X-Men belongs to Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox. The story is mine. Hugh Jackman and James Marsden are not (but guys, give me a call if you want to change that!). They are happily heterosexual as far as I know. This is just a fantasy involving their X-Men characters.
I want to thank everyone for the incredible feedback. Some of you have sent such detailed and intelligent responses, I'm amazed. Special thanks to ArtisticBiGuy for a few ideas and a different perspective. Check out his story, Harmonic Dissonance, in Nifty's Gay Sci-Fi section.
This chapter is a bit rough in quality, very rough, and has no sex, but I think it's a turning point and I hope you read or at least skim through.
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The motel room was a relic of a bygone era. Beige walls beginning to peel. A large television with, as the half-dead flickering neon sign outside bragged, that one great cable channel. The mattress was as firm as cement and almost as comfortable. When Scott pushed his palm against the surface, he realized how he'd taken for granted the high-quality boxspring he slept on back at the mansion.
Logan nervously paced the dimly lit hovel, one eye on the door at all times, until he heard the other man settling onto the bed. With Scott's wavy hair mussed from the crush of the helmet, his soft hands firmly planted under his jutting chin, his legs spread widely while encased in snug khaki trousers, and the pursing of those full, chewable lips, the intense man, intentionally or not, struck a pose of seduction. So that's what Scott wanted. Logan nearly sighed from relief.
"Jesus, kid. Why didn't ya tell me this was all for fun?"
The temperature in the room skyrocketed as Logan began to lift the hem of his wifebeater. The undershirt was nearly transparent against his sweaty, matted upper torso, with imprints of grease and motor oil staining the flimsy fabric. Scott found himself hardening at the mere sight of a few inches of that bare, hairy, flat stomach, and had to catch his breath.
"No, no. That's not what it's about. I want to talk."
The trilling sincerity dripping from that last word returned the trademark grimace to Logan's features.
"Talkin' ain't what we do best. Let's just stick to what we do best."
He joined Scott on the edge of the bed, not-so-gently squeezing his inner right thigh.
"None of this touchy-feely crud. Gives me a headache."
Scott felt a nudge of dark humor in those words. He'd developed a migraine on the way over...one of those kind. They came and went at such intervals that some nights, like tonight, he was stupid enough to forget about them entirely. Jean could always talk him through. As he fought back a slight tremor of pain, he missed her more than ever.
Logan, oblivious, shot him a lusty, knowing leer that would have made a weaker man explode right then. He desperately wanted those hands inside his clothes, under his skin.
"Let's fuuuccck," Logan whispered in his ear, throatily, sexily. That hand had moved into dangerous territory now, and Scott gasped at the familiarity in the touch.
With every morsel of strength he managed to pull Logan's hand away before the knowing fingers reached his crotch.
"Logan, stop, please. When we started..."
"Fucking?"
With those words rasped into his ear, Scott, an experienced, grown man, blushed in spite of himself. Logan must have had an extra mutant ability to reduce anyone around him to pure jelly. Still, he continued, ignoring Logan's tongue digging in his ear, the sandpaper finger gliding down his neck.
"...having sex, I never wanted to talk. I just wanted to feel. But when I touched you..."
"You can touch me anytime you want, babe."
Scott ignored Logan's increasingly insistent flirting, as he had found his rhythm and was scared within moments he'd lose the courage to say what he wanted to say.
"When I put my fingers inside you, you went crazy."
The pall clouded over Logan's artificial mirth once again, and he sidled off the bed, beginning to pace again.
"You haven't SEEN me crazy, Scott. Say those prayers every night and hope you never do."
Scott sighed.
"Ya shocked me, that's all. I don't like surprises. Never have. We had a good arrangement, why don't we just go back to it?"
Scott knew he had never been so sexually drawn to any man or woman as he was to Logan. He had pined for that furry, ferocious stud in one way or another for too long to remember. Submitting to him would have been very simple -- too simple.
"I want more."
Logan rolled his eyes, nearly wearing a hole in the cheap carpeting by this time.
"What do ya want? My ass, huh? I don't do that."
"Why not? Have you ever...?"
"NO!"
Scott flinched at the bluntness of the statement, and he instinctually knew not to go any further, as curious as he was. The last thing he wanted was a fight. Logan's steps were short and strained, his fists wound tightly, as if he was going to punch the wall at any moment. Both men fell into silence, retreating to their separate corners until finally Logan recovered his voice.
"Maybe I'm off here, but you didn't seem too virginal when I shoved my cock up your ass."
Scott's response was quick and emotionless, barely audible.
"I wasn't."
Just noticing the large mirror nailed to the back wall, Logan was caught up in the grizzled reflection greeting him.
"Then you know how it works. I give, you take, we both get off. Simple. We know our places."
A pang of guilt shot through him, if only for a fraction of a second. He cared about Scott and he knew how many wounds the boy held inside. Scott's reflection moved closer to him, looked at him, almost through him, with a coldness only enhanced by the visor.
"You don't have to explain the rules. I know them. And I'm tired of them. I'm not just going to be a joh...somebody's garbage disposal."
Scott caught his mistake in mid-sentence. Johns...when was he going to stop thinking in those terms, expecting a wad of cash before or after orgasm. He knew it was hypocritical to rail at Logan for hesitancy when he had secrets of his own, but he didn't feel comfortable enough to talk about his past yet.
He sucked in a sharp breath as a dull, insistent ache began to envelop his scalp.
Scott's voice had been pitched so low that Logan could barely understand him even with enhanced hearing. He did pick up the last few words, and they made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"That's what you see me doing? Takin' out the trash?"
Scott nodded. Just wanted it to end...don't crack...don't let him know...
"Then you really are blind."
Logan regretted the words before he'd even said them, but the other man had no reaction. Nothing. Scott didn't want to fall into this trap. He'd held everything in, not just Jean's death, even when Jean was alive. He was the strong one, the rock, to her and the rest of the team. Jean leaving had robbed him of some of his spirit, but he'd never sank into self-pity or tantrums. He couldn't afford an outburst. Even as his head began to throb, he kept quiet, kept sane.
"Please, Logan, I don't want to do this. Let's just go, go away. Please."
To Logan, the lack of response was even worse than a tirade, and he couldn't stop himself.
"You wanna talk about feelings and then ya don't even shrug when I say something so rotten. Don't expect me to open up on cue if you're gonna act like some fuckin' Sentinel!!"
Scott could feel the pounding his in head, stronger and stronger. He began to rub at his temples while he tried to drown Logan out. Finally, he just blurted the words out, his volume level rising with each sentence.
"Why should I tell you my life story while you practically put me through a wall because I touch you without special permission? You think you know so much about me. From the first day we met you filed me away in a little box and never looked back. You're so wrapped up in your own brooding and pouting that you don't see how much I care. I can get sex anywhere, Logan, any time, any place, believe me. What I'd finally figured out, and what you don't want to hear, is that you mean more to me than just body parts. I don't want to suck any cock or fuck any ass...I want YOURS, and I want to talk and laugh and kiss...I want to know every little part of you. But now I realize that's not going to happen because all you want is a substitute for Jean."
Scott was so immersed in his own agony, his own ache, keeping himself from toppling over, that he could barely hear Logan screaming back at him, feel Logan shaking his shoulders.
"What better way to revive her than to make her boyfriend into a bottom slut! Isn't that right? Is that your idea of justice? Why didn't you just leave me alone? I asked and I asked and I-I-I-I...OHhhHHHH...."
With that, Scott crumpled to the floor, clutching his head in sheer agony. The power built inside him, layer upon layer upon layer. No one to talk him down. No one to care. Logan was still there, somewhere, the last person he wanted to see right now. Just make it all go away, go away...
"GET OUT NOW, WHILE YOU CAN!!! GET OUT GET OUT GET..."
"I'm not leavin' you like this, kid. Lemme help, lemme..."
go away, go away, go away...
His visor was the final barrier. A barrier too easily broken. He could no longer see, the red shadows replaced by sheer black in every direction. Screams filled his ears, and slowly he realized they were his own. Suddenly, another scream joined his. Then shattering. Then a thump. No sounds now, not even his own screams. The pain had overtaken every cell of his body. He couldn't fight, didn't remember how, couldn't even if he did remember. He surrendered to the darkness which enshrouded Logan, their battered reflections cast in dozens of the tiny glass shards which surrounded them.
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