Beads
folder
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male › Logan/Kurt
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,306
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male › Logan/Kurt
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,306
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the X-Men movies, or any of the characters from them. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Beads
Beads
Pairing: Movieverse Kurt (Nightcrawler) & Logan (Wolverine)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Some sins are difficult to commit alone.
WARNINGS: Slash and bloodplay, PWP. If you can't take it, don't read it. Don't bother to flame.
DISCLAIMER
None of these characters are mine, and we should all be thankful for that. I am simply borrowing them without permission.
********
“You want me to what?” Logan asks, rather choked. He feels like he’s just swallowed his tongue. Kurt has his head tilted toward the floor but he’s staring back, bright eyes looking up at Logan from under too-thick lashes. Logan looks away, focuses on the paper in his hands, as though it might have an answer. Instead it has an intricate design comprised of simple, clean lines. Logan shudders to think how in blood it might be almost beautiful. And he wants to see it.
Instead, he hands it back to Kurt. “I’m not an artist, bub. Sorry.” He attempts a casual shrug, but all his movements feel jerky.
Kurt raises his head just slightly. “It’s not too hard,” he says. “If you did it slowly…” His softly accented voice makes Logan’s brain stall and twitch. He takes a deep breath and tries to remind himself about reality, common sense and normal behavior. The breath ends up sounding more like a sigh.
“This,” Logan pauses, tries to choose his words carefully and predictably fails, “self-mutilation thing…Why do you do it?”
“Sin.” Kurt looks away from Logan for the first time. “Do you know what it’s like?”
“I’ve never felt so badly about something that I had to punish myself for it,” Logan says, though he recognizes that it might be a lie. A sin, even.
“It’s not punishment so much as…” Kurt stops, shrugs. And Logan can sympathize, because the words are suddenly failing him, too. Kurt simply removes his shirt, tosses it aside, and Logan has to concentrate on his own knees to keep them from failing him, too.
Kurt runs his thick, strange fingers slowly over the lines on his chest, the network of scars. Then he turns slightly and touches the bare skin of his back, just above his jeans.
“Right there?” Logan asks, his mouth suddenly dry. He realizes that he is actually going to do this. Kurt nods without looking back and stretches his hand out to give Logan the paper.
“Fuck,” Logan says, studying the design and then “fuck” again, because he said it out loud. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” Kurt nods again and starts to lie down on his stomach, which Logan realizes is a very bad idea.
“Wait,” he says, “stand up.” Kurt obeys, facing away and placing both his hands on the wall. And Logan realizes that this idea isn’t any better. He extends a claw with a grimace that is more from habit than actual discomfort. He glances slowly back and forth from its metallic surface to Kurt’s back. “This is going to hurt,” he says warily, completely uncertain.
“Not as much as you would think,” Kurt says, and Logan can’t be sure but it sounds like he’s smiling.
Logan grips the paper in his free hand and stretches the claw out toward Kurt. He touches the tip to Kurt’s back lightly, not hard enough to break the skin, and Kurt actually hisses and pushes back into it. “You’re going to have to be still,” Logan says, and the low, husky sound of his own voice makes him wince and draw the first line.
Kurt doesn’t make a sound, but the blood is dark against his blue skin and Logan knows it hurts. “Still sure?” he asks, and Kurt nods twice. “Okay,” Logan agrees, and he props the paper up near Kurt’s shoulder so he can watch it while he works.
Logan’s hand is steadier than he gives himself credit for, and the design appears almost gracefully in angry cuts across Kurt’s skin. He doesn’t cut too deep, but the blood streaks and runs in tiny trails, blending together and trickling down Logan’s claw to land on his skin. Logan clamps his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates, and for a moment he forgets his early tension about this particular activity. He steps back for a second to admire his handiwork, wipes the blood from the blade and taps it against his teeth. “Almost done,” he says after a moment, stepping closer to Kurt again, “You still okay?” This time Kurt does grin, he sees it, the angle of his sharp teeth flashing against his skin. And this time, when Logan raises the claw to his back, Kurt presses against it hard.
Logan grips Kurt’s hip tightly with his free hand to keep him in place, keep him from hurting himself, and it is the first action in this entire night that he might really classify as a mistake. Kurt’s hip bucks slightly under his hand, and for a moment Logan thinks that he might teleport away. Instead he only gasps and presses closer.
“Shit,” Logan says under his breath, because no matter what they were doing before, there is no question about what they are doing now. He looks down, fixates on the tiny trail of blood that is running toward the waistband of Kurt’s fucking circus pants. He leans in, drawing the extended claw around the front of Kurt’s body and Kurt presses toward it again. Logan groans once into the back of Kurt’s neck, then he jerks the blade upward smoothly, slicing at the button. Kurt’s pants slide to the floor.
He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Logan tries to tell himself that he’s surprised by this when in reality it’s what he wanted. Because now he can watch that trail of blood run down further, over the curve of Kurt’s ass, and now he can oh-so-carefully trace the tip of a blade up the length of Kurt’s erection. “Yes,” Kurt moans softly, barely even a whisper, and he tries to tighten his grip on the wall. His fingernails gouge six small holes into the wood. Logan leans forward, unmindful of the blood staining into his t-shirt, withdraws his claw, and wraps his hand around the blue elf’s cock.
Kurt starts muttering, a stream of unintelligible German falling from his mouth as he rocks forward into Logan’s hand. His tail comes up and wraps around Logan’s waist, pinning him closer, and the deliberate strength of it reminds Logan that Kurt could easily have drawn these scars himself. He traces his tongue over a scar on Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt pushes one last time into his fist before he comes.
The tail releases him and Logan steps back on unsteady legs, wondering briefly what to do about the mess on the wall. And then Kurt turns and sinks to his knees, and Logan isn’t sure whether that mouth is a sin or a penance.
###
Pairing: Movieverse Kurt (Nightcrawler) & Logan (Wolverine)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Some sins are difficult to commit alone.
WARNINGS: Slash and bloodplay, PWP. If you can't take it, don't read it. Don't bother to flame.
DISCLAIMER
None of these characters are mine, and we should all be thankful for that. I am simply borrowing them without permission.
********
“You want me to what?” Logan asks, rather choked. He feels like he’s just swallowed his tongue. Kurt has his head tilted toward the floor but he’s staring back, bright eyes looking up at Logan from under too-thick lashes. Logan looks away, focuses on the paper in his hands, as though it might have an answer. Instead it has an intricate design comprised of simple, clean lines. Logan shudders to think how in blood it might be almost beautiful. And he wants to see it.
Instead, he hands it back to Kurt. “I’m not an artist, bub. Sorry.” He attempts a casual shrug, but all his movements feel jerky.
Kurt raises his head just slightly. “It’s not too hard,” he says. “If you did it slowly…” His softly accented voice makes Logan’s brain stall and twitch. He takes a deep breath and tries to remind himself about reality, common sense and normal behavior. The breath ends up sounding more like a sigh.
“This,” Logan pauses, tries to choose his words carefully and predictably fails, “self-mutilation thing…Why do you do it?”
“Sin.” Kurt looks away from Logan for the first time. “Do you know what it’s like?”
“I’ve never felt so badly about something that I had to punish myself for it,” Logan says, though he recognizes that it might be a lie. A sin, even.
“It’s not punishment so much as…” Kurt stops, shrugs. And Logan can sympathize, because the words are suddenly failing him, too. Kurt simply removes his shirt, tosses it aside, and Logan has to concentrate on his own knees to keep them from failing him, too.
Kurt runs his thick, strange fingers slowly over the lines on his chest, the network of scars. Then he turns slightly and touches the bare skin of his back, just above his jeans.
“Right there?” Logan asks, his mouth suddenly dry. He realizes that he is actually going to do this. Kurt nods without looking back and stretches his hand out to give Logan the paper.
“Fuck,” Logan says, studying the design and then “fuck” again, because he said it out loud. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” Kurt nods again and starts to lie down on his stomach, which Logan realizes is a very bad idea.
“Wait,” he says, “stand up.” Kurt obeys, facing away and placing both his hands on the wall. And Logan realizes that this idea isn’t any better. He extends a claw with a grimace that is more from habit than actual discomfort. He glances slowly back and forth from its metallic surface to Kurt’s back. “This is going to hurt,” he says warily, completely uncertain.
“Not as much as you would think,” Kurt says, and Logan can’t be sure but it sounds like he’s smiling.
Logan grips the paper in his free hand and stretches the claw out toward Kurt. He touches the tip to Kurt’s back lightly, not hard enough to break the skin, and Kurt actually hisses and pushes back into it. “You’re going to have to be still,” Logan says, and the low, husky sound of his own voice makes him wince and draw the first line.
Kurt doesn’t make a sound, but the blood is dark against his blue skin and Logan knows it hurts. “Still sure?” he asks, and Kurt nods twice. “Okay,” Logan agrees, and he props the paper up near Kurt’s shoulder so he can watch it while he works.
Logan’s hand is steadier than he gives himself credit for, and the design appears almost gracefully in angry cuts across Kurt’s skin. He doesn’t cut too deep, but the blood streaks and runs in tiny trails, blending together and trickling down Logan’s claw to land on his skin. Logan clamps his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates, and for a moment he forgets his early tension about this particular activity. He steps back for a second to admire his handiwork, wipes the blood from the blade and taps it against his teeth. “Almost done,” he says after a moment, stepping closer to Kurt again, “You still okay?” This time Kurt does grin, he sees it, the angle of his sharp teeth flashing against his skin. And this time, when Logan raises the claw to his back, Kurt presses against it hard.
Logan grips Kurt’s hip tightly with his free hand to keep him in place, keep him from hurting himself, and it is the first action in this entire night that he might really classify as a mistake. Kurt’s hip bucks slightly under his hand, and for a moment Logan thinks that he might teleport away. Instead he only gasps and presses closer.
“Shit,” Logan says under his breath, because no matter what they were doing before, there is no question about what they are doing now. He looks down, fixates on the tiny trail of blood that is running toward the waistband of Kurt’s fucking circus pants. He leans in, drawing the extended claw around the front of Kurt’s body and Kurt presses toward it again. Logan groans once into the back of Kurt’s neck, then he jerks the blade upward smoothly, slicing at the button. Kurt’s pants slide to the floor.
He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Logan tries to tell himself that he’s surprised by this when in reality it’s what he wanted. Because now he can watch that trail of blood run down further, over the curve of Kurt’s ass, and now he can oh-so-carefully trace the tip of a blade up the length of Kurt’s erection. “Yes,” Kurt moans softly, barely even a whisper, and he tries to tighten his grip on the wall. His fingernails gouge six small holes into the wood. Logan leans forward, unmindful of the blood staining into his t-shirt, withdraws his claw, and wraps his hand around the blue elf’s cock.
Kurt starts muttering, a stream of unintelligible German falling from his mouth as he rocks forward into Logan’s hand. His tail comes up and wraps around Logan’s waist, pinning him closer, and the deliberate strength of it reminds Logan that Kurt could easily have drawn these scars himself. He traces his tongue over a scar on Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt pushes one last time into his fist before he comes.
The tail releases him and Logan steps back on unsteady legs, wondering briefly what to do about the mess on the wall. And then Kurt turns and sinks to his knees, and Logan isn’t sure whether that mouth is a sin or a penance.
###