Post by Wolverine on Jun 2, 2009 12:39:46 GMT -5
The sunlight streaming in through the slatted wooden blinds cut the silver cord of sleep and Wolverine's eyes opened gently. Before him, wrapped in his arms, lay the woman of his hearts desires. To some she was little more than a child, to others a curiosity, and to one in particular simply an object to be possessed. He softly and slowly reached a hand up to smooth away some stray hairs from her face and allowed the back of his fingers to gently brush her cheek.
He didn't want to wake her, but yet, he did at the same time long to look into her chocolate eyes once again. Placing his lips on her forehead he inhaled as he kissed her, taking in the smell of her after an evening spent in heated passion. The meal he had prepared for her was humble and at the same time sublime. The sushi techniques he had learned and even the vegetarian rolls were to die for, but the piece de resistance' was the sake.
He had listened to her tell of the events of her day after their rendezvous in the math room. His blood began to boil at the recanting of the twisted interlude she had found herself forced into in the boathouse. Then a swelling of pride filled his chest at the way she had handled herself and seeing her tell the tale as she felt a sense of freedom with Logan, enough to enact the scene for him to get a complete and proper sense of what had transpired.
It had them both worked up and their passion bubbled over into a frenzy of limbs and a tangle of tension relieving lovemaking. As they found themselves out of breath and covered in sweet sweaty droplets holding each other close Logan had asked if she was hungry. The light in her eyes told him yes and after a quick shower and some more passion he was ever so happy to dry her off and set her down before him as he made their meal in the time honored traditional way.
He told of his past, a thing he rarely did as much of it was painful and some even fragmented from the "psychic scar tissue", as Charles Xavier had called it, remnants of his tragic and traumatic life. He told of his time in Japan studying the art of sushi making and of how upon his graduation from his apprenticeship he was presented three casks of Sake. It was a special type of sake known as Koshu Sake, one that would age well. Yellowing with age and acquiring a honeyed flavor over the passing decades.
The first he drank in celebration of remembering where he had stored them, in the alcove under the waterfall in a tiny province in Okinawa, and toasted to his old friends and sushi master. The second he opened as he told the story and poured her cup full. He tasted it and again felt the rush of memories. He had to admit it was even finer and smoother, like honeysuckle and he savored it. The third he intended to keep to drink on his deathbed whenever that time might arrive.
Yes, it had been a wonderful evening and they had made love again and fallen asleep in each other's arms. This quiet time before she woke he lived it all again in his mind. A bird began to serenade as the rising sun warmed the earth and Logan saw those beautiful chocolate eyes open. "Good morning angel eyes, how'dja sleep?"
He didn't want to wake her, but yet, he did at the same time long to look into her chocolate eyes once again. Placing his lips on her forehead he inhaled as he kissed her, taking in the smell of her after an evening spent in heated passion. The meal he had prepared for her was humble and at the same time sublime. The sushi techniques he had learned and even the vegetarian rolls were to die for, but the piece de resistance' was the sake.
He had listened to her tell of the events of her day after their rendezvous in the math room. His blood began to boil at the recanting of the twisted interlude she had found herself forced into in the boathouse. Then a swelling of pride filled his chest at the way she had handled herself and seeing her tell the tale as she felt a sense of freedom with Logan, enough to enact the scene for him to get a complete and proper sense of what had transpired.
It had them both worked up and their passion bubbled over into a frenzy of limbs and a tangle of tension relieving lovemaking. As they found themselves out of breath and covered in sweet sweaty droplets holding each other close Logan had asked if she was hungry. The light in her eyes told him yes and after a quick shower and some more passion he was ever so happy to dry her off and set her down before him as he made their meal in the time honored traditional way.
He told of his past, a thing he rarely did as much of it was painful and some even fragmented from the "psychic scar tissue", as Charles Xavier had called it, remnants of his tragic and traumatic life. He told of his time in Japan studying the art of sushi making and of how upon his graduation from his apprenticeship he was presented three casks of Sake. It was a special type of sake known as Koshu Sake, one that would age well. Yellowing with age and acquiring a honeyed flavor over the passing decades.
The first he drank in celebration of remembering where he had stored them, in the alcove under the waterfall in a tiny province in Okinawa, and toasted to his old friends and sushi master. The second he opened as he told the story and poured her cup full. He tasted it and again felt the rush of memories. He had to admit it was even finer and smoother, like honeysuckle and he savored it. The third he intended to keep to drink on his deathbed whenever that time might arrive.
Yes, it had been a wonderful evening and they had made love again and fallen asleep in each other's arms. This quiet time before she woke he lived it all again in his mind. A bird began to serenade as the rising sun warmed the earth and Logan saw those beautiful chocolate eyes open. "Good morning angel eyes, how'dja sleep?"
