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A/N: This is the only NC-17 story I'll ever write.

It contains extreme sexual situations, but it's *not* a "PWP" (porn without plot) piece. There's a point to the sexual content, and the reason for the NC-17 rating is for extremely graphic sexual scenes and difficult sexual/abusive situations.

Please don't read expecting a simple PWP story--you'll be disappointed.

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 Tears for the Child

"Open," he said softly. He kissed her knees gently, watching the small tremble in her thigh. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, 'Ro. Trust me."

She nodded, but her fear almost outweighed her anticipation and lust. She was afraid, and he was trying to take it slow to keep the mood pleasant, enjoyable, and--well--hot.

Logan didn't understand why it had taken almost a year into their marriage before she'd consented to this. She wasn't a virgin and he certainly wasn't a boy scout (he couldn't even remember his first time) but it had taken a lot of coaxing before she trusted him enough to go on this little "treasure hunt." She'd always wanted him above board and at eye-level. He figured it was all about her damned trust issues and desire to be in control all the time, but now he wondered if it weren't something else. He glanced out the window. It was raining hard outside. She was really scared.

She paused and spread her legs for him, but she wasn't nearly wide enough. Her shyness turned on his animal nature, but he wasn't going to let it take control. Not yet. If she got scared, they probably wouldn't have any more sex for a year. The idea sent a chill down his back. The woman was the biggest sexual powerhouse he'd ever known, and the only one who ever went the distance with him. He wasn't about to jeopardize it.

To coax her, he decided to treat her like a skittish deer. He placed his elbows on the end of their mattress and gently ruffled his fingers through her thatch. She moaned softly in pleasure, and he let his fingers travel up and down her bikini line and through the folds of her inner thigh. He used the back of his hand to make delicate, soft swirls up and down her leg, and he smiled slightly at the strong, sweet odor from her crotch. He changed tactics and began using his thumb to massage the jumping, twitching muscles surrounding her vagina, and she opened her legs on her own, enjoying the clash of his delicate touch and calloused hands.

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Wider."

She didn't pause as long this time, but he could still smell her doubt and apprehension. Hell, he was her husband--he didn't have to smell the doubt, he knew it from instinct. He sighed softly and let his hot breath caress the muscle twitch. He kissed it with his lips and her muscles tightened again. He shushed her softly, called to her from her deep forest, and started again from her knees. This time, however, he let his kisses roam her thighs so her sensitive skin could get used to the feel of his scratchy beard. He glanced at her hands, watching how they clenched and unclenched the covers in desire...less fear, now, but the fear was still there. But he was wearing her down.

"It ain't so bad, is it?" He whispered. She glanced up for a moment, and he could feel her relax even more when she saw the patient kindness in his eyes.

"N-no," she said softly. "I love you, Logan."

He nodded, and kept kissing between her legs. "I know ya do, darlin'. The feeling's mutual. Don't ever ferget it."

She swallowed and lay cautiously back on the pillow. His soft words must have done the trick, since she spread her legs and allowed him access. He started grinning, but wouldn't let her see it, and pulled a pillow off the bed for his knees. He'd be down here a while. He had a whole lot of explorin' to do.

"Trust me, 'Ro," he said softly. "Just trust me. I love ya, right?"

He saw her head bob cautiously.

"You know I ain't ever gonna hurt ya, right?"

She nodded again.

"Okay. Just relax." She still wasn't as calm as he'd like her to be, but he was too turned on to wear her defenses completely down. He glanced at her once, feeling her breaths deepen as his index finger traced the tip of her left knee, down her inner thigh, past her crotch, and up the other side to her right knee. He let his lips travel slowly down the same path, while avoiding the crotch. He paused carefully after each kiss to take in her emotional state and noticed that the rain had lessened, ever so slowly.

He decided to go to part two.

His kisses on her legs deepened and became wetter. He switched from kissing to delicately tasting her skin with his tongue. At the first new wet feel she tensed some, but he'd expected that. He let her body get used to his tongue by alternating with kisses. He had started at her knees but now worked his way down her inner thigh and towards her thatch. He kissed the patch of white and she jumped, but he simply smirked and twirled the white hairs through his fingers. He alternated between kissing and twirling the pubic hair, which started 'Ro moaning again. His heart quickened when a small, clear stream dripped from her legs, and he ran his finger across it. His eyes closed with hunger as he placed the drip in his mouth and sucked it from his fingers.

"God, woman, it's ambrosia," he muttered huskily. "I'm glad I love ya so much. Couldn't take it slow if I didn't."

She sighed softly, as if agreeing with him. He decided to go for the kill.

The tip of his tongue darted out and played with her opening, passing by the outer labia with a quick flick. She gasped both in pleasure and surprise, and he chuckled. He kissed her mons pubis quickly and breathed deep, enjoying the scent of arousal. He was definitely going to take his time.

He covered the diamond opening with slow, soft kisses, not daring to enter in just yet. She squirmed and panted a little, and lowered her hips for him. A few new steady streams came from her body and he watched them with careful delight. He smeared his finger up and down her inner thighs, both marveling and enjoying the wetness of his wife's excited body, and was rewarded with enough for a small taste. Not enough to drown in yet, but he expected that would come later. Come. He almost laughed at the stupid pun.

"You still okay up there?"

"Mmm..."

He smirked. "As long as we're on the same page."

He came in closer now, alternating between his tongue and fingers, gently licking and tasting her thighs, her triangle, and hood. She was definitely getting excited, and so was he. He couldn't understand what the hell she was so afraid of. She was lovin' this and gettin' off on it as much as...

"Hm." He stopped.

The rain outside had died down to a soft summer sprinkle, but suddenly kicked up to a shower with his uncertain words. 'Ro felt his concern, and the rains picked up on it.

"Logan?"

"Nothin', darlin'. Just relax."

She tensed again due to the colder change in his voice, but she didn't close up completely. He appreciated that. He carefully and softly parted her inner labia with his thumbs and gently rubbed the skin back and forth. His face hardened slightly. There were scars there. Hard to feel, because they were ancient as hell, but there were multiple, hairline scars where no woman should have them. He wouldn't have noticed them unless he came down here, since he didn't pay that much attention above ground. She'd just felt good, and he accepted the fact that every woman's body was different. Softly, delicately, he parted her further and probed her opening with his sensitive fingers. He didn't go very far but the further up he went, the worse it seemed.

" 'Ro," he said quietly. "When's the last time you went to your gyno?"

A smaller peal of thunder echoed outside. She closed her legs to him, sighed heavily, and rolled onto her side. She hugged her knees into her chest in a semi-fetal position, and he sat carefully in front of her.

"Talk to me," he said gruffly. He hadn't meant to sound harsh, but he didn't like it when she closed up on him. They weren't Cyke and Jeannie.

"I...I do not have a gynecologist, Logan," she whispered softly. Lightning lit up their room, but he ignored it.

"Why the hell not?" His hands were shaking but he stroked her hair, knowing she needed as much support as he could give her. He wanted to let the animal loose and demand some answers but she didn't need that right now. She needed to talk.

"I never had a gynecologist. I find the very idea of it...sickening."

"A lot of women do, 'Ro, but they still know they need ta go. If nothin' else, ya gotta know if yer pipes are actin' up. 'Specially if we're thinkin' of havin' some rugrats around the place."

Thunder echoed across their room, and Ororo's voice caught, like a choked sob. He'd never seen her eyes so far away or so distant. He grabbed her chin and stared straight into her haunted blue eyes. "Tell me what happened."

She looked down. He calmly lay behind her and cupped his arms around her, protecting her like a jungle cat protecting its mate. He squeezed her tightly and growled in her ear. "Tell me," he insisted.

Her voice quivered. "I hope we can have children, Logan. I really do."

"Why can't we?"

"I--" The rain came down in torrents and she was near sobbing. "I was nine, Logan. Nine years old. How could they? What kind of horrific, sick--"

She stopped short as the wind whipped a large tree limb against their window. She swallowed down her anger, her fear, and her disgust and the storm dissolved into a slow, steady, constant rain. Logan admired her, and wanted to cry for her. He swallowed and answered for her, feeling the rage build inside him.

"You were raped."

"That came later," she mumbled. Her voice became cold and controlled because she had to keep it that way. He understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. He knew that after she told him the whole story, he would let the animal out, and the animal would kill the people who hurt her in the Danger Room.

"I was not always free in Africa Logan. I...I never told anyone this."

"Go on."

She paused, expecting him to become a feral monster that she would have to control, but he wasn't going to let her get off that easily. He would force himself to stay calm until he heard the story. "I was alone. It was before I could control my powers, after I had been a thief in Cairo. I was a very arrogant child. I felt I could survive in the world, and set out to prove it. I traveled across several nations, some with warring tribal factions.

"It was late in the day...almost night. I--I was out of water. I placed my canteen into the river, and--"

Her voice caught. She wanted to squirm from Logan's arms and run off, to run into the winds and disappear, but his arms had tightened around her waist and she could not move. She shivered, reliving the memory. "A man...stood over me, told me the water was foul and that he had fresh water in his truck."

Logan growled, but Ororo shook her head. "No," she said bitterly. "He was not the one. He was simply a slave trader selling young girls to fighting tribes."

"He took you?"

She nodded. "A white-haired, blue-eyed infidel with brown skin was worth quite a lot of money, apparently. By selling me, this man ensured the safety of his people for another year."

"You sound happy about that."

She shrugged. "He did what he had to do."

He climbed from her side and flexed his fists, pacing the room like a tiger. Bile rose up in his throat. "If I'd been there, 'Ro--"

"You weren't," she said simply. "We all had hard lives. We all had to survive."

"It wasn't fucking fair."

She glanced over her shoulder. "You of all people, Logan, should know that life is not fair. Why complain? We can only choose how we live it."

"An' double-talk's a great way to get around your emotions."

She was quiet for a while, knowing he was right, but not liking it. Logan knew how to get around her lofty words and to get her to confess the truth. She both loved and hated him for that. He seethed a little and she let him, until he realized she would remain silent if his rage took control. It forced him to calm down. After a while he put on some boxers and sat on the edge of the bed, listening. Waiting. She continued when she felt safe.

"What do you know of the situation in Rwanda?"

He flexed his fists. "Hutus versus Tutsis. Mass genocide."

"Yes," she said softly. Her voice had a new faraway tone. "I wonder if my jailers were one of the hundreds of thousands slaughtered."

He didn't condemn her anger. He didn't know how long he could hold off his. His voice lowered a few octaves. "What did they do, Ororo? I'm tryin' to understand. I want to."

"I know. I--It's difficult. I don't want to talk about it."

"And it's eatin' ya up inside. Is that any better?"

"No."

She was quiet again, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. Her breath had become slow and casual, almost trance-like. He realized, though, that she had gone to that dark place, and saw her attackers again. She was doing what he often did--fighting them in her mind, executing them one by one. He realized her breathing had slowed as she played their deaths in her mind.

"I do not scar, Logan. That is part of my mutation. What they did...what they did was go beyond my mutation. They...strapped me down every day. Boys, men, women--sticks, knives, machetes, razors, whatever could cut skin, whatever could enter my uterus. When they realized I could not scar, they used me to discover new ways to torture their enemies. They would cut, wait for me to heal, and try new incisions a few days later."

Ororo could feel her husband tense. His body became hot with rage, but he said nothing. His fists flexed, testing the metal in them, and he fought with his darker half, fighting to remain silent until he could control his voice and his anger. She knew it wasn't working, though. He was losing the struggle. He, too, had been treated this way. Worse, perhaps, when his jailers realized he could heal from mortal injuries. She could only imagine how difficult it was for him to hear his wife had been through a similar experience--probably as difficult as it had been for her to tell him.

"Mother fuckers," was all Logan could whisper. He rose from the bed again and paced the room. His claws slid from his knuckles, and he saw the men, the villagers, touching his wife, stealing her innocence...He roared, and punched a hole in the wall. "Dammit, 'Ro. God-fucking-dammit."

She felt very tired, and her husband was very angry. She didn't blame him for what he did next. She let the expletives tumble from his lips, let him tear out light fixtures, let him smash the bathroom window; let him toss a chair down the hallway. She let him, because he was expressing what she could not. His rage helped her deal with her loss.

Thirty long, ugly minutes passed before he returned, panting and sweaty, and he leaned over a chest of drawers with his back to her. His claws slid back and forth from his knuckles like a kneading cat. With a sad smile she slowly rose from the bed, hugged him from behind, and placed her head on his shoulder. Her snowy hair tumbled over his chest, and the action calmed him somewhat. He dug one hand into her hair with trembling fingers and swallowed.

"Tell me who they are."

"I wish I knew."

His voice was barely human. "'Ro, I'm gonna have to kill something. Those fuckers--"

"Wolverine. Logan. I love you, but this is not the way. You know it and I know it."

She left him in his rage and sat cautiously back on the bed. He suffered, but pulled the animal back into himself. He calmed down and took deep breaths. He glanced over his shoulder, and she was still there, still patiently waiting, and he bit back the rest of the red haze and stood over her.

"What else?"

A small muscle twitched in her shoulder, which he guessed was the equivalent of a shrug. "They discovered what hurt the most," she said in her detached voice. "What would hurt women the most. Then later...they decided to rape me while my wounds were still fresh. To see how I would react."

He glared at the carpet, fists flexing. "Fucking Jesus."

She smirked. "No. God definitely was not in that room."

His burning eyes snapped up. "That's not funny, 'Ro."

"No, it's not."  She felt vacant and raw inside, and the pain ached. She sighed heavily. "Goddess, Logan. I feel empty."

She couldn't think of anything else to say, but Logan sat beside her again and took her into his arms. He was still trembling with fury, but at least he was controlling it. His grip tightened around her, as if he feared she would shrivel up with hate. But telling him had been the last step in her healing process. "I escaped when their enemies raided a neighboring village one night, and they left to take up arms against them. They forgot all about me." She nibbled her lip cautiously. "I assume they used what they learned from me against their enemies...I'm sorry, Logan."

He jumped off the bed, shocked. "You're sorry? What the hell have you got to be sorry for?"

"For not telling you. For being afraid. For doubting you. For...for being so shy. I should be over this by now."

"Shit," he whispered. His feral nature suddenly dissipated in favor of comforting his mate. He gathered up her naked body and pressed her into to his chest, rocking her gently. He began crying over her, and it broke her heart, but her eyes stayed dry. "You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for, darlin'. Nothin'. I'm surprised you like sex at all. Surprised you trust a violent shit like me."

She shrugged and buried her head into his shoulder. "I learned to separate the horrors of that day from my life. It happened to another child, a child who died in Rwanda many, many years ago. I stand in her place, but tonight...tonight I visited her grave."

He kept shaking his head. "I wish I'd been there. I wish I could've protected you. Dammit--"

She felt the rage build in him again. She kissed him delicately and wiped the tears from his eyes. "You weren't, but I can live with that. I couldn't live with the idea of you hating me, after what I've told you."

"Never darlin'," he said hoarsely, rubbing her cheek. No wonder she kept being The Goddess. His voice came out even raspier as he saw the contentment in her eyes. "Why the hell did you choose me, woman? Why?"

"I love you," she said simply. "And we chose each other, did we not?" Her small smile returned. "I think, perhaps you were the only one who could satisfy my needs. My body is too numb to feel anyone less...strenuous."

He couldn't believe she cracked a joke. After what she said, after...She pushed away from him and kissed his neck softly. "I am healing, Logan, and you are my husband. I shared it with you so we could heal each other, together. My past is your past. Can you accept this part of my life without wanting revenge? Will you still treat me the same way sexually, without reservations?"

He looked haunted and pained. "I'll try, 'Ro. I love ya too much not to."

She nodded. "That's all I ever wanted, Logan. A simple chance." She allowed her tears to fall now, and the rain cleansed its mistress. Logan simply took her in his arms and sat with her, letting her mourn the lost part of herself.

But now they mourned it together.