Shears: Chapter 5/? [NC-17; Logan/Scott]
Title: Shears
Author: worblehat
Genre: X-Men
Pairing: Logan/Scott
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: These characters probably belong to Marvel. Not me.
Notes: Work-In-Progress!
Summary: A reluctant story of a man with heightened senses, who is saved most unwillingly (if he'd been awake at the time). Logan/Scott, adult-rated overall. Angst-filled, for your pleasure. ;)
Word Count: 1,753
Logan can smell the fear.
His mind works quickly, as if on auto-pilot. Something is wrong - he can feel the shift of energy between haste and panic. He looks at Scott whose cheeks are bright red and pushes him backwards, indicating with a nod of his head that Scott should pull up his trousers and follow Logan. Scott hurries behind as Logan runs, asking questions like "Where are we going?" and "Logan, what's happened?" In a way, Logan is glad of the interruption, though the fear is beginning to send a cold thrill down his back. He has no idea what to do now. It's a myriad of confusion. His body is slack with post-coital thoughts and the inane urge to wrap his arms around Scott's waist, pulling him close, nuzzling his neck possessively; none of which he does in the small span of time between their tryst and the realisation that something has gone wrong in another part of the mansion. He pushes away these thoughts and tries to shift his mind away from the ball of tenseness in his body. The faster he runs, the more it hurts, and he worries silently that there will never be another chance like this.
"Oh my god," comes Scott's voice from just behind his ear before he moves past Logan, toward the table where the Professor lies. Wolverine hangs back, watching in disbelief. He's only been here a few days, but there is something within the Professor that has given him a new feeling, one that he isn't sure he's had before: a feeling of hope. For a few days, he's thought that maybe, this time, he'd be able to figure out who he was. And now the only man that had come close in years to figuring it out was lying down on a table.
Anger creeps into his jaw, setting it tightly.
He looks to his left and his mouth loosens. He can see Scott's face as he watches, stony-faced, soft lines curving around his eyes, trembling faintly. Logan hasn't been one for crying in nearly any situation, but he can recognise the signs of it readily enough. The urge to slip his fingers against Scott's, to intertwine them as casually as possible without drawing attention in an attempt at comfort is tempting, yet he knows it isn't what Scott wants at that moment. Logan's body yearns for some form of tenderness to pass between them, his mind cursing this as weakness when he tries to push it away. Still, he wants to say something - to let Scott know he isn't completely heartless.
Logan wonders when it is that it others' perception of him has become important. First he makes a promise to protect Marie, wanting her to know that he cares - that he'll be there to help her live her life, until she doesn't need him anymore. And now, scott: red-eyed, stiff-standing Scott, silently trying to hold back pain around the others; Logan wanting him to look over into his eyes, to have Scott know that he cares...
When did I become a chick? he thinks to himself, hoping Jean doesn't have her telepathy tuned into his thoughts just then.
He turns, hesitating almost shyly as he searches for words that will let Scott know he genuinely cares, not worrying for the moment about being overheard. The two women seem too preoccupied with the Professor's vital signs, anyway.
He looks at the honest features, his eyes shying to the ground when he sees Scott flinch slightly, as if his focus on holding himself together will be broken at any moment. It's then that Wolverine knows he's found a chink in the Good-Boy armour: a clash of emotion at the desire of someone other than the person he's most likely promised himself to. Scott's fingers clench tight once more and Logan realises it's not just tears Scott is holding back: it's want.
Logan looks at the ground and turns. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, not waiting for a response as he walks out of the tense room in search of a dorky X-Men suit to wear.
***
When Logan leaves, Scott's fist loosens a little as he brings it up to his mouth. He can barely breathe. The room feels stifling, his mind overcrowded. He focuses on the Professor, not able to look at anything else. It takes all manner of self-control not to walk after Logan, to run up to him, grabbing the back of his worn jacket and throwing him against the wall. To fight Logan, make him run, make him hurt as much as Scott is hurting.
It's hard not to want to touch Logan.
All his life, he's tried to do the right thing. Compromise has been a part of his life, self-denial threading in with his choices every so often. This is the first time he can remember letting go of his need to make the right choices and giving in to his wants. It has taken many years to get up the courage to ask Jean to be his girlfriend, even with her gentle eyes and encouraging smiles over the years. The bond with her is deep, and he knows that there will be no one else in the world who will understand him quite as well.
But...
Logan's face swims into view, smirking at him, the ghosted touch of fingers slipping below his shirt, skimming the surface of his skin making him shudder in the sterile room of the sick bay. Jean understands him based on experience, whereas Logan seems to understand him by instinct. The touches are rough and full of unforgiving need, but Logan seems to know where Scott's personal boundaries are. He hasn't forced Scott yet - he's merely pushed him, just enough, to something that Scott would have denied himself without second thought before.
Logan knows how to get Scott's attention. And while he knows he should mind, Scott merely finds himself intrigued. It's been so long since he's done anything like this, with the possibility of pain looming in every kiss, every touch, every private meeting between himself and Logan. He knows he can hurt Jean with this, and it eats at him even as he finds his mind urging him on further. The conflict takes root in his mind, but he finds his heart a little more difficult to understand.
He waits until the others leave, trying to find his own resolve. Pushing Logan temporarily out of his thoughts, he walks towards the Professor. Words, stumbling yet heartfelt, fall from his kiss-swollen lips. That the other man hear him, Scott does not doubt. He promises to take care of the school, no matter what.
It is the most he finds he can promise at that moment.
He hopes the Professor understands.
***
She's at the end of the hallway, the doors open. Years of living in the same space has taught him how to recognise her form, even from this far away. He calls her name, his pulse racing.
He can't lose her.
"Jean!"
The doors close as he runs toward her. This isn't what he wants. His whole mind focuses on her, hands open, shaking. She's been his friend, his girlfriend, his first kiss, his -
she's slumped over when the doors open. He runs in, seeing nothing but her unmoving body, hoping, praying, wanting her to be all right. In that moment, he loves her, his mind closing itself off against any trace of Logan's image forcefully, willing her to be alive, unharmed.
"Answer me," he pleads, caressing her face gently.
"I know where Magneto's hiding," she says to him, her voice frail. Scott's heart remembers to beat once more, relief flooding through his body.
***
Something's changed.
Logan sniffs the air. The scent is stronger now, but different. It's still Scott, but more relaxed, more sure of himself. The white-knuckled hesitance of an hour ago has all slipped away from him. His natural state seems to be one of leadership, of doing - of taking charge. Logan's body shifts hungrily, his eyes focused solely on Scott's lips as he speaks, outlining the course they're to take to get to Liberty Island in the hopes of stoping Magneto from carrying out his plan.
It's hard to miss the way Scott's eyes linger equally on Logan and Jean. A growl is formed low in Logan's throat, but he relaxes it with effort. He knows he has to pay attention to what is going on, regardless of how much he wants to re-live the rushed, hot moments of earlier that night. He can still smell traces of himself on Scott, from where their bodies have touched; he grins to himself.
He catches Storm's eye, who looks away from him. His brow creases in thought; she's been watching him. He looks at Scott, who seems not to have noticed at all. Traces of threat make the metal in his body tingle a little as he wonders if there's going to be a fight over this; just as quickly, he realises that even with a conflict such as this one, the X-Men would never stoop so low as to yell or scream or fight: things that Wolverine is more used to. They'd probably try to sit down and talk it out.
The only sort of talking Logan wishes to do, however, involves saying things that will probably make Scott flush or push him against another wall. And somehow, he doesn't think that will go over quite well in a public setting.
His mind settles back on the task as he asks about patrols and radar - any sort of detectors that will make their attempt at resue more difficult.
"If they have anything that can pick up our jet," answers Scott, looking directly at Logan," they deserve to catch us."
Logan wonders as he suits up if the end of Scott's words was meant for him. As an enticement: a challenge.
He hopes silently as he climbs inside the jet that they are.
Author: worblehat
Genre: X-Men
Pairing: Logan/Scott
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: These characters probably belong to Marvel. Not me.
Notes: Work-In-Progress!
Summary: A reluctant story of a man with heightened senses, who is saved most unwillingly (if he'd been awake at the time). Logan/Scott, adult-rated overall. Angst-filled, for your pleasure. ;)
Word Count: 1,753
Logan can smell the fear.
His mind works quickly, as if on auto-pilot. Something is wrong - he can feel the shift of energy between haste and panic. He looks at Scott whose cheeks are bright red and pushes him backwards, indicating with a nod of his head that Scott should pull up his trousers and follow Logan. Scott hurries behind as Logan runs, asking questions like "Where are we going?" and "Logan, what's happened?" In a way, Logan is glad of the interruption, though the fear is beginning to send a cold thrill down his back. He has no idea what to do now. It's a myriad of confusion. His body is slack with post-coital thoughts and the inane urge to wrap his arms around Scott's waist, pulling him close, nuzzling his neck possessively; none of which he does in the small span of time between their tryst and the realisation that something has gone wrong in another part of the mansion. He pushes away these thoughts and tries to shift his mind away from the ball of tenseness in his body. The faster he runs, the more it hurts, and he worries silently that there will never be another chance like this.
"Oh my god," comes Scott's voice from just behind his ear before he moves past Logan, toward the table where the Professor lies. Wolverine hangs back, watching in disbelief. He's only been here a few days, but there is something within the Professor that has given him a new feeling, one that he isn't sure he's had before: a feeling of hope. For a few days, he's thought that maybe, this time, he'd be able to figure out who he was. And now the only man that had come close in years to figuring it out was lying down on a table.
Anger creeps into his jaw, setting it tightly.
He looks to his left and his mouth loosens. He can see Scott's face as he watches, stony-faced, soft lines curving around his eyes, trembling faintly. Logan hasn't been one for crying in nearly any situation, but he can recognise the signs of it readily enough. The urge to slip his fingers against Scott's, to intertwine them as casually as possible without drawing attention in an attempt at comfort is tempting, yet he knows it isn't what Scott wants at that moment. Logan's body yearns for some form of tenderness to pass between them, his mind cursing this as weakness when he tries to push it away. Still, he wants to say something - to let Scott know he isn't completely heartless.
Logan wonders when it is that it others' perception of him has become important. First he makes a promise to protect Marie, wanting her to know that he cares - that he'll be there to help her live her life, until she doesn't need him anymore. And now, scott: red-eyed, stiff-standing Scott, silently trying to hold back pain around the others; Logan wanting him to look over into his eyes, to have Scott know that he cares...
When did I become a chick? he thinks to himself, hoping Jean doesn't have her telepathy tuned into his thoughts just then.
He turns, hesitating almost shyly as he searches for words that will let Scott know he genuinely cares, not worrying for the moment about being overheard. The two women seem too preoccupied with the Professor's vital signs, anyway.
He looks at the honest features, his eyes shying to the ground when he sees Scott flinch slightly, as if his focus on holding himself together will be broken at any moment. It's then that Wolverine knows he's found a chink in the Good-Boy armour: a clash of emotion at the desire of someone other than the person he's most likely promised himself to. Scott's fingers clench tight once more and Logan realises it's not just tears Scott is holding back: it's want.
Logan looks at the ground and turns. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, not waiting for a response as he walks out of the tense room in search of a dorky X-Men suit to wear.
***
When Logan leaves, Scott's fist loosens a little as he brings it up to his mouth. He can barely breathe. The room feels stifling, his mind overcrowded. He focuses on the Professor, not able to look at anything else. It takes all manner of self-control not to walk after Logan, to run up to him, grabbing the back of his worn jacket and throwing him against the wall. To fight Logan, make him run, make him hurt as much as Scott is hurting.
It's hard not to want to touch Logan.
All his life, he's tried to do the right thing. Compromise has been a part of his life, self-denial threading in with his choices every so often. This is the first time he can remember letting go of his need to make the right choices and giving in to his wants. It has taken many years to get up the courage to ask Jean to be his girlfriend, even with her gentle eyes and encouraging smiles over the years. The bond with her is deep, and he knows that there will be no one else in the world who will understand him quite as well.
But...
Logan's face swims into view, smirking at him, the ghosted touch of fingers slipping below his shirt, skimming the surface of his skin making him shudder in the sterile room of the sick bay. Jean understands him based on experience, whereas Logan seems to understand him by instinct. The touches are rough and full of unforgiving need, but Logan seems to know where Scott's personal boundaries are. He hasn't forced Scott yet - he's merely pushed him, just enough, to something that Scott would have denied himself without second thought before.
Logan knows how to get Scott's attention. And while he knows he should mind, Scott merely finds himself intrigued. It's been so long since he's done anything like this, with the possibility of pain looming in every kiss, every touch, every private meeting between himself and Logan. He knows he can hurt Jean with this, and it eats at him even as he finds his mind urging him on further. The conflict takes root in his mind, but he finds his heart a little more difficult to understand.
He waits until the others leave, trying to find his own resolve. Pushing Logan temporarily out of his thoughts, he walks towards the Professor. Words, stumbling yet heartfelt, fall from his kiss-swollen lips. That the other man hear him, Scott does not doubt. He promises to take care of the school, no matter what.
It is the most he finds he can promise at that moment.
He hopes the Professor understands.
***
She's at the end of the hallway, the doors open. Years of living in the same space has taught him how to recognise her form, even from this far away. He calls her name, his pulse racing.
He can't lose her.
"Jean!"
The doors close as he runs toward her. This isn't what he wants. His whole mind focuses on her, hands open, shaking. She's been his friend, his girlfriend, his first kiss, his -
she's slumped over when the doors open. He runs in, seeing nothing but her unmoving body, hoping, praying, wanting her to be all right. In that moment, he loves her, his mind closing itself off against any trace of Logan's image forcefully, willing her to be alive, unharmed.
"Answer me," he pleads, caressing her face gently.
"I know where Magneto's hiding," she says to him, her voice frail. Scott's heart remembers to beat once more, relief flooding through his body.
***
Something's changed.
Logan sniffs the air. The scent is stronger now, but different. It's still Scott, but more relaxed, more sure of himself. The white-knuckled hesitance of an hour ago has all slipped away from him. His natural state seems to be one of leadership, of doing - of taking charge. Logan's body shifts hungrily, his eyes focused solely on Scott's lips as he speaks, outlining the course they're to take to get to Liberty Island in the hopes of stoping Magneto from carrying out his plan.
It's hard to miss the way Scott's eyes linger equally on Logan and Jean. A growl is formed low in Logan's throat, but he relaxes it with effort. He knows he has to pay attention to what is going on, regardless of how much he wants to re-live the rushed, hot moments of earlier that night. He can still smell traces of himself on Scott, from where their bodies have touched; he grins to himself.
He catches Storm's eye, who looks away from him. His brow creases in thought; she's been watching him. He looks at Scott, who seems not to have noticed at all. Traces of threat make the metal in his body tingle a little as he wonders if there's going to be a fight over this; just as quickly, he realises that even with a conflict such as this one, the X-Men would never stoop so low as to yell or scream or fight: things that Wolverine is more used to. They'd probably try to sit down and talk it out.
The only sort of talking Logan wishes to do, however, involves saying things that will probably make Scott flush or push him against another wall. And somehow, he doesn't think that will go over quite well in a public setting.
His mind settles back on the task as he asks about patrols and radar - any sort of detectors that will make their attempt at resue more difficult.
"If they have anything that can pick up our jet," answers Scott, looking directly at Logan," they deserve to catch us."
Logan wonders as he suits up if the end of Scott's words was meant for him. As an enticement: a challenge.
He hopes silently as he climbs inside the jet that they are.