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The first time had been an accident. Truly. Kurt's mental map of the mansion had been improving steadily, but the session in the danger room that day had been scheduled earlier than usual to accommodate one of the professor's guest lectures in Manhattan.
Kurt had also stayed up late regaling Kitty with detailed stories of his circus routines, complete with re-enactments on the couch and her demands to teach her how to do a backwards handspring. She was impossible to refuse when her big brown eyes fixed upon you. But back to Kurt, who had decided to give into laziness and teleport directly back to his bed for a sweet secret catnap.
His uniform was nearly fully stripped off when Kurt's yellow eyes focused on his surroundings. Wrong wallpaper. Door in a different spot. Green sheets instead of grey, neatly made. Bed higher off the ground. Not his suite after all. Whoops.
Whoever the room belonged to had barely decorated. The beauty of the wooden furnishings stood out in the sparse environment. Unlike Piotr and Beast who stuffed shelves with books, music, movies; or Kitty's posters of celebrities, spreads ripped from magazines, with patches of family photos squeezed in between. No this room was like Kurt's: devoid of mementos. The only signs of life were a few pieces of clothing discarded on the floor plus a comb and a lighter on the bedside table.
Footsteps in the hall gave the blue mutant's heart reason to jump. Kurt vanished in his customary puff of smoke, landing in his bedroom this time. Correct walls. Bedding as rumpled as he left it.
This mansion is a labyrinthe, he thought. But many minotaurs we are. Here, together.
+++
The second time was also unintentional. Logan, Kurt, Scott, Jean, and Ororo were returning via Blackbird extremely early in the morning. A personal red eye from visiting Moira in Scotland. Scott at the helm was awake. Jean and Ororo leaned against one another, both peaceful in their sleep. Logan snored with his arms folded across his chest. Kurt, in the seat next to him, kept his hands in his lap and tried to think of something other than the way Logan's face looked.
There were very few times that the man they called Wolverine did not have a grimace or a grin drawing lines across his features. To be still, slack, serene, was not a manner that Kurt had ever seen Logan inhabit for many moments at a time.
At most times, Logan seemed wound tight yet comfortable, assured of himself. Kurt felt some days that strangers, or worse, his friends, could see right through the circus performer’s bravado and see the fear that lived in the heart of his love to be in the spotlight. Keep them watching, keep them here. If Logan was playing a facade, he was an extremely practiced actor. Or perhaps he was lost in the role after living inside it for so long. Kurt wondered if his showmanship would ever be fully honest; at least nowadays it was less motivated by fear than ever. To see one of his teammates crack a laugh at his antics made Kurt feel like a plant experiencing its first spring rays of sun.
The blue mutant pulled his legs up into his seat in an attempt to curl up and sleep as well. As his eyes closed, Kurt made a conscious effort to slow and deepen his breathing. He didn't know that could be a mistake, but it made him even more aware of the man next to him. Kurt would have said lovely or heavenly to describe Logan's scent, but he was sure those words would have elicited incredulity or embarrassment. A mix of sweat, tobacco, pomade, leather, and earth wrapped around Kurt's mind.
+++
When the jet was fully shut down in the hangar, Scott gave the order to disembark. Kurt teleported directly upwards, hoping his aim was true. His head was rewarded with the soft embrace of a pillow. Without opening his eyes, Kurt unzipped his costume and unceremoniously flung it into the corner where he guessed he had left the hamper.
Lovely soft sheets, the blue mutant thought. Unbidden, his mind supplied an image of Logan laying down in bed. Did the Canadian also sleep nude? Did he find the beds too soft? It didn't help that his mind could taunt him with the memory of Logan's scent. He sighed in the dark room, turning onto his side. The slow drift toward sleep crept over Kurt's senses. The sound of boots in the hall did not register in his ears, nor did the soft click of the door handle turning.
Logan didn't need to turn on the lights. One sniff told him who was in his room. A smile took hold of his mouth in spite of the late hour and the usual dislike of anyone in his space. A quick flick of fingers flooded the room with light.
"Ack!" Kurt blinked at the harsh change in atmosphere. "Who is--" he laughed. "Logan, what are you doing in my room? Did I forget something in the jet?" The short man let out a chuckle in return and strode into the suite as he tossed his duffel bag into one of the chairs.
"Elf, you're in my bed." The words hit Kurt like a bucket of cold water. His midnight blue skin tinted purple as a flush rose to his cheeks and chest. To Logan it was charming, especially with how the blue mutant clutched at the bedsheets like a shocked maiden about to be whisked away by the villain. Kurt would look pretty on the cover of one of those fantasy romance books, Logan thought. If he wasn't blue, he could play Beauty's Beast in any theater he wanted.
"Mein--oh I am so sorry my friend--I did not notice in the dark--The mansion is very confusing--" The words fell from Kurt's mouth as his eyes cast around the room for wherever he threw his uniform. Maybe it was hidden by the footboard of the bed, or had fallen behind some other piece of furniture.
Kurt chanced a glance at Logan. He hadn't moved except to close the door. His arms were folded across his chest but the blue mutant was relieved to see his face had the hint of a smile. Kurt swallowed the lump that suddenly made itself known in his throat.
"Um. My costume... Is somewhere..." An embarrassed smile took over the acrobat’s face. Logan rolled his eyes before walking to where the uniform lay crumpled on the ground and tossed it at the mutant still on the bed. Kurt caught it gratefully. The longer he stayed in the room, the more of Logan's personal mix of smells was going to invade his mind.
"Danke. Sorry about the mistake." Before any more blood could give away Kurt's feelings he vanished, reappearing a few doors down in the correct room.
The lingering smell of sulphur covered most of the other notes of Kurt's scent, but Logan could detect them as he lay down to sleep. The sweet natural oil of Kurt's fur, his floral cologne, and his sweat were just traces, but Logan savored them. They would disappear soon enough, as most things do.
Back in his suite, Kurt chastised himself for not checking at least once before throwing off his clothes. Then he let the shiver he had suppressed run through his body. To be in Logan's bed... No, it was a thought he had to let go of quickly, before it took root in his brain. Had Logan looked at him with desire? Was he truly just amused? Kurt rolled back and forth under the covers, trying to find a position that would calm his heart and mind.
He was newer to the team, but he had seen the way some of the members spoke to Logan. In quiet moments, one on one, in voices not to be overheard by others. Did Piotr ever touch Logan outside of hurling him at sentinels? Did Ororo trust the man with secrets and touches? Jean and Scott sometimes laid a hand on the blade of his hip or his upper arm when he grew visibly agitated. Sometimes the touch was accepted, other times it was rejected. Kurt kept these observations close to his chest.
+++
As the months went on, the idle speculations of Kurt's mind latched onto whatever information he could glean about the older man. The way Logan laughed easily and then incredulously when Piotr won any card game they taught him, time and time again. How he and Ororo sometimes stood apart from the group, speaking so low that one might mistake their words for the rumblings of the earth. The tense set of his shoulders before disagreed with a plan of action. The way Logan could blend in and yet so easily detach himself.
The Canadian was fond of disappearing for weeks or months at a time before arriving back in New York with no warning. No announcements of departures or returns. It was during one of these stretches of time that Kurt trespassed intentionally for the first time.
Kurt wanted to know Logan. To shake off this growing infatuation and grow something real between them. To be friends and equals. The blue mutant wanted the claps on the shoulder and back that they exchanged to linger. The curiosity became a gnaw on the worst days. Kurt's mind would torture him with images of Logan disrobed, vulnerable, desiring him in return. The air of danger was not a deterrent. It only served to increase his attraction. The violence that lurked just beneath the facade of the Wolverine was ever-present even in Kurt's fantasies. He pictured himself as a fox willing to be caught by the bloodhound, giving up his underbelly in hopes that the beast would rather keep him as a pet than tear him to pieces.
The telltale snarl of Logan's motorcycle annoyed many at the mansion, but to Kurt it was a joyous, welcome sound whenever it roared up the path to the Xavier mansion. At most times. Today, the acrobat was in the midst of some very intentional--perhaps even arguably premeditated--trespassing in the owner of said motorcycle's room. To be completely honest, he had woken up there and spent most of the morning enjoying the sun hitting the covers and basking in the way Logan smelled. There's no way the Wolverine would miss the evidence of Kurt's selfish impulse last night.
He could swap their sheets? But that would still smell like Kurt. He didn't know where the spare linens were kept. It could take days to figure out. Just strip the bed. He's going to be here any second. Claim to be doing laundry as a favor. How long was he gone this time? Enough to warrant changing the sheets. Friends did things like that if they lived together.
Kurt sprung to the end of the bed, whipping the sheet off the mattress and yanking the pillows from their covers. With ill gotten gains in hand, he teleported to the basement. He carefully poured soap in the little chamber Kitty had shown him and cranked the dial to 'NORMAL'. Hearing the water gush into the machine allowed Kurt to release the breath he'd been holding.
A little over an hour later, Kurt folded the sheets and padded up the stairs and through the halls of the mansion to stop in front of the door to Logan's room. He was struck with a similar apprehension to when he approached a confessional. Would the other mutant be able to see right through him? Unlike the veil that separated the booth; Kurt would be able to see Logan's face.
Had he ever entered this room through the door before? He certainly had exited through it. Well. Nothing else to do but knock. Another stretch of seconds went by before the German rapped on the wooden surface with the spade of his tail. He wished the sheets were part of a larger pile to hide his face (and guilt).
No answer. Logan's advanced senses would have heard a knock no matter how quiet. Kurt pressed one pointed ear to the door and identified the faint sound of running water. Okay, just be quick then. Kurt steeled his nerves for one last second before he tried the doorknob with his tail. It swung open easily to the blue mutant's surprise. Did he always leave the door unlocked?
Kurt stepped into the room just as he heard the sound of the shower turn off. Always the worst timing! The acrobat dropped the pile of fresh linens on the bed and considered teleporting out. That would surely clue Logan in on who did his laundry. A few more quick strides and he was home free. Kurt's left hand closed around the handle of the door just as a voice called over his shoulder:
"You goin' somewhere, elf?" The timbre of Logan's register hit Kurt low in his back while his face drained of blood. Fear and arousal twisted up and down the blue mutant's spine.
"I was dropping off your sheets." Kurt turned to face the Canadian and was glad he had already managed to say his one safe, rehearsed line because the sight of Logan, framed by the bathroom door, entirely nude, knocked so hard into Kurt's psyche with such force he was sure he lost balance momentarily. Dark whorls of hair stuck to every surface of the older man's chest, pelvis, and legs. Oh God, he had to escape right now.
"Sorry!" Kurt managed to squeak out the two syllables through a throat that felt strangled. That feeling brought his mind to the idea of Logan wrapping a strong, rough hand around his throat. Too much! Kurt zipped out down the hall, trusting his tail to slam the door shut behind him. The blue mutant forced his legs to maintain a speedy pace that could still be classified as "walking" to any he might encounter. Thankfully, no one witnessed his retreat.
What a stupid situation to create for yourself, he groused internally. Yet still unrepentant about his crime, as his next thought was: Better to do it when Logan had just left. The metal-boned mutant rarely took short trips. Kurt's fatal mistake was not giving himself over to temptation sooner.
Once he made it to the large foyer, the blue mutant closed his eyes and envisioned the roof of the building. In an instant, he was there. The roof wasn't the most private place he knew, but it would suffice for the moment. Plenty of mutants could make it up as easily as Kurt, but it was not a popular hangout spot by any means.
A thin layer of snow met the soles of his feet. It must've just happened overnight. The sun shone bright in the sky, its rays bouncing off the snow. Kurt's eyes picked out the small tracks that Logan's motorcycle made not that long ago. Up here, he could allow his thoughts to wander for a while. Unfortunately, they only wanted to focus around one person. What could he say the next time they crossed paths? Avoidance was truly the last thing Kurt wanted, not that he was sure it was possible at all. Xavier's mansion was only so large, and the Canadian was an expert tracker.
+++
Logan could afford to be patient about this. Any other time in his long life, he'd refuse to mince words or waste time. The chase was enjoyable, but few partners actually appreciated the headstrong, full-tilt approach. Kurt had fled so quickly that Logan hadn't had a chance to force an answer from him. Or to just appreciate the younger man's presence. Tinges of sweet and acrid made up Kurt's personal scent and reminded Logan of the wilderness. The way life blooms and rots at the same time. Strange, it hadn't dissipated as quickly as the older mutant thought it would.
As he began to tuck the fitted sheet around the mattress, a spark of a thought lit through his mind. He leaned closer to discover a faint trace of Kurt's sweat, salt mixing in with the sweetness. Very hard for anyone else to find, but Logan was used to both concealment and discovery. This was a find that felt valuable, worthy of being kept close, like a flask tucked into a smuggler's boot.
+++
Clouds passed silently overhead until the cold snuck beneath Kurt's indigo fur. Time to go inside. His pointed teeth were audibly chattering. The acrobat decided the kitchen would be the best option. Several cups or bowls of something hot would clear his mind. Manifesting in the room, Kurt found himself between Rogue and Gambit in the midst of an argument over what to cook for dinner and whose turn it was for dishwashing duty. Ororo, Jean, and Kitty sat at the table. The three of them laughed at Kurt's entrance and subsequent apologies as he extricated himself from the two southerners.
Several mugs of tea later, he felt brave enough to settle in the living room with a book. Piotr sat puzzling over a chess board across from the Professor. The pair of them smiled at the blue mutant as he lowered into one of the comfier chairs and began to read.
The time Kurt spent as an acrobat honed his ability to observe and react. One must be poised to perform at a milisecond's notice should something go awry. Now, whenever Kurt occupied the same room (or plane or bar or secret base or hell-dimension-illusion or train, you get the idea) as the older mutant, his spine would slowly draw taller like a bowstring being tuned. This feeling had come to him many years before; when Germaine had officially become his co-performer. The relaxed ease he'd felt practicing with his teacher was gone, replaced by a pit of fear that stretched deep within him. Be sharp. Be waiting. On your guard.
He still spoke with Logan, joked and goaded and encouraged his friend. He was content even if it was only ever this, Kurt murmured into the darkness of his room. The days where he thought this were ones that passed slowly. Whispered suggestions from his heart swirled about the blue mutant's mind at nighttime. Dreams, half-remembered, were full of dark hair, strong hands roving over his flesh, lustful words spoken by a voice he knew well. The Logan in his dreams looked at him with such open want, touched him with such fierce need. He thought about finding a congregation, maybe attending mass, but he was loath to use the image inducer these days. To go as himself would also cause a stir. A famous X-Man attending confession and taking communion. Kurt laughed to himself.
+++
One raucous night at the nearest bar with chairs strong enough to withstand both Logan and Piotr's weight, the Wolverine invited the weather goddess to dance with a quick flick of his fingers. Piotr's remark that it was quite early in the night for Logan to start dancing earned a quick but venom-free "Shut it, tin can." Ororo smiled and allowed Logan to pull her under the colorful lights and into the small but vibrant thrum of moving bodies.
None could hear what words the two were exchanging as they danced, hands roaming over each others' hips and sides. The Wolverine swept the Wind-Rider off her feet into a low dip and planted what appeared to be a deep kiss on her mouth. A light breeze fluttered through the hair of the dancers' around them before strengthening into a full force gale that lifted Logan into the air for a moment before landing in Ororo's arms. Kurt heard Ororo's laugh over the music before she swooped in for another kiss.
That night in his bed, the blue mutant let his mind dip into the pool of thoughts he knew better than to disturb. Thoughts he would admonish himself for when the sheen of alcohol no longer swam over his mind. Surely the two of them had been intimate. Did Logan approach her? That's the natural assumption. But perhaps Ororo had taken an interest and propositioned the short man.
Kurt's hand found his length under the covers and began to work himself to full hardness. Did she know the feeling of Logan's bulk and danger above her? Did he go down on her? Did Ororo tease Logan with gusts of wind and small shocks of lightning? Were they only a one time thing? Maybe they were an on-and-off, just-for-fun type of deal. Whenever the Wind-Rider returned from visiting the Morlocks, Wolverine would ask about Callisto and whether they had stabbed each other again this time. Faced with such a lack of hard evidence, Kurt's mind could only speculate so much. The idea of Logan on his knees with Ororo's hands in his hair made Kurt spill onto his stomach, his other hand covering his mouth.
+++
When it came to another mutant, however, the acrobat was more than certain of the relationship they shared with Logan.
Kurt enjoyed delivering the mail that came to the mansion. It was a good way to brighten someone's day, and to cement the layout of the mansion in his mind. Most letters that arrived were addressed to the Professor. Boring. But occasionally a package would arrive and Kurt seized the rare chance to hand one of his friends a gift and see their face jump with excitement or surprise. Jean and Kitty received infrequent letters from family members. Scott subscribed to Sports Illustrated. Hank's mail was bank statements and extremely thick manila envelopes, most likely newly published scientific papers or confidential government documents. Logan received a quarterly "pension" check from the Canadian government that the mutant would cash and immediately spend on liquor or cases of beer, depending upon whether he felt like sharing.
Today, the package is marked with Piotr's name. Feeling its weight in his hands, Kurt noticed its sides were beat up, as though it too arrived in this continent from Russia. Kurts hefts it up the stairs to Piotr's room and knocks on his door. Loud snores penetrate through the wooden slab. Kurt thinks to simply leave the package on the ground when the door swings open, Piotr's bulk taking up the frame. Mysteriously, the snores continue.
"I assumed you were still asleep my friend!" Kurt flashes a big smile up at the taller mutant and holds out the package. "Delivery for you!" As Piotr takes the box, Kurt teases: "I hope the lady you brought home last night is a looker, because her snores are shaking the foundations!" A faint blush colors Piotr's face at the words as he steps back to close the door.
"Thank you, Kurt." The blue mutant can't help himself. His yellow eyes dart to the bed behind his friend's massive torso to get a glimpse of who it might be in there. The face pressed into the pillows is not some random dame. It's Logan. Energy spikes through Kurt from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He feels like a child in a cave full of wolves despite his safety and solitude in the hall. He needs a cold shower right this instant.
The German beats a retreat back to his own room, bolts the door and shucks off his t-shirt and sweats that were no longer comfortable. Each slide of fabric on his body only reminds Kurt of his teammates together underneath the sheets. He attempts to ignore the heat pooling in his pelvis, how his cock hardens between his legs so readily.
He cranks the cold water knob and steps under the spray, flinching as his fur is plastered down by the water. Logan in Piotr's bed. Logan sleeping with other members of the team. Logan's body being touched. Kurt could never think of any shred of Logan as being submissive. Yet he had to ask the question over and over in his mind: did Piotr fuck Logan? Did he press the small, gruff man into his mattress or did he lay down and ask Logan to fuck him? Lustful images eagerly supplied by his mind's eye speed his heartbeat despite the cold water. Maybe he needs it to be hot; cleanse the idea by sweating it out.
It was too easy after the months of proximity to both of his friends' bodies to imagine the shifting of their muscles, the ease with which Piotr could grab and hold Wolverine down. How Logan might retaliate in kind and sink his teeth into the flesh of Piotr's shoulder. Did Logan ever ask him to take the form of Colossus? The thought makes Kurt's head spin and the hand hitch in the rhythm of his strokes.
Was he cold to the touch in that form? Did the Wolverine shiver or lean into the touch? Imagining the feeling of inflexible steel against and inside his body, Kurt presses his forehead against the tiles and releases his load onto the shower wall. Maybe he could pretend he hadn't seen anything.
Doubtful.
+++
Back in Piotr's room, the sound of tape ripping brought Logan to consciousness. He cracks one eye open to observe the Russian remove several bottles of liquor marked with cyrillic letters and a small box bound with a ribbon from the plain brown cardboard. Chocolates?
"Who's sendin' you such a romantic gift, Pete?" Logan sits up as he asks, his first words of the day a low growl in his throat. He reaches toward the end table, only to remember the comb he usually kept in that position was back in his own room. Piotr tosses the small card onto the bed.
'All my love, big brother.' Logan lays the card on the end table. "Illyana's a sweet kid. Just let me know if you need someone to help you drink all that." Logan swings his legs off the bed and stretches his arms up above his head to release a few loud pops and satisfied groans.
"I will." Piotr's voice is still slightly rough with sleep. "I appreciate when you make yourself easy for me to find." The sentimental words were out of the Russian's mouth before he could second-guess himself. A small smile rose to Logan's face in response as he donned his jeans.
"Anytime, Ruskie."
+++
The Wolverine's desire for his teammate Jean Grey was no secret to any inhabitant of the Xavier mansion. Thankfully, the adversarial relationship with Scott that accompanied this desire had cooled considerably in the years they had worked together. Kurt was not thinking of any of this when he suggested that they should all go for a hike to enjoy the warm spring day. Most of his teammates had perked up at the idea. Even Logan looked a little excited. Kurt knew his teammate felt the most at home when he was far from the trappings of civilization. It did no good for a team to spend all their time in a room fighting machines. They needed leisure! And different forms of exercise! A mountaintop picnic was in order.
Long Pond Mountain was by no means the most strenuous climb in New York, but by the time the group of mutants reached the summit they were all content to sit and eat for a while. Kurt and Kitty set to work spreading out blankets for everyone while Jean unloaded the picnic baskets. The amount of food it took to feed a fully staffed X-mansion just one meal could put a king's army to shame.
Moderate breezes pass over the mountaintop, carrying the laughter of the X-Men into the trees in the valleys below. When only crumbs remain, the majority of the mutants set to playing frisbee. Kurt joins in for a while, trying for fancy and impressive maneuvers until he needs to catch his breath. Piotr's arm can whip fastballs for days without needing a break. Rogue and Ororo were willing to fly after those. Kurt was not able to keep up.
He chose to sit out for a while, just watching the game. A movement in his periphery catches the blue mutant's attention. It's Logan, stubbing out his cigar against a rock. Jean sits between him and Scott; a book levitates about a foot from her face so one of her hands can hold Scott’s and the other on the denim the shorter mutant always wears. Logan readjusts his cowboy hat to shield his eyes from the sun and lays back against Jean's thigh, hands tucked behind his head. Without moving her eyes from the page, the redhead lifts a hand and smushes Logan's hat down onto his head. The Canadian growls and swats at her in response. Jean simply laughs, her joy bright as the sun to Kurt. Scott plucks the accessory from Logan's head and sets it on the telepath between them. Logan opens his eyes at the theft before closing them again and letting out a harumph.
"Looks good on you, Red," he says. Then, something Kurt would never have guessed happened: Scott cards a hand through the dark peaks of Logan's hair as he leans in to kiss Jean. It takes much more effort than the acrobat would like to admit to tear his eyes away from the trio.
All the way down the mountain, Kurt thinks about that gesture. The casual closeness it belied. The way Logan's shoulders held no tension as he lay against Jean. Scott reaching out to touch Logan for no reason but to feel some part of the other mutant.
In the privacy of his dark room, Kurt had no restraint left to deny his mind the places it longed to wander. He had very little doubt which room Logan was in tonight. The three of them had disappeared immediately after dinner.
Jean could have any man she wanted in the world. It was too easy to imagine Scott and Logan wrapped around her, competing to bring her pleasure. Their mouths and hands working in tandem, Jean's telepathy swirling between their minds, linking them more intimately than any touch could. How could any partner compare to the experience of being inside someone's body and mind at the same time? A small but devastating thought uncurls from the dark recess of the blue mutant: Did Logan let Jean and Scott pull his hair? The weight and heat of Kurt's hand brings him to climax quickly after that thought coalesces in his mind.
+++
Logan never stays over in Slim and Red's bed. Three people is too many for one mattress. Jean had given up on asking him to stay with them until sunrise. He and Scott would only elbow and kick each other the entire time. Instead, she would project a soft and loving thought into Logan's mind as he left.
This time, she says: "You should talk to Kurt." Logan pauses in the middle of redressing. Usually, she wished him sweet, forgettable dreams.
"What's on your mind, Red?" He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, slowing his movements.
"He's been watching you for ages now. I can hear the desire even when I try not to listen." Jean levitates Logan's tank top in front of him and he snatches it out of the air.
"The kid ran away like a spooked horse the last time I was alone with him." Not the full truth, but she knew it already.
"Maybe not immediately, but you shouldn't let the guy torture himself." Scott's voice attacks him from the other direction. Logan turns to fix Summers with a look he hoped was inscrutable enough. He hopes Cyke's gaze met his through the ruby lenses. "Our German friend would be overjoyed to spend some time with you."
"I'll think on it," The Canadian grunts. At least Jean doesn't pretend that she's subtle the way Scott does. Logan still relishes the image she projected into his mind when she admitted her desire. Scott and himself on their knees, heat rising off their skin as they reached for her.
+++
Logan put the full force of himself into whatever he did. Well, usually. He was no stranger to complaining and slacking when boredom irritated the Canadian. It was also easy for Kurt to understand that Logan was certainly no stranger to sex. But he was not one to share a bed long term with anyone. Of this Kurt was certain.
+++
Summer mornings at the Xavier mansion were some of Kurt's favorite days. Most common areas were empty before 9:00 or 10:00, which left Kurt the space to rise early and make himself a large spread of smoked fish, eggs, bread, and cheese with no one to complain about the strong mix of flavors. Logan seemed to only occupy the kitchen at odd hours during all months of the year. Though the past few weeks he'd been catching Kurt in the early hours more often than not. The blue mutant was sure the Canadian was lured in by the smell of fish; he never left the kitchen without pilfering a few strips from Kurt's banquet.
"No one else here appreciates good meat," he said the second time it happened. For Kurt's birthday last year, he had gone to a butcher to purchase a cut of veal so he could make rahmschnitzel. The surprise coupled with the flavors of home had nearly overwhelmed Kurt in the moment.
One of these past mornings, Kurt allowed his eyes to watch Logan's jaw and throat work as he swallowed the strip of fish. He had to wait until Logan had left the room before he could turn away from the counter. The confines of Kurt's athletic shorts would have given away his body's reaction.
The next time it happened, Logan pushed further. He licked the pads of his fingers in a slow, deliberate manner. Savoring the smells that flowed off the other mutant, Logan kept his eye line low enough that he could pretend he wasn't watching the tremble that began in Kurt's hand and traveled down his spine.
Today, Logan simply slides past him and opens the fridge only to curse and swat it closed.
"Out of beer already?" Kurt pounces on the opportunity to tease. He has to wrangle back some facade of control and normality. He has to pretend Logan couldn't smell how much he thought about dropping to his knees.
"No OJ," Logan grunts.
"There's always tea." The dark haired mutant shakes his head.
"Not my style," and with that, he's out the door.
+++
It's barely an hour before Kurt sees him again. The blue mutant is out in the courtyard, tossing kettlebells and teleporting to catch them. He hears Logan before he lays eyes on him; the weight of his footfalls has become familiar. Kurt sometimes wonders how Logan's body adapted to the weight of the metal inside him. Did his muscles remember the weight of his bones from before they were peeled open and cast in a material stronger than steel? He'd never seen Logan show much enthusiasm for swimming; the short man preferred to sit beside a river or pool and dip his legs in occasionally. Maybe he detested flying because he knew how much faster he plummeted than a normal human if anything were to go wrong.
Logan's pace is consistent today. Different from his two general gaits of sauntering or break-neck full sprint. Consistency is a strange idea. Kurt has known many shades of his friend. Each glimpse he got of Logan felt like opening a door to another world. Kurt drank in these moments greedily, as much as he could get away with. Every rough edge of Logan he encountered only served to deepen his interest in the older mutant. The thought of Logan doing something as normal as jogging is strange, in a way that makes Kurt laugh at himself. To try to use the word 'normal' to refer to anything on the grounds of the X mansion seemed ridiculous.
"Good morning!" The blue mutant greets as Logan's pace slows.
"You thinkin' of joining the strongman troupe? Parallel bar routine ain't enough for ya anymore?" Kurt smiles in response.
"I cannot only rely on my ability to dodge when in battle. Being lithe and dextrous are great party tricks but I need force behind my punches to win the day. I must be able to strike!" As soon as the last word is out of his mouth he teleports behind Logan and attempts to sweep his legs out from underneath him. But the older man had spun as he saw Kurt disappear and ended up falling on top of the indigo mutant. They roll in the grass for a moment, grappling before Logan grasps Kurt's wrists and his knees bracket the sides of his teammate's torso.
They both become aware of the smell of exertion between them; endorphins, salt, musk. Kurt's eyes flit over Logan's exposed arms and the top of his chest under the threadbare tank top he wore. His sweat makes the dark whorls of hair stick to his flesh. He forces his eyes back to Logan's face to catch the other mutant subtly appraising him in return.
"Are ya doin' anything tonight, misfit?" This question, in its sheer mundanity, surprises Kurt again. He didn't think simple words could make his blood rush in this way. Perhaps the pressure valve that kept this infatuation in check was finally failing. These months his curiosity and jealousy had grown from small waves to typhoon surges pounding against the beaches of his mind. He kept coming back to the foundation it all built upon: Others knew what he wished to know. Kurt felt like a soap bubble about to be burst by a child's finger.
"I don't have any plans," Kurt says. Logan sits back off of his chest and extends a hand to help him up. Kurt plucks his towel off the ground to mop some of the sweat from his neck.
"Want to go into town? I feel like I haven't shared a beer with you in ages." Kurt thinks he hears the edge of something in Logan's voice. He takes the hand the other mutant offers to help him back to his feet.
"I'd love to." Kurt flashes a smile at the other mutant as he tries to suppress his knees' deep desire to go weak.
+++
After dinner, the blue mutant lays out the best contents of his closet, agonizing over what to wear. 'In town' meant a bar other than the one closest to the mansion. Maybe it was more of a restaurant? He gives up on tying a tie after several fruitless attempts and opts for soft black slacks that Rogue had bought for him and a red button up with black embroidery of birds and shrubs.
When they meet in the garage, Logan wears his usual leather jacket and jeans but swapped the beaten up tank top for a dark green collared shirt. His dark boots shine with evidence of fresh care.
"Where are we going?" Kurt asks as he strides toward his friend. Logan's mouth bears one of his conspiratorial smiles.
"It's a place I found a little while ago." The blue mutant is happy for the excuse to wrap his arms around Logan's broad chest and hide his face. His tail threatens to swish happily as the engine rumbles to life and the two of them leave the X-mansion grounds.
Usually, Kurt would say that Logan has the ability to find small, abandoned roads that the world creates to satisfy those with urges to wander. Tonight, Logan wastes no time.
Kurt assumed 'in town' meant Manhattan, but when they reach route 97, Logan turns north instead of south. They speed under the night sky for just long enough that Kurt is sure he's never stepped foot in this part of New York.
Logan pulls off the highway to drive down a small main street until the buildings gain more space between each other and the street. He turns into a parking lot with a single, vibrantly lit building that music and upbeat conversation spilled from. A large sign scrolls through the letters O-A-S-I-S over and over in bright blue with little neon palm trees on the sides. In the front window, illuminated by the light within is a hand painted message that read 'MUTANTS WELCOME.' Through the glass, Kurt can see a small crowd scattered between tables, barstools, and booths. Some have bright, non-human shades of skin, others have extra appendages. A person with shiny, red scales sits outside the front door, talking to a person with frills of feathers around their neck, ankles, and wrists. Logan kills the engine as they step off the bike. A breeze brings the smell of the forest and sweet syrupy booze to Kurt's nose.
"It can get crowded on busy nights. Days like today it's a nice hideaway." Kurt nods in response to Logan's words. He understands the impulse–the need–to hide. When your body was deemed an oddity by the rest of the world, you either had to disappear or get accustomed to being the center of attention. Logan, unlike him, could slip into thin air with ease, at any moment he wished to.
Inside the bar, a woman sits on a small stage, playing a harp while her long braids pluck at the strings. She croons about lost love and living in the mountains. There are about thirty or forty mutants there in pairs or small groups, speaking, drinking, laughing. One of the bartenders stretches his arms across the giant shelf of liquor while another uses telekinesis to chop limes and shake cocktail tumblers. Kurt follows Logan to one of the small booths and sits across from the other mutant.
His teammate holds up two fingers and another bartender, this one with dusky purple skin and bat-like features, brings two mugs of the house brew to their table. Kurt takes a sip and finds it not nearly as good as it could be, but enjoyable.
"Did you find this place on one of your journeys?" Kurt asks. He wills his tail to stop twitching nervously. Logan drains a third of his glass before replying.
"Years ago they got some threats so Chuck asked me 'nd Pete to stand guard a few nights. I 'spect he gave the owner a bit of financial assistance too." The warm light of the bar reveals details of Logan's face that the blue mutant wants to run his fingers over.
"A hidden gem, as they say," Kurt comments as he eyes the large jukebox in the far corner. He hears Logan take a breath and brings his gaze back to the man across from him. They get through a few mugs of beer like that, the conversation light and comfortable. Then:
"So what's been eatin' at you, elf?" Finally to the heart of it. Logan didn't believe in preambles. Kurt buys time to think by lifting his mug to his mouth. Logan watches him with an intensity that makes Kurt's tail squirm on the seat cushion.
"You've been flighty for a bit. Like you're lookin' over your shoulder." Logan drains the rest of his mug and waves to the barkeep for another.
"I ain't gonna force it, but I've been waitin' to see when you'll say what's botherin' ya. I don't want ya to be walkin' on eggshells forever, Blue." The nickname tugs a smile out of Kurt as he draws his glass closer to his chest. He tries out a few starts in his head. ‘I don't want things to change’ isn't true. He wants a very specific change. ‘I think I'm in love with you’ is too much, too fast.
"You are one of my best friends I have ever known," Kurt begins. Syllables seem to die in his throat before they can even form. His limbs feel as though they're wooden. What next? 'I'm jealous you will never be mine' and 'I'm obsessed with you' are too soapy for Kurt to acknowledge aloud.
"And I ... think about you," the blue mutant finally murmurs. Where was his silver tongue when he needed it? Kurt turns his head to the side in embarrassment and frustration. He takes a breath before reaching out to curl one hand around Logan's wrist on the tabletop.
"What d'you think about?" Logan's voice is even, nearly soothing, but a glint in his dark eyes urges Kurt on. He thinks of Alice and her white rabbit, disappearing into the depths of Wonderland. He swallows and Logan's eyes tilt slightly downward to watch the muscles in his throat subtly shift.
"You are honest," Kurt starts and is interrupted by a short bark of laughter from Logan. He continues, "And you talk to me even when I speak of topics I know we will disagree on. I like your silly boots. And belts. And hats."
"They ain't silly," Logan gives Kurt a momentary glare before his smile returns. "That's style." Kurt rubs a finger over the back of Logan's hand, up and over the knuckles gently. Logan turns his hand to be palm up on the table and the blue mutant wants to lift it to his face and press kisses against the skin.
"I think about things like this. Being with you and drinking beer." Kurt snakes his tail under the table to curl loosely around the metal boned mutant's ankle. He delights in the small, understanding twinge that passes through Logan's body at the contact. The shorter mutant spreads his thighs just a few degrees more and his shoulders shed a touch of their constant tension. This transformation in Logan was rare, usually only seen in the living room on a movie night or on the court during some sort of sporting contest. Kurt cannot deny the thrill that seizes upon his heart when he sees his touch made Logan comfortable. Kurt feels the heat of the other mutant's skin in his fingertips and all the way up his arm.
"What else?" Logan prompts him and Kurt blinks away a second of sheepishness. Now or never, now or never, now or never, his heart taps out against his ribs.
"I think about touching you." His tail slides up to Logan's calf and he feels a boot against one of his feet. "I think about kissing you." His tail twitches, longing to crawl further up Logan's leg. Kurt chest aches with a need to turn the embers that had been slumbering in him. The heat grew slowly at first, but now the burn could no longer be denied. He wanted to rake the coals over and throw bundles of firewood on them, ignite a bonfire and dance in its light. He fights to meet Logan's steady gaze.
"How chaste of ya', almost like you're still wearin' a cassock." The joke made Kurt's heart surge in arousal. The older mutant's voice continues: "I've been thinkin' 'bout you too. Most of my thoughts been a bit raunchier than yours though, by the sound of it." The memories of Kurt's late night fantasies make his face burn. The booth they're sharing suddenly feels miniscule to the circus performer. He is keenly aware of the light brush of denim against his knees. Logan leans forward a few inches.
"Been thinkin' 'bout when we came back from Scotland and you were in my room. I thought about just gettin' in next to ya' cause ya smelled ... content." Kurt's breath stutters, his body demanding that they leave immediately.
"I've thought about the way you smell," Kurt admits before he can stop himself. A triangle of bare flesh where the other mutant's collar is unbuttoned entices Kurt to lean closer and take a breath of the spice that floated on top of the cocktail of leather, sweat, and smoke that made up Logan's aroma. He didn't think the other mutant owned cologne.
"D'you wanna get out of here, Blue?" Kurt isn't sure when Logan added that nickname to his repertoire, but this time the other mutant practically purrs the endearment. Every moment pulls tighter the spring winding in Kurt's gut.
"Gott, ja." Kurt unwinds his tail from his teammate's leg as Logan fishes out a few bills to drop on the table.
The night air blows over Kurt's fur gently, ushering him toward the motorcycle. The fire within his dark body roars in demand for more kindling. He slips a hand around Logan's shoulders and feels pressure on his waist in silent response. When they reach the bike, Logan squeezes his fingers into Kurt's hip, maneuvering the younger mutant between his body and the heavy machine. The blue mutant wants to disarm, to tease, but finds his mouth empty of words as Logan leans closer. Kurt reminds his feet to stay on the ground no matter how much they want to jump around the other man's waist. Logan kisses in a manner that suits him: roughly but thoroughly. Kurt's tail winds around his teammate's waist as he lets Logan's tongue, hot and wet, into his mouth. He almost thought it would be rough with miniscule hooks like a cat. Fingers find his shirt buttons and Kurt breaks away from the kiss.
"Really? In the parking lot?" The blue mutant isn't exactly protesting but he's slightly shocked at how open and eager Logan is. But then again, they're alone, away from anyone who knows them. Perhaps Logan felt safest in unfamiliar spaces because of the anonymity they offered. Or maybe it was the darkness of the night that gave the dark haired mutant license to look at Kurt like he wants to ravish him right here on the pavement. The heat of Logan's palm on the top of his sternum makes Kurt's heart hammer.
"Wanted to feel ya before we got back on the bike." Soft breaths ghost across Kurt's neck and shoulders as Logan carefully pushes aside the red fabric. Each nick of teeth on the indigo skin that covered Kurt's collar bones made his hips spasm against his friend's. The fingers gripping Kurt's hip dig in deeper while Logan's other hand slides through the fur that covers the blue mutant's chest.
"So soft..." The words are barely a whisper, spoken only for Kurt to hear. Logan tilts his head back up to meet the younger mutant's mouth. Kurt tastes the retreating hint of beer and cups the back of Logan's head as the shorter mutant's tongue runs over Kurt's sharp canines.
"Are you good to drive?" Kurt feels a bit silly asking, as he had seen Logan drain entire bottles of scotch and whiskey and wake up with no hangover while the rest of the team grumbled about headaches from two glasses of wine.
"You're safe with me, elf," Logan responds and bites very gently on Kurt's ear. The noise that comes out of the teleporter's mouth is wholly undignified. He clutches at Logan's leather clad shoulders as the shorter man captures his mouth in another kiss only to break away and release the acrobat.
"Let's get goin'." Logan swings a leg over the bike's saddle, not a hair out of place. He glances over his shoulder at Kurt, a wolfish grin curling around his lips. The German jumps on eagerly. Dark blue arms wind around Logan's chest and Kurt presses close, enjoying the warmth. He dips his head to deposit a few kisses on the side of the other mutant's neck. The engine comes alive beneath them and they peel out of the parking lot.
Once they're on the highway, Logan feels the end of Kurt's tail slither under his jacket. Keeping his eyes on the sparsely populated road, Logan takes his left hand off the handlebars and catches the spade at the end of Kurt's tail in his fingers. A breath of surprise hits the back of the older mutant's neck where Kurt's face is buried. He starts rubbing slow circles into the widest part. The wind obscures any noises that Kurt might be making but Logan can feel the involuntary twitches of pleasure that roll through Kurt's body. Pointed teeth sink into Logan's shoulder when he squeezes the tip of the spade and he groans into the night air. The pain is relatively small but it shines brightly in his mind. Logan imagines his blood filling Kurt's mouth and puts his hand back on the handlebars. No need to rush anything. There's plenty of night left.
Kurt watches the small punctures he left on Logan's skin slowly knit themselves closed over a few minutes. The urge to clamp his jaw onto Logan's neck is still stirring in his groin. The way that it made the older mutant moan is something that Kurt now wants to pursue for as many nights as he can.
He mostly fantasized about Logan taking him apart with his capable hands and cock. But the memory of Logan in Piotr's bed overtakes Kurt's mind and he wants to leave some sort of mark on Logan, despite knowing it's impossible. The blue mutant tightens his grip on the man in front of him. He'd fuck Logan, make him grunt and pant and moan, show him how insane Kurt had felt these past months and tonight in that bar when they were touching. Fuck Logan for being patient and knowing, for being stupidly attractive despite it all, for saving Kurt's life again and again. His dick throbs in his slacks and he rolls his hips forward, wanting Logan to feel his arousal. Images he tried to bury deep in his soul float around his mind: Logan laid back or on all fours, Kurt's indigo hands roaming over the flesh offered to him. He wants to learn every noise he can wring out of Logan, what kinds of stimulation make the other mutant's toes curl and thighs shake. He's lost in his thoughts when Logan catches the tip of Kurt's tail again and brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to it. Bastard, Nightcrawler thinks.
+++
Almost all the lights in the mansion are out when Logan pulls into the garage and parks the bike. Once the engine is silent, Kurt yanks the other mutant to him and teleports them directly to Logan's room.
"Eager, ain'cha?" Logan says into the darkness as the smoke clears. Kurt interrupts him with a kiss, pulling the shorter mutant to him by his jacket's lapels. His eyes can see just fine with only weak moonlight filtering through the window. The Canadian laughs into his teammate's mouth and gently pushes Kurt back.
"Let me take my boots off at least," Logan says. "We got plenty of time." Kurt is never one to wear shoes, so he flicks the lightswitch with his tail and teleports onto the bed to wait out the agonizing seconds of Logan disrobing. The boots go by the door, the hat is laid on Logan's bureau and the leather jacket drapes over the back of a chair in the corner. Kurt follows Logan's movements with his eyes, the other mutant reminds him of the loping grace of a wolf in its den. He palms himself through his pants, willing his confidence to resurface. Logan turns and catches the blue mutant's gaze on his body. He opens a drawer of his bureau and removes a cigar and a box of matches from it.
"I ain't even removed my shirt and you're starin' like you paid me to be here," Kurt flushes at Logan's words. Every day was a battle not to gawk at the muscles shifting under Logan's uniform. The hairy mutant puts the cigar in his mouth and strikes a match to light it. He breathes out a cloud of smoke and rolls the stub between his fingers. "What are you thinkin' about now, misfit?" Logan's gaze is lowered, his voice quieter. Kurt's heart clenches. "I'm sure there's some naughty thoughts hidden away in that head of yours." Kurt's tail thumps against the mattress behind him. "Ain't a mind reader though, Blue." Logan walks to the bed and allows his hand to brush through the indigo fur there and down to where the last few buttons of Kurt's shirt are still holding together. "Gonna need you to tell me what you want." Every word out of Logan's mouth sears invisible patterns across Kurt's skin. He raises both hands to start undoing Logan's shirt but the older mutant catches his wrists, cigar between his lips, and gives the blue mutant an expectant look. Kurt inhales slowly through his nose, drawing up the words as though reeling in a long, snagged fishing line.
"I want to fuck you." It sounds less confident than the blue mutant wanted it to. Logan silently releases his wrists and Kurt unbuttons the other mutant's shirt slowly, revealing hard, smooth planes of muscle covered in raven-colored hair. Logan's skin is still so warm. Is he always burning hot? How does he get through the muggy summer like this? Kurt swallows down a lump in his throat as he pulls Logan's shirt off and lets it fall to the floor.
"I want you to fuck me too. I thought about sucking you off and being sucked by you and I want to--" He nearly bites his pointed tongue before the words 'be yours' or 'wake up next to you' or 'know all of you' can be said. He hurriedly pulls off his own shirt but Logan notices the hesitation. His eyes scan over Kurt's face before he says simply:
"Go on," and sinks to his knees. The small thud that occurs as his body impacts the floor prevents Kurt's mind from orchestrating a new thought for several seconds.
"I--I wondered about you and--and others," Kurt manages, "I wasn't sure if you would do something like this with one of your teammates, until, well," he finishes lamely. Logan drags his hands up the other mutant's firm thighs to carefully unbuckle his belt. While he drags Kurt's slacks down to pool on the floor, Logan muses:
"You could've asked. 'Ro would've been honest at least. She'd keep it brief, say we had dalliances or flings or somethin' of that caliber." Logan divulges these bits of knowledge easily, as though they are found in the handbook Charles asks each new X-man to read when they join the team. Never one to wear underwear, Kurt's cock curves up against his stomach, nearly violet due to the blood pumping through it, so hard it feels akin to an ache. Logan's hand wraps around Kurt's length and he nearly sobs at the sensation.
The older mutant continues, as if unaware of his friend's growing desperation:
"Cyke'd be cagey about it, try to give you some sort of non-answer. Jeannie might be honest if you caught her in a good mood. Otherwise she'd probably give you tinnitus for a while." Logan pauses to dip his head and place gentle bites down Kurt's stomach and along the crease where his leg met his hip. "Pete would clam up and run away, I bet. But if you asked me I'd tell you we roll in the hay every so often." The euphemism makes Kurt laugh for a second before Logan's mouth, hot and wet, is around his cock. He pants and moans, screwing his eyes shut. He has to lean his weight back on one arm while his other hand comes up to grasp at the thick strands of hair on the other mutant's head. Kurt cracks his eyes open to look down at Logan and catches the other mutant watching him with his lips spread around Kurt's length.
There is a quality in Logan's gaze that screams satisfaction. The intensity of it makes Kurt feel like an animal that has fallen for a hunter's snare. Logan's head bobs and large hands roam through all the indigo fur they can reach in a manner that projects a comfortable ease. He's had plenty of time to practice, after all. The thought is another armful of logs into the fire that licks through all of Kurt's limbs. Logan's tongue swipes across the head and underside of his cock, and his fingers tighten between the peaks of obsidian hair. Logan pulls off, his lips shiny with spit, to say:
"Watch how hard you're pullin' if you want ta keep the sensitive bits, elf."
"What about when your mouth is elsewhere?" The blood rushing in Kurt's ears feels similar to the adrenaline of battle. He wonders if Logan thinks the same. He wants to ask if Logan enjoys pain, or if he is simply accustomed to it. He is dimly aware that perhaps he is being too bold for a first date or hookup or whatever they can call this. The thoughts get harder to hold onto as Logan takes Kurt's cock all the way to the base before pulling back again.
"Then feel free. Just not in public."
"Do you like that?" Kurt blurts out before he can think twice. It sounds so juvenile but the mutant between his thighs isn't perturbed. He twists his wrist slightly on the next downstroke and Kurt shudders. His tail thrashes in the covers.
"Do you?" Classic Logan, turning everything around so he doesn't have to submit his own answer. His hand continues its lazy rhythm up and down Kurt's length as he waits for a response. Damn this man and his hidden patience. The acrobat was so sure this would be a rough tumble sort of deal, with no time to stop.
"Sometimes when we come home from a mission," He starts, cautiously. "When I can smell underneath the blood and sweat, I can tell you're satisfied. From the exertion, but also the pain. I think about doing that for you. Breaking your skin with my teeth and holding you until you bruise." Kurt pushes the words out. They come from the pit deep inside him. He holds his breath as he waits for Logan to push away, to tell him he’s wrong.
"Well, misfit. Didn't think you had a mean bone in your body. But I can admit I'm wrong sometimes." Logan's lips wear a lascivious grin but his pupils are wide as he leans forward to envelop Kurt's cock with his mouth. The German cannot help but emit embarrassing whimpers and keens as the older mutant slowly lowers his head until his nose brushes Kurt's nest of dark wiry hair. A string of breathless curses falls from Kurt's lips. It never occurred to him that Logan's coupling pace could be languid. He always imagined that sex with the Wolverine would be rough, urgent. He remembers the line of tension that lifted from the other man's shoulders at the bar when he initiated a touch. Obviously, Logan wanted this. Maybe he had wanted it as long as Kurt? (When you live longer than a hundred years, you learn what pace is best to enjoy a moment, and when to simply pass through.)
Logan's hands continue to roam over the short, dense fur on Kurt's fur as he begins to quicken his ministrations, bringing his teammate close to the edge. Kurt's large fingers tighten and release in the raven colored-hair, a warning. His hips are about to start stuttering thrusts when Logan's hands snap to his waist and he lets Kurt's cock drop out of his mouth. The blue mutant sucks a strong breath in through his teeth at the loss of sensation. Logan hears the frustrated noise and laughs as he stands.
"Thought ya wanted to fuck an old son of a bitch tonight, Blue." His hands come to the ornamental belt buckle and Kurt laughs when he sees it's shaped like a bison. He mouth gets considerably drier the next second when Logan pushes the denim down and the immediately apparent lack of underwear allows the other mutant's cock to spring free. He wants it in his mouth, but he wants to be inside the other man and his patience is starting to wane.
"Are you sure?" he asks as Logan pulls open the nightstand's drawer to remove a tub of lubricant and tosses it onto the sheets. He gives Kurt a slightly sly look.
"Been a while since I took a guy on a date that didn't want me to do most of the work," Logan says and Kurt's thoughts immediately jump to Scott and Piotr. He can't help it. A tiny voice in his mind says, what if it's not just them? Logan sits down on the bed next to Kurt and skims a hand from cobalt shoulder down to thigh. "And I know you're an athlete. Ya should be able to keep up. For a little while." He grins again and Kurt can see the points of his canines. He wants to laugh but another part of him fears his spirit may leave his body should the Wolverine prove insatiable. The younger mutant wants to tease in return, really, but the sight of Logan laying back and reaching down to prep his entrance temporarily causes his brain to short circuit.
"Wait, no condom?" His mouth finally catches up to his thoughts.
"My white blood cells chew through anythin', according to Hank. Nothin' I can give you either," Logan explains, his deep voice gaining a breathless quality, something Kurt counts himself lucky to bear witness to. The blue mutant crawls over the bed to lay beside Logan's broad, hairy chest. He leans down to drag his teeth along the curve of the tanned chest, stopping every few centimeters to lay hard bites on the muscle. His hand presses on the flank of Wolverine's thigh.
"Shouldn't I be doing that?" Kurt couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Logan, small trickles of blood welling on his chest, his eyes closed, head thrown across the pillows, his digits stretching his entrance.
"Yer fingers are just a bit bigger than mine. You can join in a second," Logan responds. Kurt brings his hand to the other mutant's dick instead, rubbing his thumb up the underside to wipe away the few beads of fluid leaking from the tip. The acrobat wants to whisper every thought he's having. How deeply he wants to fuck Logan, how he wishes the blue of his skin could smear and stain where he touches the other man, leave some undeniable proof of his mark on his teammate. He wants to sink his teeth into Wolverine's skin, wants to wrap his tail around Logan's neck and tighten, wants to ride Logan's bike and feel those sturdy arms around his waist. The fear of saying something wrong is a sharp razor underneath all of these whispers in his mind. Instead, Kurt shoves his face into the crease between Logan's thigh and hip and breathes in the other mutant's scent, the rush of it filling his head. When he drags his tongue across the flesh there, a slight tremor spreads through Logan's limbs. Everything in that second sings to Kurt, the sweat on his tongue, the heat in his hands, the way Logan regulates his breathing.
When the older mutant slides his fingers out and reaches for more lube, Kurt takes the opportunity to replace them with one of his fingers. It earns a guttural but pleased sound from Logan that makes Kurt's neglected cock throb in response.
"Fuckin' hell, elf," Thick fingers tug on Kurt's short hair and he eagerly moves to kiss Logan again. Emboldened, the blue mutant pushes deeper, trying to flex his digit in slow caresses. He bites down on Logan's lip, lightly at first, then sharply enough to draw blood. The taste is, of course, familiar to both of them. To all X-Men. Kurt swipes his tongue across the punctures, enjoying the addition of the metal tang to the combination of scents in the room.
"Do you think you're ready?" Kurt means to say it at a normal volume, but it comes out quiet. Intimate. Logan nods and Kurt's tail tightens around the meat of his thigh as he repositions to sit between the other mutant's legs.
The sight of Logan like this convinces Kurt to pause for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the expanse of the other man. Trying to draw a map, wanting to study, to commit it all to memory in case this never occurred again. The way his chest dips with breaths, the glimmer of sweat in the low, warm light of the lamps, the open lust in his gaze. The blue mutant reaches up and drags one hand down his teammate's chest, his nails leaving thin red lines. He does it again. Three red lines appear and then fade. The cuts on his lip have definitely healed by now, as have the bites on his pec.
"You waitin' for somethin' else, elf?" Logan's tone has a shade of his normal cocksure attitude, but his voice is slightly hushed, matching Kurt's. The blue mutant carefully pulls his finger out of his teammate and uses the remaining lube to slick his shaft. He curses under his breath at the stimulation, lining up with Logan's entrance. The first thing he can think is tight, the next is merely fuck. The older mutant’s face beneath him is slightly flushed, his mouth is open and his hands are fisted in the sheets. Kurt captures Logan's right wrist in his left hand, leaning down to lick at the muscles in the other man's neck as he sinks deep into the accepting pressure of Logan's body.
"Fuck, misfit," the words must be a crack in the dam of Logan's self control. A sound between a snarl and a whine rises and falls from the space between Logan's metal ribcage. He tilts his head minutely but Kurt reads the gesture and seals their lips together. Logan kisses like he's the one on fire and Kurt will put him out. The blue mutant rolls his hips once, twice, trying to gauge if he's allowed to move. Apparently, Wolverine's patience was reaching its limit. His free hand braces against the wall above the low headboard so he can shove his hips against Kurt's pelvis. Understanding instantly, the acrobat shifts his feet to a more stable position and begins thrusting at a brisk rhythm, viciously enjoying the way the older mutant's panting becomes faster. Another surge from the pit inside Kurt's soul. His tail slips from Logan's thigh to yank the other mutant's hand from the wall and guide it back to the mattress.
"Let me do the work, as you said, liebchen," he purrs, a tiny drop of him wondering if the pet name is too far. Keep the mask on, Keep the focus. He presses hard into Logan's wrists with the spade of his tail and his fingers.
"As long as ya keep the pace up," Logan looks up at Kurt as the German pulls back upright, releasing his hand's hold so he can grip both sides of Wolverine's waist. The older mutant's face wears the lazy challenge that Kurt usually sees directed at Scott.
The density of Logan’s obliques shouldn't turn on Kurt this much. He lifts one of Logan's legs, his hand under the bend of the other man's knee. Everywhere he touches the muscle is firm, built up from decades of tearing and reknitting. Kurt pushes forward slowly until he can grind his pelvis into Logan's. He digs his nails into his teammate's skin, wishing he hadn't cut them yesterday. They're too short and dull to puncture.
Kurt waits until he sees the shiver run through Wolverine's entire body before snapping his hips out and in several times. His own labored breaths and Logan's moans overtakes any other sounds in Kurt's ears as he focuses all his strength on pounding Logan with his cock. To be above one of the most lethal X-Men, witnessing how his brow creases, muscles clench and relax, the smell of their bodies mingling in the night air; Logan underneath him, willingly, enthusiastically even... Maybe it was a power trip, fine.
"Kurt," the sound of his name makes the blue mutant slow his pace immediately. Logan so rarely uses anyone's first name. The loss of stimulation makes the dark haired man moan, canting his hips toward Kurt's. Without thinking, the German leans down swiftly and bites where Logan's neck and shoulder meet. He feels the other man's cock leak as blood once again blooms over his tongue. Logan's mouth is suddenly so close to Kurt's ear.
"C'mon, kid, fuck me like that again," the older mutant's voice has a seductive tone, somewhat undercut by the shivers Kurt can feel radiating through the other man's spine. He's no monster; he could never dream of denying Logan this request, (or himself this orgasm). Kurt lifts Logan's other leg, building up to a frenzied pace of thrusts until the other mutant's wind around his neck and stroke through the hair on his shoulders. The quiet noises in Logan's throat are much louder with Kurt's head so near. All of them make Kurt bite again and again at the same spot, his cock starting to scream for release.
"Ah, Logan, I am--" his grip on the older mutant's legs spasms when Logan nigh instantly half-gasps half-croaks:
"Inside me," and stars dance behind the blue mutant's eyelids, silent fireworks bursting in every cell as the orgasm rolls through his back and down the tips of his limbs. Logan throws his head against the pillow as a long held whine escapes his clenched jaw. Kurt wraps a hand around Logan's dick, still hard between them, delighting in the way the other mutant twitches and starts panting again. He rocks his hips a few times as he strokes quickly and nuzzles his face into the space behind Logan's ear so he can murmur sweetly:
"So good, katzchen, so beautiful," a spike of worry that he's overstepping again, but Logan's frenzied moans spur him on. "Come for me, still wrapped around my cock, you enchant me, I want to see you like this all the time," Logan's hands on his shoulders tighten as the metal-boned mutant spills onto his stomach. Kurt gently slides out of his teammate and leans down to lick the mess off the wiry hair covering Logan's abs. Logan rumbles and tugs on the fur on the back of Kurt's shoulder.
"C'mere, Blue," and pulls the younger mutant up for a kiss, clearly uncaring about the taste of his own spend on Kurt's tongue. A piece of Kurt's mind says get up, take a shower but Logan's solid arms hold him with a clear message: stay here.
"Fuck, Kurt." The blue mutant glances at his teammate's face. Logan's pupils are still blown wide, his hair mussed, his lips shiny with spit. Kurt probably looks the same way. He sweeps his eyes over his friend's chest. Any evidence of his work is already erased by Logan's healing factor, save for the warzone he made at the juncture of Logan's neck and shoulder. He watches as those marks slowly fade, replaced by healthy skin. Kurt swallows and runs a hand over his friend's bicep.
"Was it good?" The question has a tinge of shyness and Kurt hears the smile in Logan's words without having to look.
"Better than good." Warm fingers guide Kurt's chin up for another slow kiss. Logan shifts his hips and gently rolls them onto their sides. The blue mutant flips so he can be the little spoon as Logan reaches down and draws up the sheet and a thin quilt. Kurt absently thinks it looks quite old as the exhilaration in his body gives way to the typical post-coital tiredness. He feels the bed move and hears it creak as the heat behind him vanishes. The sound of running water drifts through the room and the lights switch off before the bed lets out another groan as Wolverine slots himself against Kurt's back. He wriggles close and lets the smell and warmth of the older mutant wrap around him.
"Good night, Logan." The words feel much more vulnerable in the dark for some reason. Hot breath moves over his pointed ear.
"G'night, misfit."