Private: For Jack
Death.
Logan had faced Death more than once. He'd teetered at her doorstep with hanging off a bridge, drunk and broken and ready to fall. He'd felt her hand as a man Jack once had called his partner beat him and tied him down. He'd heard her voice as Harry had held him under the water, staring down at him with dark and empty eyes. ...He'd searched for her as he held his own gun to his head and prepared to say goodbye.
He'd seen her smile as she stripped down to nothing and jumped into the water.
He'd never feared her though. Not really.
There was something beautiful about death, and the more he came close to touching it, the more he found himself itching to flirt with her just a bit more. Testing his limits and pushing just a little closer. A shrink would likely tell him he was just searching for control after surviving a sexual attack, but Logan didn't see it that way. All he knew was that he was still alive, and nothing seemed likely to change that any time soon, palm readings be dammed.
Jack was still at training, and it wasn't hard to rig up something in the playroom that would serve his needs. They'd deliberately put up a few low beams, something Jack liked to use for suspension, but Logan had slightly different plans for. It was hard to get the scarf over the beam, and he would have rather have used rope... But rope left marks, and Logan knew enough to know this was an experiment he couldn't share with Jack. The scarf wasn't ideal, and it would be harder to free himself if something went wrong, but at least it was soft.
The noose was sloppy, but when Logan balanced on the chair, it was just snug enough to make it a little hard to breathe. That, and the slight chance of something going wrong if he fell, was all he needed, and Logan took himself in hand as he closed his eyes. It was the first time he'd jerked off since they'd woken up from their weekend long dream, and he moaned a little, deliberately leaning forward just enough to make the scarf tighter.
Jack would likely kill him if he knew, but Jack wasn't there, and Logan was a grown up. He could do what he fucking well wanted, right? His body, his life... If he wanted to try something a little more dangerous, that was his choice. If he wanted to get off doing something risky, that was what he'd do.
He nearly slipped, but rather than panic and stop, the fear spurred him on. It was addictive, and Logan craved it. He needed to feel afraid. He needed it, just for a while.
He needed to feel it on his terms.
Logan had faced Death more than once. He'd teetered at her doorstep with hanging off a bridge, drunk and broken and ready to fall. He'd felt her hand as a man Jack once had called his partner beat him and tied him down. He'd heard her voice as Harry had held him under the water, staring down at him with dark and empty eyes. ...He'd searched for her as he held his own gun to his head and prepared to say goodbye.
He'd seen her smile as she stripped down to nothing and jumped into the water.
He'd never feared her though. Not really.
There was something beautiful about death, and the more he came close to touching it, the more he found himself itching to flirt with her just a bit more. Testing his limits and pushing just a little closer. A shrink would likely tell him he was just searching for control after surviving a sexual attack, but Logan didn't see it that way. All he knew was that he was still alive, and nothing seemed likely to change that any time soon, palm readings be dammed.
Jack was still at training, and it wasn't hard to rig up something in the playroom that would serve his needs. They'd deliberately put up a few low beams, something Jack liked to use for suspension, but Logan had slightly different plans for. It was hard to get the scarf over the beam, and he would have rather have used rope... But rope left marks, and Logan knew enough to know this was an experiment he couldn't share with Jack. The scarf wasn't ideal, and it would be harder to free himself if something went wrong, but at least it was soft.
The noose was sloppy, but when Logan balanced on the chair, it was just snug enough to make it a little hard to breathe. That, and the slight chance of something going wrong if he fell, was all he needed, and Logan took himself in hand as he closed his eyes. It was the first time he'd jerked off since they'd woken up from their weekend long dream, and he moaned a little, deliberately leaning forward just enough to make the scarf tighter.
Jack would likely kill him if he knew, but Jack wasn't there, and Logan was a grown up. He could do what he fucking well wanted, right? His body, his life... If he wanted to try something a little more dangerous, that was his choice. If he wanted to get off doing something risky, that was what he'd do.
He nearly slipped, but rather than panic and stop, the fear spurred him on. It was addictive, and Logan craved it. He needed to feel afraid. He needed it, just for a while.
He needed to feel it on his terms.