The Wolverine & The Black Cat

50 // In Cauda Venenum

C H A P T E R   50 :   I N   C A U D A   V E N E N U M

WARNING: Steaming Wolverine aka explicit sexual content ahead.

"Begin again, begin again, begin again

I've been watching your kindness keep
A lonely company
Look at the fire and think of me
I've been watching you creep
Around my wandering feet
Trying for years to flee

I need not one thing more
Oh, wrap the ground around
Your gentle winding mind
Oh, guard the pounding sound
Breathe in your fiery air
Oh, wrap the ground around
Give back an hungrier stare
Oh, guard the pounding sound"

I turned around abruptly, my voice gone missing when I realized I had left the door open and let the moon slide in, bringing Logan with it. He was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, the silver lights of the sky slipping down his body like a God's brushstroke. Logan was a whole new type of art I couldn't name; the only canvas I couldn't paint.

"I... what?"

"You heard me." He said, moving away from the doorway and closer to me, his eyes conquering all the land in mine as if I was his Age of Discovery.

No, I saw your lips moving and suddenly there was no space in the world for sound.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, though in reality I didn't care; I just wanted him to come closer until closer was him on me. Or in me.

"I was on the front porch, trying to get some sleep." He crossed the distance between us like a winner at the finish line. "Not sure if you noticed but you entered through the back."

"Well, sometimes it's good to go in from behind." I said without thinking and mentally slapped myself about a dozen of times.

"Oh, really?" He asked, the corners of his lip unfurling like the sail of a ship.

"I didn't... mean it like that. I wasn't thinking very clearly." I still ain't.

"Why is that?" He inquired, taking one final step towards me and leaving me both breathless and hopeful. We weren't touching, and yet every part of us seemed tied together.

"You." I gulped, suddenly very aware of everything, his scent of sweat and smoke and early summer, the clarity in his eyes that turned the lights on in me, the simultaneous lack of space and excess of tension between us, the sound of his deep, ragged breaths tickling my ears, as if being close to me but not touching me was this last level of a game he could never get through. "Isn't it always you?"

"I make the same question to myself all the time. But it's like the old times." He hushed, tone husky and lusty. "No matter where we are, we always meet late at night."

"Sounds like a prophecy." My breath fell on his chest and I heard his heart skip a beat as if it was receiving my carbon dioxide and turning it into oxygen. He should store all the air in the world now; before I completely took his breath away.

"Sounds like us." He replied, the curve of his lips like a crescent moon I wanted to step on and explore.

"I should..." I can't breathe. I'm dying from how much life he gives me, I knew it. I knew this would happen. "I should go back. To my cabin."

"Don't." He said instantly, his voice solid and commanding. "Stay. Don't run away from me, not tonight, not when I can feel you want to stay."

I don't want to stay. I want to run away from me to you.