The screen blinked with its silent eye. They were bathed in an intense blue glow that seemed to wash out their skin, the dullness seeping through their pores. They were bound to each other and to this hotel room by invisible circumstances, pain, regret. The hands of the clock in the room were bound. Prison had never been nearly so comfortable.
Not that the surroundings were that lavish mind you. Surveillance televisions set in a room modeled from a JcPenney catalog spread forever stuck in the vintage sixties motif, and a constantly dripping faucet that echoed and pounded on the brain in the tiny adjacent bathroom. And two twin beds that stunk of some unidentifiable substance that seemed to ooze from the walls and the nightstands, even the standard Bible left in the room had mildew ink spots therein.
"I can't take this anymore, " the older of the two men growled to himself. "I've been stuck here on watch for what feels like days. They're just trying to torment me, you just watch. Waiting to see how long it takes me before I snap."
The younger man was silent. He was only younger by a few years, but his visage seemed more constant, vigilant. It was not yet marked with the passage of wars and rumors of wars. The fact that no facial hair marred his face also bespoke his youth. He was charming among the women and coddled among the men based upon his ambition. Most were envious, but his partner had neither need nor the time for envy. He was silent, making few remarks while his partner grumbled about the state of the world. The younger man took a sip of his soda. He was not startled when his partner began to talk outside of his own mind.
"I mean, what do they expect us to do? Just sit in this tiny room all day and wait for something that may never happen? All that training, all those obstacle courses…are those good reasons for what all that training has led to?"
The younger man blinked, his eyes never wavering from the screen. "You could go down to the gym."
The older man with the gruff beginnings of a beard snorted. "I should. All this take-out and just plain laziness…"
"You're only making it worse." Scott didn't even have to remove his eyes from the screen to know that Logan was suddenly doing push-ups on the stale green carpet. The rhythmic sounds of breathing reminded him of a time that seemed like another world.
The sound of sweat began to fill Scott's ears, as Logan's groan grew more persistent and vocal. "Do you know how many calories that take out from last night cost us?"
Scott's eyes continued to focus undaunted on the task at hand, although he could visualize the line of Logan's back through his shirt and white tank top. Scott knew the barreling lines of his chest and the strength of his upper arms and calves. They made for a good time, Scott could imagine although he hadn't yet been that bored.
Young, rational, and agile paired with experienced, gung-ho attitude and pure brute strength. It was to Scott's credit that he could have chosen another partner, another desk job, and another city. But he preferred being among his men, if not one in particular. It was said that Scott had the eye for the gems in the roughest circumstances. He was certain that, having won Logan's loyalties, he'd never want for protection again.
Scott spoke after a brief silence. "No. Should I care?"
Logan lunged forward, from the carpet toward the haunches of his feet. "Of course you should care. The first duty of an officer is to be fit." The heat from his vision of annoyance could have fried Scott's brain.
"That's according to you. Rule code four strictly states that maintenance of the law is priority."
"Screw the rule code. You know as well as I that we couldn't administer these holier than thou laws without being physically able. Why do you think they force us into that demeaning ritual of a physical fitness test twice a quarter?" Logan's voice rose a little, but not enough to cause Scott any sense of alarm.
"They just need to make sure of our capabilities."
"I've got all the capabilities I need." With that, Logan cut the air in front of Scott's face with his favorite weapon.
"Put those away, Logan." His voice had a tinge of unimpressed weariness to it. In truth, the respite of air from the claws was quite needed. The room the warm and apathy created a congealed sweat on Scott's brow.
"You just don't like to be reminded of them."
Scott's gaze moved briefly from the flickering television to Logan. "That's not what I meant. And don't think I don't know how much they hurt you either. I read the medical report."
Logan relished having the ability to get under Scott's skin. "You read my file and you say what you mean. I have to wonder where your loyalties really lie?"
"To the rule code, if you ever must ask." Scott's voice was drained at that moment and very small compared to the loathsome hiss in Logan's mocking voice.
"There's more to life than…"
"I know the speech. Stop trying to seduce me, Wolves." Scott snapped, his little tirade demanding Logan's attention and gentle scoff. That was one point for Logan, getting under Scott's skin was becoming easier each day that passed and he was getting less points for it.
Logan's nose crinkled in defiance as his claws slid backwards slowly. "No need to get so touchy One-Eye. Besides, I wouldn't have to try very hard if I wanted to seduce you."
"Now is not the time." Scott was vaguely annoyed and vaguely aware that Logan was now down to his white tank top. Scott could see the cut, wolf-like body heaving through the thin, sweat-laden fabric. Maybe now was a good time to think about it. After all, Scott had been the one to abandon the X-men after the Professor's death and Jean's suicide for the "betterment" of society. No amount of dissuasion had saved her. Scott's ultimate realization came when Washington's boys found him in the dive he was crouched him. He made a deal, for his sanity.
He hated the fact that he was beyond help or even reproach at this point. Further, he could try and deny it, but he hated the person he saw in the mirror. To be the catalyst that put good friends behind bars or sent into hiding at safe houses. To watch monitors for possible locations of people using their own evolved abilities, and to accept that Magneto was inevitably correct.
"So when is? You've given up everything else."
"There is never a time Logan. We have a job to do."
"Oh no, Scott. You're the one forcing yourself into a penance. I'm just giving you a way to make it easier."
Logan shifted his weight in front of the monitors and Scott was sure he'd never get the man to move. Wolverine was as stubborn as a mule and twice as gorgeous, although Scott had called him an ass quite a few times. Logan was smiling a very wicked smile and his shadow blocked out the annoying blue light that bathed the room. Scott shrank into himself and reached for Logan's drawstrings automatically.
"No." The voice was commanding. That's too easy for you. If I wanted you to give up like that…you know what screw it, Logan thought. He had turn twisted in his old age. How many times had he told him and chased him to the end of this god-forsaken rock of an Earth to tell him that it was not his fault? That death was her choice. For Logan, it wasn't about gender. After all, you're around on the blue ball enough and small, inconsequential things like that don't matter. It was about quality of life and it was about Scott. In some ways, it had always been about Scott. The missing, fallen, heartbroken leader sucking the rebel's cock in hotel room with surveillance cams and that's what it boiled down to, more or less.
Logan could tell he was reaching full mast as Scott's lips caressed the bulge on his jeans. Scott was still fully dressed for a day at the office. Logan reached down and with a swipe of his claws, the tie shredded into several hanging parts and opened Scott's throat up a bit. Logan bucked his hips, spreading his legs out a bit wider and giving Scott complete access to his package.
"That's not good enough," Wolverine growled. He peeled his white tank away from the skin and moved so that Scott could see his reflection in the screen, to watch himself hit rock bottom in what Logan was sure he thought the worse possible way was. Trapped and subjugated, sucking Wolverine's hard cock; Logan smiled darkly and wider. This was the way he liked it. A man could punish himself and Logan could reap a reward. Who was he to tell Scott how to live his life anyways?
Logan looked down as Scott's finger reached for the zipper on his jeans. For a moment, fingers brushed the cloth of the boxers and the opening towards the crotch. Logan hissed and made a noise of approval. Scott hesitated and so Logan led his mouth toward the hole. "Stop pretending like you don't want it too," he snarled to Scott, or possibly no one in particular.
And so it was that Logan's cock made its first happy appearance to another human mouth in what felt to Logan like centuries. Sure, there were tons of whores around the dingy areas of the inner city. But he wouldn't touch them, wouldn't risk disease even with a healing ability. He preferred this. Logan loved fallen angel syndrome, made for the best cocksuckers he thought, eager and needing to prove something to themselves.
He was hard, nearly all of his uncut skin peeled back by the length of his veiny shaft. Logan needed this, as evidence by the symphony of groans that continued unabated as Scott licked and sucked in a variety of ways. The best approach Cyclops found was to loop the wooden log around his tongue and work slowly inward. Logan loved that best.
But the older man was also getting impatient. Sure, he liked a sweet slow job as much as the next man but he needed a rough hand at the moment. He needed something that felt like a workout. And so he guided Scott into his first case of deep throat, an enjoyable experience that he recommends to anyone who gets the chance and a willing bottom. That's not what Scott was either, not in nature. But the man was broken, warped. And Logan had to admit; he was getting off on the depressed Scott.
Or rather, Logan was cumming down his throat unabated. He was releasing white-hot semen as he slammed his cock into Scott. Wolverine was having one of those toe-curling orgasms and he watched with lustful amusement as drops of cum landed all across Scott's pressed shirt and pieces of fake silk tie. He continued pumping his cock with his hand and churning himself into another frenzy. He wasn't quite done yet. If Scott wanted to be punished, then this could be just the beginning. Logan's smile turned into a snarl.