Fic: Don't Turn Around: 1/1: NC-17: S/L
- Title: Don't Turn Around
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: Scott. Logan. PWP. See the picture? See Scott being nailed?
Disclaimer: As if.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool, Diebin's Trailer fic site.
Feedback: It's shagadelic.
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Dot, Meg and Pete'n'Melissa. Especially Meg, with
the quick turnaround.
Written in response to Die's Trailer fic challenge. Picture number 27.
Don't Turn Around
"Don't turn around," Logan growled, pushing Scott toward the counter.
Scott did as he was told, his breathing already ragged at the feel of
the larger man behind him.
Logan nudged Scott's legs apart with his knee, one claw at the ready to
slit the back of Scott's leather uniform open.
Scott felt his muscles clench involuntarily as cool air blew over his
now-bare ass. He inhaled sharply as Logan's fingers caressed him,
feathering down the cleft between his cheeks. He swallowed hard and
braced himself for what was next.
Since Jean had left him to go do charity work amongst the poor in
Calcutta, Scott had unexpectedly found solace in the arms of the
Wolverine. These quick fucks in the locker room after missions had
become almost routine, but there was nothing routine about the feelings
Logan aroused in him.
It wasn't about love, or power or even dominance, though that's what it
might have looked like to anyone who happened to see them. No, it was
about comfort and lust, and losing himself in pleasure. In the feel of
Logan's solid bulk pressed against him--
All the air rushed out of Scott's lungs as he felt the warm tip of
Logan's tongue brush over his cleft.
"God," he gasped. Logan hadn't done that before, and it was warm and
wet, and so good.
Logan spread Scott's cheeks a little wider, flicking his tongue in and
out before sliding a finger in up to the second knuckle.
Two fingers, then, and a tongue, and it was all Scott could do to remain
upright. One hand clenched the edge of the counter while the other
unzipped the front of his leather suit so he could get to his cock.
Logan reached around and covered Scott's hand with his own. "Wait," he
Scott heard the zipper of Logan's suit and looked back over his
Logan's cock was hard and already glistening with a drop of precome.
Logan removed his hand from Scott's cock and tapped him lightly on the
back of his head, not hard enough to sting, just to get his attention.
"I said, don't turn around."
Scott turned back to face the counter, and Logan spat into his hand and
began stroking himself, and Scott in the same rhythm.
Then he pushed into Scott, slowly in and in, and--
"Come on, Cyke," Logan grunted, both his hands on Scott's hips now,
drilling into him with long, hard strokes that made Scott quiver with
pleasure. Scott resumed jacking himself in time with Logan's thrusts.
Logan changed his angle slightly, seeming to know exactly how to fuck
him, exactly how to hit his prostate, and Scott didn't last long.
The orgasm exploded out of him from the base of his spine through his
belly and cock. He came all over the counter, shouting Logan's name. He
was still shuddering in pleasure when he felt Logan come inside him, a
rush of warm wetness that made him swallow hard.
Logan leaned against him, breathing heavily.
"Fuck, Summers," he growled. "You've got the sweetest, tightest ass this
side of the Rockies."
Scott allowed himself to enjoy the heat of Logan's body and the
compliment, crude as it was, for a few moments.
Then Logan pulled out and away, murmured, "Don't turn around."
And they were team leader and rough-edged warrior again.
Scott closed his eyes and waited for the sound of the shower before he
cleaned up the counter.
They never spoke, never faced each other, afterward.
It was better that way.
By the time he finished, Logan was out of the shower, and he had it to
himself. He took his time, languid from satisfaction, and marveled, once
again, at how strange his life was.
CJ: "You wanna make out with me right now, don't you?"
Toby: "When don't I?"
The West Wing
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