saga/title/fandom: Going All The Way (X-Men)
rating/genre: (NC-17) - Drama/Romance
warnings: slash, language, adult situtations, violence/death
summary: Logan and Scott might have a future. (Logan/OMC, Logan/Scott)
comments/disclaimers: Standard disclaimer applies.
Scott wears a loose tee-shirt over sweat pants; his feet are bare. Logan, half-covered by the top sheet, is bare-chested as usual. In a few seconds, when Scott pushes him back against the pillow, he will feel his companion’s thick cock pressing into his thigh, quickly growing aroused himself. Logan’s amused suggestion – ‘‘You wanna go all the way?’ – is not unexpected, nor is it unwelcome.
“When were you planning on doing this?” Scott will say, smiling into Logan’s tousled hair. “Or were you waiting for me to get a clue?”
Logan’s indistinct reply: “I’m a patient guy – I wasn’t in any hurry.”
Scott is going to chuckle at that, even as he arches under Logan’s roaming hands. He has forgotten the feel of another body against his own – Jean was his one and only lover – but the sensation, however novel the context, remains excitingly familiar. Logan will kiss him, his heavy beard and whiskers scoring Scott’s softer skin, warm hands skillfully sliding under his waistband and over his buttocks.
He will feel Logan’s muscles tensing under his weight, abandoning himself to his new lover’s encompassing embrace, to the beery tang of his companion’s breath against his lips. The bed will probably creak beneath them, and Scott is likely to gasp: “The kids.”
Logan is going to whisper against his ear: “‘Lock the door.”
When he turns back from the locked door, Logan will have kicked away the sheets. He is wearing running shorts, and his erection is going to stretch the loose fabric at the groin. Grinning sheepishly, Scott will already be pulling his tee-shirt over his head. From his place on the bed, Logan’s eyes might trace the sparse trail of hair from his lover’s navel all the way to the errant tendrils of pubic hair where Scott’s sweat pants dip at the waist.
“So,” Scott is going to drawl, carefully sitting out of reach of Logan’s hands, “is that one of your claws, or are you just glad to see me?”
Logan will hold one hand up, the middle claw sliding out slowly, and then tap the adamantium against the mattress at his side: “‘Up here, remember?” Logan will reply, sheathing the claw. With his other hand, he’ll cup his cock, groaning as he slides his palm roughly over the broad head.
Although Scott will settle beside him, hip to hip, Logan is going to pull him closer, so their erections meet and pass, still constrained by their clothes, murmuring: “‘What do you wanna do? I mean, I’m good for whatever you want.”
“‘Don’t know,” Scott will gasp, bucking against his lover’s groin. It was completely different with Jean: with Logan, he already knows how an encircling hand will feel on his companion’s cock. He’s not yet sure what it might be like to press between Logan’s thighs – or for Logan to mount him – and he will be torn between the familiar and the novel.
“You know” – when Logan at last breaks the uneasy silence – “it doesn’t really matter how we get off. If sex makes you uncomfortable, we can—”
“Jean was my first,” Scott will whisper. “‘My only. And now you’re going to be my first, and I want it to be. . .”
Logan will then rest his cheek against Scott’s – another moment of unexpected tenderness. “Yeah, I know. And it will be.”
And now Logan’s left hand is stroking Scott’s side, stealing by degrees down to the waistband on his sweats. His forefinger hooks over the fabric, teasingly; Scott laughs and wriggles until the pants hug his hips. His erection droops toward his thigh, and Logan makes an “o” with thumb and index finger, applying a slight pressure just below the cockhead. Scott’s lips pucker in silent pleasure.
Tentatively, Scott seeks out his companion’s groin, tracing the shape of the thick penis still hidden from his touch. He helps Logan strip, the two of them shifting until they are again facing each other, and Scott smiles as he kicks his own pants over the side of the bed.
There is no mistaking what they are doing. Logan’s eyes search Scott’s face before he rolls closer, his own erection braced against Scott’s, and grips their two penises in one sure fist.
Scott’s hand comes down on Logan’s shoulder as Logan’s ankle hooks on Scott’s. Logan’s cadence is perfect, Scott thinks: it is as if they both already know one another’s bodies, the little tricks that make all the difference.
Logan’s eyes are dark, boring into Scott, alert to what gives or impedes pleasure. Both men are biting their lips to keep from crying out; when Logan grunts, they both laugh.
“‘Quiet,” Scott chides, but when he comes his soft cries must be audible in the next room. Logan’s release comes a moment later: Scott’s eyes widen as jet after hot jet scores him.
“It’s been a while,” Logan mutters, ruefully.
Scott grins. “I think I’m flattered.”
They soon got their breath back, and still hands and legs linked them together. “We’re making a mess,” said Scott.
“True,” Logan agreed, reaching for the blanket: he tugged it up between them, patting it with a smile. He reclined on one elbow, smirking, and Scott could see that his lover was already hard again.
“‘One of the nice things about my recuperating power.”
“So I see.”
Logan cocked his head, directing Scott to lie on his back. “‘Not that I doubt my sex appeal,” he began, “but this usually works.” Scott glanced over his shoulder as Logan clambered up the bed, scooping up condoms and lubricant. “If you want, I mean.”
“What do you—?”
“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want – tell me to stop and I will.” Logan gestured with one hand, and Scott obediently raised his knees. “This should feel good; don’t be brave, all right?”
He tore open a condom package, unrolling the latex over his forefinger. Drizzling some lube over the end, he briefly warmed the condom with his other hand, then slowly pressed it between his lover’s buttocks. Scott frowned at the pain, at the strangeness of it, but he waited for Logan’s promised magic. After a minute or two, the pain subsided: glancing down his torso, he could see his erection pulsing against his pubic bone.
“OK, then,” said Logan, who knelt above Scott, his free hand at the base of his lover’s cock. His tongue darted out, swirling the head, and then the crown slid past his lips. Scott was big enough to make deep-throating difficult, so Logan bobbed his head, sucking to an internal rhythm, and Scott clutched the sheets to keep from fucking his companion’s mouth.
An infinity of time passed, and Logan sat back, tearing at another condom packet. Scott opened his eyes, panting, to see Logan seated beside him: “Here,” said Wolverine, handing him the condom. He then lay flat, legs spread wide, his penis already drooling against his belly, and waited.
“Shit,” Scott whispered. “‘Warn a guy, would you?”
Logan laughed, nudging the tube of lubricant against Scott’s hand. Scott gulped, striving for control, then liberally anointed his cock. Kneeling between Logan’s thighs, he paused.
“Go on; I can take it.”
Scott nodded, orienting his erection at the junction of Logan’s legs. Shaking, he moved forward, hissing as his lover’s body accepted the invasion, welcomed it. When he lay flush against Logan’s inverted buttocks, the other man’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Jean was an eager lover, but he never forgot that she was a woman; it was automatic to hold something in reserve, and he knew that she always appreciated his thoughtfulness. It’s different with Logan: the angle of their bodies – the urgency in Logan’s pleading eyes – encourages him to give no quarter. Scott’s hand finds Logan’s weeping cock, pumping it as he thrusts. Both men are sweating, and the room smells of damp wool and semen, a thoroughly male scent. Scott finds it intoxicating.
“Fuck,” Logan growls, twisting beneath Scott. Cyclops thinks he has never before heard such naked need, mirroring as it does his own hunger. They have both long since forgotten the danger of being overheard.
Dizzily, Scott feels his lover’s climax, the slight relaxation that signals release. Logan’s tremors are enough to trigger his own orgasm, and he sinks into Logan’s arms, his chapped lips pressed to his companion’s damp forehead.
“Ouch,” Logan will say, as Scott untangles their limbs and falls back beside him on the bed.
Eyes closed behind his visor, Scott will smile. He’ll rest a hand on Logan’s belly: “Jesus, Logan.”
“It’s a fringe benefit, man. ‘Don’t knock it.”
“What if I want to sleep now?”
Logan will be nestled against him, his hair an unruly mess, and Scott will want to smile at his lover’s concerned expression. “I’m kidding,” he’ll say, a hand already closing around Logan’s indomitable penis: “I know a good thing when I see it.”
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