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tamingthemuseTitle: Messy Rendezvous
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Wolverine/Sabertooth, Professor X/Magneto, Cyclops/Jean, Gambit/Rogue, Ensemble
Rating: NC-17/AO
Challenge: #461: Leash (3rd challenge in a row for tracking.)
Warning(s): Crack!fic, Fetish
Word Count: 1,390
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Oh, Hell no!" his lover growls, snatching the leash he's just attached to his collar. "I ain't gonna let you parade me around in front o' yer team of do-goodin' freaks!"
"Bet's a bet," Logan retorts from around the cigar he's currently chewing. He yanks hard against the leash Victor snaked around his neck before he started pulling on his leash. "An' I didn't say anythin' 'bout takin' you back to the school! You ain't gettin' around my people!"
"Then why were you talkin' to that old, bald geezer in yer head?" Vic demands, claws unsheathed.
"'Cause he thought he needed me, but he's got it covered now."
Victor yanks on Logan's leash so hard that he brings his face up against his. "Yeah?" he growls. "An' what if he hadn't?"
Logan pauses for only a heartbeat of a moment that stretches between the two men who have been both lovers and enemies for a long time now. "You know I would've had to go."
"You wouldn't've had to."
"Fine, but I would've went. Can't argue morals with a guy who doesn't have any."
"Damn straight I ain't got any."
"That's one thing we'll never have in common, 'Tooth." Despite his words, a slow, wide, and tooth-filled grin spreads over Logan's scraggly face.
"Too bad. It'd do ya good to live wit'out 'em, runt. They hold ya back."
"No. They actually help."
"Psh. Help what? Ya to play hero?"
"That's not one o' th' games I play, Creed." His growl is low as he unsheathes his claws. His eyes gleam in the low lighting of their cheap hotel room.
"Yeah. What do ya play?"
Logan yanks Creed's leash again, curling part of the leather around his fist. Victor's teeth gnash together. Logan could push them apart easily with his tongue if he chose to do so, but instead, he just keeps his gaze. "Ya know what kind," he snarls to which Victor grins.
"Yeah," he growls, running his tongue over his sharp teeth, "I do."
"We gonna talk 'bout this all day or we gonna do it?"
Victor twists his body while simultaneously snatching on Logan's leash. The movement effectively sends them crashing back onto the bed that's already barely standing from their previous rounds. His teeth nip the cigar Logan's still chewing before yanking the tobacco out of his mouth. When his mouth opens in protest, Victor's tongue thrusts up against it, and his smile widens when he tastes the sweet tang of his own blood from Logan's teeth grinding down onto his tongue.
Both men keep tight fists on the leashes they hold. They're already mostly naked except for their leashes and dog collars, but this time, Logan's booted feet shove the boots off of Victor's. The blonde growls savagely against his mouth and rolls on top of him, his own feet shoving at Logan's boots.
Never one to let his enemy stay on top of him, Logan forcibly rolls Victor back over. His claws slice into his shoulder and embed in the bed beneath them. Their members swell against each other. Victor lets go of the idea of removing Logan's boots and simply grabs him. His hands squeeze his butt firmly as he rolls him back beneath him.
Their tryst swiftly becomes a struggle not just of who is in control of whom but who can outlast the other and who reigns on top. Torn hair and ripped sheets flutter through the room as they struggle against each other, clawing, biting, and pumping. It is with no further warning that their bed goes through the floor. It doesn't stop there nor do they.
They are a blur as they pass through floor after floor, each fighting to regain dominance. Claws fly. Growls reverberate. Tongues and penises alike thrust wildly against each other until, with a loud bang, they hit the final floor.
The hotel manager runs at them, screaming in his native tongue, and although both men understands what he's saying, neither looks up for they are simply far too far gone. When at last they cum, splattering the ravaged bed and each other's bodies with their wet reward, they fall against each other. It is only now that their struggle for dominance stops, but each man still holds to the other's leash.
The hotel manager is still screaming when the primal haze around Victor's brain begins to lift. He growls and slices his claws clean through the manager's heart. "DAMN IT, CREED!" Logan roars.
"What?" Vic asks with a careless roll of his muscular, bare shoulders. "This is why we can't have good things," he remarks, eyeing what little is left of the bed mattress and frame beneath Logan.
Wolverine, realizing he has somehow ended up on the bottom, throws Victor off of him. Vic hits the floor on his feet and drops into a fighter's stance. Logan springs after him. This time there are no kisses or tongues involved, only flying fists and claws and torn flesh and hair. Their fight would have continued long into the night if more people had not walked into the hotel's foyer at that time.
WOLVERINE!!!!! The shout of his name is not vocalized. Logan feels it thundering inside of his head instead with such force that he has little choice but to look in the telepath's direction. He winces at the furious and disgusted expression on the Professor's face.
Cyclops is standing beside him and has one hand on his visor. Wolverine kicks out from beneath Sabertooth again, this time sending him flying literally across the room. Cyclops' blast misses his enemy by barely an inch. Creed turns and runs while Wolverine faces his team's disapproval alone.
"Surely you can not condone this behavior, Professor. Wolverine must be punished!"
"He will pay for his crimes, including the vandalized property, and poor judgement, Cyclops, but by my command, not yours. Wolverine, find your clothes. We will disgust this at home." Logan feels like a pup wanting to tuck his tail between his legs as Charles turns his back on him.
Cyclops huffs but follows his teacher's advice. The rest of the team turns, as well, but not without a few remarks. "Dis why we can't have a good reputation," Remy murmurs, shuffling his cards and ignoring the King of Hearts that seems to continuously find its way to the top of the deck.
"Ah thought it was kinda hot actually," Rogue whispers.
Remy's deck falls to the floor. Several of the X-Men who are already blushing turn even brighter shades of crimson, but Jean looks to her friend and nods her silent agreement. Cyclops' eyes again flare. "Jean!" he chastises.
"Well, it was!" she retorts while Ororo, always with an air of dignity, comments, "I would say they were merely doing what comes naturally to them, but it certainly was the wrong place."
"It was still hot."
"Psylocke!"
"Made my ice melt."
"Bobby!"
"Enough, X-Men."
"Yes, Professor."
"I will deal with Wolverine myself when we reach home. For now, let us leave while we still hold some shred of our own dignities in tact. Angel, pay the company, and I will repay you later."
Warren snatches out his checkbook and swiftly writes a blank check. Bobby eyes him as he drops it onto the hotel manager's corpse. "Don't think that's a good idea."
"Where else am I supposed to put it where it will be retrieved?"
"There is little still standing," Hank agrees, and as the X-Men walk out of the hotel, a huge crash sounds behind them. No one dares look back but Charles drops his head into his hand with a weary sigh. This was indeed why they could not have a good reputation, or even good things, for that matter. Thank God he'd always had the foresight to meet Erik behind closed and private doors lest they, too, would have left a string of destroyed hotels behind them.
Tonight, Charles? a smooth voice asks within the Professor's mind.
Despite the chaos all around him, Charles smiles. Tonight, Erik, he agrees without looking up should his students follow his gaze. He whistles. Wolverine's mess no longer seems so bad. He'll make short work of Logan's punishment for he has a night of his own for which to prepare, a night, he trusts, will be filled with much more love and less havoc than their day has been yet again. Tonight.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Wolverine/Sabertooth, Professor X/Magneto, Cyclops/Jean, Gambit/Rogue, Ensemble
Rating: NC-17/AO
Challenge: #461: Leash (3rd challenge in a row for tracking.)
Warning(s): Crack!fic, Fetish
Word Count: 1,390
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Oh, Hell no!" his lover growls, snatching the leash he's just attached to his collar. "I ain't gonna let you parade me around in front o' yer team of do-goodin' freaks!"
"Bet's a bet," Logan retorts from around the cigar he's currently chewing. He yanks hard against the leash Victor snaked around his neck before he started pulling on his leash. "An' I didn't say anythin' 'bout takin' you back to the school! You ain't gettin' around my people!"
"Then why were you talkin' to that old, bald geezer in yer head?" Vic demands, claws unsheathed.
"'Cause he thought he needed me, but he's got it covered now."
Victor yanks on Logan's leash so hard that he brings his face up against his. "Yeah?" he growls. "An' what if he hadn't?"
Logan pauses for only a heartbeat of a moment that stretches between the two men who have been both lovers and enemies for a long time now. "You know I would've had to go."
"You wouldn't've had to."
"Fine, but I would've went. Can't argue morals with a guy who doesn't have any."
"Damn straight I ain't got any."
"That's one thing we'll never have in common, 'Tooth." Despite his words, a slow, wide, and tooth-filled grin spreads over Logan's scraggly face.
"Too bad. It'd do ya good to live wit'out 'em, runt. They hold ya back."
"No. They actually help."
"Psh. Help what? Ya to play hero?"
"That's not one o' th' games I play, Creed." His growl is low as he unsheathes his claws. His eyes gleam in the low lighting of their cheap hotel room.
"Yeah. What do ya play?"
Logan yanks Creed's leash again, curling part of the leather around his fist. Victor's teeth gnash together. Logan could push them apart easily with his tongue if he chose to do so, but instead, he just keeps his gaze. "Ya know what kind," he snarls to which Victor grins.
"Yeah," he growls, running his tongue over his sharp teeth, "I do."
"We gonna talk 'bout this all day or we gonna do it?"
Victor twists his body while simultaneously snatching on Logan's leash. The movement effectively sends them crashing back onto the bed that's already barely standing from their previous rounds. His teeth nip the cigar Logan's still chewing before yanking the tobacco out of his mouth. When his mouth opens in protest, Victor's tongue thrusts up against it, and his smile widens when he tastes the sweet tang of his own blood from Logan's teeth grinding down onto his tongue.
Both men keep tight fists on the leashes they hold. They're already mostly naked except for their leashes and dog collars, but this time, Logan's booted feet shove the boots off of Victor's. The blonde growls savagely against his mouth and rolls on top of him, his own feet shoving at Logan's boots.
Never one to let his enemy stay on top of him, Logan forcibly rolls Victor back over. His claws slice into his shoulder and embed in the bed beneath them. Their members swell against each other. Victor lets go of the idea of removing Logan's boots and simply grabs him. His hands squeeze his butt firmly as he rolls him back beneath him.
Their tryst swiftly becomes a struggle not just of who is in control of whom but who can outlast the other and who reigns on top. Torn hair and ripped sheets flutter through the room as they struggle against each other, clawing, biting, and pumping. It is with no further warning that their bed goes through the floor. It doesn't stop there nor do they.
They are a blur as they pass through floor after floor, each fighting to regain dominance. Claws fly. Growls reverberate. Tongues and penises alike thrust wildly against each other until, with a loud bang, they hit the final floor.
The hotel manager runs at them, screaming in his native tongue, and although both men understands what he's saying, neither looks up for they are simply far too far gone. When at last they cum, splattering the ravaged bed and each other's bodies with their wet reward, they fall against each other. It is only now that their struggle for dominance stops, but each man still holds to the other's leash.
The hotel manager is still screaming when the primal haze around Victor's brain begins to lift. He growls and slices his claws clean through the manager's heart. "DAMN IT, CREED!" Logan roars.
"What?" Vic asks with a careless roll of his muscular, bare shoulders. "This is why we can't have good things," he remarks, eyeing what little is left of the bed mattress and frame beneath Logan.
Wolverine, realizing he has somehow ended up on the bottom, throws Victor off of him. Vic hits the floor on his feet and drops into a fighter's stance. Logan springs after him. This time there are no kisses or tongues involved, only flying fists and claws and torn flesh and hair. Their fight would have continued long into the night if more people had not walked into the hotel's foyer at that time.
WOLVERINE!!!!! The shout of his name is not vocalized. Logan feels it thundering inside of his head instead with such force that he has little choice but to look in the telepath's direction. He winces at the furious and disgusted expression on the Professor's face.
Cyclops is standing beside him and has one hand on his visor. Wolverine kicks out from beneath Sabertooth again, this time sending him flying literally across the room. Cyclops' blast misses his enemy by barely an inch. Creed turns and runs while Wolverine faces his team's disapproval alone.
"Surely you can not condone this behavior, Professor. Wolverine must be punished!"
"He will pay for his crimes, including the vandalized property, and poor judgement, Cyclops, but by my command, not yours. Wolverine, find your clothes. We will disgust this at home." Logan feels like a pup wanting to tuck his tail between his legs as Charles turns his back on him.
Cyclops huffs but follows his teacher's advice. The rest of the team turns, as well, but not without a few remarks. "Dis why we can't have a good reputation," Remy murmurs, shuffling his cards and ignoring the King of Hearts that seems to continuously find its way to the top of the deck.
"Ah thought it was kinda hot actually," Rogue whispers.
Remy's deck falls to the floor. Several of the X-Men who are already blushing turn even brighter shades of crimson, but Jean looks to her friend and nods her silent agreement. Cyclops' eyes again flare. "Jean!" he chastises.
"Well, it was!" she retorts while Ororo, always with an air of dignity, comments, "I would say they were merely doing what comes naturally to them, but it certainly was the wrong place."
"It was still hot."
"Psylocke!"
"Made my ice melt."
"Bobby!"
"Enough, X-Men."
"Yes, Professor."
"I will deal with Wolverine myself when we reach home. For now, let us leave while we still hold some shred of our own dignities in tact. Angel, pay the company, and I will repay you later."
Warren snatches out his checkbook and swiftly writes a blank check. Bobby eyes him as he drops it onto the hotel manager's corpse. "Don't think that's a good idea."
"Where else am I supposed to put it where it will be retrieved?"
"There is little still standing," Hank agrees, and as the X-Men walk out of the hotel, a huge crash sounds behind them. No one dares look back but Charles drops his head into his hand with a weary sigh. This was indeed why they could not have a good reputation, or even good things, for that matter. Thank God he'd always had the foresight to meet Erik behind closed and private doors lest they, too, would have left a string of destroyed hotels behind them.
Tonight, Charles? a smooth voice asks within the Professor's mind.
Despite the chaos all around him, Charles smiles. Tonight, Erik, he agrees without looking up should his students follow his gaze. He whistles. Wolverine's mess no longer seems so bad. He'll make short work of Logan's punishment for he has a night of his own for which to prepare, a night, he trusts, will be filled with much more love and less havoc than their day has been yet again. Tonight.
The End
