At times like this, when the runt is in the mood for games, Victor finds himself somewhat agreeable. He goes along with whatever Logan wants, and more often than not it turns out to be something fun.
Heavy thick iron chains dangle from the bed like his cock between his thighs. With them secured around his wrists, he's not going anywhere.
Watching Logan take control, feeling him mete out that sweet punishment for all the bad things he's done, is just about one of the least boring things he could do on a weekend.
"Takin' your time, huh?" Victor says. The air is heady with the scent of sweat and precum, but Logan's body seem to be a little slow on the uptake. Sure, that dick is hard and weeping, he can see it from the bed, except someone hasn't told Logan's hormones he's about to get laid because Victor can't smell a drop of raging testosterone bar his own. "I can wait."
There are only so many ways this can go. They fuck, he lets Victor go, and Victor kills someone later, or they fuck, he doesn't let Victor go, and Raven or someone walks in on him with Creed chained to his goddamn bed like the animal he is.
"Shut up and turn over," Logan orders. Victor grins, fangs protruding over his bottom lip, and gets one leg under himself before flipping his bulk over. The sight of that bare ass, muscled and scarred, makes him just want to get the condoms and lube out already, but that isn't in the cards for tonight.
The sound of those adamantium claws popping sends a shiver down Victor's spine. He's already imagining them buried in his ass, or his cock resting precariously between them as Logan jerks him off. "Yessir."
