Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

X2: "Aspects of Love" NC-17, Kurt/Various (1/2)

Expand Messages
  • teland@teland.com
    Aspects of Love by Te May 29, 2003 Disclaimers: Not even close to mine. Spoilers: X2, some vague mentions of season one Smallville. Summary: See title. Call it
    Message 1 of 1 , May 29, 2003
    • 0 Attachment
      Aspects of Love
      by Te
      May 29, 2003

      Disclaimers: Not even close to mine.

      Spoilers: X2, some vague mentions of season one

      Summary: See title. Call it five things that haven't
      happened to Kurt. Yet.

      Ratings Note: NC-17.

      Author's Note: It occurred to me, while reading through
      some of my old stories, that I *used* to write quite a bit
      of porn. Recently, even. My attempt to recapture the

      Acknowledgments: To the IRC crew for audiencing and
      encouragement, especially Bas for certain aspects of
      mutant biology. Thanks also to Jenn, and to Andraste
      for "Ten Thousand Candles."

      Feedback: Always. teland@...


      It is not what he expected.

      To say the very least.

      The girl is so young, yes, and that is a part of it, but

      He has never been in this position before. And the words
      make him blush, because... yes. But in all seriousness,
      beyond the sex, the physical aspects of which make him
      shiver and ache and oh, so many times he has found
      himself on the edge of teleporting directly to her bed,
      and never mind the danger inherent in playing
      surprise-games with *any* of these people...

      But... when he had arrived, she'd already *had* a love.
      Two, if you counted the one she could not have. He
      had never even *considered*...

      Ah, but that is a lie, yes?

      She was beautiful then and is even more beautiful now,
      hidden not at all behind a rainbow of silk scarves
      (recovered from his time in the circus) and shifting and
      moving and --

      "Yes, Kurt..."

      Oh, yes and *yes*. There is nothing here he cannot have,
      and everything is so lovely. The hint of her sweat as he
      presses his tongue to the green scarf over her throat,
      the hardness of muscle hidden beneath such soft skin,
      such *smooth* skin --

      "I can't *believe* I never thought of this before --"

      Gloved hands in his hair, yanking him into a kiss. There
      is a touch of her perfume on the blue scarf over her face
      and he thinks he could maybe taste it, maybe just lose
      himself in this moment. Silk on his tongue getting wet,
      wetter, and when they'd first tried this there had been
      laughter, yes, and just a few times when choking
      seemed a possibility, but now there is only the sounds
      she makes.

      That *they* make.

      She hums against him and spreads her legs -- gently,
      thinly mummified -- and wraps them around his waist
      and pulls him *in*. Against her where it is hot, and wet,
      and he does not think he knows how to appreciate this.

      He has to try, just the same. "Behold, thou art fair, my
      love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes.
      Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also
      our bed is green. The beams of our house are cedar, and
      our rafters of fir..."

      She giggles. "Hey, are you *praying*?"

      He nuzzles her throat and smiles, letting her feel his
      teeth. "Perhaps, just a little." Smiles at her. "It seemed

      She smiles, and strokes the scars on his face. "Mmm. I
      know those bits. My beloved is mine, and I am his..."

      And ah, there is something in the Book for all things, all
      people, but perhaps especially for this. So easy to be
      gentle, *reverent*, to stroke his way down and down
      and she is wet through the silk, welcoming and
      fragrant and... his?

      A dangerous conceit, but perhaps unavoidable in times
      like this, surrounded by her and working his way
      carefully, so carefully, inside.

      "I never met anyone like you," she'd said the first time,
      and traced a path over his scars, his nose, his mouth
      before he could hide the sharpness of his teeth.

      "You're not ashamed of anything, are you?" And she'd
      listened to him talk about his faith, about how God
      could never create anything that wasn't, on some level,
      wholly beautiful.

      "Show me something beautiful," she'd said, and he'd
      kissed her before he knew what his body was planning,
      and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held
      him close, held him steady when he started to shake.

      And there was awkwardness, and hurt that he would
      do anything to wipe away, but Marie walks with him tall
      and proud, and if he will not dare to demand their
      censure, then she will.

      And they are careful, yes, so very careful, but it only
      seems that way when they are not together. Like this,
      they can only move in tandem, her hand on him rolling
      the condom on. His mouth pressing everywhere he can
      reach, the silk utterly drenched with her scent, his
      doubts and hesitations lost to the perfume of it.

      "So beautiful," she says, and Kurt has to close his eyes.

      Because like this, with her, it cannot be anything but


      Logan smiles in battle. He tells the children, when they ask,
      that it never fails to make an enemy apprehensive, but
      Kurt has always known that it wasn't quite that simple.
      Logan takes a simple, fierce, and undeniable joy in the clash
      of arms, and it is... disturbing.

      Perhaps mostly because Kurt can see it in himself *Feel*
      it. Before Stryker, he had never considered using his
      strength and flexibility for anything beyond tricks and
      games. Performance.

      There is something in him that has always thrilled to the
      crowds, the sound of their voices blending together into
      something more and less than speech, animal-pure and
      thrumming beneath his skin.

      And yet, the X-Men's cause is just, and he must admit...

      It is exhilarating to leap into a fight, to kink and punch
      and slap with his tail, to take their weapons -- if they
      have not made *themselves* weapons -- and teleport
      them far away where they cannot hurt anyone else.

      It makes his blood pound, makes him feel every scar on
      his body as something like a holy absence, like a
      wordless prayer of the flesh. No amount of meditation
      could come close, could *ever* approach anything like
      the visceral *thrill* of wrapping his tail around the throat
      of someone who lives to kill and slamming them
      senseless against a wall.

      "I wouldn't want anyone else at my back," Logan says,
      and Kurt has to wonder.

      Does he smell it on him? Does he recognize that the pulse
      in his throat has nothing to do with fear?

      The Brotherhood is... the only fear is in the fact that they
      *believe*. Beyond that, they are nothing compared to
      high school students dragged to see a show they believe
      is only for children, or to the people in the smaller towns
      and villages who had to be told Kurt was only in special
      makeup and yes, yes, he is not a liar.

      This, too, fuels him as he fights. And he has always known
      that he could become angry, that he was no different from
      other men, and that the pain in his life could, potentially,
      make him something very ugly, indeed, and yet...

      And yet when Logan takes his hands and spins him into a
      flying kick, or when he teleports against and off wall after
      wall until his opponent is dizzy enough to take out with a
      single punch, or when it's all over and Logan grins that
      secret smile at him from across the aisle of the jet...

      He knows it will be all right. There are other ways to loose
      the things inside him he has always worked to deny. There
      are good works he can do with all those parts of him he
      would hide in scars or prayer.

      And when they are back at the school, and everyone is
      sleeping but those of them who lived in night as much as
      Kurt himself, and Logan himself...

      Logan often doesn't let him shower when they get home.
      Or, like now, follows him into the bathroom that they
      share and turns the water on full and hot until the whole
      room is steaming and hot and Kurt is sweating even

      "I saw you out there," Logan says, and doesn't finish the
      thought. Cups him through his pants and licks a wet
      stripe up his neck and behind his ear and presses him
      against the tile.

      "There's more in there than just the little blue preacher,
      isn't there?" he says, and Kurt considers telling him that
      we are rarely entirely what we seem, that God is, yes, in
      the details, but really, when Logan has him, the most he
      can usually manage is a moan.

      Choked out curses in German and Romany that he didn't
      remember learning.

      Encouragement in the English the man seems to
      determined to make him forget.

      Logan's teeth are nowhere near as sharp as his own, but
      they burn against his throat, make him tilt his head back
      and open his mouth on something that might have even
      been words before Logan got his hands on him.

      Inside his clothes --

      "So many damned *layers* --"

      Inside his clothes, and one hand sliding up and over his
      belly, chafing the scars with calluses. One hand around
      his penis sliding down careful of the foreskin and
      tugging at the ring.

      "One day you're going to have to tell me about this..."

      And Kurt has to laugh, and it makes the muscles in his
      belly move in ways that are suddenly interesting and
      quite wonderful. Slides his hand into Logan's tight,
      black uniform pants. "It seemed," he says, "like a good
      idea at the time."

      He can feel Logan grin against his cheek. "Yeah, I was
      drunk, too, but the skin just grew back." Another lick
      and a squeeze and then they're kissing, eyes open and
      Kurt can see the laughter in Logan's eyes, smell sweat
      and blood and sex, and he thinks this is maybe not so
      different than the circus.

      Except for the fact that the clowns here can freeze you
      where you stand, and the dancing bears there had never
      shown nearly so much interest in his penis.

      He clutches their hands together, used to the moment's
      awkwardness as Logan adjusts for three fingers instead
      of five, and then they are guiding each other, Kurt
      wanting faster and Logan wanting harder and it doesn't
      last, *never* lasts long. He comes shuddering, tail
      winding and clutching at Logan's thigh and falls away
      from the kiss laughing.

      Already replete as Logan comes on his sex and belly,
      already waiting for the next battle.

      Ready on more levels than he can quite understand.


      He really needs to learn to look where he is going. Or, at
      the very least, learn to plan ahead. Stealing General Spring's
      hard drive had never been considered an *easy* mission,
      and certainly there had been any number of soldiers to get
      away from, but *still*.

      He had learned early on that teleporting without knowing
      precisely where he was going could lead to any number of
      unpleasant surprises, and this is...

      Well, he can't say that it is *exactly* unpleasant. At least
      not yet. The bed beneath his feet is soft and large, the
      sheets soft cotton.

      From what he can see of the room, it is very nice, indeed.
      Art on the walls he would've liked to study, and many,
      many bookcases. There is a breeze coming through the
      open window that reminds him of performances in the
      German countryside, and makes him breathe a little
      deeper. Yes, it is all very pleasant for the eyes and
      other senses, but he does not think the man on the bed
      is very happy to see him.

      "Ah. Hello." He switches the CPU to one hand and waves
      with the other.

      The man blinks. "Aren't you guys usually green?"

      He tilts his head. "I do not know any green mutants, but
      I am sure there are some."

      The man nods slowly, and turns over until he is fully on
      his back. He is curiously hairless, but does not seem in
      any other way different from other humans. "Is that
      *my* hard drive you're holding, by any chance?"

      "No, no I do not think so. It belongs to General Spring."

      "I see. Was General Spring in my house?"

      It is possible... Kurt takes a closer look at his surroundings.
      Stone walls, nothing that looks particularly military... "No,
      I do not think so."

      Another slow nod. "And the reason *you're* in my house?"

      He smiles apologetically. The man blinks at his teeth, but
      doesn't seem especially afraid. It is a good sign. "A small
      accident while I was teleporting."



      "I see." The man holds out his hand. "Lex Luthor. What
      can I do for you?"

      Kurt shifts the CPU to under his left arm, and shakes.
      "Kurt. Kurt Wagner. It is a pleasure to meet you."

      "Uh, huh. You know, you can put that down if you want."

      "Oh, thank you so much. It is very heavy."

      "I'm sure."

      He places the machine carefully on the floor next to the
      bed and smiles at the man -- Luthor -- again.

      "So you just kind of... wound up here."

      "Yes, Mr. Luthor. I sometimes lose my way when I do
      not know where I am going. I am very sorry to interrupt
      your rest."

      Brief bark of laughter. "No, really, that's all right. You're
      definitely more polite than my usual random, midnight,
      mutant visitors. And please, call me Lex."

      "All right, Lex. You may call me Kurt."

      Welcoming gesture.

      "You... know many mutants?"

      A small smile, just a little sharp. "You could say that."

      Kurt isn't sure what to say to that, so he simply nods, and
      shifts a little in his crouch.

      "That can't be a very comfortable position." And Lex is
      looking him up and down.

      "Oh, no, it's fine. I was in the circus for many years."

      "A-ha." Lex shifted over a bit to the side. "Still,
      wandering into military bases..." A question in his eyes.

      Kurt nods.

      "Wandering into military bases to steal the property of
      generals must be a little... stressful."

      "Oh, yes. So many guns!"

      Lex's tongue slips over his upper lip, and there is a look
      of... perhaps bemusement? Lex shakes his head and
      pats the bed beside him. "No reason not to relax a bit,

      "Well, I should really get back to my friends..."

      "By teleporting, right." Another laugh, somewhat
      high-pitched. "But..." He raises an eyebrow.


      "You've probably got a *few* minutes before you have
      to... teleport away, right?"

      "A few...?"

      And Lex turns the sheet back, just enough for Kurt to
      see that he is, in fact, naked under there. And apparently
      hairless all over. He blinks.


      Lex smiles.

      Kurt thinks, for a moment, about the other X-Men, and
      then for another moment about all those *guns*, and then
      for another moment about Lex's smile, and Lex's very
      smooth looking body. Kurt smiles. "A little while, yes."

      Lex hands find his uniform fastenings immediately -- much
      faster than *he* had the first time he'd tried to pull the
      thing off. "Is this leather?"

      "Oh, yes. We all wear leather."

      Lex nods and licks his lips again. "Of *course* you do."

      And then Lex is laughing again, kissing him messily and
      sliding his hands under the leather and rolling them over
      until he's straddling Kurt.

      "Is this all right for your... tail?"

      "Oh yes, thank you."

      Another laugh. "Oh, anytime."

      And really, Kurt had never known the uniform *could*
      come off this fast, but Lex seems like a very clever
      young man. With clever long fingers and a very, very
      clever tongue -- "Oh --"


      And then Kurt can't think very much at all, because Lex
      is *very* clever, and *very* friendly, and really very
      enthusiastic, what with those hands on his hips and that

      Hot, and wet, and tight around him and then Lex looks
      up at him and Kurt feels his eyes roll back in his head
      and spreads his legs. Feels Lex laugh around him and
      that's perfect, that's wonderful, always so good to find
      someone with a healthy sense of fun.
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.