Looking Wrongs
"I can't believe you let him take my motorcycle." Almost pouting, Scott
Summers stalked into the Professor's office. It was late, the women were
upstairs getting the kids settled. Three and four to a room, they were inclined to
chatter and giggle the way teenagers did, and needed supervision to get them all
to sleep.
"I knew he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation." Coming from around
his desk, Charles Xavier looked tired. He still hadn't recovered fully from the
mental blast he'd taken when he'd used Cerebro after Magneto had Mystique
tamper with it. The last thing Scott wanted to do was add to his worries,
so he forced a smile and quit whining.
"It would just burn his butt if he knew you'd planned it that way."
"Well, he doesn't and I'd rather he didn't find out. We need to keep an eye on
him, but if he's aware of it we'll just drive him further away."
Sitting neatly in an armchair, Scott laced his fingers and stared pensively out
the window for a moment.
"I know you don't like him, but all jokes aside, Logan is a man on the verge
of a crisis. He's run too hard, for too long. I don't know how much longer he
can keep this up."
"And what happens when he blows?" Scott asked, leaning forward, speaking
urgently. "I can't help but feel we've let a dangerous man loose, that we've sent
a wolf in among the lambs. You heard what he did to Mystique - if the
ambulance hadn't gotten to her she would have died, and he didn't even mention
it to us!"
"What would you have done, Scott?" Xavier turned his chair sharply and
snapped at him. "Abandoned the mission, abandoned Rogue? Sacrificed
everyone in New York City?"
"I would have left her alone. It would have been a hard choice, but it would
have been a choice. He didn't even think twice."
"I do not think Logan values life so cheaply." Xavier paused, his eyes
searching Scott's face. The younger man wondered what he saw there, that
made him relax and breathe more easily. "You are not angry with Logan -
you're angry with yourself. Why, Scott? The mission was a success. Magneto is
safely locked away. And if Mystique is still free, at least she's doing us no
damage with her current masquerade."
"It's Jean." He ducked his head, and mumbled.
"You fear that she feels something for him."
"He's just so - so - basic."
"So different from you, you mean."
He looked up and met Xavier's eyes.
"I think he makes her feel like she can do things, and I don't. As team leader
I'm always holding her back - protecting her."
"You and Jean have been together since you were very young. It's only
natural that she would be curious when someone as primal as Logan comes
along. His attention is very focused, it would have to be flattering." Charles
patted Scott on the back, passing him. "You should go spend some time making
her forget him, because you're hitting the road tomorrow as well."
Scott groaned loudly.
"You're not going to make me?" He covered his face with his hands. Xavier
looked back over his shoulder as he opened the door.
"Someone must be there when he loses control. You're the only one who has
the power to stop him if it comes to that."
Scott got up and followed Xavier out of the room, shaking his head.
"Just think how much Jean will admire you for it."
"That is not funny."
***
"Xavier's school for the gifted, gifted child speaking!"
"Very funny, Jubilee - get the Professor for me."
With his back to the wall in the dingy club, Scott tried to keep his head
down while still watching the man he was following. With his senses it didn't
seem possible that Logan didn't know he was there, but there was a blizzard
blowing up outside and he wasn't going to stand out in it when he could be
inside and warm. Of course, if he let Logan slip his tail they could always
pick him up again, as they'd done several times already; between the tracking
device he'd planted on the motorcycle and Cerebro it wasn't likely Logan was
going to fall off the face of the earth.
But the other man had been traveling steadily for two weeks, barely
stopping to eat or drink, or sleep, and when he did sleep it was usually on the
ground, beside the cycle, sometimes in the snow. Even Scott was worried about
him at this point. Scott had been getting hotel rooms - he had one waiting down
the street, for whenever Logan went to ground for the night or he got tired of
watching him drink.
"This is Charles. Scott, is that you?"
"Yes, it's me. How's Jean?"
"She's fine. Everyone is well. Where is Logan?"
"On the other side of this cave they call a club." Scott waved a hand in front
of his face in a doomed effort to clear a bit of the smoke. With his visor on it
looked like a pink cloud. "He's too far away to see me, and he seems to be set
on drinking himself into a coma."
"With his healing factor that could be quite a trick."
"Yeah. Look, Professor, I'm going to get myself a room, I don't think he's
going anywhere for the night. Can I talk to Jean for a minute?" He turned a
little while he talked and stared over at Logan. Two women were approaching
the table - they looked like prostitutes or close enough, and he was mildly
surprised when the man waved them off gruffly without even a word.
Nursing a broken heart, Logan? Good. Because she's mine and she's going
to stay mine. You'll never be what she needs.
The man at the table poured the last shot from a glass of whiskey and
slammed it back, then raised his hand for another. The bartender, a big, bulky
man in biker leathers, brought it over himself, and there was a terse exchange
that made Scott straighten and pay attention, though he couldn't hear the
words. Then Logan pulled a handful of bills from his pocket and passed them
over and Scott relaxed as the bartender handed him a new bottle.
"Scott? I was just running a simulation - the Professor thinks I'm ready to
start training to use Cerebro on my own!" His Jean sounded so sweet, so happy.
It made him ache to hear her and be so far away.
"That's great, sweetheart. You're going to do great." He was afraid that she
was pushing herself too hard, that she was going to hurt herself.... "I've got my
eye on your favorite Canadian."
"How is he? Is he alright?"
"He's currently drowning his sorrows, one bottle at a time." Scott sneered.
"Scott." She didn't sound happy anymore and he winced, wishing he'd kept
that to himself. "You don't know what he's been through. You don't know what
they did to him - what they took away."
"You're right. I'm being judgmental and priggish." He agreed. "I just can't
imagine anyone falling this far voluntarily. I don't think he's bathed in the last
week!"
"Think about that he must be going through. If he finds out who he is -
what does that mean to him? How old is he? Where is his family? Have they all
died while he was wandering? What if he was a criminal to begin with?"
Like he's not now? That man's a killer looking for a victim, Scott thought,
but wisely did not speak it aloud.
"Scott, they drank champagne. The men in the suits and uniforms, they
watched while the doctors began cutting him open, and they drank champagne
to celebrate the experiment."
Oh, dear god. What kind of people had done this?
He looked over at Logan again. The new bottle was half-empty.
"We all have our burdens, Jean." He said softly, gently reminding her that
none of them had had easy lives. To live without ever actually seeing her face -
that was his burden.
The jukebox in the back was playing, and the song ended, and another came
on, and he wondered who had started it. The chorus was plaintive but the
words hit home. Logan tilted his head back and drained another glass, hanging
his head over the back of the chair and apparently listening.
And I don't want the world to see me -
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am
"Jean, I've go to go. I want to get him out of here before he gets into any
trouble." He wasn't sure what drunken Logan would do, or what he was going
to do, but suddenly skulking about in the shadows and just following him didn't
seem good enough.
"Scott, what are you going to do?" She sounded worried, and with good
reason, he guessed, because if she didn't know what he certainly didn't.
"I'm going to quit following him and help him. Tell the Professor I'll be in
touch."
"Scott, wait, let me - Scott? Scott!"
"Jean - I love you." He hung up feeling terribly guilty. The Professor could
contact him telepathically if he tried, but he suspected that he wouldn't. In fact,
he wouldn't have been surprised if this was what Xavier had intended all along.
Only he'd made it Scott's choice instead of forcing it on him.
A cloud of cigar smoke puffed above Logan's upturned face and hung there.
His free hand crawled over the table looking for the bottle. A line from the song
caught Scott's attention.
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive
"Logan." Had he ever said the man's name without frustration or anger
before? Without mocking him? Yes, he had a hard life in some ways, but
nothing to compare to this. Logan was probably fifty years older than Scott, but
in many ways he was a teenager, an adolescent; a man lost from himself.
"What the fuck you doing here, Cyke? Come ta claim yer scoot?" The rough
head tilted back down and bloodshot eyes blinked at him. Apparently he could
get drunk if he tried hard enough. "It's out front."
"I came to see if you needed any help." He winced, that wasn't the way he'd
meant to put it.
Logan stared for a moment and then gave a bark of laughter.
"Yeah, right."
"No. I mean it. I want to help you."
"I travel alone." With one hand on the table for balance Logan pushed
himself up then swayed for a minute. He grabbed the bottle and waved it before
taking a deep gulp. "Go home, pretty boy. I've got a mission of m' own."
Scott watched him with pity in his eyes. He knew that would make Logan
angry, so he tried to hide it, but that didn't keep him from feeling it.
"Fuckin' kid." Logan snarled.
And I don't want the world to see me -
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
"There's a hotel a couple of blocks over - will you let me take you there?"
He asked, standing. The bartender was approaching, looking concerned and
possibly angry. Logan's voice rose.
"I don't need yer help, kid, or yer goddamned professor's! Git outta my life
already!"
"We gonna have a problem here?" The man had a baseball bat. Scott almost
flinched, imagining what damage Logan could do if he was threatened.
"No, no problem. I'm getting him out of here."
Outburst faded, Logan was standing, swaying. He nuzzled the mouth of the
bottle and swigged down a few more swallows. Scott approached him
cautiously, wondering what these people thought of his sunglasses, and bent to
look into Logan's face.
He put an arm around the man's shoulders, hesitantly; an act of faith. Faith in
what the professor and Jean believed, because he didn't believe for himself.
"Come on, Logan, let's find you a bed for the night."
"Nobody in it but me, what's the fuckin' point?" Logan drawled, his dark
eyes showing a bare hint of awareness. He accepted the arm and leaned into
Scott when he began to steer him out the door. "I'm okay, kid, you can back off
now. Go home and play hero and leave me alone."
Someone had played that song twice and it began again as they made their
way out, Logan half-staggering and Scott hard-pressed to keep him upright.
The older man seemed somehow frail. Beaten. But why now? He had a chance,
a lead.
Maybe Jean was right; he possibility of discovering the truth was more
frightening than living with the not knowing.
And you can't fight the tears that ain't comin'
Or the moment of truth in your lies.
When everything feels like the movies,
yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.
And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
The music followed them out into the bitter cold night and Scott felt his eyes
sting and cursed himself for acting like a melodramatic adolescent. He should
know better than that. He did know better.
Logan was no longer protesting, but he held himself stiff, not touching Scott
any more than he had to.
"Just let me get you warm and fed and I'll call us even." He told him when
they got to the SUV he'd rented. It astounded him that Logan could ride that
bike in this weather without killing himself, healing or no. "My ego needs it."
"Yer ego needs a swift kick in the ass." Logan replied but he climbed into
the passenger seat and collapsed there without further complaint, sucking at the
almost-empty bottle like a baby. Scott got in. Started it, and drove down the
street, trying to see through the drifting snow.
He'd get him cleaned up, warm, make him eat something. Then, if Logan
really wanted him to, he'd leave him alone - but he'd keep following him.
Wherever this journey took them, he had a feeling he'd be needed at the end.
It was kinda nice to feel that way - it had been a while since he really felt
needed. The team ran smoothly, the school did too. Sometimes he felt
superfluous. He wasn't the best teacher, though he liked the kids and they liked
him well enough. He knew Jubilee called him 'Stickman' behind his back, a
reference to what she perceived as his stuffy nature.
The hotel was nice, and the doorman looked askance when Scott walked in,
half-propping Logan up. The shorter man glared at the doorman and he looked
away quickly.
In the elevator Scott leaned Logan against the side and stepped away to give
him some room, but then he had to help him down the hall to the room, where
he sat the older man on one of the two beds.
Then he bit back snicker as Logan flopped down, a distinctively
un-Wolverine-like movement, and Scott sat on his own bed, propping his
elbows on his knees and contemplating the older man. The much older man, if
Jean's calculations were correct.
He wondered sometimes how she could think so little of herself. She'd
survived medical school, four years of a ridiculously difficult schedule between
the team and her studies, she'd always been the stable one, but it seemed like
she still felt like the fourteen-year-old girl that had been able to see too much
too soon. Perhaps that was why she was attracted to Logan; he'd obviously
seen far too much as well.
Maybe they had more in common than he wanted them to.
"Ya look like yer best friend et yer dog." Logan's accent was thickened by
the amount of alcohol he'd drank. Scott decided that it was odd that his vaunted
healing power didn't sober him up. But he wasn't really hurt until he poisoned
himself, was he? "She still luvs ya best."
"Jean?" Scott was startled. He leaned over and Logan's eyes opened. They
stared at each other.
"I'd never git a skirt that special." Logan rolled to his side and half-curled on
the bed. "She needs a man, not a' yella brick road reject."
"You're a brave man, Logan." It felt even stranger to say that, to attempt to
reassure this man. "You kept your promise to Rogue, kept her safe."
"Let Maggie snatch her first." Thick arms stretched over Logan's head,
hands restlessly opening and closing, idly rubbing at knuckles divided by the
claws that, it seemed to Scott, ruled his life. He wondered if the pain of their
extrusion lingered at those spots that experienced it so often.
"That wasn't your fault. We misread the situation. If we had known he
wanted her, we would have protected her better."
"I promised. You didn't." One knee raised, foot flat on the bed, the other
stretched. He looked taller lying down.
"We all promised, and we were all wrong. But we saved her and everything
turned out okay." Unsure about what he was supposed to do, Scott leaned
over, there was only about a foot between the two beds, and put his hand on
the bed beside Logan's head, meaning to offer comfort, not knowing if it would
be welcomed.
Not sure really why he felt he needed to make the offer.
It could be that he was just the nice guy he'd always thought he was. It had
always felt like everyone else thought so too.
It irked him that he wanted Logan to think otherwise, and he didn't
understand why either way.
"Whuzzat?" Logan blinked at his hand, then at him, his eyes first
widening, then narrowing It seemed he was thinking.
"I am trying to communicate my willingness to provide you with some
comfort." Scott said as lightly as he could. "You don't seem to be getting the
message."
"You want ta comfort me?" Logan pushed up on one elbow and glared
at him. Stubbornly, Scott did not move his hand.
"Is that such a bad thing? You're hurting, you're alone, and I'm here. I
can get you something to eat, some coffee, something for the headache you're
going to have..." Scott trailed off when the other man began to snicker. It
quickly became a guffaw as Logan rolled to his back and flung his arms wide.
"You - coffee - oh, shit, I *am* pathetic here... comfort - *snort* -"
Not understanding at all, Scott withdrew his hand and sat on his bed,
watching, feeling embarrassed and angry and not sure why. Not sure what he
had done to earn this treatment.
"What did you think I meant?" He ventured after the laughter died
down, when Logan was once again just lying on the bed, eyes closed, breathing
hard.
"You don't wanna know." It was dismissive, and that made him more
angry.
"You think you know everything." He snapped, standing and leaning
over the bed, the better to shout at him. "You don't know shit about me or my
life! Quit making assumptions based off how I look and who I love and tell me
what the hell you thought I was suggesting!"
"This." Both large rough hands came up and grabbed his face and Scott
scarcely had time to draw a breath before Logan arched off the bed and his
mouth covered Scott's completely.
It wasn't a nice kiss or a gentle one. It was all pressure and heat and
need that Scott discovered when he was pushed over onto his back and Logan
crawled over on top of him and lay on him and kissed him harder, his arms
going around Scott to hold him tightly, trapping his own arms beneath Logan's,
and he was too shocked to protest, at first, and then he felt the hard, heavy
proof of desire against his belly and realized that he was hard too, and that he'd
never felt anything like this; Logan's weight and strength holding him down, the
need that emanated from the older man, and the heat that was rising between
them.
"Mmm - no, no, Logan, stop - no -" He struggled and for a moment it
seemed that this would be rape, if it were going to happen at all, but then Logan
sat up, straddling him, freeing him from the kiss, and he lowered a hand to
Scott's groin and roughly felt the hardness there.
"This is what I thought you was offerin', kid." He drawled. His eyes
were almost black with arousal, the pleasant brown swallowed up, and he
breathed heavily. "Is this what you meant by comfort?" He leered and Scott was
offended, and angry. Did the man think he was some kind of virgin, that he
would be frightened by this display of base passion?
"I can take anything you can dish out." He growled back, startled by
how good it felt to get angry at this man, to let it show.
"A challenge!" Logan sounded delighted. Let's just see which of us is
the better man."
He undid the snap and zip of Scott's jeans and rooted around the front
of them, not being careful about it. Scott winced as hairs were pulled but then
Logan had his cock, was pulling it into the refrigerated air of the room and he
was hard and throbbing and he wanted Logan to touch him more.
"Not bad at all, m'friend." Logan sat back on his heels, holding Scott's
cock in one hand and studying it as if it were a puzzle piece he needed to make
fit. "I can see why Jeanie's so hot fer you."
"Leave her out of this." He couldn't even say her name, the enormity of
what he was doing beginning to register. Would she forgive him, if she found
out? Would Logan use that against him to get her for himself? What kind of
man was he that he had someone like her at home; sweet, passionate, loving,
and here he was on this bed with this animal?
He expected some sort of comeback from Logan, but the older man
didn't say anything, surprisingly. Instead he leaned down and sucked Scott's
cock into his mouth as far as he could, and Scott shouted and then bit his lip,
trying to restrain the noises he wanted to make, and it was maybe the best thing
he'd ever felt.
Logan worked him quickly, without fanfare, sucking and bobbing like a
pro, which made Scott wonder, just for a minute, where he'd learned that, and
then it seemed like his world was going to turn inside out and then Logan -
stopped.
"What?! Don't -" He moaned, too far gone to care what he sounded
like, reaching for the other man with both hands, trying to arch enough to get
some pressure on his aching cock, alone and bereft, standing straight out of his
pants.
"Hang on, kid." Logan slipped from the bed and dropped his clothes
apiece at a time. There was no attempt to be seductive, they were just in the
way. By the time he got to his boxers Scott was following suit, flinging his shirt
and jeans and undershirt and various underthings across the room, not caring
where they landed. Then he was nude, and Logan was nude. Scott caught a
glimpse of heavily furred, stark musculature and then Logan was lifting the
covers and sliding into the bed and he scrambled under them himself and Logan
was turning onto his stomach and looking over his shoulder and growling at
him.
"There should be some shit in the bathroom that'll work."
Work for what? What did he mean?
Logan lifted on his knees and rubbed his ass against Scott's still-
throbbing cock and it registered, he understood, but he didn't *understand*.
"What? You want me to - I don't, I never -"
"I know that, kid, so you get ta be on top. But hurry your ass up before
I change my mind and nail you to the mattress."
To be inside this man? To leash that power, that rage for his own
satisfaction? The thought sent hot spikes of desire through Scott. He got up, as
gracefully as he could manage, and stalked to the bathroom, so hard that it hurt
to walk.
There was shower gel there, in a cute little bottle, and he grabbed it,
thinking it would be slippery enough, and then he caught sight of himself in the
long mirror.
His mouth was swollen and puffy at the corners. His sunglasses were
crooked.
His cock stuck out from his body at an insistent angle.
He stared, wishing he could meet his own eyes. Wondering again what
they looked like at this moment. When he wanted someone this badly.
What the hell was he doing?
Was it wrong? There, that was a more reasonable question. There was
no way he could answer the first one right now.
He wasn't sure. They were both adults, and he wasn't a person that
discriminated against people who liked the same sex, for whatever reason. So it
wasn't wrong because of that. He was in a relationship, but if he told Jean -
well. He didn't know. How she would feel about this.
There was movement behind him. More awareness than sound, and he
turned, and Logan was there, unabashedly nude, one hand running through his
black hair, which still fell into the same pattern when he quit.
"Cold feet?" The words were not a challenge. More of an
understanding. " - 'm pushing, I know. Sorry. I got no right to act like that." He
turned and Scott new that if he left, without any more words between them, this
chance would never come again.
Maybe it was the hurt in the brown eyes, or the defeat he'd seen in those
broad shoulders, earlier this night.
Or it could have been the way his body responded to those gruff words,
parts of him aching that had never wanted to be touched before.
Something made him reach out. Grab Logan's shoulder and turn him
around, pull him close, bend his neck to kiss him, the man significantly shorter
than he but so clearly male.
This was different. A different kind of kiss. A different feeling.
Softer, yes, but not soft, like kissing a woman. Firm and hot, with the
brush of unshaven skin to make it interesting. Logan tasted overwhelmingly of
whiskey, but it wasn't unpleasant.
Big hands at his waist, fingers stroking restlessly, as if the man couldn't
stand still for a moment. And Scott knew very well that he could when he had
to.
He broke it off and looked down at Logan.
"This isn't wrong, is it?" Look who he was asking.
"Not ta me. She - she might think differently."
Different, yes. This man, this Logan, that stood so quietly in the circle of
his arms, fingers stroking, stroking, and did not fight, did not protest or even try
to take control of the situation.
A Logan that rather made Scott uncomfortable to consider.
"I think she would understand." And he was beginning to. To
understand many things, things he had been blind to before.
The pain Logan was in, the fear that drove him, and the conviction the
man carried, that he would never be better than a barroom brawler, that he
deserved no more, despite the good he had done.
Scott began to understand why the professor had sent him after Logan,
and not someone else.
"It's okay." He told the older man, taking a hand in his and leading him
back to the bed. "I can give you what you need."
"Don't need anyone." Logan glared but it faltered after a moment of
Scott's bland return. An advantage of the glasses; he always won staring
contests.
"I know. But it's okay to want someone. It's okay to want to be close
to someone." He pushed Logan gently and the man swayed, then lay back on
the bed with a sigh, turning to his side and pillowing his head on one arm. "It's
been along time since you were close to someone, I know that now."
Logan looked back over his shoulder and answered with a touch of his
usual attitude.
"Think you know everything, kid?"
"I know how to do this." Scott lay behind him and spooned close,
pulling the blanket over them both. Logan stiffened and he slipped an arm
around his waist. "I know that I can hold you and comfort you. You wouldn't
have asked for it if you didn't need it."
"I don't *need* anything,"
"Of course not." He was humoring him and Logan must have known,
but let him get away with it. "But you want this." He slid his hand down and
wrapped it around the heated erection. It was short and very thick, like Logan
himself. The man moaned softly and began to move his hips, pushing into
Scott's hand. "That's it - go with it." Scott encouraged.
It was awkward to open the little bottle one handed, but he got the lid
off and a bit poured onto his finger before reaching blindly behind himself to set
it on the nightstand, which held a clock and a lamp and the remote control for
the television. While Logan pumped slowly into his hand, Scott ran his gooey
finger down the warm crease and stopped at the opening, touching it gently,
and then with more force. He got the tip in without a problem and then Logan
stiffened again, and Scott leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, the back of
his neck.
"Relax, Logan. This is what you want, right?"
The words came back at him, hard and low.
"An' if it is? What willya say later, Cyclops? How much you gonna
make me pay for this?"
They hit him in the gut and Scott sucked a breath slowly, no moving his
hands, trying to spread the pain around.
"I'll never say one word." He promised, and wondered why he was. For
Logan's sake or his own? Why was he doing this? Because he wanted it or
because Logan needed it? Did it matter? "If that's the way you want it. Not one
word, to anyone, ever. Not even you."
Because Logan needed it, he decided. And because he wanted it, for
more reasons than he could count; because he never had, because he'd never
felt this way with a woman, because he wanted to make Logan feel better,
because somehow Logan had become important to him, the way the professor
and Storm were important; someone to learn from, someone to count on,
someone to fight with and fight beside.
"I want ta sleep, one night without dreams." Logan almost whispered it.
His body relaxed and Scott pulled him closer, as close as they could get, his arm
mashed between them, finger sinking more deeply into him, slicked with the gel.
"Let me try to help." Scott whispered in his ear. Logan was shorter than
Jean, too, which made his head come only to about Scott's shoulder in this
position. "Let me - be nice to you - and then maybe you'll be able to sleep. I'll
hold you, if you want, and no one will ever have to know."
"I'm s'possed ta trust you?" Logan twisted in his embrace, upper body
turned so he could look into Scott's face.
"Yes." Scott surged up, looked down on him. "Trust me, Logan. I'll
take care of you."
Logan stared at him for a minute and Scott's finger, camped in hot
tightness, spasmed and the man seemed to remember what they were doing.
"Okay."
He lay back down and Scott put a few inches between them, his hand
picking up the rhythm that made Logan moan, and he got the first finger
worked all the way in and then the second.
Last year he'd taught the boys sex education class while Jean taught the
girls, and because Trade had been in the class Scott hadn't skipped over
anything that might interest the homosexual boy as well as the straight ones. In
addition to the health textbook he'd offered a selection of reading material,
including The Joy of Sex and the Gay Joy of Sex, as well as the Kama Sutra and
the gay version of it as well. Not because he wanted them trying those things
out, but because he wanted them to be aware what could be done, and how
other people had seen it, and how it worked into some societies and history.
He'd thought it was important to read the books too, so he'd be ready if
they asked him any questions. They hadn't, though. Not many. He was too
stuffy. And the books had both embarrassed and intrigued Jean, and led them to
several nights of rather playful lovemaking.
Now he tried to remember more of what the gay sex books had said - to
not stretch, because that led to tearing, but wait for the partner to relax enough
that three fingers would fit without pain.
Well, Logan was taking one easily, so he pulled it out, got more gel, and
tried with two. It was a tight fit, but the man moaned again, more deeply, and
pushed back against him and Scott thought it was the most erotic thing he'd
ever done, strange as that seemed.
He shuddered as he thought about what it would be like, to be inside
this man, his heat and passion. Would Logan lose control? Would his claws
come out? Was there any danger?
It didn't matter. He wasn't going to screw this up by talking too much.
This was what Logan needed and what he, Scott, wanted. Whatever happened,
they would deal with it.
"Hurry." Logan grunted. "Been - too long."
Scott took that to mean that it had been too long since the man had sex
and that he wasn't going to be able to hold off his orgasm much longer. He
slowed his pumping hand and withdrew the two fingers, getting more gel and
going back with three. At the first knuckle Logan started to squirm, and before
they were all the way in he was panting and holding still.
"Am I hurting you?" Scott leaned forward to ask, worried.
"It'll heal. Don't worry about it, just do it."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Do it."
"Even if you can heal."
"Just do it."
"Logan -"
"*Do* it, Cyke."
With the growled instruction rumbling through his mind, Scott pulled
out his fingers as carefully as he could and then fumbled for the bottle, his own
need demanding satisfaction now. Hoe upended it over his groin and belly,
rubbing the gel all over, thinking that at least they had another bed to sleep in,
though the maids weren't going to be happy about this. He was vaguely, briefly
sorry that he was making work for someone who probably wasn't paid enough
to put up with this sort of thing.
"Hurry up." Logan shifted in his embrace, his skin thick with sweat. He
smelled strongly male. Not rank, but musky. Scott thought it was the way this
man should smell. The body hair rubbed when Scott snugged himself closer to
the broad, strong back, his cock seeking entrance where it was seldom granted.
It was hard, and he had to strain, hips clenched, the ring of muscle
protecting its territory until Logan held his breath and hissed, and then the head
popped through and Scott had to bite back a curse because it was so tight it
was almost painful. Logan grunted and shuddered and Scott had to force
himself to hold still and not thrust immediately, because he knew he was hurting
the older man, and he didn't want to do that.
"Sorry!" He gasped, using both hands on Logan's hips to hold himself
off, to keep some space between them. "Sor-"
"Do it." Logan groaned, it sounded like his teeth were clenched. He
reached back a hand and grabbed at Scott's hip, fingers scrabbling for purchase
before grabbing hard enough to leave bruises. "Please, kid, do it already. Fuck
me."
Scott was already moving before Logan finished speaking. The relief
was enormous, he felt the world rushing by him at lightspeed, his hips pistoning,
slamming into Logan's ass far harder than he'd meant to.
"Fuck me hard." Logan whispered, and then he was hanging on for the
ride.
Scott had never felt anything like it. There were no words to describe it,
only sensations; hot, tight, wet, hard, strong, basic.
It was very basic. Need and desire all tied together, from his cock to
Logan's ass. His body to Logan's. Building to some cathartic climax.
"Logan!" He gasped, and found that words were hard to form, his brain
was busy, occupied with other things. But this was important. "Logan!"
"Can't you do anything without talkin, kid?!" The man beneath him
grunted, twisting backwards, and Scott suddenly knew that if this felt good
there was something that would feel better. He stopped, with a lurch, holding
Logan's hips still, and rolled them both forward, so that Logan was squashed
on the bed beneath him and he was on top and Logan heaved up and forced
Scott back to his knees, which was exactly where he needed to be, and with his
hands on Logan's hips he fucked him, hard, steady thrusts in and out, pounding
him while Logan grunted and growled and writhed on the end of his cock, his
face pressed to the bed, head turned to one side, eyes wild and staring.
Yes, oh God, yes, Scott chanted in his mind, and then realized he was
saying it aloud and then he was shouting it.
"Yes, God, yes, this is amazing, you're amazing, Logan -!"
There was a movement of the broad shoulders and one of the hands on
the bed vanished beneath them and then Logan bucked back into Scott's
thrusts, hard, lifting him and Scott took that to mean 'fuck me harder' and so he
did and then Logan was up on an elbow, his back curved, his hand pumping
hard and Scott knew what he was doing and it was too much.
"Yes, oh yes, oh God yes!" He screamed as he came, his body tight and
hard, the pleasure torn from him, though him. Seconds later, before he'd had a
chance to breathe, he felt the passage clamp around his sensitized cock and
knew that Logan was coming, because the man moaned so deeply, as if his
heart were being ripped from his chest, and he let his face drop to the bed and
beat the mattress with his free hand and then, quite suddenly, went limp.
"Logan?" Scott's mouth was thick, he could barely form the name.
"Logan?" Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did you pass out?" He wanted to ask
these things, and others, but his mouth wouldn't make the words and his body
was rapidly losing the war with sleep.
"Th-"
Scott rolled them back to their sides and thought that they should get
into the dry, clean bed. His hand skidded through a puddle of thick warmth that
he knew was Logan's come. The other man wasn't having any more luck
forming words than Scott was.
"Thank you." It was a harsh whisper, and he clenched the man hard,
hugging him with all his strength, knowing he wouldn't hurt him.
"No, thank you. Thank you for sharing that with me, for letting me help
you. Thank you, Logan."
"Wuz good." Logan muttered. Scott kissed the side of his face, bristles
damp with sweat, and then kissed the side of his neck.
"Better than good. Incredible." He chuckled weakly. "I bet you can
sleep now."
"Wake up stuck to the sheets."
"I can fix that."
With a lurch Scott gained his feet, fighting to lift Logan, who was
smaller but heavier, and managed to stagger them both to the second bed and
get them covered. Logan even helped with the last bit.
Then they lay still. Somewhere in the movements Scott's cock had
slipped free and he felt worn out. Exhausted.
Logan had to be feeling the same, and sore to boot. Scott spooned
behind him again and wrapped an arm around the muscled waist and held him
close. Logan sighed, and snuffled, dropped a kiss to the arm, and fell instantly
to sleep, as far as Scott could tell.
The X-Man wasn't far behind. He just had enough coherent thought
capability left to wonder if Jean had felt any of that, as far apart as they were,
and to hope otherwise.
If she had, though, he was sure she would understand.
Logan slept without dreams that night.
End.
