Mr Smith, you have a call on Line One

Woken up in the dark by the buzzing of his comunit, Logan rolled over and reached for it. His hand smacked the floor near his bed as it kept buzzing and vibrating, little piece of infuriating plastic running away from him or that’s what it felt like. Fuck Scott for giving it to him, fuck Wheels for that look that made him keep it instead of throwing it in the trash. And the quiet murmured comment that perhaps Marie would like to keep in contact with him when he went off to find some quiet, driven out of his head by the constant sensory overload that was civilization.

Nobody ever seemed to mention that there was another reason then Marie to keep the fucking thing on him. It was a great unkept secret that was never discussed. Everybody knew, and nobody said anything. Like being in the fucking military – don’t ask, don’t tell.

“This better be fucking good,” he growled into the mouthpiece once he’d grabbed the comunit off the floor. He’d been asleep and he wasn’t in the most pleasant of moods when he’d been woken up. Knowing his luck, it was Scott calling him back in...for fucking something. He didn’t know what, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Magneto was loose and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, no matter how many wild geese they chased. The X-Men had a call on his loyalty, but he didn’t like having his chain jerked around. Especially not by that preppy asshole.

“Perhaps later would be a better time?”

Logan relaxed, hearing the soft spoken German voice on the other end of the line. Kurt. That other reason for sticking around and not disappearing completely off the X-Men’s radars. He could. He knew he could. But there were enough reasons for him not to that he kept himself findable. Sometimes, the thought was awfully tempting. Especially after talking to the boy scout, it came up large in his mind but he always decided not to.

“No, now’s fine, Elf. Why are you calling me up? Especially at this time of night…morning,” he corrected himself as he read the red LEDs of the alarm clock on the bedside table. It wasn’t a great motel, but it had a few things.

“Today Herr Summers showed me how to call a comunit on a private line...” the man on the other end of the line explained like it should suddenly illuminate his mind. Just a curl of amusement to his voice, an undercurrent like he was laughing while he was speaking. Logan fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to puzzle the former circus acrobat out. It was a task that he was usually up to, only not under the circumstances.

“Yeah, and?”

“So...there is no possibility of being listened to, while we speak to one another,” Kurt said, his tone saying that he was laying on some pretty thick hints. Logan sighed, and rubbed his eyes. Wait, that almost purr. Oh. Oh. God, he was slow tonight.

“You’re thinking we’re going to be talking at a pretty adult level?” he joked, hearing the German laugh, relieved and amused and happy. Probably glad that he hadn’t had to spell it out more then that. He was probably blushing right now, that dark tint to the blue rising on his cheeks that would be scarlet on anyone else. Hot, when he put his hand to it. He smiled smugly, and got a little bit more comfortable. After all, Kurt had come up with this right out of his own head, no prompting required. Considering where they’d been a few months ago, this was progress in leaps and bounds in discovering the how to of sex. He’d been right about what was lurking underneath all the layers of repression and Catholic guilt. Once you got the boy’s pants off and him between the sheets, it made things much easier. They went a little further every time, but this was the first time that Kurt had really pushed the boundaries of what they’d been doing by himself. He was pretty proud of the bad influence he was having on the German. “Just how you’d come up with this idea?”

“Mmm...there was this...um...magazine? That...I think one of the girls left it lying around, and I wanted to practise my English so...”

Logan could hear him getting more embarrassed as he went on, so he cut him off. Just to save him from himself. Besides, he was pretty interested into getting to the next part of this. “I think I know the type. So...” He laughed at the thought of Kurt reading one of those girl magazines and finding the sex tips section, how to spice up your relationship, unable to help himself and wishing he could see Kurt blush and squirm. Reach out and touch him, roll him over onto his back underneath him and feel the heat of that blush against his face as he kissed him stupider. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, um, not much...those pants, I sleep in them when you’re not here. They’re very...comfortable?”

“Cold without me?”

“Mmm, ja. Cold. Ich vermisse dich...”

“Take ‘em off,” Logan ordered, and heard the catch in Kurt’s breathing. Maybe Kurt had brought this up, made him think of it and approve, but it always felt much more natural for him to lead. A rustle of cloth and he palmed his free hand over his cock, sprawling on the empty bed as he watched the dark ceiling, lights from the cars on the road outside flickering against the walls through the curtains. He slept naked, always did, but he left the sheet draped over himself so he didn’t get too cold. “You got ‘em off now?”

“Ja, ja, I took the pants off,” a sighed response that perked his interest even more. Kurt’s sex voice, deep and husky suddenly, accent coming out that much stronger. He loved to hear it, hear the sudden liberation that it signalled. When Kurt let go of all those things that held him back, that prim and properness, that deep rooted fear of sin and retribution coming from something that Logan had never understood. He didn’t get religion. “Nächste, mein Leibster?”

“Touch yourself, tell me what you’re doing,” the Canadian murmured, leaning his head back against the pillow as he stroked himself slowly. Listening with the proper attention to the catch and gasp of Kurt’s breath over the crackly line of the comunit. Took his cock in hand and squeezed gently, eyes closing a little so he could see Kurt on the back of his eyelids. Instead of the ceiling, with its mould patch in the corner, spreading with tendrils across the roof. Water mark shaped like a rabbit. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Mm, ja.” A deep swallow on the other side of the line, Kurt nervously gulping in response to the request as he gathered up his courage. Of which, Logan knew he had ample quantities. Only not so much in this arena, more in the facing death without running away arena. “I am...running my hand down my stomach, und I am thinking of how it feels when you touch me...”

“Is it better when it’s me?”

“Ja, viel besser...”

“Touch your cock, darlin’,” Logan encouraged, hearing that deep purr rumble through Kurt’s voice. Imagining the way his eyes would be soft and blurred with arousal, uncanny inhuman gaze of solid amber shining at him between barely parted lashes. He shifted on the bed and stroked his own awakening erection more firmly.

“Bossy,” Kurt teased, a rasp of breath more then enough to tell Logan that he’d done what he’d been asked. “I am. Just as you ask.”

“When I get back to the mansion, I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” the Canadian promised in a rough growl. The soft sounds that he could hear coming from Kurt over the commline turned him on, spurred him to take the dialogue further. “Once I’m finished with all the stupid shit I have to go through, I’ll track you down...you never make it very hard to find you.”

“Maybe I should make you work for it this time. I could, you know.” He heard the rustle of sheets, a swallowed moan. Could almost taste the sweat that would be rising in a thin sheen over dark blue skin on his tongue. Salt and musk, a tinge of brimstone and just Kurt. The taste of him was linked inexorably to Logan’s memories of him now, along with the unmistakable scent. “Just for a change, ja?”

“Oh yeah? Try it, Elf, see how far it gets you.”

“Ach, I am so afraid...” A low laugh, that almost seemed to stroke down his spine. He grinned at the thought of a hunt, especially with such delicious prey at the end of it. Logan wondered if Kurt would really do it.

“You should be...I’m the one with a healing factor. I could chase you through the house and out into the woods until you dropped...and then...”

“And then?”

“When I caught you, Elf? First, I’d mark you, all over. Got any bruises left?”

“Nein...they fade too fast...”

“I love making that one on your throat. Touch the spot, even if it’s not still there. Use your tail on your cock,” he said in a husky voice, imagining Kurt splayed out over his bed, wondering if it was in his room or the German’s. Wishing it was his. Hoping it was. That the hot musky scent would be clinging to his sheets when he got back. Housekeeping wouldn’t have a reason to touch his rooms, not if he wasn’t in the house.

“Peverser Mensch,” Kurt scolded him. Personally, he didn’t speak German that well, although he was catching up on some of it, but he was pretty sure what that meant. At least in spirit.

“Yeah, but you’re doing it,” Logan chuckled into the phone, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock. Bucked his hips up at the surge in sensation, before continuing on. “Don’t tell me you never have.”

“I have not...the thought, it never, mmm...”

“Feels good though, doesn’t it, darlin’? Use the spade to rub over the head,” the older mutant murmured, voice dark and rough. “Use your thumb to rub at your nipples. If I was there, I’d lick them for you...”

“I want to kiss you...”

A soft moan flowed through the wires to him as Logan continued to beat off, hand moving slowly on his cock as he cradled the communit to his ear. He could hear Kurt breathing heavily, voice shifting up and down in husky sighs. Aroused and probably still blushing with embarrassment over doing this, even while he was doing it. Even when he was the one that had proposed it. The boy needed to loosen up a little – Logan was surprised he’d been able to do this without getting drunk.

“Hell, I want to do more then just kiss you. I want to fuck you hard, maybe blow ya first, you like it when I do that. You should see how hard I am now just thinking about it...baby, you’re gonna give me a serious case of blue balls,” Logan told his lover huskily, imagining what was happening on the other end of the line. There was something to be said for keeping in touch. Maybe...just maybe, he’d use the damn shitty piece of equipment more often. He hoped that Scott hadn’t been lying about this being private, or the Boy Scout was going to get an earful that he maybe hadn’t expected.

Maybe it’d give him a few ideas. There was only so long a man could grieve, after all. There had to be a limit, when ya had to start living again. Logan wondered just who or what could convince that living was worth it. That maybe Jean’s sacrifice hadn’t meant he should shut himself up in the shell of perfect leader forever and ever. Just in case he got hurt again.

“Logan...Gott...”

“About ready to cum, baby? Stroke yaself, nice and hard, just think about what it’s going to be like when I come home. I might not let ya out of the bedroom for a few days...we’ll have us some good times.” Rough purr full of dark and wicked promises. And he knew that he was about turning Kurt’s spine to water, so it was a good thing he was lying down in a bed. Maybe he’d cut this short a few days. He’d almost had enough of Wisconsin. The whole bare empty state. It wasn’t the same as Canada, nowhere near, but unless he felt like talking Summers into doing a flyby and dropping him off, the trip just took too long. Maybe next time, he’d try asking ‘Ro...she was much more amiable.

“I want you...here, now...” Kurt whispered back at him, incubus voice whispering at him in the dark. The slick sound of flesh on flesh as they both jerked off, listening to the other’s voice over the line. Goading each other to orgasm, almost taunting each other with the memory of what it was when they were physically together. How good it could be. How good it was.

“I’d fuck you if I was there, that what you want?”

“Ja, ja, fick mich, mein leiber, fick mich,” the German moaned, voice dark and throaty. Logan knew what he was saying, it wasn’t that different from the English. It had been repeated often enough that he knew it when Kurt said it. The Canadian smiled a dirty, lascivious grin at the ceiling of his motel room, hips pushing up into his grip as he stroked his cock and listened to his lover moan and gasp. Ah, the wonders of modern technology.

“Oh yeah, take you hard and fast,” he whispered, hearing the stuttered moan that meant Kurt was close. It sounded better when the German made it when his cock was lodged deep up the other man’s ass and blue-skinned knees were hooked over his shoulders. When the mouth that the broken moans escaped from was close to his ear, breath hot and damp against his skin, the side of his face. When there were thick chipped nails digging into the skin of his shoulders and back, digging in so deep they brought up blood. “That’s exactly what you want. Me fucking you, deep and hard. Feeling a little empty there, darlin’? I love it when you beg me to fuck you, I love it when you’re aching to get fucked and you’re begging for it...”

“I’m begging now, mein schatz, I want you here, fucking me,” Kurt murmured back at him, not quite incoherent yet. If he hadn’t completely lost his English by now, then it probably wasn’t going to be one of the screaming mindblowing orgasms that he knew they could have together. That was ok; Logan wanted him to miss him, after all. Wanted him to know it was never quite as good except when Logan was really there. “I want to be in your bed...”

“When I get back,” he breathed into the communit, not daring to say ‘when I come home’. After all, the mansion wasn’t home. It just had a few people living in it he’d rather stay in touch with. It wasn’t home. “I’ll fuck you stupid. On the bed, in the shower, outside on the grass...everywhere. You’ll have bruises from head to toe, just from me. So everyone knows you’re mine, just by looking at ya.”

“Mmmm, ja, tell me what you’ll do, Logan.”

“There’s so much,” he almost laughed, catching his breath on a moan as his hips pushed up into the grip of his hand. Warm and a little slick under his fingers as his cock leaked precum. Heat. It burned in his stomach, low and down deep. Somewhere centered around his cock and balls, and then reaching out. The sheet’s too much, so he flicks it off his body restlessly. “I want you to suck me off, I want to fuck you, kiss you...nn...I want to taste you. I want to make you scream,” low and utterly selfassured, masculine and strutting as he growled down the phone.

He could do it. He knew that he could make Kurt scream in pleasure, howl and lose himself in the ache of physical ecstasy. The memory of seeing him like that, twisted and tense and tight underneath him, or above him, every muscle drawn in before the point of explosion that unwound him – it was more then just memory.

And it’s gasping and moans and whispered dirty words down the wireless connection of the communits. Floating through the air, like a lustful prayer. A curse. A blessing. And it’s everything that he needs and didn’t know he was needing, and it’s a bullet to the heart and the groin, and when he hears Kurt orgasm with a choked cry on the other end of the line, his hips jerks and his hand spasms and he’s covered his stomach and hand with hot white. Gasping for breath as his eyelids flicker, the cracks in the ceiling above him floating in and out, the sound of cars going past on the road outside and the soft buzz of the digital clock on his bedside table take up everything he can hear. Except for the sounds of Kurt making his own broken little noises. So far away, even when it sounded so close that he could reach out and touch him. Taste him. Smell him.

“Call me again. In a few nights,” Logan murmurs once he catches his breath, closing his eyes and smelling the musk and salt of his own cum on the air. It’s almost pathetic. “Soon.”

“Uh, ja. If you want me to...”

“I want you to.”

It’s still funny how shyly awkward Kurt can turn in just a second. One word, one glance, and suddenly he was all mumbles and twitching smiles. Too afraid that people wouldn’t like him. Logan had to admit he had some basis for that. More then enough grounds to be afraid of what would happen if people didn’t like him.

“Good night, elf.”

“Guten Nacht, mein liebster,” the husky murmur of German whispers against his ear, and Logan hangs up before the temptation not to gets to be too much. He throws the communit back on the floor, and stretches, before getting up. Now he needed a god damn shower, and the bathroom in this place was verging on toxic. Still, sleeping like this was not something he was going to do. So he hauled his ass out of bed and went to grab a shower.

Wash the memory of everything off his skin.