Thanks: Jenn, obviously. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox.

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I think I’ve hated him for three months.

Not everything about him – it’s not an all-encompassing hatred of every single thing he does, no matter how small. Not any little habits or irritating quirks – they’re not the things that make you hate a person.

Why do I hate him?

He stays.

He’s not happy.

And he stays.

And I have to wonder why. I know enough – believe me, I know more than enough – to know that as good as I am at sex, I’m not the best he’s ever had. Not by a long shot. In fact, in Logan’s way of thinking I’m about number six or seven. He can’t quite make up his mind.

Of course he doesn’t fully realise he thinks this. It’s only due to a couple of accidental touches that I know at all, and without the blinkers that he wears I can see the forest for the trees. Or the ‘fuck of a lifetime’ to ‘not bad at all’.

Whatever.

He certainly doesn’t think I’m bad, and considering that he was my first –physically – that’s something to be proud of, don’t you think?

Absolutely. Gotta have that pride. He taught me that.

So why is his currently non-existent?

He has to know that I know. I don’t see how he can’t.

To be honest (something of a rare commodity) I don’t know exactly when I noticed. It simply occurred to me, several months ago, that he was never really happy. Hell, Logan was never the cheeriest of people but he did make some effort. Mostly smirking, but he tried. For me.

I knew that then. I know that now.

I’m not even sure that he’s happy when we have sex. Seems ridiculous, right? A man pretty much having sex whenever he wants, with a woman who knows what he likes, and he’s not happy.

I’ve said to him that it’s not the same, and he agrees. He doesn’t discuss reasons or explanations, he just says what is. That’s Logan.

Yet we still have sex. He’s always had a very strong urge to fuck, something he passed on to me, and still almost every night we have sex.

I remember one night I made him put on a pair of gloves.

That brought a smile to his face.

Okay, so maybe not. Maybe it was just a twinkle in his eye, but it was there.

I stopped trying after that.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the night I knew for sure.

If he’s unhappy, why does he stay? If he feels confined, why doesn’t he roam? I’m not the type who would try to keep him here. Not anymore. Someone like him doesn’t stay in one place more than six months. They never do. It’s not in their nature.

Logan’s been here well over a year.

"Congratulations," some of them say to me, if not in words then in their smiles. "Well done. I didn’t think anyone could tame the Wolverine."

Yeah. Yeah I did a better fucking job than I ever thought possible. And I hate what he’s become.

He stays.

He’s not happy.

Maybe…maybe that’s why he stays. It’s what he’s used to.

I should have told him to leave. I should have told him he had no business screwing me and staying here because it’s not in his nature.

It’s not who he is, and he can’t see that.

So when I go to his room and we fuck on the bed, and I actually enjoy it more because he’s not happy, I know why.

I’ve hated him for three months, but I’ve hated myself for longer.

He comes. He grunts.

I smile.

~FINIS