Damn it. I fucking hate thinking.
Kurt leans into me. How fucking dare he. In his own fucking bed. Who does he think he is? Yes, even I can see the flaw in my scintillating logic.
Damn him and damn Jeannie too, for good measure.
He raises this head and his sleepy eyes are the same gold as the dawn in the window behind him. How dare he. How dare he be so fucking beautiful for a start.
"I thought you..." Now, Logan, now is the time for a quick joke and then distract him by screwing his skinny ass through the mattress, that always works.
I look down at him. I always look down at him, he's half a foot taller than me, but this is my gig, my story, he's just the sidekick, the second, the one who's less important. Less important than me. Less important than Jeannie. Much less important than me fucking the fucking the woman of my fucking dreams. How dare he, how dare he be real and solid and warm in my arms? How dare he have wants and needs and feelings beyond those I allow him?
"What's the matter?" He's thoroughly puzzled, I'm his room, his bed, without a by-your-leave; he was deep asleep, he should fucking grow a pair like a real man and throw me out on my fucking ear.
Except.
Except there's enough macho bullshit around here. Most of it from me.
His hand comes up to touch my face but I catch his wrist, he's looking puzzled now. I could tear him in half without breaking a sweat. I can feel the bones, the strength of sinew and muscles; his hands and wrists are strong from decades on the trapeze but they're still nothing compared to my metal skeleton and enhanced muscles. I could crush him, but he's not afraid of me.
"Jean? Oh." Realisation dawns. I was supposed to be with Jean, now I'm not with Jean, I'm with him. Now I'm invading his privacy, his bed, his life, again. After politely telling him to 'fuck off' so I could be with her. And him, ever so politely, 'fucking off' as requested, without any argument. Why doesn't he fucking argue? Why doesn't he fight?
I still have hold of his wrist. I turn his hand over, those strange, unique fingers, the fuzz of fur, as short and soft as suede, he's watching me, he's starting to become concerned, I can smell the change.
I bring his wrist to my nose and take in his scent, particularly strong over the pulse point."I. Love. You." I kiss his soft inner wrist with each word.I wait for the sky to fall and the world to end, but nothing untoward happens. He brings his other hand up to cup my face. "I know that, I love you too, you don't need to say it." His smile is sweet. "And you love Jean. It's alright. Why don't you try loving both of us?"
Simple. I can do that.
See, that's why he's beautiful; not for that blue velvet fur, or those incandescent eyes, not for what's between those long, long legs. The most beautiful thing about my Elf is what's between his pointy ears.