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