X-Men the movie belongs to 20th Century Fox and Marvel Comics. I am making no claims on copyright or profit. This is just a fantasy of mine. Please don't distribtute this without my permission. Don't read this if you aren't over 18. And so forth.
Thanks for the overwhelming response to the first chapter, guys. Your e-mails were very helpful and intelligent. Please send me more! Tell me what you like or don't like about the story. This chapter is still more about setting up, but there's some good stuff near the end, and chapter 3 will be very sexual. Again, please send in comments, what you want to see, what kind of sex, any other characters, etc.
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The days grew even longer for Logan and Scott. The pain managed to get even worse, the talons drawing in deeper. Not only could they never resolve their feelings for Jean, they could not face their feelings for each other, living beings who had to walk and breathe and move in each other's space. The mansion had never felt more like a prison.
Logan was amazed at how casually Scott managed to stare right into his face during group briefings, teaching lessons, all the usual formalities. His voice was as cold as the glint from his ruby visor. Every time Logan tried to speak to him about any non-team matter, he was greeted with an ice wall to rival anything Bobby had ever produced. Scott made Logan feel ashamed, worthless. And he didn't give even a hint of what had happened between them in the kitchen that night. To the students and his fellow team members, he was doing as well as could be expected. Only Professor X sensed his latest sting, and he did not confront him about it. Give him time, the Professor had stressed to concerned parties again and again.
Logan was not so patient. Images of slamming Scott against a wall, slicing every piece of clothing off with a single claw, and devouring his exposed, aching body, one pulsating, strained muscle at a time, occupied too many of his thoughts. One way or another, they had to end this.
He found Scott in the Danger Room, pacing himself through endless training exercises. Shrugging off the leather jacket which was his second skin, he leaned against the heavy double doors, silently surveying the moment before him. Scott jumped and pivoted with dizzying speed, lashing out at invisible demons with a manic frenzy. His tank top, transparent and literally soaked to the skin, clung to his small, erect nipples and light traces of chest hair. His high-cut shorts clung to his sculpted thighs and revealed the large, smooth jock cup encasing what appeared to be a sizable and very aroused member. The smell of tesosterone engulfed the air, an intoxicating and pungent scent caused by the younger man. Logan adjusted his crotch as Scott leapt in a way that caused his shorts to ride deep into his bare, moist crack. His bubble butt was framed in a lewd and incredibly sexy fashion. Logan almost never wanted this session to end, but Scott finally realized he was not alone in the room.
"Scott, this can't go on."
"I'll tell you when I'm done."
Logan cursed under his breath as he began briskly walking in Scott's direction. Scott tried his best to ignore him, engrossed in finding a towel. Logan changed course and followed him again.
"Scott, I...fuck, didn't you used to be the sissy type who loved to talk out his problems? I'm trying my best here. Just talk to me."
Scott pressed the towel deep into his face and under his arms. Maybe if he stayed this way long enough, Logan would go away. It didn't work in all those wet dreams, but this Wolverine was wearing a lot more clothing, so...
"I'm not going anywhere."
The determination in his stance, the arms rigidly held in front of his stomach, spoke louder than the hushed, almost tender tenor of his voice had. Scott dropped the towel into his gym bag, willing himself to make eye contact with Logan. He was so tired...so damn tired every second of every day. One glimpse at Logan and he knew he was not alone in the exhaustion. For a moment, Scott considered letting down his barriers.
"Scott, this isn't just about you and me, y'know. It's a fucking team. I don't wanna be responsible for Storm or Nightcrawler gettin' their heads blown off cause we have a tiff."
The memories of Jean engulfed in floodwaters hit Scott again, rattling his insides, taking everything he had not to let his knees buckle.
"You mean like the way we...excuse me...I let Jean die? Thank you so much for reminding me of that again. It's not like I don't think about her every minute of every day."
The hardening of Scott's boyish facial features made Logan grimace. He wasn't used to this grief counseling, or whatever the word was, and his good will was about used up.
"Not what I meant, bub. Jean made her choice and..."
"DON'T SAY THAT!!!! I can't take hearing it again."
Logan's grimace became a full-blown sneer and he stepped closer, feeling the heat rising inside both of their primed physiques.
"You think I wanna say it? Say she's dead, that she let herself die? Part of me died is buried in those waters with her. And part a'you is too, I know that. But part of us is here, slugging through every day. The way you been shuttin' down lately is about more than just her. It's me. What happened last week. We gotta talk about this, Scott."
Scott stepped back, gathering his bag. He was about to storm past Logan when a determined grip on his arm kept him firmly in place.
"Are you deaf? Time to talk."
"Let me go."
Logan ignored him. He wasn't going to stop now.
"I'm sick of thinking about you every spare minute I got. I'm sick of you bein' in my dirtiest dreams. I'm sick of worrying about your problems when you don't give a shit about anyone but yourself."
Scott couldn't meet those eyes, the pain in them, the pain he saw in himself. He finally wrested out of the painful hold on his arm. His tennis shoes echoed across the floor. He could hear Wolverine right behind him. Faster. Better. Stronger.
"Scott, wa--ARRRGHHH!!!"
A bolt of pure pain coursed through Logan's unprepared body. He flew across the room, slamming against the mat with a loud thud. Numbed by adrenaline, he stood up again. Scott was at the door, unmoving, shaking from rage and...something else.
"Don't even try that again, Summers."
Scott aimed his visor and another, smaller beam shoved Logan back down on the floor. His faded wifebeater was charred and in pieces, his chest hair singed and sizzling from the intensity of the optic blast.
"That was my favorite shirt...NOW I'm mad!!!" Wolverine growled.
He expected Scott to flee, or fire another round. As he surged to the door and slammed his opponent onto the mat, he barely noticed Scott's resistance. Scott laughed at him, taunted him, as Logan held him down, their crotches thrusting together in unknowing rhythm. Logan's jeans were about to burst when Scott spit directly in his face.
"Jean NEVER loved you. We hated you. You're an animal. A disease. A..."
Logan's fist connected to Scott's beautiful visage of evil. As he punched two more times, then three, he didn't take time to question the condescending smirk which greeted him. Same old stuck-up Summers, Wolverine growled to himself.
"Use your claws." Scott whispered.
Now THAT was enough to make Logan pause.
Scott grasped his wrist, pushing it against his pulsing jugular.
"So much easier...put me out of my misery."
Logan's head, feeling heavy and full of shadows, dropped low.
"Is that why you said this shit to me?"
Scott, laughing through his bleeding nose and busted lip, nodded.
"C'mon. Just one claw. That's all it takes. I can't live with this anymore."
Logan shook away the shadows in his mind, as he finally began to realize how deep Scott's pain was. He shifted his weight off of Scott's hips, his stiff shaft hanging erect and heavy in his jeans. He laid beside Scott on the mat, leaning over to speak face to face.
"Bein' a man is all about taking shit, Summers. You of all people should know that. I miss Jean, but she'd want us to live. To fight for what she'd fight for if she was still here."
Scott turned his head away in shame, guilt. Logan had felt the same guilt so many times.
"You feel guilty cause you're here and she isn't. I can't tell you to get over it, cause I tell myself that every morning and I still haven't. But together, we can work on the pain. You listening?"
Scott grunted through his bruised mouth. Logan propped himself up on one shoulder, transfixed by the tears streaking down from underneath the hard plastic of the visor. Instinctively, he wanted Scott's skin against his. Scott seemed to sense his thoughts, as he turned and they stared deep into each other. Tentatively, he reached out, Logan's stubble harsh against his smooth fingertips.
"It's more than that. I-I've wanted you for...a long time. Maybe she knew. Maybe that's why..."
Logan cut off his words with a tender, careful kiss. Scott moaned, from the pain of his wound as well as deep pleasure. He had sucked a few men off, bent over more than once, half-clothed fumbling for quick cash, when he was living on the streets, but they'd never kissed. Women were slow and loving. Men were fast and rough. He had imagined Wolverine, an unstoppable force of rage tearing his clothes off, fucking him raw. This was Logan, exploring his hot, breathy mouth, sucking in his bee-stung lips like a mini-cock.
"I don't wanna hear that shit anymore. She knew how much you loved her, needed her. Lady told me herself. To love two people in your whole life is a miracle. To love 'em at the same time is either a miracle or sheer hell. I don't know. But I'm gonna find out."
Logan jumped to his feet, extending a hand. Scott looked up at the charred, furry stud in his painted-on jeans, and felt a lump from his throat all the way down to his shorts. He took Logan's hand, and the contrast between callused and soft felt right, felt perfect. They headed for an empty shower.
"Enough of this self-help shit. Let's get naked." Logan chuckled at his own comments as he tore off the scant remains of his undershirt. He watched Scott pull off his own shirt, openly ogling the sleek and toned lats, pecs, abdominals. Scott meanwhile tried not to gawk at Logan unbuckling his belt.
"S'ok...I'm not shy."
Logan turned around, bumping and grinding his surprisingly slender hips as he slithered his jeans off of his hair-dusted, muscled globes one inch at a time. His deprived monster slapped against his belly, the pink head peeking out from a drooping sheath. He turned around again, reveling in Scott's gasp at the breathtaking sight before him. Through the red tint of his visor, he could make out every strand of hair in the thick forest of chest and belly hair. The belly was flat and firm, with even his navel partially hidden by persistent fur. The trail broke off at his slim waist, but his massive thighs were covered. The only respite was in his uncut, drooling shaft. He had a size to be envied, but what impressed and frightened Scott the most was the thickness. That lump he'd yearned to parole from a denim jail so many times was puffing out to the size of his wrist. Scott wondered where Logan wanted to put that wrist, where he himself wanted that snake to be plunged into, and the thought sent an erotic shiver down his spin.
"Turn around." Wolverine growled.
Scott complied, too nervous to tease. He kicked off his shorts, shoes, and socks, trying not to blush at the low whistle his rear end was greeted end.
"Never knew a man could have such a perfect ass."
Indeed his cheeks were flawless, his best feature. Round, hairless, unblemished, firm yet pliant. He had once been told on the streets, in the midst of a violent fuck, that he had an ass to eat dinner off of. From the growl ringing in his ears as he began to slide off his jock pouch, he knew Wolverine was hungry for much more than food.
Wolverine licked his chops appreciateively at the true one-eyed wonder on Cyclops. Lengthy, maybe even an inch or two ahead of Logan's. On the narrow side, but pink, sheer paradise interrupted only by a heavy blue vein running along the underside. His body was a true work of art, and as Logan had always suspect, smooth all over aside from the light smattering of hair on his legs.
"I knew you shaved your pubes...knew it. Maybe I can help out with that next time."
Scott blushed again.
"Wolv - sorry - Logan, let's not think about any next time. Just right now."
Logan nodded. As Scott started the water, he moved in close, breathing in the younger man's sweet scent. Still so pretty, even with the bruises. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in to lick away a trace of blood and sweat half-frozen on Scott's left cheek.
"Guess it's showtime." Logan muttered.
"I-I guess so." Scott replied.
Logan grinned. Unable to stop himself, he smacked the bare, bubbly buns pushing out at him. Scott winced, and tried to ignore the surging yank in his crotch at the touch of that hard hand on his soft skin.
"Get your hot ass in there," Logan purred.
"Playtime's just about to start."
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