Day for a Night

At night Scott returns to his bedroom, turns the key and unlocks the door, steps in and closes it behind him. That’s when he realizes someone is waiting for him inside.

Logan wastes no time on pleasantries, naturally. Before Scott can get his bearings, he charges… pushes the younger mutant into a wall. He clamps a broad hand over Scott’s mouth to silence his yelps of surprise. Scott struggles to breathe for a second before the shock wears off and his reflexes belatedly kick in.

It’s not a fair fight, never is – Logan with his bulk and adamantium and invincibility, and Scott with his regular glasses that don’t dial up or down his deadly blasts, basically rendering them useless. But that’s not why this fight is unfair. It’s unfair because Scott is fighting to hurt and bleed and break, but Logan is fighting to restrain. Subdue. Control.

Scott punches Logan twice in the ribs, hard, bruising a couple at least and goes next for the crotch which tends to incapacitate Wolverine at least for a short while. But Logan is ready, has had enough experience to predict what Cyclops would likely do next. And while he feels his ribs solder and crack back into place inside his chest, Logan preempts the knee lifting up towards him, grabs the calf instead, lifting Scott clear off his feet and flinging him back. Scott goes flying through the air, lands hard on his hard-backed chair, the one behind his equally staid study desk.

The old mahogany splinters under the force of Scott’s body pummeling down on it. The sound reverberates through the floor, giving pause to other teachers at Xavier’s for a second but that’s about it. Furniture is like fast moving consumer goods in this school. Totally expendable.

Scott knows when he takes two seconds too long to get back on his feet, and it’s a fatal mistake. Logan grabs him by the lapels of his crisp white shirt underneath his grey checked cardigan, and hauls him up and off the floor. The two men glare into each other’s eyes, okay well, Scott does. Logan tries.

“Deal’s a deal, bub.” Logan growls. In response the red lenses flash angrily and the chest heaves from breathlessness but no words leave Scott’s panting mouth.

With his free hand, Logan swipes the stacks of History papers to the floor. Scott knows what’s coming but he isn’t prepared for the bruteness with which he is slammed down onto his own desk. It doesn’t break any ribs, but damn it hurt. Which, they both know, is half the point.

Logan surprises Scott by not pushing in right there and then. The silence is loaded with unasked questions and unlodged protests and still Logan waits. One hand planted in the center of Scott’s back presses him down against the wooden surface, keeping him still. The other is almost poised mid-air, ready to pounce if Scott tries to escape again. But it doesn’t happen.

Deal’s a deal.

When Scott’s breathing eventually calms, Logan undoes his pants, pushing the khaki trousers down to the field leader’s knees and ripping his tightie-whities in three places. He unzips himself right after, pulling his half-hard dick out along with a small tube of KY from his left jeans pocket. Again that surprises Scott; he wasn’t expecting to be prepared at all.

Their hatred for each other never abated, not even after Jean died. Instead, it got supplemented by this seething, frustrating… rabid… furious… frantic need for violence, to hurt each other – by words or sticks or stones, anything really, until they saw red and the whole vicious cycle started all over again.

A gasp falls from Scott’s lips that he fails to bite back in time, and Logan smirks. Slicks a second finger and inserts it inside the long unused anus, pistoning and stretching it out. Several minutes and more coerced whimpers later, he replaces his digits with his bone hard cock, twice its normal-state size and Lord how the asshole in Logan wishes he could have shown Summers what he was about to spear him with.

He starts kind of slow and keenly attuned to Scott’s body language and the muffled sounds he’d rather not be making at all. Soon, he picks up the rhythm and the pace, fucking Scott with magnificent strength and intensity, like Scott has never been fucked before. He hears Scott knock his forehead against the table with a thump, fighting to not push back like Logan knows he wants to, biting his moans back and slowly but surely working his own erection against the table.

Logan knows every time he hits bull’s eye because the entire body laid out before him shudders and jerks. The two perfectly rounded butt cheeks arch upward, undulating around his shaft and it makes Logan moan in return.

But he is in no hurry. Logan waits for Scott to catch up considering he started late and, hell, it’s not like Cyke could recover from a round as quickly as the self-regenerative freak can, or even have as many. So Scott comes first, contracting his muscles around Logan and drawing out the loudest, most non-Wolverine-ish reaction from the man, ever.

Logan releases all his pent-up fury inside Scott, deep and long and at last, filling his ass several times before he rests. He traces droplets of sweat slithering down the field leader’s back from underneath the shirt and cardigan bunched up just under Scott’s armpits. Logan takes another few moments to admire the boy’s marvelous body, picks up Scott’s balls in one hand as if to weigh them; caresses them eagerly.

“Get off of me.”

Logan smirks and takes his time but calmly, carefully, pulls away. Scott immediately straightens up, pulls his trousers to his narrow waist and, sadly for Logan covers the goods up. When he turns, after a whole half a minute, his skin is flushed and his hair is mussed and his lips are red and bitten through. But the mask has fallen back in place. It’s not quite as effective, of course, and Scott knows Logan knows it too.

Logan grudgingly zips himself up, clasps his yearning hands behind his back and rocks on the balls of his heels. Waiting.

“You can go now.”

Scott’s voice is cold, and raspy. Logan narrows his eyes but he’s smirking. “Go where?”

Scott stays quiet and still as a statue.

“Hit your head too hard, Cyke? I can refresh your memory if you want.”

“One fuck, that was the deal.”

Logan crowds into the younger man’s space again, suddenly not so amused anymore. “One night! Sundown to sunrise, that was the deal, commander.”

Scott swallows and tries to push past Logan but the other man is in his way. He’d have to touch the man to get any further and Scott isn’t sure he is ready to do that just yet.

And of course he remembers. How can he fucking forget?

It had been right after another mission that’d been disastrously close to failure just because one guy on the X-Men team refused to follow any fucking orders. And after another session of endless bickering and physical fighting both in the Danger Room and out of it, Scott had screamed in absolute frustration.

“ONE DAY! Just for one fucking goddamn day Logan, can’t you just do what I say, damnit!”

Logan had practically exploded, his eyes flaming with something Scott had never seen in there before. “ALRIGHT! But on one condition – that you return the favor.”

“What the FUCK does that mean?”

“For every day that I follow your orders, you give me one night where you follow mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“For every day that I behave like your little lapdog on the field…? You’re gonna have to give me one night in which you will be my bitch. That’s the deal.”

At first, Scott had just laughed. Scoffed and guffawed at exactly the same time was more like it. And then he realized Logan was not fucking with him, not this time (not right then anyway). Logan looked absolutely dead serious.

“Wha-… I… Wha-”

Scott had been rendered speechless. And Logan had trudged on, emboldened and emphatic, like he’d been thinking about it for a long, long time. “You need me out there. And I want you in here. Your choice. Take it, or leave it.”

His eyes had been transfixed on Scott’s face that burned with an acute consciousness of his own body, something Scott hadn’t felt in a while. And to the surprise and outright shock of everyone present in the room, which was basically just him and Logan, Scott found himself rasping all of one single word in response:

“Deal.”

That was then. This is now…

Logan steps in closer, until he’s inches away from Scott’s softly heaving frame. He looks into the thin face, wondering what Scott would do if he tried to kiss the boy. “C’mon Cyke. I’ve been a humble little drudge all day. Don’t I deserve the reward you promised? All of it?”

Scott’s face hardens and he looks up to give Logan a scathing look. “That was a week ago.”

Logan starts, blinks, something occurring to him that he’d never in a million dreams ever thought would come to pass. “Is that why you’re being such a princess? Be– because I waited so long?”

Scott doesn’t reply, but there’s the beginning of a little boy blush coloring his perfect face. He starts to turn away, find a way to get to a place where Logan isn’t standing so very close. His body is still vibrating from before, but he doesn’t want to give in. Not yet. Not just yet.

“Cyke… stop…”

Cyke is already moving when his hand is grabbed from behind in Logan’s, coarse and calloused as it is, but also responsible and firm, and infallible. Just like Wolverine. “You know me. I got a major problem with authority and shit.” Logan steps in closer. “But I’m working on it. For you.”

Scott gulps, tries to nod while keeping his head turned away, and just about manages. Logan nods in return. And then the smirk is back.

“So, the deal… are we still on or what?”

Scott takes his time, keenly aware of the hand clasping his and it is only getting hotter by the second. Let’s face it – it is a losing battle he’s fighting. And he isn’t even trying all that hard.

“You’re a dick. You know that, right?”

Logan doesn’t smirk anymore. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t let go of Scott’s hand. Quietly he starts to walk, leading his reward to the bed behind them.

*** END ***