Nothing compares

Kurt moved his arm, turning over in the bed following the sweep of it. His tail waved lazily, little twitches as full of meaning as a contented cat’s. Nuzzled his cheek against the cool sheets, feeling air move across his bare skin like a caress. Arched, hearing the sound of the door and looking to see Logan come padding in, like a wolf entering the fold. And here he was waiting for him, such a helpless sheep. Yet one who welcomed the keen bite of the wolf at his throat, the pain of surrender and the ignominy of submission.

And he adored it, that feeling of defenselessness. A sweet addiction, slaked in lust and blood and sweat. In its own way, a kind of penance. The pain, always desired, always sought after. It made it somehow alright, what they did. In sin and lust and abandon.

A heavy hand settled across his back, stroking down the curve of his spine. Touching skin, alighting every nerve with anticipation. He stayed perfectly still, feeling Logan’s hand settle on his ass. Stroke around the base of his tail, making the spade twitch from side to side in reaction, inhaling through his nose in an effort to keep from making a sound as he bit his bottom lip. Logan knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. It made this...reassuring, in so many ways.

“I saw you left your clothes in a heap by the door.”

That low growl that turned every bone in his body into something more like water then they had any right to be. It was pitched to travel, raising the hairs along the back of his neck. Kurt settled deeper into the mattress, feeling Logan kneel next to him. He could feel the man’s prescence all over his skin, resonating with something dark in his soul. They were a pair. Something in each of them sounded the other out, a cracked and broken coin that still sounded when rapped on the glass.

“Ja.”

“I did tell you not to do that, didn’t I?”

“Oh, ja.”

The anticipation was eating him alive, he knew what was coming. They both knew. This was a game, a game of actions and consequences. Something both of them needed. They just couldn’t ask for it, except in this indirect way. Not even amongst the two of them could they ask for this in words.

“Got any excuses for it?”

“Nein, mein geliebte. I knew you would be displeased.”

Strangely, Logan was quite neat in his habits. He liked things in their places, orderly. He hadn’t expected it of the man. But it gave them such an excuse to act this out...again, and again, and again. He burrowed the side of his face against the sheets, breathing starting to quicken. Logan’s hand was heavy on the base of his spine, keeping him still and there, right there. Waiting.

“And ya did it anyway...”

“Ja, mein schatz,” he answered, almost meekly. Tail coiling and uncoiling in nervous movements as he waited, playing the game along with Logan. A dark, bloody, awful, horrible, wonderful game that few people would understand. They would not understand that he needed this. Penance. Even for something as silly as leaving his clothes on the floor. It made up for the things he could not ask Logan to punish him for.

“How many swats do you think that’s worth?”

“Fifteen...nein, twenty.”

“Twenty?” A pause, where he wondered if he’d set the count too low. Fought back the urge to squirm, his anxiety only showing visibly in the twist and flip of the spade of his tail on the bed. “Twenty. Count ‘em off, elf.”

“Eins,” he gasped out, feeling the first smack against his bare ass. Kept his tail out of the way, curling it just that bit at the base to keep it high. Made sure it wouldn’t get caught by Logan’s hand. “Zwei!” he yelped as the second blow landed, harder then the first.

The spanking continued, each smack followed by his count. By the time he was in the high teens, he was choking on tears, feeling the burn tingle and sting and sing all the way down his thighs. Most of it was concentrated on his ass, indigo flushing an even darker colour in what would have been a scarlet shade on anyone with normal skin. He sobbed as the next slap landed, as heavy as all the other ones had been.

“Achtzen!” he wept into the sheets, misshapen hands fisting in the white coolness of them. Thick nails digging into the mattress as he clung on desperately. The next blow almost took his breath away, and he didn’t need to hear Logan’s warning growl before he was hurrying to spit the next word out. “Neunzehn!”

And it all brought this wonderful feeling of cleanness. Of sins assuaged, blotted out with tears and penance, penitence manifest in the bruises on his skin. No priest would agree with him. And yet, no priest had ever reacted to him well. In any way.

Demon child.

“Zwanzig!”

And it was over, at least that part of it. He cried into the sheets, the pain in his ass not really meriting it. It was more the feeling of catharsis that made him weep. Logan pulled him into his arms, and Kurt rested his head against his lover’s shoulder, holding onto him tightly.

“S’alright, elf...”

A low reassuring rumble, that sent warmth all the way through him down to his bones. It matched the warmth tingling in his ass, but in a different way.

And the Canadian was right. Everything was alright, at least in this perfect moment, with tears running down his face and the warmth of the body he was curled up next to for him to enjoy. How long would it last? How long would he have? How long?

In the eyes of God, everything was eternity, a moment of endless now.

“Küss mich,” he begged, turning his face up to receive the press of Logan’s mouth. A long through kiss, where his mouth was devoured, his breathless sounds swallowed. “Küss mich, weider.”

It didn’t take much more for Logan to lay him on the bed, pressing him down into the mattress with his weight. A comfort that he could not express as he gripped at the man’s hair, kissing him again and again, thighs opening to welcome the weight of his body against him in that most intimate of ways. A shift, a pause, and he arched as he heard the sound of a snap-cap being flipped back.

“Ja, ja, mein liebe, fick mich,” he murmured, pressing himself up against Logan’s body in a sensual writhing movement. He could feel the heat of the man’s erection pressed against his stomach, his own hard shaft sliding next to it as they moved together. Against each other. “Ja, Lo-gan...”

He breathed out on a broken sigh as one of Logan’s fingers pressed up against his entrance, pressing gently and then penetrating him. His head rolled back, exposing his throat to Logan’s teeth. So bright. So hard on his throat, nipping bites that could easily be brutal. He never wore anything worse then a bruise and perhaps just a petal or so of red, red blood out of their bedroom. So careful, Logan was always so careful with him. As if he was about to break apart in the man’s hands.

“Du bist...ahhh, du bist-” He lost his words as Logan’s hands spread him wider, hands pushing against his thighs and he cried out hoarsely as he felt the head of Logan’s cock find his hole. A moment of seeming endlessness where they both just waited, and then the older mutant pulled him back in towards himself while he thrust forwards. “Mein Gott!”

The burn consumed him from the inside out as Logan started to fuck him, sharp rough strokes that left bruises on the insides of his thighs. Pressing him down into the bed, pressing against the reddened, bruised skin from the spanking. Sent him out of his mind, a gasping, crying, cursing creature underneath Logan who growled, like a beast in his ear. While he clung to him, body riding and bucking for each and every thrust to be deeper, harder. Better.

A crescendo sent him spiraling upwards, feeling his breath catch and falter as his stomach clenched. Moaning wordless encouragement into Logan’s ear, fingers digging into the man’s back as they expressed their desire in this most basic of ways. A sharing, primal as it was. Kurt’s hips bucked as he came, pushing himself harder onto Logan’s cock, eyes mindlessly burning gold and snarl as feral as any of the man above him. His thick nails turned into claws, drawing blood that spotted oft beaten skin, only to heal. As all wounds on Logan healed. It only took a few more thrusts before Logan howled and came as well, the German underneath him gasping and crying once again.

“Du bist mir lieb,” he murmured into Logan’s hair, turning his face into the wild roughness of it. And hoped the man never invested in a German dictionary to find out just what he said. For he had a horrible feeling that that was when it would all end. He could not bear it if he never had this again. “Du bist mir lieb...”