Author's note: speacial thanks go to Ash (twilighthdfan on livejournal) for being a really awesome beta!
Losing Control
Something ain't right - that's Logan's first thought. Something just ain't right about this guy, but he can't quite put his finger on it. One thing is evident, though - from the very beginning Scott Summers pisses him off to no end.
And the feeling is mutual.
Logan can see the subtle changes in the guy's face every goddamn time he sees him. He can hear how Cyclops's voice changes every time they speak to each other. The others don't see these changes - or they're trying their best not to notice. But he can see and hear and smell perfectly fine, thank you very much. And, for the first time in his life, he doesn't know what to do.
There are times when just looking at Cyclops drives him mad with rage. He's always so cool, so calm, so collected; he has this stern, commanding voice you almost want to obey. He never lets anyone down and keeps his promises - Logan could bet that Scott Summers used to be a Boy Scout. Probably the best in the team or whatever the Boy Scouts have. Scott always has a plan; gets shit done in the safest, most efficient way possible. He can't be caught unaware or taken by surprise. And if there is one thing on Earth he's mastered, it's self-control.
Logan knows by now that Scott Summers has two types of faces: A Very Serious Concentrated Face and An Even More Serious Concentrated Face. He rarely smiles, almost never laughs, practically never jokes. And Logan wouldn't give a damn, he really wouldn't, if not for one thing: Scott tries to control him as well. And this is simply too much.
He acted openly at first. Sometimes he simply ignored Scott and his instructions, other times he mocked him or told him where to put it. And it worked. The first time Logan told Cyclops he wasn't going to follow his plan and that he could go screw himself if he didn't like it was one of the memories Logan was going to take to his grave. Watching the changes in Scotty's face was pure joy. But it didn't last long - Cyclops was smart and figured out the rules of the game pretty quickly.
He stopped paying attention to Logan's insults.
One time, when Logan was particularly rude, Cyclops simply told him "Sticks and stones, Wolverine" and smiled, damn Boy Scout. Logan knew he had to change the tactics. He had a few ideas in mind, and finally chose one that he found especially appealing, deciding to hit Cyclops - a.k.a. Scott Summers - where it hit the most.
Jeannie.
He started flirting with her - always when the others were present. Preferably Scott, but he supposed that someone would tell him that Wolverine was flirting with his soon-to-be wife anyway. Jean brushed him off, of course, but it didn't matter. She didn't matter. It was making Scott angry that mattered. And it worked. Sweet Jesus, did it work. The first time Logan tried it, Scott was furious - Logan could tell by his smell, by the hot glare behind the visor - and for some reason it made Logan feel good.
Contented.
He didn't know why, but then, it's not like he tried to find out the reason. It simply felt good seeing Cyclops, the brave leader of the X-men, beside himself with anger and rage, his face almost white, his fingers tightly clenched into fists, barely able to keep his hand away from the visor. For Logan, that was reason enough, and he intended to keep doing what made him feel good.
Even if Cyclops didn't approve of it. Or rather because he didn't approve it.
And, unlike rudeness, flirting with Jean pisses Scott off more the longer Logan keeps doing it. He gets angrier each time - Logan can tell it - but somehow never does anything to stop it once and for all. And now it's Logan himself who starts to slowly lose the interest in teasing. By now, he knows what he wants from Cyclops - to lose control, all kinds of it. He wants him to shout, to kick, to hit, he wants to see his perfect, all-American face twisted with anger and hatred.
One night, long after the dinner is over and the school is asleep, Logan feels the need to grab a smoke. He leaves his room - the non-smoking policy and smoke detectors are everywhere, goddamnit - goes downstairs and exits the mansion. He finds a nice place in the garden, but as he walks to the bench, he smells something. Or someone.
A long, slim silhouette emerges from the shadows, and Logan sees the familiar red visor.
"Logan," says Scott in a cold, sharp voice, and it's the first time he calls him by name.
"Hey, Slim," he says."Whatcha doin' here this late, bub? Shouldn't you be up in your room, keeping Miss Grey awake?"
No answer. He walks past Scott to the bench, sits down and lights his cigar. Cyclops follows him, and sits on the other end of the bench.
"Wanna smoke?" Logan asks just to tease him.
"No. I don't smoke."
"Why not? Feels good. Especially when you have some brandy along with it. Which I do," says Logan, and taps a small flask in his pocket. "I'd ask if you want some, but you don't drink either, do you?"
"No, I don't."
"Damn you, Summers, you are a Boy Scout. And a typical one at that. No fun at all. Do you even know how to have fun? I'll need to ask Jeannie about that. What do you think she would say, huh? Does she think you're fun to be with? I really doubt it, you know. But then, you're going to be her husband. And a good husband never leaves his wife unsatisfied, does he, Cyclops?
"I didn't come here to listen to this, Logan."
"Why did you come then? Did you think we were going to have some kind of a male bonding moment?"
"I- damn it. No. I didn't think so."
"But you're still here."
"We need to talk. This needs to stop. I can't be a good leader for this team because of this... situation."
"No, we don't need to talk. I ain't gonna stop. And I don't give a damn about your leadership, Summers. What are you going to do about that?"
"I'll do what I have to," Scott says. "I'm not going to ignore your flirting with Jean, if that's what you mean. We need to resolve this."
"Really? How exactly are you going to resolve this, Summers? You gonna lock your precious girlfriend away? Or will you start negotiations, maybe, like politicians do? Make it all official and civilized? Maybe even bring in the professor, huh?"
"If I must, yes. Not everyone solves their problems by hitting people, Logan."
"Well they should. It feels good. You should try it more, Summers - maybe you wouldn't be such a mean bast-"
Logan feels a fist hitting him in the jaw before he sees a bright flash of white light. It's more unexpected than painful, but it's so sudden that he falls from the bench. When he looks up, he sees Scott standing there, breathing hard and smiling.
He stands up, fists clenched, ready for action. Scott strikes first, and for someone who has to wear dark red shades he's damn well precise. Strong. This time, Logan's ready, and he hits back, as hard as he can without killing Cyclops right here and now. But Scott is unstoppable, and he only keeps hitting harder and harder, and it's not long before he manages to drop Logan again.
"You were right," he says, blood trickling from a split lip, brown hair moist with sweat, "this does feel good."
Logan gets back on his feet in no time. He knows that they're not even slightly tired, it was just a warm-up for the main course, and that Cyclops is angry, really angry this time. This makes him bubble with joy, and Logan gives out a feral smile - just like Scott, who's been grinning this whole time.
"Come on, Cyke. What are you waiting for?"
This time, he's prepared to use his claws.
And then Scott practically jumps at him - only instead of hitting Logan, he grabs him by the neck, pulling him close as he smashes their lips together, and Logan can feel the hot breath on his face, Scott's tongue brushing against his lips, hands holding him so tight it's almost painful. It feels awkward. But also, somehow, right.
Before he can realize this, however, Scott pulls back and lets him go. They stand there, in a cold autumn night, just looking at each other and breathing heavily, for what must be no longer than five, maybe six seconds, but feels like eternity.
Before Scott can think or say or do anything stupid, Logan puts his arms around him and draws him back in for another kiss. This time it's just a bit slower, but still passionate, and boy, does Scott taste good. Logan's hands wander all over Scott's back, under his jacket, under his shirt, until they find his skin, so hot and tender with sweat.
Scott's hands move frantically over Logan's chest - more scratching than stroking - but it turns Logan on even more, as does Scott's moaning and the fact that they're both hard. But what's even more important is that Scott Summers, the leader of the X-men, Mister I've-Got-a-Stick-Up-My-Ass, is not controlling himself anymore - he kisses Logan, licks his neck, strokes his chest, grinds against him, makes these wonderful sounds. And when he shoves his hand down Logan's jeans, the only thing Logan can think of is, "This is going to be good".
He feels Scott's fingers on his cock, and while the other man's hands are trembling, there is no hesitation in his movements, and the sharp contrast between his own warmth and Scott's cold fingers causes him to moan in delight. Logan's hands are fumbling with Scott's belt, then with his fly, and right when he's done with it, a thought strikes him.
"Hey, Cycl... Scott. Look, you need to stop."
"What? Why?"
"Someone- fuck, that was good- someone might see us."
Evidently, this thought hasn't occurred to Scott before, and as he looks up, at the dark windows of the mansion, Logan can't help but smile at the irony of the situation.
"Let's go", he says. And they walk to the mansion as fast as they can, practically running to Logan's room, not even bothering to close the door quietly. They fall on the bed, and the next thing Logan knows, he has Scott's cock in his mouth, Scott's mumbling something along the lines "oh, fuck" and "more", and he tastes so good, and it all drives Logan crazy. By now, he knows what he wants from Scott - to lose control, all kinds of it. He wants him to scream his name, to thrust into his mouth, to hit his head on the bedpost as he comes, he wants to see his perfect, all-American face twisted with lust and desire.
Before this happens, though, Scott's pulling on his hair, telling Logan to stop, trying to get another steamy kiss. He then makes Logan lay on his back and kisses him again. And again.
"You like this, don't you?"
"Is asking incredibly stupid questions one of your mutant powers I wasn't told about?"
"So you do have a sense of humor, Summers. There might still be hope for you- oh, fuck! Do it again."
Scott slides down Logan's body, licking his neck, playing with a nipple, leaving a trail of small kisses on his belly. Logan has to close his eyes when Scott starts licking his shaft, then takes it in his mouth - it's somehow too good, and watching Scott do it is simply too much, he's just a man, for God's sake. Yes, Scott may not be the most skilled guy out there, but what he lacks in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm.
Logan tries to talk, but it's hard. He's not gonna last long, not like this, but then Scott stops, just for a moment, and he manages to ask the question that was bugging him this whole time.
"So, you have any lube, Summers?"
"Shit!", says Scott, and Logan smiles again - he's never heard Scott swearing, not like that. "No, Logan, I don't. Neither do you, I take it."
"Tsk-tsk-tsk. Whatever happened to Scott Summers the Boy Scout? Have you forgotten to be always prepared?"
"I am prepared. Don't worry."
Scott straddles Logan's hips, wraps his fingers around Logan's hard-on. Then he adjusts a little, and starts rubbing their cocks together.
"Like this," he says. "We can do it like this."
He begins to stroke them both and there is no more talking.
"So... what happens now?"
Scott looks at him.
"To tell you the truth, Logan, I have no idea. Do you?"
"No. Are you going to tell Jean?"
"No. Yes. What I mean is, I probably shouldn't. Not now, at least. Will you keep doing... you know?"
"Flirting with her? Do you want me to?"
"I don't. But we need to keep this whole thing secret. If your behavior towards me suddenly changes, people will talk."
"Don't worry, Cyke. I'll keep treating you like shit in public, if that's what you want."
Scott chuckles, and it's so unusual to hear him laugh. Unusual, but not unpleasant. In fact, Logan wishes he could hear him laugh more.
"I need to go," says Scott and starts looking for his clothes. Logan watches him - he'd prefer to see him undressing, but this will have to do, for now. He can't stop thinking about everything that happened this night, about him and Scott, but that's not what bothers him. He doesn't know how it will end. And there's something deep inside that tells him this will not end well.
"Logan?"
Scott stands by the door, fully dressed now.
"Yeah?"
"I hope you're not under the impression that I'm... how should I put it - in love with you?"
"Do I look like a fifteen year-old girl to you, bub?"
Scott laughs.
"No, no, you don't. I'll be on my way, then"
"See ya."
Scott closes the door and walks away. Logan lies still in his bed, waiting for the sound of his steps to disappear. And when it finally fades out, he sighs, tries to make himself more comfortable and sleep. After about half an hour he finally manages to fall asleep, convincing himself that the next day he'll just pretend it didn't happen. Even though he knows he will never be able to.