The Case For Displacement

The Case For Displacement

Part 1
Its not the same, the inventor thought as the gadget before him formed from various scraps. He wasn't always like this... He remembered the days before the explosion; when Logan would quietly watch him build something. He was.. my friend then? Kinda... sorta friendish... I guess, he frantically asked himself as the device began to grow even more complicated.

But then, Xavier made Logan leader. What was that saying... absolute power is absolutely corrupting? He remembered how his heart sank when the feral dragged those claws against the skin of the Blackbird; the adamantium talons left a gash on more than the paint.

When Logan talked to him any more, it was terse and dismissive at best. When it wasn't, it reminded Forge of those days he was stuffed inside a high school locker for the crime of not being on the football team. Here was the first place I got some credit for what I built... now all he does is demand and take...

But what really rubbed salt in the wound?
He used to be the only person here besides Storm and Hank that made me horny...

"Forge!" Came a rasping, angry voice from the hallway. The inventor immediately felt a lump in his throat; he gripped his wrist to avoid trembling in the presence.
".Y..Yes, Logan?" He replied shakily.
"Day's over. Mission done. Free time 'til tomorrow."
"Thanks.." he replied quickly as he felt gratitude that Logan hadn't even darkened the threshold of his workshop.

He looked back at the chair the feral used to sit in and watch him build. He quickly closed his eyes and cringed before he began the short walk to the elevator.

Ten minutes later, the inventor sat in the chair in his room and polished the lenses of his goggles. He cast his gaze around the cramped interior; the drawn curtains barred any illumination from touching the wide array of machines and computers that were sprawled around. He thought it would've made his room look stranger if his bed were made.

He glanced over to the door and smirked a little at seeing it was locked. He removed a completely blank DVD from within the pages of a book on the shelf above the desk. He then slid the disc into his PC and turned the volume down before he reached into his pants.

The voices could barely be heard over the speaker crackle, but it was more than enough. Two figures were there on the screen; both were male and clad in tight leather chaps and knee high boots. Both had armbands around their left and right biceps. The larger one lay back in a sling; his torso was covered in a thick coating of dark brown hair that glittered with droplets of sweat. His glove-clad fist gripped his long, thick cock and jerked it back and forth.

The second man was obviously younger and slimmer; his hair was a bright yellow-blond and only a very sparing trail of body fur trickled down his lean, lithe torso. And his own cock; as long and thick as the elder man's, was slowly moving in and out of the buffer man's ass. His own breaths were deep and harsh but didn't overshadow the main audio of the film.

"Fuckin' dammit kid," the elder man nearly bellowed, "yer cock's so huge... yer real good at this ya sexy bastard... ARRGH!" he yelled suddenly as the younger man's cock stabbed at his prostate, "ya know yer worthy, stud... plow me kid, I already fucked yer tight ass, I owe ya one..."

The sonorous rumble of the elder man's voice traveled straight down Forge's spine and soon had his cock spurting along with those of the men on screen. He bit his lip as he came; afterward he quickly rushed for tissues.

Part 2
Twenty four hours later, Forge entered his room again. He closed the door and quickly collapsed on the bed. He mopped up the beads of sweat on his brow with a swipe of his hand. He lay there on the bed and took deep breaths.

"Forge! Fix the Danger Room!"
"Forge! Build more missiles for the Blackbird!"
He's probably going to ask me to scrub the damn toilets next... he never even says 'please' or 'thank you'...

He thought about playing a game that offered catharsis... Prototype! No wait.. not that he thought as he remembered the claws. A game won't work... need something stronger. He stood up then; his legs still throbbed from the day's work.

Suddenly, a thought popped up in his mind. Why should I tolerate this?!? I'm a technical genius! Any business would hire me. Yeah, there are some mutant-phobes, but most only care about skills, and I have skills!

But he'd be leaving here. Leaving Hank and Storm and all the good memories he had before the explosion... I need to think about this, he thought as he quickly changed out of his uniform and put on some jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, don't wanna scare people with the prosthetic he thought.

He picked up his cellphone before he left his room; they might need me in an emergency or something... And yet, somehow he felt like picking it up was letting a leash be attached to him. He could already hear that harsh whispery rasp distorted by bad reception. No! I'm going to think about this on my own terms! He left it on the table as he turned and left his room. He quickly made his way down the stairs and departed the mansion.

The dark-haired figure moved down the sidewalk slowly. His eyes were downcast. He forgot to take his goggles off back at the mansion. He continued in the same direction down the street. The question kept being spun around in his mind; he knew he had a valid reason to leave. But what would he be giving up by leaving? There were risks too... Maybe I should be impulsive about this and just go... but... no, I have to be reasonable.

And as he kept walking, suddenly he realized the wall next to him was familiar. He looked over it and his jaw dropped.

But..... I've been walking away from here! In the same direction! For forty-five minutes! The familiar facade of the Institute stood before his eyes, almost mocking him.

He turned away. His shoulders slumped further and his gaze fell even lower. Damn.... even non-Euclidean geometry is out to get me, he thought. Well, only one place to go now...

He trudged up the path to the Institute with only misery on his face. He imagined any second now Logan would be standing there, leering triumphantly at him, seeing in him a broken and tamed subject with nowhere else to go.

Come on! Be sensible! This place shouldn't even BE here and you're acting like an abused puppy! Whatever the hell happened, figure it out and don't be such a joke!

He quickly straightened up his posture and walked forward. He tried to keep his eyes level and focused on the door. He took breaths every few steps; he didn't want to sound shaky or uneven. Finally he managed to press the intercom button on the door.

"Greetings, may I ask who this is?" Came a familiar, warm, eloquent voice from the speaker. Forge instantly smiled.
"Hey Hank! It's me, Forge!"

There was a pause before he heard the voice return with a more curt tone to it. "Ahh, Forge, would you care to explain how you managed to become paler, slimmer, and shave at least one and a half decades off your age?"

Forge's eyes went wide. When he managed to reply, his voice was nearly stammering.
"But... but its me! Use the scanners! Same bionic leg and arm!"

"I noticed that... and some elevated tachyon levels around your body. Tell me, young Forge," Hank continued, his tone became increasingly more inquisitive, "have you recently experienced any strange geometric phenomena or deja vu?"

The eager reply leaped out of Forge's throat. "Yeah! Um, I was taking a walk, left the institute, and walked in the same direction for forty-five minutes... and ended up here. And I didn't walk in a circle."

A few minutes later, the heavy double doors swept open. Standing on the threshold was the familiar labcoated form of Dr. Henry McCoy. The large blue mutant stood with a warm, welcoming smile. He smelled no signs of deceit on the younger mutant; then it shall be my pleasure to be his host. "Greetings, Forge! Shall we get you comfortably accommodated?"

Part 3
Forge's first day at the new Xavier's had him agape. Jean and Charles were still there. Scott was in charge like before, and unlike a certain leader he was used to, didn't belittle him. At least he appreciates my work. And Storm... she's even hotter! Oh man.. she's so gorgeous..

It was only a small amount of time before Forge found a workshop in the basement identical to his old one in size and location. He quickly established himself there; he gathered his own box of spare parts from Hank's supply and sat at the bench.

Logan silently slid into the workshop. He's workin', better not disturb him, he thought as he quietly sat down on the chair in the corner. He could see the man's long fingers scampering over the gadget; they moved with a sureness and skill Logan saw when Remy was on a heist, or Scott was pulling off insane trick shots, or on some of the swordsmen he remembered from Japan. Shit kid, ya got some real talent there.

Suddenly, Forge accidentally knocked a wrench off the bench. The inventor leaned down to pick it up and saw a familiar shape in the corner of his eye. He quickly stood back up, and turned around.

The young man before him had eyes wide as dinner plates. Logan recognized that smell far too well; fear. He saw the slender figure quickly back up against the desk.
"Sorry I scared ya... didn't wanna stop ya from workin.'"

"L...L...Logan..." Forge managed to say. Ohshitohshitohshit.

"Yeah... yer Forge right? From another world, Hank said."

Forge nodded back silently. His body remained rigid.

Logan stood up with a quizzical look on his face. "Why are ya so cagey, kid? I ain't gonna eat ya."

"Just... well..." Forge took a breath as he tried to say it. Sitting right there... like before the explosion... is this Logan like that? A small, weak smile tried to creep across his face at the thought.
"Its... its kind of a long story..."

"I wanna hear it."

Part 4
Several hours later, the feral's bloodshot eyes bore into his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Two empty bottles of cheap bourbon lay beside the sink. He had better stuff, but after hearing what Forge told him, he didn't feel like he deserved it.

No. It wasn't me. I'd never act that way. I got honor... principles... I ain't some schoolyard bully that picks on people!

"Oh really?" came a silent reply. It was his reflection. The face in the mirror wasn't his own any more; its mouth was twisted into a leer that bared teeth. Flecks of blood lay on the elongated canines of the creature.

Shut up, he thought back at the reflection. He knew that voice too well; it shared his head with him.

"Liar. Ya were like me once. Remember?" He remembered the nights he spent in those clubs; a constantly throbbing disco beat stood in the background as he indeed acted no better than Forge described.

Men. Women. Mostly men; the animal wanted somethin' it would feel more glee in conquerin'... all of them on their knees, bound and humiliated. Grovelling before him. He clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth at the memories.

"Yeah... ya remember don'tcha? And ya liked it..."
NO!! I didn't. You liked it. Those nights always ended the same way; him feeling guilty for giving in to the animal.

And the face on the mirror kept leering at him. He knew how false the expression was. Fake strength. All ya feel is fear... I felt I had no control over my life, and ya took that fear and turned it inta me controllin' others as compensation! Yer weak. A parasite. A scavenger.

"Drop the act, runt!" the face continued. It had changed now, his black hair had been replaced with long blond locks. Creed.
"Face it! Ya go on about integrity and bullshit, its a fuckin' lie! A bad joke ya keep tellin' because you can't handle the truth."
Shut up.
"Yer no better than me, runt! Yer a monster! Yer not a man, yer an anim..."

"SHUT UP!" Logan roared as his fist suddenly smashed the mirror into dozens of glittering shards. He didn't even register any pain until he saw the splashes of blood that lay atop the gleaming fragments of glass. The cuts began to vanish before his eyes.

Could I really be like Forge said? Worse than Cyclops?

He knew the answer. It made him want to vomit.

Power corrupts. Even me.

He turned away from the remains of the mirror and walked back into his bedroom. It shouldn't even work... he thought as he remembered every time he told Cyclops to shove it when Cyclops tried to employ military-style 'leadership' tactics. They appeal ta tha inner animal in all of us, he thought with disgust. Every time they work, someone's bein' less human. On those rare occasions when he tried to see things from Scott's perspective, he'd concede that there may be some situations where those tactics were at least morally defensible... still hurts like a bitch ta admit that... but even Scott never descended to all-out bullying.

He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew precisely what he was going to say to Scott and even Charles the next time they asked him to toughen up his self-defense classes. No. I ain't yer fuckin' ringer. Do yer own dirty work. If ya want pliant little pack animals, I ain't gonna deliver 'em.

He remembered the sharp smell of fear, the wide eyes, the small trembles in Forge's limbs, even the microgesture of flinching Forge made whenever he looked directly into those dark eyes. And then he remembered the smooth, confident motions of Forge's fingers over any device imaginable; that version o'me ya knew... he took yer pride away.

A flash of memory emerged; a filthy animal in a cage so small it couldn't stand up. I'm gonna give ya yer pride back. Set things right.

Part 5
Forge's fingers drifted along the device's lines. There was almost an elegance in what he did with the parts; it started out as an electric can opener and its now a grenade disarmer.. Yet in the corner of his mind he remembered the evening before.

He sat across the table from Logan and told the shorter man everything. The explosion. Cyclops falling into depression and Professor X making Logan the leader (he laughed at that part.. never seen him laugh before). But then he described how Logan acted. Lecturing Scott on "being part of a team" drew an expression of shock, but every other thing he listed only made the elder man's head sink and teeth grind against each other with more ferocity. He asked if Logan wanted to stop several times; each time the Canadian bid him to continue.

I hope he doesn't.. resent me or.. he thought. Even his distracted mind didn't disrupt the deftness of his fingers. The device, small as it was, rose from the bench proudly. A smirk crept across his face.

He heard a few knocks emerge from behind him and turned around. His fist clenched around the screwdriver he held in his hand, but he managed to keep his voice steady.
"Hey, Logan.."

"Hi Forge," the feral said as he tossed the younger man a can of beer.

Forge froze for a half-second before registering the arc of the can moving towards him. He released the screwdriver, raised his hands and snatched the can just before it collided with his chest. A very short clang could be heard as the item landed in his grasp.
"Umm, thanks!" he replied... "I umm... don't usually drink beer...."

Logan chuckled. "That's okay, toss it back."

After Forge tossed it back, he saw the feral quickly open the can and down the first half in one swallow. Hair of the dog, or?

"So, what's yer usual poison kid?" Logan continued with a small smirk on his face.

"I uh.." he took a breath, "don't really drink too much, but usually I like the caffeinated stuff. Vodka-Red Bull, that kind of thing... spike the coffee, et cetera.." he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, but he tried to keep his eyes on the elder man.

Logan nodded, "shoulda guessed." He took a breath before continuing, "was hopin' you'd be okay with me watchin' ya build..."

Slowly, a smile began to take hold of the younger man's lips. Just how it was before.. "Sure... you can watch!"

Logan grinned and nodded as Forge turned back to the pile of spare parts sitting beside the bench.

Part 6
The tracksuit's always too big he thought as he moved down the corridor towards the gym. His goggles remained perched atop his head as he barely lifted his feet. I gotta be able to protect myself.. he recited over in his head. At least Cyclops won't bruise me to 'toughen me up'.. As he stood outside the closed gym door, he wondered if he could get away with telling Scott he was unwell. Oh come on! Its basic self defense, its useful..

He opened the door and froze. He felt the small amount of color drain from his face; and not just from fear. Oh man...

Logan stood inside the room, atop the rubber-foam training mat. He wore long gray trackpants and a white singlet so tight that it appeared ready to split every time the fabric moved across one of the many bulges. The sturdy ropes of muscle that reinforced his arms already had very slight beads of sweat beginning to emerge..

Suddenly Forge felt grateful for the loose fit of his own clothes.

"Cyke's busy, so I'm fillin' in fer him," the feral said in a slightly quieter than usual voice. C'mon, ya know I ain't that brute ya knew... The smell of attraction didn't even register as he scanned for the familiar sour sharpness of fear. Less than before.

He felt his limbs become less rigid as he shifted his relatively insubstantial weight from his prosthetic leg.
"...Alright," he replied as he moved forward tentatively. He's not the bully. He's... my friend? Kinda..sorta..friendish? No, he's my friend. As his feet finally met the squishy surface of the mat he took a breath; he kept his eyes on the elder man.

Forge's gaze was wide, still reticent, and yet it didn't avert his own. Good man, he thought as a slight smile crossed his features.
"Alright," he began quietly. "First, need to build some trust."

"How?" Forge asked, before remembering the exercise Logan was hinting at. First one you ever did when you joined up! Stupid Forge! He wanted to cringe.

Logan walked behind the taller, slimmer man.
"Askin' ya ta fold yer arms over yer chest, then fall back. I'll catch ya," he continued, his voice almost a whisper.

Forge moved his arms and felt the steel fingers of his prosthetic hand dig into his shoulder. I won't be afraid. He remembered the Logan before the explosion; never lied, always kept his promises. He took a breath; his lungs smoothly received the air. Then, as he exhaled, he fell backwards.

His non-bionic leg quickly moved backwards to stop himself from falling. He opened his eyes and looked upwards. His own face bore embarrassment, but the elder man's heavy brow above was not furrowed.

Logan nodded. "Don't beat yerself up. Try again," his voice remained soft.

Forge stood back up again. His arms remained folded. Just like building something... he thought as he leaned back. He isn't lying... he's as reliable as what I build. His center of gravity moved behind his ankles and he kept his spine rigid. His body fell back.

He opened his eyes and saw the feral's smirking face above him. The rough palms were under his shoulders as the fluorescent lights stung his brown eyes.
"I... I guess I did it...Thanks."

"Don't thank me. Thank yerself." Ya wouldn't trust me if ya didn't trust yerself ta judge me.

Part 7
Every time he watched those hands move across a machine, he wished for this.

He smiled as he looked up at the grinning face above him. He had it now; those precise fingers of the younger man moved across his chest and raked through the thick forest of black hair. The fingertips latched onto his nipples and slowly tweaked the firm skin; a swelling rush of heat moved through his synapses and only made his cock harder.
"Yeah, fuck Forge, that feels amazin'.." he groaned. Those same practiced, confident motions traveled across his body as he looked up at the blushing face of the man that owned those hands.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod the inventor thought as he tried to say anything at all. His short, sharp breaths didn't stop the smooth motion of his hands... I want him... want more... oh god...

"Fuck, handsome.. say it... tell me what ya want, I'm up fer anythin', any way."

"Will you... will...." he gulped as he tried to form the words. No, don't be afraid, he thought as he kept his eyes locked on the cobalt ones of the man beneath. "Will you fuck me, Logan?"

The feral smirked back at the man straddling his body. He didn't need words to reply.

The two men were in the woods now; the scent of pine drifted into their nostrils as their lower legs sank into the carpet of soft, damp leaves. The elder man had his arms wrapped around the taller, younger inventor; his lips trailed up the slender man's body and left a burning line of bites and kisses on Forge's pale skin.

The inventor's head fell back as the rugged surface of the feral's torso ground against his own. Moans accompanied by torn gasps and held-back cries spilled from his mouth as he felt the feral's teeth slowly sink into the flesh around his neck.

A classic gesture of possession, but Logan's mind held no such thought; yer worthy, smart, ya deserve this, let everyone know yer my friend... he thought as he glimpsed the scarlet of the hickey on the younger man's alabaster skin.
"Ya want it, kid? Want me ta fuck ya?" He asked with a hungry smirk. I know ya want it... just say it again...

Forge's eyebrows suddenly rose in confusion. "But I already said I wan..." he began before Logan's mouth swooped back up against his and his eyes went wide. Their tongues pressed against each other's with a reassuring firmness; a strength not to be used against but in concert with the other man. The stout, thick shaft of the feral pressed against his own length... I want it Logan... fuck me... you're so untameable, you wouldn't try to tame anyone else, the real you is better than that...

It was only a few moments later that the technician felt the thick maleness prodding at his slick, well-prepared entrance. The advancing pressure moved deeper and deeper within him as his own moans were propelled out of his lungs with unmitigated ecstasy; every synapse in his body was suddenly thrust into overdrive at the sensations the technician wanted to never cease...

Logan suddenly opened his eyes; his breaths were gasps and the sheet had a visible peak below his waist.
Got somethin' ta take care of, he thought with a smirk as his hand drifted downwards. His fingers coiled around his shaft; the near-ache in his groin signaled the closeness of his release.
Yeah kid, I wantcha...

Part 8
Two figures emerged from the haze; the elder one lay back in a sling and the younger one stood up. The younger man was obviously taller and more slender than the elder man; both were clad in knee-high black leather boots, black leather chaps and wore armbands around both their left and right biceps. The animal hide shined unevenly; clear gleam diffused into a smoldering, vaporous illumination.

Forge's eyes moved up and down the sturdy, rough-hewn, hardy muscles that reinforced every bone of the feral's body. He saw the elder man's gloved hand move up and down the thick shaft that he wanted to lick all over. His own hands gripped on to the sling's suspension; his knuckles were white as his breaths came fast and almost shakily.

"Like whatcha see, smart guy?" Logan growled playfully to the man above him with bared eye-teeth.

"Y..Yeah... so fucking much!" Forge blurted out with a red face. Ohmygodohmygodhe'ssohot...

"Well, do whatcha want," Logan replied through his wolfish smirk. His gloved finger pointed right to Forge's waist and to the length standing proudly out from it. The younger man's shaft was, like the younger man's body, longer yet more slender than his own. "Plow me kid; I already fucked yer tight ass, I owe ya one."

Forge froze up for a second; he can't really be offering this?!? Wait... he isn't that brute... He knew what Logan had offered; a challenge, not to conquer but to rise up. He looked straight into the cobalt eyes of the black-haired feral with every single scrap of determination he had, with nothing but admiration for Logan, and without a trace of fear of the Wolverine.

His gloved hands rested on the Canadian's wide shoulders as he moved his hips forward. He hissed in pleasure as he felt the furious constriction wrap around his cock; the heat progressively engulfed his manhood and sent flames of pleasure moving up his spine.
"Oh man... fuck... Logan..." he stammered as a droplet of sweat trickled down his face, neck and the lean, hard planes of his slender body, "this feels so damn good..."

The pounding of his own heart and that of the younger man thundered through his head as his rugged facial muscles twisted into a look of ecstasy. His gloved hands clenched at the straps of the sling as the heat and intense pressure moved further up inside him with every second. Rough, almost-angry groans welled up from his lungs as he felt the sensations in his ass only make his cock ache even more...

The inventor immediately sat up; his eyes were wide open in shock as he felt the cool air brush against his sweat-glazed skin. He could barely make out the shape of the bed he was sitting on.
I...I think I need a drink... he thought to himself as he slid out of his bed and walked towards the door to the hallway.

A minute and a half later, he struggled to not blush as he saw the feral sitting at the kitchen table and sipping from a bottle of beer.
"Hey there..." he said softly through a weak smirk.

Logan smirked back; no fear, he thought as he subtly analyzed the scent of the air. Then he realized why Forge was blushing.
"Hi," he replied back as his smirk became a touch toothier. Glad tha feelin's mutual.

The younger man quickly moved to the fridge and took a small bottle of coke from it. He popped the cap and raised the cold glass to his lips.

"Was thinkin'... got an offer fer ya.."

Forge swallowed the cola and sat the bottle down on the kitchen bench. "Yeah?"

Logan looked straight at the taller man and smiled. "I know ya find me hot. Can smell it on ya. Same here."

Forge's blush instantly went from pink to scarlet as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Ohgodohgodohgod...

Logan chuckled softly through his smile. "Just wanna offer ya somethin... fer tomorrow. Just some fun, nothin' further than yer prepared ta go... think of it as another game of trust."

The younger man took in a breath that became staggered and strangled in his throat. Oh man... don't think of all those fantasies, you'll have a hardon right here... "I umm..." he looked away quickly before forcing his gaze back to Logan, "I guess I'm flattered... umm..."
"No pressure if ya don't..."
"I do!" Forge quickly exclaimed before cringing at the eagerness in his voice. "Ummm... tomorrow, right?"

"Yep. Don't worry, nothin' ya don't like, just a little fun," Logan replied; his growl lengthened the 'fun.'

"Okay then! Well... umm..." Forge replied as he backed towards the entrance to the kitchen, "see you then?"

The feral nodded.

Part 9
The inventor stood at the bench as he disassembled the robot. The CPU emerged from its cradle as the slender fingers coaxed it with sureness and delicacy. He heard a soft knock emerge from behind him and began to smile. He turned around; the smile suddenly changed into a dropped jaw of amazement.

"Hey Forge," Logan growled through a playful, wolfish smirk. He knew the dropped jaw wasn't fear; the only smells he detected were those of Forge's lust and the smoky, sexual scent of all the leather he was wearing. He stood there in leather jeans, boots, gloves and a jacket; too bad I 'forgot' my shirt he thought mischievously.

He felt his tongue drift around his mouth and his heart beat faster as his gaze wandered down the feral's torso, from the thick neck and sturdy shoulders to the generous coating of jet black hair spread across the slab-like pectoral muscles. Oh man... shit... say something!
"Ummm... hey! Hi.. umm... Logan.. do you... wanna... have that fun you told me about?"

"Mmhmm," Logan grunted affirmatively as he walked towards the younger man with the scarlet cheeks. He could practically see the taller man's blood supply rush in two opposing directions, like a rubber band being stretched between Forge's face and groin. "Just another game of trust... nothin' ya don't wanna do." As he smiled and advanced further, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pair of handcuffs; the metal gleamed in the harsh white fluorescence of the workshop.

Suddenly, the inventor went rigid as the color drained from his face. But... but... oh shit whatthehell?!?
"Promise ya..." came a voice that lingered around the edge of his consciousness and drew him back to reality, "I ain't gonna hurt, degrade or humiliate ya.... its just a game of trust..."
I trust him, don't I? he frantically thought as he tried to fix his eyes onto the feral's. Yeah, I trust him, he's as reliable as what I build...

Logan slowly watched as the dark brown eyes of the inventor returned to his own gaze. The younger man tentatively moved his wrists forward; the prosthetic arm jerked as the servomotors within whirred. He could smell the sharp tang of fear in the air, but even still the younger man did not retract his arms. Ain't gonna give in ta fear... he thought with a smile on his face.

"First things first... gotta take off yer shirt," the Canadian replied with a grin as his hands slipped the loose gray garment off of Forge's torso. The fabric was quickly flung against the wall.

Forge's teeth gritted as he felt the cold metal cuff close around his flesh arm; the cool air slithered along his flesh and made the few stray hairs on his chest stand on end. Logan then moved behind him and maneuvered the prosthetic's wrist into the metal bond. He felt a whine try and crawl up his throat as he heard the sound of the cuff clink against the metal of his hand. The Canadian's hot breath brushed against the back of his neck as he heard the deep growl continue;
"If ya ever wanna stop, just say 'red' and I'll stop... promise."

"O... Okay" Forge said as he desperately tried to hold back the short, spluttering cries. His eyes clenched shut before they suddenly shot open at the feel of the feral's fuzzy face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms instinctively twitched but the cuffs kept them restrained. His breaths became momentarily harsher as he felt sharp teeth begin to softly chew at his shoulder and move upward along the artery.

Logan smirked as his teeth slowly sank into the yielding, slightly salty flesh. The taste of nervous sweat and the unsteady yet excited breathing of the younger man had his cock straining against his leather jeans. His gloved hands drifted down the slender man's torso; his right hand moved to his side and clenched into a fist. Yer not gonna let fear control ya... he thought as he felt the familiar sting flare up between his knuckles.

The slow, threatening hiss sliced through the air as sharply as the blades that Forge now knew were slicing through the skin between the Canadian's knuckles. The word 'red' attempted to leap from his lungs... no... I trust him... he won't hurt me...

Logan heard the taller man's pulse spring into a gallop as he moved around to Forge's front. His clenched fist rose upward; the foot-long metalled claws followed. Logan now looked directly at the razor side; the blunt top of the blades rested against the pale shoulder of the younger man.

The soft clinking of the chain between the cuffs gave away the trembling of his limbs. The inventor's shaky breathing ceased immediately as he felt the surprisingly warm metal touch his skin. He won't hurt me, he won't hurt me, he won't hurt me he frantically thought. Those claws which had killed hundreds were right against him; only a slight twitch could.. don't think that way.. you trust him... A bead of nervous sweat fell from his brow as he felt the Canadian's lips touch the shoulder where the blades were just before. His breathing steadied slightly with the elder man's kiss.

His gaze moved downward and he felt the metal drift lower; the top side of a claw ran its way over his nipple. A shudder nearly ran up his body as his gasp lay trapped in his throat. Yet the pressure of the sliding, sleek surface against the pebbled skin sent electric ripples of pleasure coursing through his synapses. The gasps of near-panic softened as he felt the elder man's even warmer lips brush over the hard pink nub.
"Oh... oh Logan.... yeah... shit..." he moaned. A short, hissing gasp came from his lips as he felt the feral's tongue draw circles on the sensitive area.

Logan smirked as he worked his way lower; the claws began gliding their way down the hard, straight lines of the inventor's stomach. The rhythm of the taller man's pulse steadied as he kept trailing kisses in the three blades wake. The faint taste of salt on the inventor's skin only had him ever more anticipating the final reward in store; his length strained against the leather of his jeans as he thought about his next move.. just a bit further... ya don't fear me any more do ya? I'm gonna thank ya kid...

The younger man's wide eyes were locked on the feral before him; the stockier man perched on haunches with gleaming blades moving down past the waistline of his pants. Is he... is he going to... what is he going to do?

Suddenly the blades vanished; the claws flashed back into the Canadian's body. The shorter man's cobalt gaze met the dark brown of the inventor's; Logan's eyes were as ravenous as his smirk was wide.
"Thanks fer tha trust," he snarled hotly, "now I'm payin' ya back."

Suddenly, the inventor felt strong hands tugging at the waistband of his pants; the aching hardness between his legs sprang forth immediately. A clear bead of fluid emerged at the tip. The savage's eyes met his one final time; he watched the wildman lick his own lips. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod he thought frantically as he remembered the countless times he fantasized about this; before the explosion took the Logan he respected away from him. He shivered as Logan's tongue glided across the crown of his manhood and savored the drop of precum.

"Yer tasty, handsome," he growled. "Now fer tha main course."
Without even a second of hesitation, the muscular, hirsute wildman opened his mouth and swallowed the young inventor's shaft all the way down to the hilt.

A cry of pleasure leaped from Forge's throat as he felt the humid heat of the feral's maw suddenly engulf his manhood. He instinctively jerked his right arm in an effort to run his hand through Logan's black mane but the handcuffs restrained him; he stifled a frustrated whine as he lent back against the bench. The sensations burned their way towards his brain; the firm hands that gripped his waist, the silken tongue tracing its way around and along his length, the throat muscles that gripped his cock with ruthless ferocity, and the constant melting heat that worked its way up his spine. He felt the familiar knot in his gut begin to tighten.

The Canadian moaned at the sweetness of the precum flowing on the tip of his tongue. His right hand dropped from the slender man's waist and yanked open his own jeans. His fingers coiled around his cock and began moving back and forth; the throbbing heat in his loins bordered on discomfort. The feral purred at the delicious length in his throat; his tongue never ceased caressing and stroking the younger man's manhood. Ya deserve this kid, yer worthy of it... lemme balance tha scales he thought as he felt the energy in his body descend towards his stomach.

The inventor's limbs trembled further as his panting grew louder. The maelstrom of sensation around his shaft had driven him to the very edge; the feral's contented growls sent shockwaves along his skin. His cuffed hands were curled into white-knuckled fists, his eyes were clamped shut and his teeth were gritted in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable.
"Logan... I'm gonna.... I'm..." he suddenly came with a yell. Each spasm within his groin brought a sharp burst of pleasure that shot through his body and wrenched another gasp from his lungs.

The elder man greedily drank every drop of seed offered. His tongue kept lapping at the now-softening length; coaxing it for more until he had drained the younger man dry. His own hand moved up and down his own manhood, almost angrily forcing himself to the apex he had driven the younger man to. Suddenly, the burning in his loins hit critical mass and a deep growl welled up from his throat; adrenaline shocks coursed through his nerves as he came. Pulses of seed shot into his fist as he grunted with satisfaction.

Logan rose off his haunches and licked his lips one final time. He quickly removed a paper towel from the pocket of his jeans and cleaned his right hand before throwing the waste into the trashcan under the bench. "Ya know Forge," Logan began as a playful spark reappeared in his eye, "there's a lotta fun stuff I wanna do with ya." His left hand drifted up the younger man's slender abdomen as his right hand quickly undid the handcuffs.

Forge merely smirked back; he kept his eyes on the wildman.

"Don't feel like yer obligated.."
"Why would I think that?" Forge replied quickly, earnestly cutting off the elder man without a second thought, "I'd like to... do this more."

Logan merely smiled back. "Hope this don't stop ya from lettin' me watch ya build."

"It won't. I'm still working on this thing...." he pointed to the device to his left, "you can stay if you'd like."

The feral nodded.

The End