight images of him and 'Ro tangling between the sheets, skin slick with sweat like the dew on the morning grass and creating their own lightning filled his mind.
He'd thought bubbles were such useless, childish things until now. Now, they were going to be used as an instrument of the most adult, hedonistic and sensual kind of torture imaginable. 'Ro wouldn't know what hit her.
From their lofty perches, the ancient ones smiled. Their goddess would soon have a mate.
The End