Skipping ahead a little...this is my most recent work. I'll get back to posting more archived stuff in a couple of days, but I wanted to share this now. This is the first incestuous fic I've submitted to this blog, and the third I've ever written. The first was a Cannonball/Icarus fluff fic called 'Body Heat' which had no sex, and the second was a Cyclops/Cable fic called 'War Bonds'...written around the same time Marvel killed Nate off, IIRC.
Anyway, here you also see a major fetish of mine: Gender-bending. I love a lot of female characters: Storm, Psylocke, Polaris, Phoenix, the Scarlet Witch, etc. Unfortunately, I can't write straight erotica to save my life, having never had, nor any desire to have, sex with a woman. So genderswapping is the only way to give these great characters any action. Fortunately, they all make really hot guys. ^_^
So, kinks galore in this fic! A gender-bent Scarlet Witch seduces his father in 'Magic Hands.'
~*~
Erik Magnus Lehnsherr woke up in the brig of the Avenger's Mansion's sub-levels. The first thing he noticed was the forcefield locking him in, projected from a solid steel mechanism. He reached out with his magnetic power to rip the thing off its mountings...
...And found he couldn't. Of course. My captors have locked me in an inhibitor field. Well, I've gotten by without my powers before, and I will again. Now, who do they have serving as watchdog...?
A swirling red cloak appeared from the side door, followed by a tall, leanly muscular man with auburn hair and beard. "Hello, Father."
"William?!"
The Scarlet Sorcerer smiled, white teeth flashing behind his russet goatee. "That's right. You've been fighting the X-Men for too long, Father. They're powerful, to be sure...but we Avengers are called Earth's Mightiest Heroes for a reason."
The younger man dropped the forcefield for a second, and stepped into Magnus's cell. Lunging forward, Erik tried to make use of this narrow window of opportunity, but was repelled by a gesture from his elder son. The forcefield snapped up behind William as Magneto landed roughly on his bunk, the sheets of which snapped up around him, binding him in tight cords.
"Ahh, Father. Ever the opportunist. Don't bother. Iron Man specially calibrated this cell to render you, and you alone, powerless. Relax...I think you'll quite enjoy your stay here, if you're open to it."
"William, what are you...?"
A second gesture from the Chaos-magician, and Erik gave a start as his clothes rippled into sheets of mesh fabric and disappeared, scattering to the four corners of his cell as his son smiled coolly.
"You see...I'm the only one who knows you're here."
Running his hands along his body, William gave a low moan of pleasure as his own uniform transformed into a stream of ribbons and flew off his body, leaving him as naked as his father.
"What are you doing?! Stop this at once! This is in--"
The Scarlet Sorcerer leaned in and kissed his father full on the lips, insistent, demanding, and Erik's protests were muffled. He felt the harsh bristle of his son's goatee against his mouth as a glowing hand wrapped itself around his turgid maleness. Bolts of pure magic coursed through him, and Erik cried out, finding himself growing hotter by the minute as William climbed up onto his lap, grinding himself against his father's muscular thighs as he continued his deep, breath-sucking kiss.
Erik was torn between the raging swell of desire and the cold burn of shame. Impossible! I can't be feeling this way about him! He's my son, and he fights me at every opportunity! These responses...he must be affecting me somehow...this can't be right!
"Ohhh, father," William's breathy voice came in his ear, "you truly don't understand at all, do you? I want you. I've wanted you since you spirited Pietro and me away from that mob. But you only had eyes for your quest, your passion...world domination foremost in your mind, you never had time to think of the affections you could've received...and then, when we found out the truth...I all but gave up hope."
He began to lick the hollow of Erik's throat, then let his tongue trail down to his father's chest. Erik let out a breathless moan, unable to form articulate words.
"Finally, I decided. Why not just take what I want? After all...I learned how to do it from the best." Green eyes looked up at Magnus with a mocking smile, and then the beard and tongue played over Erik's nipples. Bound and helpless as he was, Erik could only sit there and moan, his member rock-hard and rigid against William's. "Please...William..."
William's head came up again. Both men were covered in a sheen of sweat now, their breath harsh and panting. "Please what, Father?"
"Suck me...please...take me in your mouth. Let me...release..." With those words, Erik's head slumped. He knew when he was bested.
So did William. He smiled like a cat who knew he had the bird, eyes and teeth glittering. "As you wish."
Bending down, his long auburn hair spilling across Erik's thighs, William opened his mouth and swallowed the Master of Magnetism's rigid, weeping shaft in a single gulp. The flow of Magnus's precome into his mouth made him moan in satisfaction, even as Magneto himself was drived to the verge of tears with relief and ecstasy.
Deeper and deeper William took Magnus's cock, his goatee standing out in stark contrast against the silver of his father's pubic hair as he watched. His hand was a blur of motion on his own member, the balls swelling and flushing with color as Erik watched in disbelief and wonder...he'd had no idea his own son had this sexual, perverse side to him. All the stigma, the wrongness of the situation, vanished from Erik's mind as he watched William writhe on his knees like a well-trained whore, bobbing his head up and down on his father's shaft as he masturbated his own maleness to a full, glorious erection. His face...indeed, his whole body, became flush with excitement and desire, and as Erik watched, William began to moan in excitement and rapture as his cock swelled, pushed past the point of no return.
Watching the show and having his member lavished so attentively, pushed Erik over the brink as well. With simultaneous cries of ecstatic frenzy, father and son's hips began to buck in tandem as their rods unleashed torrents of semen. Erik's load mostly vanished down William's throat, but the Scarlet Sorcerer pulled off just enough to let one volley of seed coat his face, dripping from his beard in a frosty mustache.
William's own orgasm was decidedly more spectacular. Leaning back on his knees, his father's cum still dripping down his face and neck, the Sorcerer threw his head back and let out one final moan of delicious satiation...and then his cock blasted, glowing pearls of semen spattering his whole body like warm rain. The bonds holding Erik released, transforming back into sheets, and unable to help himself, the Master of Magnetism began to lick his son clean, his tongue on a relentless quest to claim every spilled drop of seed.
Finally, he reached William's beard. Grooming it in an almost catlike fashion, Magnus stopped to give his son a deep, passionate kiss, all his incestuous inhibitions gone. "So...was it what you hoped for, my son?"
"All that and more, Father," William panted. "Now...I'd best send you back, before my teammates arrest you for real."
His hands came alive with Chaos-magick, and before Magus could protest...
...He was in his bed in Genosha.
Sitting up, he looked down at himself, naked. Thinking of the events that had just transpired caused his maleness to swell and rise anew.
It's almost as if he used his magick to give me the libido of a man half...no, a third my age. Remembering the way William's hand had closed around him, Magnus wondered if his son hadn't done just that.
Thank you, my son. You've given me a gift I intend to fully enjoy. In return, I'll postpone my liberation of the mutant race...at least, long enough for me to be completely satisfied.
His hand closing around his cock, Magneto had a good idea of exactly how he was going to spend the next few days.
~FIN~
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Control
I noticed a strange trend going through my archives...I have a tendency to use short titles whenever possible. And a LOT of the one-word titles started with C. Not sure what this means, but I don't see any reason to change them.
Anyway, getting back to X-Men fics, this is one of my personal favorites. I think Magneto is one of the most awesome characters ever to appear in any fictional medium. This fic was written mostly as a tribute to him, but then the difficulty came in choosing a partner. I knew I wanted to put him with an enemy, but I didn't want to use Charley, because even though he's awesome, I don't find him sexually attractive. So, taking Xavier out of the equation, the one person who's been fighting Erik the longest is the first X-Man: Cyclops. Once that revelation came to me (with the help of Kalvin, a wonderful y!Gallery artist who did an amazing Cyclops/Magneto pic), the story sort of wrote itself.
~*~
Cyclops woke up with a start, and realized two things. One: He was strapped to a cold metal table with colder metal restraints clamped around his wrists and ankles. Two: Except for the wraparound shades he usually wore when he slept, he was completely naked.
He let out a sigh of frustration as he lay his head back on the table. Well, this day's already shaping up to suck. Who could have grabbed me while I was sleeping?
He didn't have to wait long for the answer, as glaring flourescent lights flashed on overhead. Hovering in the air above him, resplendent as he always was in his red-and-violet regalia, was Magneto, eyes flashing as he glared down at his captive. "Honestly, Scott, I'm disappointed. I did expect you to put up something of a fight when I spirited you away, but you didn't even bat an eyelid."
Scott looked up with a defiant glare. "Unlock these restraints, Lehnsherr, and I'll show you how much of a fight I can put up."
Magneto's derisive bark of a laugh echoed against the metallic walls. "I'm afraid you missed your chance, dear boy. Not even the myriad of telepaths at your school detected my presence." He tapped his helmet suggestively. "No, by the time your fellow X-Men discover you're missing, I'll have achieved my goal and you'll already be on your way back home."
"Your...'goal?' " Scott tried to resist asking, but couldn't. He'd always been too damn curious for his own good. "What is your 'goal' this time? 'Cause if it's got anything to do with taking over the world, I'll tell you right now..."
A stray scrap of metal flew to his mouth, fastening itself securely to him as Magnus rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. "That's the problem with you X-Men. So busy decrying me as the devil incarnate you never take the time to listen to my side of the story. Something you get from Charles, no doubt."
Magnus was landing on the floor beside Scott's table as he spoke. The X-Men's leader could feel the air vibrating around him as Erik's power hummed. "Relax, Cyclops. I'm not trying to take anything over this time. In fact, if you cooperate, you might even enjoy this particular visit to my sanctum."
Was it Scott's imagination, or was the metal imprisoning him getting warmer? "You see, I've never been the kind of man to require much in the way of...pleasurable company. Ever since my wife ran away, I've simply never felt the need to be with people.
"But, every now and again, urges rise. The blood starts to burn...even mine...for a warm body beside me. Flesh not my own around me, giving me the physical pleasure every man needs and deserves. I've made use of members of my Brotherhood in the past when this has happened...Wyngarde's illusory powers have created some very memorable nocturnal companions, and Mystique's talents go without saying...but, as you may have noticed, I have no Brotherhood at present."
Every hair on Scott's body was tingling. But out of anticipation, fear, or revulsion, he couldn't tell. On the one hand, this was Magneto...leader of the Brotherhood, the Acolytes, the Genoshan army, and just about every archvillain team that had ever given the X-Men trouble.But on the other, he'd always found the man, Erik Lehnsherr, powerfully attractive in ways even Jean didn't know about.
Magneto had crossed 'round the entire table, to stand beside Scott on his other side. "So you see, your stay here can be a very pleasant one, if you cooperate. Let me show you just...how pleasant."
A gloved hand reached out, not touching Scott's skin, but he felt the blood rush to his nether regions anyway, pulled by a force stronger even than the magnetism Lehnsherr commanded, a force that made his resolve weaken, his hatred falter. He felt the gag fly off his mouth, looked his captor directly in the eye, and gave the Master of Magnetism his answer.
"All right. Do what you want."
Erik's smile was absolutely predatory, and Scott worried that he might have made a mistake. Then, the Master of Magnetism opened his robe, and all thought vanished from the X-Man's mind as he saw what was concealed beneath it.
The man was fit, superbly toned, and slightly larger than Scott himself, but not on the level of the X-Men powerhouses like Colossus or Bishop. His pale skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, and his jutting member was as hard as the steel he commanded.
Presented with the amazing rod, which brushed itself across his lips almost tenderly, Scott had no choice but to open his mouth and take it inside. Lehnsherr let out a quiet groan of pleasure as Scott used skills he hadn't needed in years to fellate his archfoe, painfully aware of how the man's magnetic power was making how own rod stiffen and stand up, begging for more.
Above them, the lights went out, replaced by a warmer glow from a set of floor lights that cast the room in an almost firelike glow. Wow, Scott thought to himself. For someone who professes only to use his partners for pleasure, Magneto sure has a romantic side.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an insistent pressure at his entrance. His eyes flicking up towards Erik, he saw the man's fingers pressing against his ass, demanding entry. Scott relaxed, and marvelled at the practiced ease with which Magneto found his prostate, and used it to manipulate his body.
In minutes, he and Erik were 69'ing each other while the older man was pushing his thighs apart to get better access at his most vulnerable of places. Scott cried out, straining at his straps, and when Erik freed him with a SNAP of magnetic energy, the first place his hands went to was the Master of Magnetism's chest, where he kneaded at the muscle and attacked the nipples with desperation while the man's skillful tongue drove him madder with hot need.
Some dim part of his awareness knew he was free, that he could run for it if he wanted. But in the hands of such a masterful lover, escape was the last thing on Cyclops' mind right now. He let Magneto's cock slide out of his mouth as he panted, the words barely coming out as more than a hoarse, husky whisper.
"Lehnsherr..."
"Yes, Scott?" He still sounds so cool and collected. Bastard!
"Please...I need you..."
A hand stroked Scott's cock lazily as steel-grey eyes watched him. "You need me to what, Scott?"
"Inside...please..."
One long lick up his shaft sent Scott bucking wildly on the table. "You'll have to be a little more clear, my boy."
"Just fuck me already! Please, I can't stand it anymore!"
A chuckle that vibrated through his flesh, and then Magneto pushed his legs into the air...followed by the rest of his body. It took Scott's lust-hazed mind a moment to realize that he was being levitated by a magnetic field.
"All you had to do was ask," the Master of Magnetism said, rising naked to Scott's side like some glorious god of lust. Scott spread his legs as wide as they could go, and Erik positioned himself carefully...he didn't want to hurt the boy, after all.
A cool liquid started spreading itself over Scott's perineum and sphincter, and he looked down in surprise. A second chuckle vibrated through him, and he almost came right then. "Come now, Scott. You didn't think I'd spend all this time seducing you as I have just to impale you like some Neanderthal? I'm not a monster, you know."
Cyclops would have argued the point, but he was having trouble forming sentences. The slow, deliberate preparation just felt too goddamn good.
Magnus was still talking. "No, Scott, I'm not going to fuck you. I'm going to make love to you. This...what we're doing...is more than just the animalistic rutting of primates. We are homo superior, and as such have a standard to live up to in all things...including sex. Trust me, Scott...once you've had sex with a truly superior being, there will be no going back."
Scott's cock was rock hard, but held by Magneto's field as he was, he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was writhe under the onslaught of the man's fingers and powers, and hope to God it would be over soon, even if part of him...okay, most of me...wanted the wondrous union to go on forever.
Then, Magneto pushed into Scott's lubricated entrance. Scott opened his mouth to scream, expecting the blinding, searing pain that comes with being penetrated...and was astonished when it didn't come. Allthatw as there was the delicious fullness, the amazing pressure against his prostate that made him involuntarily push back against Magneto's hips, which thrust into him in a smooth, unbroken glide.
"You see?" Magneto whispered, his voice finally going husky with arousal. "No pain, no resistance...my powers have taken care of that. There's only the pleasure, the unadulterated joy of being filled by your master. For I am your master now, Scott. You'll be with others, men and women alike, mutant or human. But no matter who else you're with, you will always have dreams, fantasies, of being with your ideal lover, a man who mastered your body so that you cried for him, even though you were enemies."
It was a power-play, and Scott knew it. Or rather, he would have known it if he hadn't been moaning out a litany of praise for the man. The rhythm of the mating skewed his sense of time, sending him into a world where there was nothing but him, and Erik, and fucking.
"Oh, God, oh yeah, yes, hell yes, please, Erik, take me, ah God, ohh fuck, you feel so fucking wonderful in me, FUCK ME! AAAARRRGH!"
With a final thrust, Erik buried himself balls-deep inside Scott, and the X-Man screamed at the top of his lungs as his entire body seemed to explode into orgasm. A tight ring of magnetic force latched itself around the base of his shaft and started to pump out the seed as it flew, milking him for all he was worth. Scott swore his orgasm lasted for minutes, long, agonizing minutes of thrusting, spurting, and coming with explosive force as the surges of pleasure rippled through his body again and again.
Magneto let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a shout, and blasted his own load of semen into Scott's twitching, hungry ass, and that in turn forced yet another orgasm out of the X-Man. His eyes flew open, and he watched the Master of Magnetism assert his dominance with a powerful, controlled orgasm, his entire beautiful body trembling in the throes of it.
Finally, Erik collapsed on top of Scott in midair, spent. The two of them descended back to the table, which was still warm even though Scott hadn't been on it for the last hour at least.
Scott struggled to stay awake, to say something, but then Erik got up and waved a hand in his direction, and he blacked out.
~*~
The sun shining through his bedroom window made Cyclops blink under his sleeping shades. Hell of a dream, he thought. Freud would have a field day. I'm going to have enough fun explaining it to Jean.
He pushed the covers off himself and rose out of bed...then froze. Two things made themselves abundantly clear.
One: He was naked. And he never, ever slept naked.
Two: He was covered in dried semen. Some of it was his, but there was too much there for one man to produce.
Oh, my God. Scott looked out the window, and for a second, he swore he could see a shape against the sun, flying away with regal power and dignity.
~FIN~
Anyway, getting back to X-Men fics, this is one of my personal favorites. I think Magneto is one of the most awesome characters ever to appear in any fictional medium. This fic was written mostly as a tribute to him, but then the difficulty came in choosing a partner. I knew I wanted to put him with an enemy, but I didn't want to use Charley, because even though he's awesome, I don't find him sexually attractive. So, taking Xavier out of the equation, the one person who's been fighting Erik the longest is the first X-Man: Cyclops. Once that revelation came to me (with the help of Kalvin, a wonderful y!Gallery artist who did an amazing Cyclops/Magneto pic), the story sort of wrote itself.
~*~
Cyclops woke up with a start, and realized two things. One: He was strapped to a cold metal table with colder metal restraints clamped around his wrists and ankles. Two: Except for the wraparound shades he usually wore when he slept, he was completely naked.
He let out a sigh of frustration as he lay his head back on the table. Well, this day's already shaping up to suck. Who could have grabbed me while I was sleeping?
He didn't have to wait long for the answer, as glaring flourescent lights flashed on overhead. Hovering in the air above him, resplendent as he always was in his red-and-violet regalia, was Magneto, eyes flashing as he glared down at his captive. "Honestly, Scott, I'm disappointed. I did expect you to put up something of a fight when I spirited you away, but you didn't even bat an eyelid."
Scott looked up with a defiant glare. "Unlock these restraints, Lehnsherr, and I'll show you how much of a fight I can put up."
Magneto's derisive bark of a laugh echoed against the metallic walls. "I'm afraid you missed your chance, dear boy. Not even the myriad of telepaths at your school detected my presence." He tapped his helmet suggestively. "No, by the time your fellow X-Men discover you're missing, I'll have achieved my goal and you'll already be on your way back home."
"Your...'goal?' " Scott tried to resist asking, but couldn't. He'd always been too damn curious for his own good. "What is your 'goal' this time? 'Cause if it's got anything to do with taking over the world, I'll tell you right now..."
A stray scrap of metal flew to his mouth, fastening itself securely to him as Magnus rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. "That's the problem with you X-Men. So busy decrying me as the devil incarnate you never take the time to listen to my side of the story. Something you get from Charles, no doubt."
Magnus was landing on the floor beside Scott's table as he spoke. The X-Men's leader could feel the air vibrating around him as Erik's power hummed. "Relax, Cyclops. I'm not trying to take anything over this time. In fact, if you cooperate, you might even enjoy this particular visit to my sanctum."
Was it Scott's imagination, or was the metal imprisoning him getting warmer? "You see, I've never been the kind of man to require much in the way of...pleasurable company. Ever since my wife ran away, I've simply never felt the need to be with people.
"But, every now and again, urges rise. The blood starts to burn...even mine...for a warm body beside me. Flesh not my own around me, giving me the physical pleasure every man needs and deserves. I've made use of members of my Brotherhood in the past when this has happened...Wyngarde's illusory powers have created some very memorable nocturnal companions, and Mystique's talents go without saying...but, as you may have noticed, I have no Brotherhood at present."
Every hair on Scott's body was tingling. But out of anticipation, fear, or revulsion, he couldn't tell. On the one hand, this was Magneto...leader of the Brotherhood, the Acolytes, the Genoshan army, and just about every archvillain team that had ever given the X-Men trouble.But on the other, he'd always found the man, Erik Lehnsherr, powerfully attractive in ways even Jean didn't know about.
Magneto had crossed 'round the entire table, to stand beside Scott on his other side. "So you see, your stay here can be a very pleasant one, if you cooperate. Let me show you just...how pleasant."
A gloved hand reached out, not touching Scott's skin, but he felt the blood rush to his nether regions anyway, pulled by a force stronger even than the magnetism Lehnsherr commanded, a force that made his resolve weaken, his hatred falter. He felt the gag fly off his mouth, looked his captor directly in the eye, and gave the Master of Magnetism his answer.
"All right. Do what you want."
Erik's smile was absolutely predatory, and Scott worried that he might have made a mistake. Then, the Master of Magnetism opened his robe, and all thought vanished from the X-Man's mind as he saw what was concealed beneath it.
The man was fit, superbly toned, and slightly larger than Scott himself, but not on the level of the X-Men powerhouses like Colossus or Bishop. His pale skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, and his jutting member was as hard as the steel he commanded.
Presented with the amazing rod, which brushed itself across his lips almost tenderly, Scott had no choice but to open his mouth and take it inside. Lehnsherr let out a quiet groan of pleasure as Scott used skills he hadn't needed in years to fellate his archfoe, painfully aware of how the man's magnetic power was making how own rod stiffen and stand up, begging for more.
Above them, the lights went out, replaced by a warmer glow from a set of floor lights that cast the room in an almost firelike glow. Wow, Scott thought to himself. For someone who professes only to use his partners for pleasure, Magneto sure has a romantic side.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an insistent pressure at his entrance. His eyes flicking up towards Erik, he saw the man's fingers pressing against his ass, demanding entry. Scott relaxed, and marvelled at the practiced ease with which Magneto found his prostate, and used it to manipulate his body.
In minutes, he and Erik were 69'ing each other while the older man was pushing his thighs apart to get better access at his most vulnerable of places. Scott cried out, straining at his straps, and when Erik freed him with a SNAP of magnetic energy, the first place his hands went to was the Master of Magnetism's chest, where he kneaded at the muscle and attacked the nipples with desperation while the man's skillful tongue drove him madder with hot need.
Some dim part of his awareness knew he was free, that he could run for it if he wanted. But in the hands of such a masterful lover, escape was the last thing on Cyclops' mind right now. He let Magneto's cock slide out of his mouth as he panted, the words barely coming out as more than a hoarse, husky whisper.
"Lehnsherr..."
"Yes, Scott?" He still sounds so cool and collected. Bastard!
"Please...I need you..."
A hand stroked Scott's cock lazily as steel-grey eyes watched him. "You need me to what, Scott?"
"Inside...please..."
One long lick up his shaft sent Scott bucking wildly on the table. "You'll have to be a little more clear, my boy."
"Just fuck me already! Please, I can't stand it anymore!"
A chuckle that vibrated through his flesh, and then Magneto pushed his legs into the air...followed by the rest of his body. It took Scott's lust-hazed mind a moment to realize that he was being levitated by a magnetic field.
"All you had to do was ask," the Master of Magnetism said, rising naked to Scott's side like some glorious god of lust. Scott spread his legs as wide as they could go, and Erik positioned himself carefully...he didn't want to hurt the boy, after all.
A cool liquid started spreading itself over Scott's perineum and sphincter, and he looked down in surprise. A second chuckle vibrated through him, and he almost came right then. "Come now, Scott. You didn't think I'd spend all this time seducing you as I have just to impale you like some Neanderthal? I'm not a monster, you know."
Cyclops would have argued the point, but he was having trouble forming sentences. The slow, deliberate preparation just felt too goddamn good.
Magnus was still talking. "No, Scott, I'm not going to fuck you. I'm going to make love to you. This...what we're doing...is more than just the animalistic rutting of primates. We are homo superior, and as such have a standard to live up to in all things...including sex. Trust me, Scott...once you've had sex with a truly superior being, there will be no going back."
Scott's cock was rock hard, but held by Magneto's field as he was, he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was writhe under the onslaught of the man's fingers and powers, and hope to God it would be over soon, even if part of him...okay, most of me...wanted the wondrous union to go on forever.
Then, Magneto pushed into Scott's lubricated entrance. Scott opened his mouth to scream, expecting the blinding, searing pain that comes with being penetrated...and was astonished when it didn't come. Allthatw as there was the delicious fullness, the amazing pressure against his prostate that made him involuntarily push back against Magneto's hips, which thrust into him in a smooth, unbroken glide.
"You see?" Magneto whispered, his voice finally going husky with arousal. "No pain, no resistance...my powers have taken care of that. There's only the pleasure, the unadulterated joy of being filled by your master. For I am your master now, Scott. You'll be with others, men and women alike, mutant or human. But no matter who else you're with, you will always have dreams, fantasies, of being with your ideal lover, a man who mastered your body so that you cried for him, even though you were enemies."
It was a power-play, and Scott knew it. Or rather, he would have known it if he hadn't been moaning out a litany of praise for the man. The rhythm of the mating skewed his sense of time, sending him into a world where there was nothing but him, and Erik, and fucking.
"Oh, God, oh yeah, yes, hell yes, please, Erik, take me, ah God, ohh fuck, you feel so fucking wonderful in me, FUCK ME! AAAARRRGH!"
With a final thrust, Erik buried himself balls-deep inside Scott, and the X-Man screamed at the top of his lungs as his entire body seemed to explode into orgasm. A tight ring of magnetic force latched itself around the base of his shaft and started to pump out the seed as it flew, milking him for all he was worth. Scott swore his orgasm lasted for minutes, long, agonizing minutes of thrusting, spurting, and coming with explosive force as the surges of pleasure rippled through his body again and again.
Magneto let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a shout, and blasted his own load of semen into Scott's twitching, hungry ass, and that in turn forced yet another orgasm out of the X-Man. His eyes flew open, and he watched the Master of Magnetism assert his dominance with a powerful, controlled orgasm, his entire beautiful body trembling in the throes of it.
Finally, Erik collapsed on top of Scott in midair, spent. The two of them descended back to the table, which was still warm even though Scott hadn't been on it for the last hour at least.
Scott struggled to stay awake, to say something, but then Erik got up and waved a hand in his direction, and he blacked out.
~*~
The sun shining through his bedroom window made Cyclops blink under his sleeping shades. Hell of a dream, he thought. Freud would have a field day. I'm going to have enough fun explaining it to Jean.
He pushed the covers off himself and rose out of bed...then froze. Two things made themselves abundantly clear.
One: He was naked. And he never, ever slept naked.
Two: He was covered in dried semen. Some of it was his, but there was too much there for one man to produce.
Oh, my God. Scott looked out the window, and for a second, he swore he could see a shape against the sun, flying away with regal power and dignity.
~FIN~
Conquest
I love Kingdom Hearts. I really do. Imagine a universe where you can visit any world that's ever been created, and actually take part in the stories that shaped them. Only downside is, even though I love Sora and the folks as characters, they do nothing for me sexually. So I worked my way around that by writing slash about the adult characters: Ansem (the villain from the first game), the members of Organization XIII, the stars of the various games and movies, etc. My first attempt at writing was my take on how Sephiroth became a Heartless. Tell me what you think!
~*~
Sephiroth woke up bound and naked, his Masamune fastened securely to the ceiling by the same bands that held him to the cold table. The SOLDIER struggled against his bonds, but to no avail. He was supernally skilled, both at swordsmanship and magic, but without a blade to focus his skills, he knew he had no choice but to see how things played out.
Looking from one side to the other, he realized the metal clamps holding him were in fact the limbs of a massive array of armored Heartless, the strongest Ansem could create from what weak hearts were still left hiding in Hollow Bastion like scared, burrowing mice..
“Ansem! What is the meaning of this?!” the SOLDIER shouted. As the onetime general of Ansem the Wise’s armies of light, Sephiroth knew the man who faced him was not the wise and noble King he had adored. But as he had given no other name than “Ansem,” Sephiroth was forced to call him that.
Ansem hovered above him, fully clothed in Heartless regalia, with a notebook in one hand and a stylus in the other. “Fascinating…” the man muttered in his low, smooth voice, and Sephiroth felt himself responding against his will. “Awakened in a position of utter helplessness and vulnerability, the subject still chooses to fight. Almost to the very last breath. His heart is full of light and strength…unusual, for a general and veteran of many bloody battles.”
“No one has ever forced me to submit to them, and you will not be the first!” Sephiroth shouted as he struggled with al his might against the bonds that held him. Ansem laughed a cold, detached laugh.
“Oh, but you are already submissive to me. You see, no heart is exempt from darkness, especially not yours.” He started gliding slowly the table…for the man who called himself Ansem never walked anymore…stopping to brush a stray gloved hand or stylus across the General’s exposed, perfect, battle-hardened flesh. “Tell me, Sephiroth…in all your years of crusading, have you ever lost a battle? Hmm? Ever taken an injury that didn’t heal itself miraculously, no matter how grievous?”
He already knows the answer, damn him. “…No.”
“No. On both counts.” The master of the Heartless’s smile wend absolutely frigid. If Sephiroth had been a different man, his blood would have frozen in his veins. But he was Sephiroth, General of the Armies of Light, and he would not yield, no matter what. Ansem was still speaking. “…You’re really quite a specimen, you know. It’s not every day the King of Hollow Bastion’s scientists and magicians come together to create something as powerful as you.” He leaned over Sephiroth, and breathed deeply, almost as if he were inhaling something. “…Yes. The scent of strength and magic flow around you, just begging to be corrupted.”
“Creation? Corrupted?! NEVER! I’ll die before I let that happen!” Sephiroth thrashed in his bonds all the harder, his platinum hair whipping about him, but the Heartless held firm. If I could only reach my sword…move a hand enough to cast a spell…then these creatures would know true suffering, and their master along with them! “I don’t care if I am a creation…I am alive! I have a heart, and a soul, and I’ll never give you hold over either!”
Ansem had bent over the edge of Sephiroth’s table for an instant. When the General looked up, his face was frozen in horror. Ansem was still wearing his thigh-high boots, but he had removed the trousers beneath them, and his manhood jutted hard and proud before him as he gave the prisoner a predatory smile. “Oh, but you will. You won’t have a choice. And when I am finished…you will die. Not in the way most humans die, no…your body and soul will remain intact. But your heart…that wondrous font of all emotions and nobility…your heart will belong to me, and in its place, naught but darkness will bloom in your perfect breast.”
His still-gloved hand clamped down on Sephiroth’s chest, sinking into the flesh as ribbons of darkness swirled around it. Sephiroth opened his mouth to scream, but Ansem covered it with a harsh, brutal kiss as his knee forced Sephiroth’s thighs open, the Heartless holding his ankles spreading the legs wide to allow their master entry.
Sephiroth felt his emerald-green eyes glazing over as Ansem penetrated him. The pain was there, in all its fiery, strength-sucking glory, but there was also cold. A deep, cold darkness that spread from his chest through his torso, and down his entire body, as he felt his emotions go numb. The last thing he saw was his sword, fastened to the ceiling, ready to answer his call if he could only reach it. Then the vision was blocked by Ansem’s face, grinning lustily as he thrust triumphantly into the General.
Then darkness overtook him. In every sense of the word.
~*~
~*~
Sephiroth woke up bound and naked, his Masamune fastened securely to the ceiling by the same bands that held him to the cold table. The SOLDIER struggled against his bonds, but to no avail. He was supernally skilled, both at swordsmanship and magic, but without a blade to focus his skills, he knew he had no choice but to see how things played out.
Looking from one side to the other, he realized the metal clamps holding him were in fact the limbs of a massive array of armored Heartless, the strongest Ansem could create from what weak hearts were still left hiding in Hollow Bastion like scared, burrowing mice..
“Ansem! What is the meaning of this?!” the SOLDIER shouted. As the onetime general of Ansem the Wise’s armies of light, Sephiroth knew the man who faced him was not the wise and noble King he had adored. But as he had given no other name than “Ansem,” Sephiroth was forced to call him that.
Ansem hovered above him, fully clothed in Heartless regalia, with a notebook in one hand and a stylus in the other. “Fascinating…” the man muttered in his low, smooth voice, and Sephiroth felt himself responding against his will. “Awakened in a position of utter helplessness and vulnerability, the subject still chooses to fight. Almost to the very last breath. His heart is full of light and strength…unusual, for a general and veteran of many bloody battles.”
“No one has ever forced me to submit to them, and you will not be the first!” Sephiroth shouted as he struggled with al his might against the bonds that held him. Ansem laughed a cold, detached laugh.
“Oh, but you are already submissive to me. You see, no heart is exempt from darkness, especially not yours.” He started gliding slowly the table…for the man who called himself Ansem never walked anymore…stopping to brush a stray gloved hand or stylus across the General’s exposed, perfect, battle-hardened flesh. “Tell me, Sephiroth…in all your years of crusading, have you ever lost a battle? Hmm? Ever taken an injury that didn’t heal itself miraculously, no matter how grievous?”
He already knows the answer, damn him. “…No.”
“No. On both counts.” The master of the Heartless’s smile wend absolutely frigid. If Sephiroth had been a different man, his blood would have frozen in his veins. But he was Sephiroth, General of the Armies of Light, and he would not yield, no matter what. Ansem was still speaking. “…You’re really quite a specimen, you know. It’s not every day the King of Hollow Bastion’s scientists and magicians come together to create something as powerful as you.” He leaned over Sephiroth, and breathed deeply, almost as if he were inhaling something. “…Yes. The scent of strength and magic flow around you, just begging to be corrupted.”
“Creation? Corrupted?! NEVER! I’ll die before I let that happen!” Sephiroth thrashed in his bonds all the harder, his platinum hair whipping about him, but the Heartless held firm. If I could only reach my sword…move a hand enough to cast a spell…then these creatures would know true suffering, and their master along with them! “I don’t care if I am a creation…I am alive! I have a heart, and a soul, and I’ll never give you hold over either!”
Ansem had bent over the edge of Sephiroth’s table for an instant. When the General looked up, his face was frozen in horror. Ansem was still wearing his thigh-high boots, but he had removed the trousers beneath them, and his manhood jutted hard and proud before him as he gave the prisoner a predatory smile. “Oh, but you will. You won’t have a choice. And when I am finished…you will die. Not in the way most humans die, no…your body and soul will remain intact. But your heart…that wondrous font of all emotions and nobility…your heart will belong to me, and in its place, naught but darkness will bloom in your perfect breast.”
His still-gloved hand clamped down on Sephiroth’s chest, sinking into the flesh as ribbons of darkness swirled around it. Sephiroth opened his mouth to scream, but Ansem covered it with a harsh, brutal kiss as his knee forced Sephiroth’s thighs open, the Heartless holding his ankles spreading the legs wide to allow their master entry.
Sephiroth felt his emerald-green eyes glazing over as Ansem penetrated him. The pain was there, in all its fiery, strength-sucking glory, but there was also cold. A deep, cold darkness that spread from his chest through his torso, and down his entire body, as he felt his emotions go numb. The last thing he saw was his sword, fastened to the ceiling, ready to answer his call if he could only reach it. Then the vision was blocked by Ansem’s face, grinning lustily as he thrust triumphantly into the General.
Then darkness overtook him. In every sense of the word.
~*~
Caught
Happy day-after-Thanksgiving, folks!
I'm taking a break from uploading "Savage Whore" to work on throwing a few of my other stories into the mix. Fans of the series can see the ending on New Year's Eve, to coincide with the theme of that particular story. ^_^
This one was the first upload I made that wasn't part of 'Whore.' Gambit is one of the most popular X-Men in adult fiction, especially slash. So naturally, I wasn't surprised at the overwhelming amount of requests I got for a story with him in it. Because I love the antagonistic Gambit/Bishop relationship, I thought that a sexy black future-cop would be the best counterpart for everyone's favorite Cajun kineticist.
So without further ado, I present 'Caught,' originally written as a gift for my good friend absinthestudios.
~*~
“Ooh…dat’s gon’ leave a mark,”
Remy LeBeau’s bo staff tripped a security guard behind him while nimbly dodging three in front. He bounded into the air, somersaulted three times, and lashed out with two rapid kicks to the heads of the guards coming at him from either side before delicately touching the hat of the third one. It began to glow a dangerous fuchsia, and the guard scrambled to get it off, throwing it about ten feet behind him when it exploded, the shockwave landing the poor fellow facefirst on the fine marble floor of the museum.
Landing catlike in a crouched position, the master thief tossed his auburn hair out of his face and checked the precious object held delitcately in the crook of his right arm. It was a tiny statue, done in gold-veined marble, of a naked man with wings. His face was frozen in an expression of transcendent ecstasy, and his member was rock hard. Gambit, the master thief, looked at it with a sly smirk. “You better been wort’ all de trouble, ma p’tit homme. Gambit didn’ give all dese po’ guards hangovers t’ jus’put you over de parlor mantle.” Fastening his gloves on securely, he bounded out the upper-story window, he caught a telephone pole and spiraled down it with a flourish not unlike that of an exotic dancer. Nex’time, Gambit oughta try stealin’ dis stuff nekkid. See de guards try an’ stop him den wit’ hard-ons tentin’ deir slacks.
The sun was just coming up as Remy climbed back into his room at the Xavier Institute. He’d spent the better part of the evening giving the police the slip, using an image inducer swiped from Hank’s lab to pass them by three times, as a beautiful woman, a redneck teenager, and Magneto in civilian clothes. Each time, no one gave him a second glance, which led the thief to believe he was doing something right. His ‘Magneto’ guise had gotten a couple of second glances, but that might have been because he was using his empathic ‘charm’ power to con the handsome black officer into forgetting just who he looked like. Gon’ give dat po’ fella a complex de nex’ day. I can jus’ see it now: “Hi, I need t’see a therapist, I’m havin’ sexual feelin’s towards the greates’ mutant terrorist o’all time.”
“You know, they got medications for that,” a low, gruff voice sounded behind him. For an instant, Remy froze, afraid he’d see the Wolverine behind him when he turned around. But when the heavy footfalls sounded as the man entered his room, he relaxed. Slightly.
“Bishop, mon ami. Didn’t t’ink I was speakin’ out loud.” Looking out the window, Remy could see the sun’s first morning rays. He really should be in bed by now. “Awful early in de mornin’ fo’ you t’be payin’ a call on ole Gambit. Cyke get a bug up his ass again, an’ call a sunrise Danger Room session?”
The detective-cum-time traveler-cum X-Man folded his arms and glared at Remy. “You should be so lucky. I may be an X-Man, but I’m still a cop, and that means I get to keep cop hours. As long as a crime’s in progress, I don’t sleep. So that makes you the bug up my ass.”
Remy held up his hands innocently. “Me? Mon frere, you wound Gambit! My t’ievin’ days long behind me. I jus’ out havin’ a good time at Harry’s, chattin’ up the bon filles an’ hommes lucky ‘nough t’get charmed by ole Remy.” He shrugged his overcoat off, artfully tossing it onto the nightstand…over the statue he’d filched, and started crawling onto the bed as shamelessly seductive as he could, making eye contact with Bishop as he did so. “Mebbe you get lucky dis mornin’, let Remy charm you. Take care o’dat mornin’ wood, make you a whole new person.”
He was only partially joking. A successful heist made Gambit as horny as a night on the town, and Bishop was a very attractive man. Remy had loved his long hair back when he first joined the X-Men, and didn’t think he was any less hot now that he was bald. The muscular build and dark skin appealed to all the things Remy liked in a man, all wrapped up in one powerful package. A package Remy’d kill to get his lips around.
Bishop’s face was granite, but Gambit knew he was having an effect. His uniform sported an impressive bulge already, and it was getting worse as time went by. ”You expect me to believe spent the whole night on the town, charming people out of their minds, and didn’t get laid once? By either sex?” Gambit shook his head ruefully. “Non. Remy try, he do his ver’ best, but de cust’mers, dey get all sexed up by Remy, go f’r each ot’er ‘stead o’him.” Remy made a show of peeling off his shirt and tossing it in the corner, and grinned inwardly. He hadn’t even started using his charm powers yet, and Bishop was already hornier than that poor policeman he’d hit with a full blast. Looks like you got a bigger jones for Remy dan you ever let on, Lucas. Mebbe it’s time I took care o’dat.
Bishop had stepped in, and closed the door behind him. “There’s no one else in here for me to go after. You try using the charm power, you know you’re gonna get the brunt of it.” Gambit slid off the bed, slunk up to Bishop, and put his hands on either side of the detective’s belt buckle. “What make you t’ink dat not exactly what Remy wants? He been a bad, bad boy tonight, Luke, an’ he need somebody t’show him right from wrong.”
Bishop grabbed Remy by the shoulders and, all other concerns forgotten, sharted forcing the Cajun down to the level of his waist. “You wanna throw cop clichés around all night, or do you wanna get laid?”
“Mmm, dat’s a tough choice.” Dextrous hands, thief’s hands, flew to Bishop’s belt buckle and unfastened it with the ease of a well-worn padlock. “Better give Remy a minute, mebbe t’ink this over some.” The detective wore no underwear; his immense manhood spilled out of his pants like a waterfall of ebony flesh, and Gambit smiled as he started working, using his charm power to reach into Lucas’s mind and turn the valve of sexual arousal until Bishop’s brain was inundated with it.
Remy let out a low, amorous groan as he looked at his handiwork, watching the big man’s cock grow in size and hardness until it was a massive shaft of dark meat, begging to have lips wrapped around it. Remy, being the obliging gentleman he was, took half the length into his mouth before relaxing his throat, gently bobbing his head back and forth as he strove to swallow the entire massive length of Bishop’s libidinous stalk. At times, he would pull almost entirely off the shaft, make absolutely sure Bishop was watching him, and then give his cock long, slow, loving licks, lapping at it like a cat with cream, before swallowing the entire length, until his nose was buried in Lucas’s pubic hair.
Bishop’s mind was awash in sensations, the only thing cohesive in his brain was the desire to take the thief and fuck him till sunset In a surge of energy, both men’s clothes were blasted from their bodies, disintegrated into tiny scraps, and he seized Remy by the shoulders again and threw him bodily onto the bed. Remy landed on his back, lifting his legs into the air as he grinned challengingly at Lucas. “Come on, den, homme. Give it to Remy good an’ hard, ‘cause Remy need it bad.”
Bishop was beyond words. He simply leapt animalistically onto the Cajun and punched his dripping cock into the begging asshole. Remy let out a scream of agony as the huge pillar was thrust into him without any lubrication or preparation, but the pain faded as Bishop’s fucking was spurred on by his charm power, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own, stoking not only Bishop’s fires, but his own as well. Both men were slaves to their sex drives, pounding and thrusting against each other as they grunted inarticulately, wordlessly begging each other for a desperate release, carried away in a current of animal ferocity that drove out all other concerns. There was only lust in their eyes, a passionate tide of need that penetrated both men, driving them further and harder than the most grueling Danger Room session as they fucked each other mercilessly. Gambit clung to Bishop’s sweaty back as the big man drove him into the mattress, crying out in frantic pleasure as his own cock grew stiffer and harder. He’d never meant it to get as carried away as this, but Bishop was that damn sexy, that driven and urgent in his need.
For his part, Bishop grabbed hold of Gambit’s thighs and bodily lifted him up off the bed, kneeling and leaning back so that his cock could better penetrate the depths of the Cajun. Remy felt himself impaled, fucked deeper than ever before, and he threw his head back and screamed in absolute, exquisite joy at the sensation. The thief’s fingers scrambled over Bishop’s body, clinging to every surface they could find, and he felt the buildup in his body that would only mean one thing.
“Bishop…ah, merde…I’m gonna…Gambit gonna…AAAAHHHHH!” Remy’s hair flew wildly as he tossed his head back and let out a scream of ecstasy as his body spasmed wildly, his cock spewing geysers of seed to coat both him and Bishop as they thrust together in frantic abandon, until Bishop himself let out a grunt of release and started shooting his load deep into the Cajun, blast after blast, until Gambit felt so full he didn’t think he’d ever walk again. Long seconds passed like that, both men locked in the grip of earth-shattering orgasms, before they finally collapsed together on the bed, covered in sweat and semen, and gasping desperately for breath.
Finally, after a long exhalation, Bishop got up and walked out, aware of his nudity but unable to do anything about it. Gambit started cleaning up the mess that had been his room, but stopped when he pulled his duster off the mantle.
The statue he’d stolen still shone there, pale and beautiful in the morning sun. But where the penis had been rampant and erect before, now it was quiescent, and the face of the angel, while still joyous, was much more placid and calm now.
Gambit looked at this for a long time, and then laughed as he remembered the legend of the statue…the reason he’d stolen it in the first place. “De Idol of Eros, Greek god o’lust. Priests o’de church of Aphrodite placed a blessing on de idol, so dat anyone who possessed it would have de power to make anyone dey want desire dem above all other concerns. Always wanted t’see how it’d work wit’ de ole charm power. Now I know”
Stashing it away in his wall safe, Gambit cleared off the bed and climbed in, pulling the windowshades as he lay back, completely naked, for a good day’s sleep.
~*~
I'm taking a break from uploading "Savage Whore" to work on throwing a few of my other stories into the mix. Fans of the series can see the ending on New Year's Eve, to coincide with the theme of that particular story. ^_^
This one was the first upload I made that wasn't part of 'Whore.' Gambit is one of the most popular X-Men in adult fiction, especially slash. So naturally, I wasn't surprised at the overwhelming amount of requests I got for a story with him in it. Because I love the antagonistic Gambit/Bishop relationship, I thought that a sexy black future-cop would be the best counterpart for everyone's favorite Cajun kineticist.
So without further ado, I present 'Caught,' originally written as a gift for my good friend absinthestudios.
~*~
“Ooh…dat’s gon’ leave a mark,”
Remy LeBeau’s bo staff tripped a security guard behind him while nimbly dodging three in front. He bounded into the air, somersaulted three times, and lashed out with two rapid kicks to the heads of the guards coming at him from either side before delicately touching the hat of the third one. It began to glow a dangerous fuchsia, and the guard scrambled to get it off, throwing it about ten feet behind him when it exploded, the shockwave landing the poor fellow facefirst on the fine marble floor of the museum.
Landing catlike in a crouched position, the master thief tossed his auburn hair out of his face and checked the precious object held delitcately in the crook of his right arm. It was a tiny statue, done in gold-veined marble, of a naked man with wings. His face was frozen in an expression of transcendent ecstasy, and his member was rock hard. Gambit, the master thief, looked at it with a sly smirk. “You better been wort’ all de trouble, ma p’tit homme. Gambit didn’ give all dese po’ guards hangovers t’ jus’put you over de parlor mantle.” Fastening his gloves on securely, he bounded out the upper-story window, he caught a telephone pole and spiraled down it with a flourish not unlike that of an exotic dancer. Nex’time, Gambit oughta try stealin’ dis stuff nekkid. See de guards try an’ stop him den wit’ hard-ons tentin’ deir slacks.
The sun was just coming up as Remy climbed back into his room at the Xavier Institute. He’d spent the better part of the evening giving the police the slip, using an image inducer swiped from Hank’s lab to pass them by three times, as a beautiful woman, a redneck teenager, and Magneto in civilian clothes. Each time, no one gave him a second glance, which led the thief to believe he was doing something right. His ‘Magneto’ guise had gotten a couple of second glances, but that might have been because he was using his empathic ‘charm’ power to con the handsome black officer into forgetting just who he looked like. Gon’ give dat po’ fella a complex de nex’ day. I can jus’ see it now: “Hi, I need t’see a therapist, I’m havin’ sexual feelin’s towards the greates’ mutant terrorist o’all time.”
“You know, they got medications for that,” a low, gruff voice sounded behind him. For an instant, Remy froze, afraid he’d see the Wolverine behind him when he turned around. But when the heavy footfalls sounded as the man entered his room, he relaxed. Slightly.
“Bishop, mon ami. Didn’t t’ink I was speakin’ out loud.” Looking out the window, Remy could see the sun’s first morning rays. He really should be in bed by now. “Awful early in de mornin’ fo’ you t’be payin’ a call on ole Gambit. Cyke get a bug up his ass again, an’ call a sunrise Danger Room session?”
The detective-cum-time traveler-cum X-Man folded his arms and glared at Remy. “You should be so lucky. I may be an X-Man, but I’m still a cop, and that means I get to keep cop hours. As long as a crime’s in progress, I don’t sleep. So that makes you the bug up my ass.”
Remy held up his hands innocently. “Me? Mon frere, you wound Gambit! My t’ievin’ days long behind me. I jus’ out havin’ a good time at Harry’s, chattin’ up the bon filles an’ hommes lucky ‘nough t’get charmed by ole Remy.” He shrugged his overcoat off, artfully tossing it onto the nightstand…over the statue he’d filched, and started crawling onto the bed as shamelessly seductive as he could, making eye contact with Bishop as he did so. “Mebbe you get lucky dis mornin’, let Remy charm you. Take care o’dat mornin’ wood, make you a whole new person.”
He was only partially joking. A successful heist made Gambit as horny as a night on the town, and Bishop was a very attractive man. Remy had loved his long hair back when he first joined the X-Men, and didn’t think he was any less hot now that he was bald. The muscular build and dark skin appealed to all the things Remy liked in a man, all wrapped up in one powerful package. A package Remy’d kill to get his lips around.
Bishop’s face was granite, but Gambit knew he was having an effect. His uniform sported an impressive bulge already, and it was getting worse as time went by. ”You expect me to believe spent the whole night on the town, charming people out of their minds, and didn’t get laid once? By either sex?” Gambit shook his head ruefully. “Non. Remy try, he do his ver’ best, but de cust’mers, dey get all sexed up by Remy, go f’r each ot’er ‘stead o’him.” Remy made a show of peeling off his shirt and tossing it in the corner, and grinned inwardly. He hadn’t even started using his charm powers yet, and Bishop was already hornier than that poor policeman he’d hit with a full blast. Looks like you got a bigger jones for Remy dan you ever let on, Lucas. Mebbe it’s time I took care o’dat.
Bishop had stepped in, and closed the door behind him. “There’s no one else in here for me to go after. You try using the charm power, you know you’re gonna get the brunt of it.” Gambit slid off the bed, slunk up to Bishop, and put his hands on either side of the detective’s belt buckle. “What make you t’ink dat not exactly what Remy wants? He been a bad, bad boy tonight, Luke, an’ he need somebody t’show him right from wrong.”
Bishop grabbed Remy by the shoulders and, all other concerns forgotten, sharted forcing the Cajun down to the level of his waist. “You wanna throw cop clichés around all night, or do you wanna get laid?”
“Mmm, dat’s a tough choice.” Dextrous hands, thief’s hands, flew to Bishop’s belt buckle and unfastened it with the ease of a well-worn padlock. “Better give Remy a minute, mebbe t’ink this over some.” The detective wore no underwear; his immense manhood spilled out of his pants like a waterfall of ebony flesh, and Gambit smiled as he started working, using his charm power to reach into Lucas’s mind and turn the valve of sexual arousal until Bishop’s brain was inundated with it.
Remy let out a low, amorous groan as he looked at his handiwork, watching the big man’s cock grow in size and hardness until it was a massive shaft of dark meat, begging to have lips wrapped around it. Remy, being the obliging gentleman he was, took half the length into his mouth before relaxing his throat, gently bobbing his head back and forth as he strove to swallow the entire massive length of Bishop’s libidinous stalk. At times, he would pull almost entirely off the shaft, make absolutely sure Bishop was watching him, and then give his cock long, slow, loving licks, lapping at it like a cat with cream, before swallowing the entire length, until his nose was buried in Lucas’s pubic hair.
Bishop’s mind was awash in sensations, the only thing cohesive in his brain was the desire to take the thief and fuck him till sunset In a surge of energy, both men’s clothes were blasted from their bodies, disintegrated into tiny scraps, and he seized Remy by the shoulders again and threw him bodily onto the bed. Remy landed on his back, lifting his legs into the air as he grinned challengingly at Lucas. “Come on, den, homme. Give it to Remy good an’ hard, ‘cause Remy need it bad.”
Bishop was beyond words. He simply leapt animalistically onto the Cajun and punched his dripping cock into the begging asshole. Remy let out a scream of agony as the huge pillar was thrust into him without any lubrication or preparation, but the pain faded as Bishop’s fucking was spurred on by his charm power, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own, stoking not only Bishop’s fires, but his own as well. Both men were slaves to their sex drives, pounding and thrusting against each other as they grunted inarticulately, wordlessly begging each other for a desperate release, carried away in a current of animal ferocity that drove out all other concerns. There was only lust in their eyes, a passionate tide of need that penetrated both men, driving them further and harder than the most grueling Danger Room session as they fucked each other mercilessly. Gambit clung to Bishop’s sweaty back as the big man drove him into the mattress, crying out in frantic pleasure as his own cock grew stiffer and harder. He’d never meant it to get as carried away as this, but Bishop was that damn sexy, that driven and urgent in his need.
For his part, Bishop grabbed hold of Gambit’s thighs and bodily lifted him up off the bed, kneeling and leaning back so that his cock could better penetrate the depths of the Cajun. Remy felt himself impaled, fucked deeper than ever before, and he threw his head back and screamed in absolute, exquisite joy at the sensation. The thief’s fingers scrambled over Bishop’s body, clinging to every surface they could find, and he felt the buildup in his body that would only mean one thing.
“Bishop…ah, merde…I’m gonna…Gambit gonna…AAAAHHHHH!” Remy’s hair flew wildly as he tossed his head back and let out a scream of ecstasy as his body spasmed wildly, his cock spewing geysers of seed to coat both him and Bishop as they thrust together in frantic abandon, until Bishop himself let out a grunt of release and started shooting his load deep into the Cajun, blast after blast, until Gambit felt so full he didn’t think he’d ever walk again. Long seconds passed like that, both men locked in the grip of earth-shattering orgasms, before they finally collapsed together on the bed, covered in sweat and semen, and gasping desperately for breath.
Finally, after a long exhalation, Bishop got up and walked out, aware of his nudity but unable to do anything about it. Gambit started cleaning up the mess that had been his room, but stopped when he pulled his duster off the mantle.
The statue he’d stolen still shone there, pale and beautiful in the morning sun. But where the penis had been rampant and erect before, now it was quiescent, and the face of the angel, while still joyous, was much more placid and calm now.
Gambit looked at this for a long time, and then laughed as he remembered the legend of the statue…the reason he’d stolen it in the first place. “De Idol of Eros, Greek god o’lust. Priests o’de church of Aphrodite placed a blessing on de idol, so dat anyone who possessed it would have de power to make anyone dey want desire dem above all other concerns. Always wanted t’see how it’d work wit’ de ole charm power. Now I know”
Stashing it away in his wall safe, Gambit cleared off the bed and climbed in, pulling the windowshades as he lay back, completely naked, for a good day’s sleep.
~*~
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
A Night At The Ballet
Part 3 of 5 in my "Savage Whore" series, this one pairs Wolvie with one of the most oft-requested folks in X-Fandom: Piotr Nikolievich Rasputin, the REAL Man of Steel. Based off a sidestory in Classic X-Men where a woman runs away from Colossus after finding out he's a mutant, this one kind of tugged at my heartstrings a little. Then I remembered I was writing porn. ^_^
~*~
A Night At The Ballet
Logan took a long, slow drag off his cigarette. “So, why we gotta be here again, Chucky?”
“Here” was the Westchester Dance Theater, which was holding a special ballet recital, with some of the top dancers in the world performing for a special anti-prejudice fundraiser. Charles Xavier turned to face the Canadian with the amused lift of an eyebrow. “The prospect of broadening your experiences doesn’t appeal to you?” Flicking the butt of his smoke into the gutter, Logan gave the Professor a direct, flat gaze, and Charles chuckled wryly. “I thought not. Still, it was worth a try.”
Behind him, Logan felt a huge, meaty hand clap onto his shoulder. “We are here for the dance troupe.” Piotr Rasputin smiled down at his friend as if speaking to a very small child. “Acceptance toward mutants is one of the messages this recital seeks to send out, and there are several open mutants in the ballet troupe.” Logan looked confused for a moment. “So, what…we’re recruitin’?”
Xavier shook his head. “No, Logan. Most of the mutants in this dance troupe have already rejected the school’s offer. They have expressed a desire to live normal lives with their gifts, and feel that they have enough control over them not to alarm their fellow dancers or the audience.”
“Then what the hell are we doin’ here?” The wild-man took out a cigar, and was about to light it when a stern gaze from the Professor made him put it back in his coat pocket. I ain’t in no hurry t’be Shirley Temple reincarnated again, he thought, and Xavier gave him an approving smile. “We’re here to forestall any threats to this concert. There are still any number of factions that would be only too happy to see this recital’s message stifled before it can get out to the world. Not just mutant-haters, either; the concert speaks out against homophobia, racism, and all manner of bigotry, and the bigots will undoubtedly want to strike back.”
Logan snorted derisively. “So we’re bodyguards t’night, babysittin’ a dance company.” His collar chafed, so he pulled at it a bit. “I wouldn’t mind so much if it was in costume; in the Wolverine getup, no one’d see my face at one o’these fancy shindigs. But why we gotta wear tuxes?”
Colossus bent nearly double to look Wolverine straight in the eye. “Because, crazy little comrade, we are not to draw undue attention to ourselves unless the situation calls for it. That means you must be on your very best behavior. Da?” Logan flinched back. “I get it, ‘da’ already. Now get outta my face, Russkie, yer cologne’s burnin’ my nose hairs.”
Colossus rose back up and grinned. “I am glad we understand each other, tovarisch.” Then Xavier, wheeling himself forward, turned back to his X-Men. “Gentlemen, shall we?”
~*~
The recital was as boring as Logan had thought it would be. Unfortunately, his teammates didn’t seem to agree. Piotr was almost moved to tears, and Xavier seemed to be watching as well, though if Wolverine knew the Prof, he was psi-scanning the whole audience to make sure no one was out to shake anything up.
Logan himself couldn’t detect anything that could have been a threat. No chemicals, no guns, no explosives, not even a whiff of ozone from plasma weapons. Either the bad guys’re plannin’ t’climb onstage an’ stab the dance corps, or there really ain’t a threat t’night. Either way, nothin’s goin’ down. ‘Cept my attention span.
He’d caught himself on the verge of a nap several times, and managed to force himself awake just like when he was on stakeout during his Alpha Flight days, but he was starving for something, anything to do to make the night interesting. So when Piotr gasped, his face white with horror, Logan was only too happy to lean over and growl out, “What’cha see?”
Petey seemed to shake his head a moment, and then his shock was replaced by cool anger. “Nothing, Logan. There is no cause for alarm. I simply…saw someone I was not expecting.”
Wolverine tilted his head in curiosity, giving Pete an inquisitive sniff. After he was sure his olfactory glands were done smoking from the strength of Colossus’ cologne, he noticed several things in Petey’s scent. There was anger all over the place, sure enough, but also the salty tang of tears being forced back, and the bitter knife’s edge of betrayal. Logan followed his friend’s angry gaze to the stage, where a strawberry-blonde in a cream-colored tutu was dancing with some guys in white. “So who is she?”
Piotr didn’t answer. He got up and strode out of the auditorium, heading through the double-doors into the lobby. Got a choice, Wolvie. Follow the Russkie or keep playin’ Where’s Non-existent Waldo?
He felt Charles’s hand on his back.
In the lobby, Colossus was leaning against a wall, his gaze drifting lifelessly over a promotional poster with the same woman from the stage dancing across it. His tie was undone, and the first few buttons of his shirt were down, exposing his smooth, sculpted pecs. Logan had to tear his gaze off the Russian’s perfect body long enough to play the sympathetic friend. “Still waitin’ for my answer, Petey. Who was the girl?”
Piotr looked at his friend for a long moment, and then looked down. “Anya Makarova. One of Russia’s premier dancers. She came to America a year or so before the collapse of the Soviet Union…back when we were still the ‘new X-Men.’ We…had a relationship. Briefly. But she ran away the first time she saw me transform. Even now, it still stings, even though I have had other loves since then.”
Logan nodded, and sat down on a nearby bench. “You smelled like she stabbed you in the back. What’s the damage?” Piotr wiped his eyes. “I did not expect to see her in this performance. It teaches tolerance, acceptance of those who were different. But she…Logan, I opened my heart to her and she said I had none.”
“Bullshit.” Logan looked Piotr square in the eye. “Ask any o’ the team. You got a heart big as yer muscles, Petey. An’ made of stronger stuff than the steel you turn into.” But Piotr didn’t seem to be listening.
After a long moment, he turned to Logan. “I need your help with something.” The smaller man nodded. “Name it.” Piotr reached into his pocket and handed Logan a bill. Looking down, he was surprised to see Ben Franklin looking up at him. “What’s this for?”
Colossus shook his head with a frown. “You know what. You advertise in the paper. I want it. Now.” Logan finally found himself catching on, and he headed for the men’s room, followed closely by Piotr.
~*~
As the stall door closed behind them, Logan took off his tie, jacket, and shirt with a sigh of relief. “You sure about this? I ain’t no ballet dancer. You ain’t gonna be able to fuck me an’ pretend it’s swan-chick out there.”
Piotr’s shirt and coat were still on, but his slacks dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them, gloriously naked from the waist down. Logan sank to his knees, guided by Colossus’s huge hand, and started licking the immense monster of a shaft. “I do not want a ‘swan-chick.’ For now, I want to forget that Anya exists. I have lusted after you for several years now, and it is you that I want. Right here.”
Logan grinned around a mouthful of cock. “Not a problem.” Deciding to skip the foreplay, he dove for the colossal member with gusto, gulping it as far down his throat as he could. Piotr’s muscular, sculpted thighs pistoned forward, so hard and smooth they could have been marble, and Logan sank his fingers into them to steady himself as he knelt, letting his chin be slapped by the Russian’s low-hanging, black-furred balls .His tongue gave Colossus’s dick a thorough coating of saliva, the big man’s grunts of urgency and need spurring the Wolverine on as he took him, deeper and deeper, down his ravening throat. Piotr was moaning a litany of Russian, a mix of praises and pleads to keep going, keep lubing his cock up because the next place he was going to shove it would be even better. Logan liked the sound of that, and began swallowing, gulping down Colosus’s precome with obvious relish, a low growl forming in his throat as his cock strained to be free of the black dress slacks that were holding it back.
Eventually, Colossus hauled Wolverine onto the toilet seat, his hands mauling the Canadian’s furry chest as they ran down his body, prompting him to let out a noise halfway between a groan and a growl. Stripping the slacks off Logan’s body, Colossus leaned down to kiss and lick his thick, engorged member, then wrapped his tie around the base of his shaft in a makeshift cockring. Positioning himself at Logan’s entrance, he looked down with pure lust in his eyes, asking if the wildman was ready. Awash in pheromones, Wolverine could only nod and raise his legs higher. “Fuck me, Petey. Do it hard, an’ do it now.”
Piotr was only too happy to oblige. Wolverine let out a scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure/pain as he felt the Russian tear him apart with the first thrust of his iron-hard cock. Shit, he thought, the Russian ain’t even turned t’steel, an’ he still feels that damn hard! The second thrust was easier than the first, and before long Logan felt himself rutting back against the pistoning member, wrapping his legs around Piotr as he watched the big man fuck him, his entire body going red and sweaty with exertion. The burn of Piotr’s aftershave faded, replaced by wave after wave of pheromones and lust, and Logan reveled in their scent, grabbing every inch of hard, muscular Russian that he could reach as he kissed the bigger man sloppily, passionately.
Pete’s jacket slid to the ground, but his shirt stayed on, plastered to his skin with sweat so that every curve of muscle showed through. Logan was made even hornier by this sight – to him, the sight of Pete’s muscles straining against the fabric made him even hotter, caught up in the heat and the ecstasy of the moment as he was thoroughly rammed by the biggest, strongest X-Man.
Thanks to the tie wrapped around Pete’s cock, Logan felt the iron member stiffen further as he clenched his ass muscles around it. He was harder now than Hank had been, at least the first couple of times. Thinking of Hank got Logan reaching for his cock, jerking it in time with Piotr’s desperate thrusting, the two of them letting out a series of escalating moans and grusts as they got closer and closer.
Despite what he thought was his superior willpower, Logan was the first to lose it. His back arched with a particularly strong series of jackhammer-like thrusts from Pete, and he clenched his eyes shut and let out a primal roar as his body exploded in fountains of semen, arching up to smack both men’s faces and splatter across Logan’s chest. Feeling the Canadian’s ass clench around him, Peter roared his own orgasm, which echoed off the restroom’s walls and ceiling as his semen geysered into Wolverine.
After a short eternity of frenetic cumming, the two men collapsed onto the john, clinging to each other for support as they shared a sloppy kiss. Finally, Colossus pulled Logan back to his feet and struggled to put his slacks back on. “Spaceeba, tovarisch. You don’t know what you did for me tonight.” Logan was buttoning his own shirt as he grinned. “No less’n you did fer me, buddy. I was damn near gonna pass out from boredom back in that theater”
Piotr looked apologetically at his friend. “I am sorry. It was I who suggested to the Professor that we bring you along. Let me make it up to you; perhaps we can go see the game tomorrow night?” Logan smirked.
“Only if you agree t’drag me into the restroom there at halftime an’ do the same thing you did here.” Piotr smiled. “Comrade, we have a bargain.”
The two men left the restroom together, wondering how they were going to explain their disheveled condition to the Professor. Not once did it occur to them to question why no one interrupted them the whole time they were together.
~FIN~
~*~
A Night At The Ballet
Logan took a long, slow drag off his cigarette. “So, why we gotta be here again, Chucky?”
“Here” was the Westchester Dance Theater, which was holding a special ballet recital, with some of the top dancers in the world performing for a special anti-prejudice fundraiser. Charles Xavier turned to face the Canadian with the amused lift of an eyebrow. “The prospect of broadening your experiences doesn’t appeal to you?” Flicking the butt of his smoke into the gutter, Logan gave the Professor a direct, flat gaze, and Charles chuckled wryly. “I thought not. Still, it was worth a try.”
Behind him, Logan felt a huge, meaty hand clap onto his shoulder. “We are here for the dance troupe.” Piotr Rasputin smiled down at his friend as if speaking to a very small child. “Acceptance toward mutants is one of the messages this recital seeks to send out, and there are several open mutants in the ballet troupe.” Logan looked confused for a moment. “So, what…we’re recruitin’?”
Xavier shook his head. “No, Logan. Most of the mutants in this dance troupe have already rejected the school’s offer. They have expressed a desire to live normal lives with their gifts, and feel that they have enough control over them not to alarm their fellow dancers or the audience.”
“Then what the hell are we doin’ here?” The wild-man took out a cigar, and was about to light it when a stern gaze from the Professor made him put it back in his coat pocket. I ain’t in no hurry t’be Shirley Temple reincarnated again, he thought, and Xavier gave him an approving smile. “We’re here to forestall any threats to this concert. There are still any number of factions that would be only too happy to see this recital’s message stifled before it can get out to the world. Not just mutant-haters, either; the concert speaks out against homophobia, racism, and all manner of bigotry, and the bigots will undoubtedly want to strike back.”
Logan snorted derisively. “So we’re bodyguards t’night, babysittin’ a dance company.” His collar chafed, so he pulled at it a bit. “I wouldn’t mind so much if it was in costume; in the Wolverine getup, no one’d see my face at one o’these fancy shindigs. But why we gotta wear tuxes?”
Colossus bent nearly double to look Wolverine straight in the eye. “Because, crazy little comrade, we are not to draw undue attention to ourselves unless the situation calls for it. That means you must be on your very best behavior. Da?” Logan flinched back. “I get it, ‘da’ already. Now get outta my face, Russkie, yer cologne’s burnin’ my nose hairs.”
Colossus rose back up and grinned. “I am glad we understand each other, tovarisch.” Then Xavier, wheeling himself forward, turned back to his X-Men. “Gentlemen, shall we?”
~*~
The recital was as boring as Logan had thought it would be. Unfortunately, his teammates didn’t seem to agree. Piotr was almost moved to tears, and Xavier seemed to be watching as well, though if Wolverine knew the Prof, he was psi-scanning the whole audience to make sure no one was out to shake anything up.
Logan himself couldn’t detect anything that could have been a threat. No chemicals, no guns, no explosives, not even a whiff of ozone from plasma weapons. Either the bad guys’re plannin’ t’climb onstage an’ stab the dance corps, or there really ain’t a threat t’night. Either way, nothin’s goin’ down. ‘Cept my attention span.
He’d caught himself on the verge of a nap several times, and managed to force himself awake just like when he was on stakeout during his Alpha Flight days, but he was starving for something, anything to do to make the night interesting. So when Piotr gasped, his face white with horror, Logan was only too happy to lean over and growl out, “What’cha see?”
Petey seemed to shake his head a moment, and then his shock was replaced by cool anger. “Nothing, Logan. There is no cause for alarm. I simply…saw someone I was not expecting.”
Wolverine tilted his head in curiosity, giving Pete an inquisitive sniff. After he was sure his olfactory glands were done smoking from the strength of Colossus’ cologne, he noticed several things in Petey’s scent. There was anger all over the place, sure enough, but also the salty tang of tears being forced back, and the bitter knife’s edge of betrayal. Logan followed his friend’s angry gaze to the stage, where a strawberry-blonde in a cream-colored tutu was dancing with some guys in white. “So who is she?”
Piotr didn’t answer. He got up and strode out of the auditorium, heading through the double-doors into the lobby. Got a choice, Wolvie. Follow the Russkie or keep playin’ Where’s Non-existent Waldo?
He felt Charles’s hand on his back.
In the lobby, Colossus was leaning against a wall, his gaze drifting lifelessly over a promotional poster with the same woman from the stage dancing across it. His tie was undone, and the first few buttons of his shirt were down, exposing his smooth, sculpted pecs. Logan had to tear his gaze off the Russian’s perfect body long enough to play the sympathetic friend. “Still waitin’ for my answer, Petey. Who was the girl?”
Piotr looked at his friend for a long moment, and then looked down. “Anya Makarova. One of Russia’s premier dancers. She came to America a year or so before the collapse of the Soviet Union…back when we were still the ‘new X-Men.’ We…had a relationship. Briefly. But she ran away the first time she saw me transform. Even now, it still stings, even though I have had other loves since then.”
Logan nodded, and sat down on a nearby bench. “You smelled like she stabbed you in the back. What’s the damage?” Piotr wiped his eyes. “I did not expect to see her in this performance. It teaches tolerance, acceptance of those who were different. But she…Logan, I opened my heart to her and she said I had none.”
“Bullshit.” Logan looked Piotr square in the eye. “Ask any o’ the team. You got a heart big as yer muscles, Petey. An’ made of stronger stuff than the steel you turn into.” But Piotr didn’t seem to be listening.
After a long moment, he turned to Logan. “I need your help with something.” The smaller man nodded. “Name it.” Piotr reached into his pocket and handed Logan a bill. Looking down, he was surprised to see Ben Franklin looking up at him. “What’s this for?”
Colossus shook his head with a frown. “You know what. You advertise in the paper. I want it. Now.” Logan finally found himself catching on, and he headed for the men’s room, followed closely by Piotr.
~*~
As the stall door closed behind them, Logan took off his tie, jacket, and shirt with a sigh of relief. “You sure about this? I ain’t no ballet dancer. You ain’t gonna be able to fuck me an’ pretend it’s swan-chick out there.”
Piotr’s shirt and coat were still on, but his slacks dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them, gloriously naked from the waist down. Logan sank to his knees, guided by Colossus’s huge hand, and started licking the immense monster of a shaft. “I do not want a ‘swan-chick.’ For now, I want to forget that Anya exists. I have lusted after you for several years now, and it is you that I want. Right here.”
Logan grinned around a mouthful of cock. “Not a problem.” Deciding to skip the foreplay, he dove for the colossal member with gusto, gulping it as far down his throat as he could. Piotr’s muscular, sculpted thighs pistoned forward, so hard and smooth they could have been marble, and Logan sank his fingers into them to steady himself as he knelt, letting his chin be slapped by the Russian’s low-hanging, black-furred balls .His tongue gave Colossus’s dick a thorough coating of saliva, the big man’s grunts of urgency and need spurring the Wolverine on as he took him, deeper and deeper, down his ravening throat. Piotr was moaning a litany of Russian, a mix of praises and pleads to keep going, keep lubing his cock up because the next place he was going to shove it would be even better. Logan liked the sound of that, and began swallowing, gulping down Colosus’s precome with obvious relish, a low growl forming in his throat as his cock strained to be free of the black dress slacks that were holding it back.
Eventually, Colossus hauled Wolverine onto the toilet seat, his hands mauling the Canadian’s furry chest as they ran down his body, prompting him to let out a noise halfway between a groan and a growl. Stripping the slacks off Logan’s body, Colossus leaned down to kiss and lick his thick, engorged member, then wrapped his tie around the base of his shaft in a makeshift cockring. Positioning himself at Logan’s entrance, he looked down with pure lust in his eyes, asking if the wildman was ready. Awash in pheromones, Wolverine could only nod and raise his legs higher. “Fuck me, Petey. Do it hard, an’ do it now.”
Piotr was only too happy to oblige. Wolverine let out a scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure/pain as he felt the Russian tear him apart with the first thrust of his iron-hard cock. Shit, he thought, the Russian ain’t even turned t’steel, an’ he still feels that damn hard! The second thrust was easier than the first, and before long Logan felt himself rutting back against the pistoning member, wrapping his legs around Piotr as he watched the big man fuck him, his entire body going red and sweaty with exertion. The burn of Piotr’s aftershave faded, replaced by wave after wave of pheromones and lust, and Logan reveled in their scent, grabbing every inch of hard, muscular Russian that he could reach as he kissed the bigger man sloppily, passionately.
Pete’s jacket slid to the ground, but his shirt stayed on, plastered to his skin with sweat so that every curve of muscle showed through. Logan was made even hornier by this sight – to him, the sight of Pete’s muscles straining against the fabric made him even hotter, caught up in the heat and the ecstasy of the moment as he was thoroughly rammed by the biggest, strongest X-Man.
Thanks to the tie wrapped around Pete’s cock, Logan felt the iron member stiffen further as he clenched his ass muscles around it. He was harder now than Hank had been, at least the first couple of times. Thinking of Hank got Logan reaching for his cock, jerking it in time with Piotr’s desperate thrusting, the two of them letting out a series of escalating moans and grusts as they got closer and closer.
Despite what he thought was his superior willpower, Logan was the first to lose it. His back arched with a particularly strong series of jackhammer-like thrusts from Pete, and he clenched his eyes shut and let out a primal roar as his body exploded in fountains of semen, arching up to smack both men’s faces and splatter across Logan’s chest. Feeling the Canadian’s ass clench around him, Peter roared his own orgasm, which echoed off the restroom’s walls and ceiling as his semen geysered into Wolverine.
After a short eternity of frenetic cumming, the two men collapsed onto the john, clinging to each other for support as they shared a sloppy kiss. Finally, Colossus pulled Logan back to his feet and struggled to put his slacks back on. “Spaceeba, tovarisch. You don’t know what you did for me tonight.” Logan was buttoning his own shirt as he grinned. “No less’n you did fer me, buddy. I was damn near gonna pass out from boredom back in that theater”
Piotr looked apologetically at his friend. “I am sorry. It was I who suggested to the Professor that we bring you along. Let me make it up to you; perhaps we can go see the game tomorrow night?” Logan smirked.
“Only if you agree t’drag me into the restroom there at halftime an’ do the same thing you did here.” Piotr smiled. “Comrade, we have a bargain.”
The two men left the restroom together, wondering how they were going to explain their disheveled condition to the Professor. Not once did it occur to them to question why no one interrupted them the whole time they were together.
~FIN~
A Beastly Workout
The second fic I ever posted, a little more than a week after my first, also turned out to be my most popular. I still get faves and watches for this one; it's one of the works I feel most confident about. Here's Part 2 of "Savage Whore."
~*~
A Beastly Workout
Hank McCoy almost dropped his morning box of Twinkies when he read the notice in the Salem Center Times personal section.
“Versatile BWM available on-call, ready and willing. 5’4”, furry as fuck, rough and tumble kind of guy. Up for anything you can dish out. I’m the best at what I do. Call (xxx) xxx-xxxx. Ask for Logan.”
Stars and garters, but this is bold. Logan’s probably going to eviscerate whoever decided to play this sophomoric prank. Makes a blue-furred body wonder if I should start building the Robert Drake Memorial Monument today, or wait until the Popsicle is actually convicted.
Lost in thought as he was, Hank didn’t even notice the massive blue paw reaching for his cellphone, almost of its own accord. With a great deal of effort, and silently cursing the manufacturers of such communication devices for not believing in buttons that could be punched by anything less delicate than an incest’s proboscis, Hank finally dialed the number on the ad and listened, not entirely sure what had possessed him to do such a thing.
He was expecting to hear Iceman on the other line, some sort of response confirming his suspicions about the whole thing being a massive prank, but when he heard the rough, low voice on the other end, the Beast found himself completely flabbergasted.
“Hey stud, you’ve reached Logan’s sex line. Sorry I can’t come t’the phone, but I’m probably with a client, an’ you know what THAT means. Leave yer name, number, and what yer into, an’ I’ll get back to ya soon as I pull out o’this john…or he pulls outta me, whichever. Later…*BEEP*”.
“…Logan?!” That was all Hank had time to say before he hung up the phone and tried to hide the mammoth erection swelling up inside his bathrobe. He slumped back in the chair, which groaned under his weight. His box of Twinkies fell to the floor, scattering the small spongy morsels of golden heaven all over the kitchen. Hank didn’t even notice.
Logan…is a call boy? Hank’s body was acting independently of his mind again as he shifted the robe aside and slid a finger along his massive, blue-black shaft. As the shock wore off, the Beast found himself picturing the various johns Logan must have had in his mind. Seeing his hirsuite teammate in his mind’s eye, straddling the hips of some unknown stud as he rode his cock, caused Hank’s azure testicles to swell to a size roughly approximating twin golf balls. Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to walk properly until he dealt with this, Hank threw caution to the winds and opened his robe all the way, listening to Logan’s message again as he stroked his shaft with his free hand.
“Logan, this is Hank. You should know my cellular number by now. If you’re serious about this, meet me in the Danger Room tonight after the Professor calls lights-out for the students. Be naked when you get there. We’ll discuss things in further detail…” A spurt of precome landed on the Beast’s massive barrel-chest, eliciting a rough growl of his own, and he hung up long enough to jerk his massive blue member until a geyser of semen landed directly between his slab-like pectoral muscles...only to spread across his entire body and the kitchen floor beneath him. And now I require a second shower, Hank thought as he grabbed a roll of paper towels. Must make myself fresh for tonight.
~*~
It was a credit to Logan’s sense of self-restraint that he didn’t rip off every stitch of clothing he wore until after he stepped out of the elevator and into the subbasement level.
That sexy Beast had really called. Wolverine had had his eye on Hank ever since he’d rejoined the X-Men, but never been completely sure he swung his way. Most folks gave themselves away by their scent, but Beast smelled like nothing Logan had experienced before…probably part of his mutation. Whatever the reason, he was able to mask his sexual arousal well enough so that Logan could never pinpoint exactly which way he went.
Until tonight. Naked, Logan walked through the subbasement halls with a little more swagger, a bit less of the predator and more of the conqueror as he reached the Danger Room. The red light flashing told him a simulation was in progress, and he tilted is head. Does he wanna see me fight in the buff? If so, I’m gonna have to tell him it’ll cost him extra.
Logan punched a button, and the doors slid open. To his surprise, there was no battle going on. For that matter, the room wasn’t even a typical battlefield…it looked like a Victorian boudoir, with a draping canopy bed and red satin sheets. Kneeling on these sheets in front of him was Hank McCoy, completely naked except for a ring of black leather around the base of his cock and balls.
As the door closed behind him, Logan almost came right then and there at the sight of the Beast. His blue-black shaft jutted up past his navel, swelling to half the size of Logan’s forearm, but big as it was, it was dwarfed by the sheer mass of blue, furry muscle that reclined in front of the Wolverine, nonchalantly pouring two glasses of brandy. The two watched each other in silence for a moment, then Logan cleared his throat. “Nice program ya got here, Blue. Where’d it come from?”
Hank grinned, handing Logan a brandy glass and gesturing for him to sit beside him. “It’s a replication of one of the Hellfire Club’s luxury suites. Warren programmed it from memory, from one of his stays there. I’ve always been meaning to try it out.” He drained his brandy in a single gulp and lay back on the bed, his member a tower of sexuality in front of him. “Now…climb on up and we’ll discuss your fee.”
Grinning, Logan needed no further urging. It took a fair amount of effort to get on top of the Beast, but before too long their cocks were rubbing together, grinding against each other flesh-to-flesh, and Hank was moaning amorously at the feel of another warm body against his own. Logan reached down and gripped both men’s shafts, never more grateful that his hands were so big as he pumped them in unison, amazed at the sheer amount of precome Hank’s member leaked out. It drenched the pair in the space of a minute, mingling with their sweat as the two men thrust against each other in wild abandon. Hank’s golden eyes locked with Logan’s, and he growled out. “Time to see which of us has the better healing factor, runt,” in a perfect imitation of Sabretooth.
Normally, Logan would’ve been offended, but lost in the moment as he was, his claws simply jutted out with a SNIKT on either side of the Beast, and he lost it, coming all over his partner with an animalistic roar. Feeling the semen slicken up his cock set Beast off as well, and he let out a much quieter growl of satisfaction as he let loose his own initial torrent of come.
Logan moved to get up, but a massive blue hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I don’t recall giving you permission to adjourn,” Beast said in his own voice, lifting an eyebrow as he pointed downwards. Wolverine looked, and noticed that both he and Beast were still rock-hard. Then he looked back up, confused. “Ya mean…when you were talkin’ about healing factors…”
Hank nodded with a grin. “I wasn’t being metaphorical. You see…I chose the Danger Room for a very specific reason, beyond simply the holographic possibilities. Down here, we’re completely safe for the entire night. No one will hear us or come to bother us until Cyclops’s morning training session…at 0900 tomorrow.”
Logan discovered his smile matched Hank’s. “So we can try an’ do somethin’ about our healin’ factors…” They finished each other’s sentence in unison. “…All night long.” With a wicked laugh, the two feral X-Men locked lips in a passionate kiss.
~*~
Logan was in heaven, locked in a sweaty 69 position with Beast. He’d spent the better part of an hour trying to loosen his throat muscles enough to swallow Hank’s entire massive girth, with the scientist’s guttural snarls of passionate pleasure urging him on, and damn, had it been worth it. Because Hank was going down on him at the exact same rate. And damned if Logan could figure out how he managed that, but he simply chalked it up to Hank being a brainiac’s brainiac and went back to cocksucking. He hadn’t gotten around to doing this with Kurt, but that was mostly because the elf had wanted to speed things straight to the fucking. And as much fun as that was…Logan really looked forward to either pounding or getting pounded by Hank…there was something intimate about a good 69 with a guy who knew how to suck cock and do it right.
And Hank could suck a hell of a good cock. The tongue, which Logan had been expecting to be rough and sandpapery for some reason, felt like wet silk sliding along his balls and the underside of his shaft and swirling over his head. He’d shot his load three times from the oral sex alone, and Hank had eagerly swallowed every drop all three times. It was all Logan could do to keep up when Hank’s own cock blasted its loads down his throat, especially when the thrill of orgasm rushed over both men at the same time, causing their muscles to clench and spasm as they gripped each other tightly for stability.
Finally, Logan pulled off Hank’s shaft, and turned around to kiss him hotly, sloppily. It was a porn star kiss, more tongue than anything else, and Hank looked up at him when it was over with a grin that was quickly becoming frozen on his face. “Had enough already?”
“Not even close,” Logan replied with a snarl. “Yer gonna fuck me, Hank, hard an’ deep, an’ yer gonna do it now. An’ ya ain’t gonna stop till One-Eye marches through that door an’ passes out from shock.”
“That…is something of a problem.” Hank looked away from Logan. “You’ve noticed by now, I’m sure…I am not the most miniscule of masculine specimens.” Wolverine let out a derisive grunt, scooping a dollop of semen off the heaving, blue-furred chest. “Got plenty o’lube right here.”
“Lubrication is not the issue,” the Beast admonished. “Preparation is. My fingers are the size of a blue movie star’s penis. How am I going to do this without tearing you?” Logan gave that a moment of serious thought, then snapped his fingers. Climbing off Hank’s stomach, he walked (sauntered. really) over to the console by the door and tabbed in a few key commands. On the dresser by the now-saturated canopy bed appeared three dildoes, each of successively larger size. The largest one was easily as big as Hank’s cock. Grabbing the smallest one, Logan lay back down, lifted his legs into the air, and started to push it into him. When Hank moved to help, Logan waved him off. “Just sit back an’ enjoy the show, Blue,” he said, as the dildo went deeper into him. “It’s all part of the service.”
Wet as both men were, it didn’t take long for Logan to work up enough lubrication for the dildo to slide in easily. Shortly, the Wolverine was grunting and groaning in appreciation as he worked the dildo in and out of himself like a well-oiled machine, thrusting his hips in perfect time. His cock stiffened to full erection yet again, and he almost came without touching his shaft. When it looked like he would pass the point of no return (and Hank was certain that he himself would), Logan pulled the small dildo out completely, and grabbed the ‘medium’ one. Both men had seen Piotr Rasputin naked in the shower, so Beast didn’t have to ask who Wolverine modeled this one after. It went in, slower at the start than the first dildo, but soon he was going at it, hard-and-fast, just like the first one.
When Logan reached for the third dildo, Hank’s paw came up. “Don’t bother,” he said, growling. “I believe I’ve studied the pattern well enough to approximate it.” Logan grinned as he pulled the second one out, presenting himself for Hank. “Then get on with it, Blue, an’ don’t stop till we’re both wiped.”
Hank was more than happy to oblige, guiding his cock toward Logan’s gaping, begging ass and pushing in with a growl of satisfaction. Despite the preparations, Logan still found himself amazed at the fullness, the sheer mass of the thing invading him, and even though it hurt like a son of a bitch, he had never been more turned on in his life. Blue fur surrounded him, entrapped him, buried him and overtook him, and he breathed in the sweet scent of Hank and let himself go.
To Hank, the passion of their final consummation was equaled only by its savagery. He found himself biting, scratching, and gripping Logan with bruising force, and felt the Wolverine respond in kind. Hank’s hips were a jackhammer before long, pistoning and pounding Logan with a primal brute impact as Logan cried out, begging and commanding in the same breath, urging Hank on with his words, his actions, and most of all the hotness of his hirsuite body.
Both of them lost count of the number of times they came. Every so often one of them would tense up, every muscle in their body going taut, before screaming or roaring their passion to the skies as they exploded with semen, their whole bodies giving themselves over to the sheer power of their mutual pleasure. They’d collapse for a few seconds, panting, while the other waited for them to recover, and then they’d come back fresh for another round of raw, hot sex. Hank had never been hotter, more aroused in his life, completely giving himself over to his bestial instincts in to a two-man orgy that had lasted all night. Stars and garters, he thought, in one of his rare moments of lucidity that night, this may not ever happen again, but once is more than enough to make me remember it forever!
~*~
Neither of them knew exactly when they’d fallen asleep. Some time between one orgasm and the next, Logan had curled up in Hank’s arms and closed his eyes to recover a little. Next thing they both knew, they heard a familiar, strident voice say:
“What the HELL is going on in here?!”
Both men bolted upright, still stark naked but ready for action nevertheless. Logan’s claws came out, and Hank bared his fangs, before they realized that Cyclops was standing there, just like Logan had predicted, in full uniform, with Logan’s clothes in his hands and a shocked expression on his face. Even as Hank found his combat instincts change into finding a way to gracefully retreat from the situation, Logan had already calmed down and walked over to Scott. Grabbing his clothes with a simple “Thanks, One-Eye,” he walked out of the Danger Room nonchalantly with a wink at Beast and a wave. “Don’t worry about the cost, Blue! On the house, for the hottest fuck I’ve ever had!”
Cyclops looked astonishedly back at Logan, and then made eye contact with a very nervous Hank. “…What did he just say?”
“Um…er…that is…” Hank found himself practically wringing his paws, even as he tried to use them to cover himself. “I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?”
Scott nodded, shock giving way to cool detachment, just like it always did. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d say so.” He tossed a mop and bucket to the Beast, along with his uniform trunks. “You can start by cleaning up the entire Danger Room. I better not see a single drop of…stuff…anywhere.” He looked around at the room with some distaste. “Then you’re going to make sure no one ever touches this environment program again. After that, I’ll deal with Logan.”
As Beast started to clean the Danger Room, he thought back to the previous night, wishing he could remember how it ended. Oh well, he thought, the prurient grin coming back to his face. He was worth it!
~*~
~*~
A Beastly Workout
Hank McCoy almost dropped his morning box of Twinkies when he read the notice in the Salem Center Times personal section.
“Versatile BWM available on-call, ready and willing. 5’4”, furry as fuck, rough and tumble kind of guy. Up for anything you can dish out. I’m the best at what I do. Call (xxx) xxx-xxxx. Ask for Logan.”
Stars and garters, but this is bold. Logan’s probably going to eviscerate whoever decided to play this sophomoric prank. Makes a blue-furred body wonder if I should start building the Robert Drake Memorial Monument today, or wait until the Popsicle is actually convicted.
Lost in thought as he was, Hank didn’t even notice the massive blue paw reaching for his cellphone, almost of its own accord. With a great deal of effort, and silently cursing the manufacturers of such communication devices for not believing in buttons that could be punched by anything less delicate than an incest’s proboscis, Hank finally dialed the number on the ad and listened, not entirely sure what had possessed him to do such a thing.
He was expecting to hear Iceman on the other line, some sort of response confirming his suspicions about the whole thing being a massive prank, but when he heard the rough, low voice on the other end, the Beast found himself completely flabbergasted.
“Hey stud, you’ve reached Logan’s sex line. Sorry I can’t come t’the phone, but I’m probably with a client, an’ you know what THAT means. Leave yer name, number, and what yer into, an’ I’ll get back to ya soon as I pull out o’this john…or he pulls outta me, whichever. Later…*BEEP*”.
“…Logan?!” That was all Hank had time to say before he hung up the phone and tried to hide the mammoth erection swelling up inside his bathrobe. He slumped back in the chair, which groaned under his weight. His box of Twinkies fell to the floor, scattering the small spongy morsels of golden heaven all over the kitchen. Hank didn’t even notice.
Logan…is a call boy? Hank’s body was acting independently of his mind again as he shifted the robe aside and slid a finger along his massive, blue-black shaft. As the shock wore off, the Beast found himself picturing the various johns Logan must have had in his mind. Seeing his hirsuite teammate in his mind’s eye, straddling the hips of some unknown stud as he rode his cock, caused Hank’s azure testicles to swell to a size roughly approximating twin golf balls. Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to walk properly until he dealt with this, Hank threw caution to the winds and opened his robe all the way, listening to Logan’s message again as he stroked his shaft with his free hand.
“Logan, this is Hank. You should know my cellular number by now. If you’re serious about this, meet me in the Danger Room tonight after the Professor calls lights-out for the students. Be naked when you get there. We’ll discuss things in further detail…” A spurt of precome landed on the Beast’s massive barrel-chest, eliciting a rough growl of his own, and he hung up long enough to jerk his massive blue member until a geyser of semen landed directly between his slab-like pectoral muscles...only to spread across his entire body and the kitchen floor beneath him. And now I require a second shower, Hank thought as he grabbed a roll of paper towels. Must make myself fresh for tonight.
~*~
It was a credit to Logan’s sense of self-restraint that he didn’t rip off every stitch of clothing he wore until after he stepped out of the elevator and into the subbasement level.
That sexy Beast had really called. Wolverine had had his eye on Hank ever since he’d rejoined the X-Men, but never been completely sure he swung his way. Most folks gave themselves away by their scent, but Beast smelled like nothing Logan had experienced before…probably part of his mutation. Whatever the reason, he was able to mask his sexual arousal well enough so that Logan could never pinpoint exactly which way he went.
Until tonight. Naked, Logan walked through the subbasement halls with a little more swagger, a bit less of the predator and more of the conqueror as he reached the Danger Room. The red light flashing told him a simulation was in progress, and he tilted is head. Does he wanna see me fight in the buff? If so, I’m gonna have to tell him it’ll cost him extra.
Logan punched a button, and the doors slid open. To his surprise, there was no battle going on. For that matter, the room wasn’t even a typical battlefield…it looked like a Victorian boudoir, with a draping canopy bed and red satin sheets. Kneeling on these sheets in front of him was Hank McCoy, completely naked except for a ring of black leather around the base of his cock and balls.
As the door closed behind him, Logan almost came right then and there at the sight of the Beast. His blue-black shaft jutted up past his navel, swelling to half the size of Logan’s forearm, but big as it was, it was dwarfed by the sheer mass of blue, furry muscle that reclined in front of the Wolverine, nonchalantly pouring two glasses of brandy. The two watched each other in silence for a moment, then Logan cleared his throat. “Nice program ya got here, Blue. Where’d it come from?”
Hank grinned, handing Logan a brandy glass and gesturing for him to sit beside him. “It’s a replication of one of the Hellfire Club’s luxury suites. Warren programmed it from memory, from one of his stays there. I’ve always been meaning to try it out.” He drained his brandy in a single gulp and lay back on the bed, his member a tower of sexuality in front of him. “Now…climb on up and we’ll discuss your fee.”
Grinning, Logan needed no further urging. It took a fair amount of effort to get on top of the Beast, but before too long their cocks were rubbing together, grinding against each other flesh-to-flesh, and Hank was moaning amorously at the feel of another warm body against his own. Logan reached down and gripped both men’s shafts, never more grateful that his hands were so big as he pumped them in unison, amazed at the sheer amount of precome Hank’s member leaked out. It drenched the pair in the space of a minute, mingling with their sweat as the two men thrust against each other in wild abandon. Hank’s golden eyes locked with Logan’s, and he growled out. “Time to see which of us has the better healing factor, runt,” in a perfect imitation of Sabretooth.
Normally, Logan would’ve been offended, but lost in the moment as he was, his claws simply jutted out with a SNIKT on either side of the Beast, and he lost it, coming all over his partner with an animalistic roar. Feeling the semen slicken up his cock set Beast off as well, and he let out a much quieter growl of satisfaction as he let loose his own initial torrent of come.
Logan moved to get up, but a massive blue hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I don’t recall giving you permission to adjourn,” Beast said in his own voice, lifting an eyebrow as he pointed downwards. Wolverine looked, and noticed that both he and Beast were still rock-hard. Then he looked back up, confused. “Ya mean…when you were talkin’ about healing factors…”
Hank nodded with a grin. “I wasn’t being metaphorical. You see…I chose the Danger Room for a very specific reason, beyond simply the holographic possibilities. Down here, we’re completely safe for the entire night. No one will hear us or come to bother us until Cyclops’s morning training session…at 0900 tomorrow.”
Logan discovered his smile matched Hank’s. “So we can try an’ do somethin’ about our healin’ factors…” They finished each other’s sentence in unison. “…All night long.” With a wicked laugh, the two feral X-Men locked lips in a passionate kiss.
~*~
Logan was in heaven, locked in a sweaty 69 position with Beast. He’d spent the better part of an hour trying to loosen his throat muscles enough to swallow Hank’s entire massive girth, with the scientist’s guttural snarls of passionate pleasure urging him on, and damn, had it been worth it. Because Hank was going down on him at the exact same rate. And damned if Logan could figure out how he managed that, but he simply chalked it up to Hank being a brainiac’s brainiac and went back to cocksucking. He hadn’t gotten around to doing this with Kurt, but that was mostly because the elf had wanted to speed things straight to the fucking. And as much fun as that was…Logan really looked forward to either pounding or getting pounded by Hank…there was something intimate about a good 69 with a guy who knew how to suck cock and do it right.
And Hank could suck a hell of a good cock. The tongue, which Logan had been expecting to be rough and sandpapery for some reason, felt like wet silk sliding along his balls and the underside of his shaft and swirling over his head. He’d shot his load three times from the oral sex alone, and Hank had eagerly swallowed every drop all three times. It was all Logan could do to keep up when Hank’s own cock blasted its loads down his throat, especially when the thrill of orgasm rushed over both men at the same time, causing their muscles to clench and spasm as they gripped each other tightly for stability.
Finally, Logan pulled off Hank’s shaft, and turned around to kiss him hotly, sloppily. It was a porn star kiss, more tongue than anything else, and Hank looked up at him when it was over with a grin that was quickly becoming frozen on his face. “Had enough already?”
“Not even close,” Logan replied with a snarl. “Yer gonna fuck me, Hank, hard an’ deep, an’ yer gonna do it now. An’ ya ain’t gonna stop till One-Eye marches through that door an’ passes out from shock.”
“That…is something of a problem.” Hank looked away from Logan. “You’ve noticed by now, I’m sure…I am not the most miniscule of masculine specimens.” Wolverine let out a derisive grunt, scooping a dollop of semen off the heaving, blue-furred chest. “Got plenty o’lube right here.”
“Lubrication is not the issue,” the Beast admonished. “Preparation is. My fingers are the size of a blue movie star’s penis. How am I going to do this without tearing you?” Logan gave that a moment of serious thought, then snapped his fingers. Climbing off Hank’s stomach, he walked (sauntered. really) over to the console by the door and tabbed in a few key commands. On the dresser by the now-saturated canopy bed appeared three dildoes, each of successively larger size. The largest one was easily as big as Hank’s cock. Grabbing the smallest one, Logan lay back down, lifted his legs into the air, and started to push it into him. When Hank moved to help, Logan waved him off. “Just sit back an’ enjoy the show, Blue,” he said, as the dildo went deeper into him. “It’s all part of the service.”
Wet as both men were, it didn’t take long for Logan to work up enough lubrication for the dildo to slide in easily. Shortly, the Wolverine was grunting and groaning in appreciation as he worked the dildo in and out of himself like a well-oiled machine, thrusting his hips in perfect time. His cock stiffened to full erection yet again, and he almost came without touching his shaft. When it looked like he would pass the point of no return (and Hank was certain that he himself would), Logan pulled the small dildo out completely, and grabbed the ‘medium’ one. Both men had seen Piotr Rasputin naked in the shower, so Beast didn’t have to ask who Wolverine modeled this one after. It went in, slower at the start than the first dildo, but soon he was going at it, hard-and-fast, just like the first one.
When Logan reached for the third dildo, Hank’s paw came up. “Don’t bother,” he said, growling. “I believe I’ve studied the pattern well enough to approximate it.” Logan grinned as he pulled the second one out, presenting himself for Hank. “Then get on with it, Blue, an’ don’t stop till we’re both wiped.”
Hank was more than happy to oblige, guiding his cock toward Logan’s gaping, begging ass and pushing in with a growl of satisfaction. Despite the preparations, Logan still found himself amazed at the fullness, the sheer mass of the thing invading him, and even though it hurt like a son of a bitch, he had never been more turned on in his life. Blue fur surrounded him, entrapped him, buried him and overtook him, and he breathed in the sweet scent of Hank and let himself go.
To Hank, the passion of their final consummation was equaled only by its savagery. He found himself biting, scratching, and gripping Logan with bruising force, and felt the Wolverine respond in kind. Hank’s hips were a jackhammer before long, pistoning and pounding Logan with a primal brute impact as Logan cried out, begging and commanding in the same breath, urging Hank on with his words, his actions, and most of all the hotness of his hirsuite body.
Both of them lost count of the number of times they came. Every so often one of them would tense up, every muscle in their body going taut, before screaming or roaring their passion to the skies as they exploded with semen, their whole bodies giving themselves over to the sheer power of their mutual pleasure. They’d collapse for a few seconds, panting, while the other waited for them to recover, and then they’d come back fresh for another round of raw, hot sex. Hank had never been hotter, more aroused in his life, completely giving himself over to his bestial instincts in to a two-man orgy that had lasted all night. Stars and garters, he thought, in one of his rare moments of lucidity that night, this may not ever happen again, but once is more than enough to make me remember it forever!
~*~
Neither of them knew exactly when they’d fallen asleep. Some time between one orgasm and the next, Logan had curled up in Hank’s arms and closed his eyes to recover a little. Next thing they both knew, they heard a familiar, strident voice say:
“What the HELL is going on in here?!”
Both men bolted upright, still stark naked but ready for action nevertheless. Logan’s claws came out, and Hank bared his fangs, before they realized that Cyclops was standing there, just like Logan had predicted, in full uniform, with Logan’s clothes in his hands and a shocked expression on his face. Even as Hank found his combat instincts change into finding a way to gracefully retreat from the situation, Logan had already calmed down and walked over to Scott. Grabbing his clothes with a simple “Thanks, One-Eye,” he walked out of the Danger Room nonchalantly with a wink at Beast and a wave. “Don’t worry about the cost, Blue! On the house, for the hottest fuck I’ve ever had!”
Cyclops looked astonishedly back at Logan, and then made eye contact with a very nervous Hank. “…What did he just say?”
“Um…er…that is…” Hank found himself practically wringing his paws, even as he tried to use them to cover himself. “I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?”
Scott nodded, shock giving way to cool detachment, just like it always did. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d say so.” He tossed a mop and bucket to the Beast, along with his uniform trunks. “You can start by cleaning up the entire Danger Room. I better not see a single drop of…stuff…anywhere.” He looked around at the room with some distaste. “Then you’re going to make sure no one ever touches this environment program again. After that, I’ll deal with Logan.”
As Beast started to clean the Danger Room, he thought back to the previous night, wishing he could remember how it ended. Oh well, he thought, the prurient grin coming back to his face. He was worth it!
~*~
Bumming for Cigarettes
This was the first piece of adult fiction I ever felt good about submitting to a site, in July of 2006. A Logan/Kurt smut piece that became the groundwork for a 5-part slash series I came to call "Savage Whore."
~*~
Bumming for Cigarettes (NC-17)
It had been a long, LONG day at the Xavier Institute, and nothing made Logan feel better at day's end than a beer, a pack of smokes, and a long stretch in front of the tube.
Sure, he liked a night under the starts as much as the next roughneck mountain man, but when it came to just relaxing, nothing beat slouching in Beast's favorite easy chair, lighting up, and vegging out to whatever teen junk Bobby or Jubilee wanted to watch.
Flopping down...hard...in said easy chair, Wolverine fumbled through his too-damn-tight Levis for his pack of cigs, and let out a low growl. Out again, he thought, an' outta cash too. Xavier saw to his X-Men's needs as best he could, but disapproving of smoking as he did, Logan often had to come up with alternative means to fund his bad habits. Getting up, he stalked down the hallways in a huff and pounded on the door of the first person who came to mind when it came to fueling his bad habits.
A wisp of smoke appeared under the door, and Logan waved his hand to waft away the brimstone stench. "An' they say it stinks when I smoke one o' my stogies." The door opened, and Kurt Wagner looked at his friend quizzically. Logan noticed that the elf was naked from the waist up, and obviously had been working on getting the rest of the way there.
"Logan, vas ist? You interrupted me at a very critical stage in my agility exercises..."
I'll just bet I did. Putting that thought aside, Logan folded his arms. "I need ta head into the city and buy some more smokes. Mind loanin' me ten bucks or so? I can pay ya back next time Xavier gives us good little kids our allowances."
Kurt folded his arms, one blue-black eyebrow lifting quizzically. "Ze last time I loaned you cigarette money, mein verruckt freund, you tried to con your way out of it by challenging me to a sparring contest for it." He rubbed his neck with a grimace, his white fangs gleaming in the lamp light. "I've still got bruises from zat little tussle."
Logan glowered, and the elf held up his hands. "Easy, Logan! I didn't say no, did I?" His tail came up behind him, waving in a sultry fasion. "I'll just require services...in advance."
Logan breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all? Sure, no problem. So what'll it be, Elf? I lead the next coupla X-Missions instead o'you? Teach you some more fightin' moves? Take you to the next midnight matinee o'Star Wars?"
Nightcrawler's grin was positively demonic. "Nein. Nothing so provincial...Come inside." Kurt's tail coiled around Logan's buttocks, and pulled the Canadian into his room, the door closing behind them with a resounding SLAM.
Logan stumbled, and would have fallen if Kurt hadn't caught him. Born and bred fighter though he was, his agility was nowhere near that of his German friend. Kurt knew how to take advantage of the situation as well, and wrapping his arms around his hairy friend, pulled the Camuck into a deep, passionate kiss.
Part of Logan's mind rebelled against being taken advantage of, but he shut it up without too much trouble. The fur on Kurt's face just felt so damn good...He had to feel more of it. Shrugging his plaid lumberjack shirt off, Logan pressed his own hirsuite body against Kurt's blue-furred chest, feeling the thin layer of fur there, like a mix of silk and velvet rubbing in all the right ways. His jeans were getting real tight, and he said so, at which Kurt let out a merry laugh. "Zen take zem off, mein freund. You won't be needing zem anyway."
Three seconds later, Logan was naked in Kurt's arms, loving the primal, back-to-nature feel of his nudity and Kurt's kisses. Clothes to the Wolverine were a necesary evil, one he shed as often as he could, though not nearly as often as he would've liked. His thick cock was swelling with need, starting to ache, and Kurt noticed this with a grin. "Ach, you're gorgeous! This certainly changes things!"
Logan looked up at the slightly taller elf with a confused, "Huh?"
"I was simply looking to ask for a blowjob, but mein Gott! Do you realize, Logan, I've never seen you hard before?"
Logan looked down, then realized it was true. "Yeah. So?"
"So now, I vant you more zan ever. Now, I vant you inside me."
Logan's confused expression melted away into what he would've called a 'shit eatin' grin.' "A'right then. Elfy. Get these pants off an' lay down on yer back, legs in the air and tail hangin' over the edge. After that, let the big bad Wolverine take care o'everything."
Kurt did as he was asked, and Logan took a moment to appreciate the slender, leanly muscled beauty that was his teammate. People who were put off by Nightcrawler's color and subtle physical differences failed to notice that under it all, there was a hell of a sexy beast. One, in fact, Logan wouldn't have said no to even if he hadn't been bumming for cigarettes.
Kneeling between Kurt's legs, Logan let his tongue roam between the deep blue cheeks of Nightcrawler's ass, prompting squirms and moans of sudden, shocked pleasure. So, ya ain't never been rimmed before? Kurt, boy, yer in for a surprise. Logan let his tongue dive into the musky, clean sweetness inside Kurt's pucker, and paid special attention to the underside of his tail, which caused Kurt to let out a scream of pleasure. The Elf was sporting a raging hard-on, which he tried to grip, but Logan batted his arm away. "Ya don't get t'touch till I say ya can touch, Elfy. House rules, when yer playin' with me."
Kurt let out a frustrated moan, but the frustration turned to gratification when Logan slid his fingers into Nightcrawler's well-lubricated hole. He felt Kurt clench and unclench around him, and stroked his own cock...slowly, smoothly, with infinite patience...until he felt it was as hard as it had ever been in his long, long life. Then, he guided his leaking head to Kurt's ass, and pushed in, gently but firmly, with a long, low growl of anticipation.
Waves of pleasure assaulted both men's bodies as Logan slid in, causing Kurt to tremble and cry out uncontrollably as the initial stretching pain died away to a wonderful, full pleasure. Once Logan had hilted himself inside his friend, he leaned down and marked Kurt with a possessive bite to the shoulder, pinching a nerve junction just right, to make the elf go limp with ecstasy.
"Ach, mein Gott, Logan..." Kurt was a quivering bundle of flesh and fur, soaked in sweat, his body burnign with the need for release. But helpless as he was, he could only lie there and take Logan's slow, inexorable penetration as he looked up into the ferally handsome face, grinning wickedly down at him as he started to thrust into his tailhole.
When the fucking actually started, Logan's body was sheened in sweat. Both men were panting with heat, with need, with mutual lust, their cocks drooling a steady stream of precome that mixed and pooled on Kurt's belly, and in his ass. Logan scooped some of the pre off Kurt's abs and held the fingers to his mouth. "Lick it up, Elf. Show me how much you're wantin' this."
Moaning in time with Logan's thrusts, Kurt reached up with his tongue and swiped Logan's fingers clean with a single pass, taking the fingers into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth, even as Logan's hips started to increase their tempo, practically tearing the Elf in two with pleasure as he moaned and cried out shamelessly, unafraid of who would hear. They were both animals now, reduced to their most primal needs and urges as they screwed each other wantonly.
Logan wasn't exactly silent, either. "Yeah, come on, Elf...Ya love it, ya want it, take it all! Feel my big hard cock ridin' up inta that sweet blue ass? Yeah, I know ya do. I'm gojn' faster now, can ya feel it? Yeah, I can tell, yer achin' ta get off...Go ahead, Kurt, grab yer cock...jerk it off, stroke it in time with me...Tell me how much ya love me fuckin' ya, how ya wanna be my Elf-bottom fer the rest o'yer life. Ahh, Kurt, I'm gettin' close...Ya want us ta cum t'gether? Come on, hen, Elf...I'm gettin' there...Cum NOW!"
With a roar torn from the very depths of his soul, Nightcrawler bucked his hips into the air, his fist clenched in a visegrip around his cock as he coated both himself and Logan with his creamy, white semen. It looked like they'd spilled milk all over themselves, with its thickness, creamy whiteness, and the sheer amount that Logan had fucked out of him.
Logan himself was cumming hard, too...His cock was spewing deep into Kurt's innards, keeping up a primal, jackhammer pace, until the last drops of semen were forced out of him and he slumped heavily over Kurt, panting and gasping for breath.
It took Kurt a long time to recover from that. He felt a warm hand on his face, and found himself opening his eyes to see Logan there, looking fine as ever, if a little worried. "You okay?"
Kurt managed a nod. "Ja...just needed a minute...to let my body catch up with me." He pointed to a nightstand. "My wallet is over zere...Help yourself to what you need. I'm sorry I made you do zis for money."
Logan waved a hand casually, still completely naked. "Don't worry about it, Elf. Fer you, I woulda done it fer free.
"Besides...ya got me thinkin'. Maybe this ain't such a bad way t'earn some dough on the side." He grinned at Kurt's shocked expression. "Come on, Elfie, think about it. My healin' factor keeps me from gettin' sick, an' keeps me comin' back fer more." He turned, and Kurt saw with a groan that he was already fully hard again. "I can take care o'myself, I ain't got no hangups about any kind of sex, an' ya gotta admit..." he gestured to his body, "Ain't that many callboys that look like me."
Kurt cocked his head. "I suppose there aren't, at that. Still, are you sure? Not all partners will excite you as much as..." He stopped short. "I'm sorry. Zat sounded a lot less arrogant in my head."
Logan leaned beside Kurt on the bed and kissed him. "Ya got good reason t'be arrogant, Elf. You were a helluva bottom. I ain't come that hard in a long time."
Rising back to his feet, he took ten dollars from Kurt's wallet and started for the door. "An' yeah, sure I'm sure. Who knows? This could be fun."
It wasn't until after Logan left that Kurt realized he'd left all of his clothing on the floor. Nightcrawler blinked once, twice, then started to laugh. "Wolverine...mein verruckt freund... I don't know if ze world is ready for you to be a male prostitute."
~*~
~*~
Bumming for Cigarettes (NC-17)
It had been a long, LONG day at the Xavier Institute, and nothing made Logan feel better at day's end than a beer, a pack of smokes, and a long stretch in front of the tube.
Sure, he liked a night under the starts as much as the next roughneck mountain man, but when it came to just relaxing, nothing beat slouching in Beast's favorite easy chair, lighting up, and vegging out to whatever teen junk Bobby or Jubilee wanted to watch.
Flopping down...hard...in said easy chair, Wolverine fumbled through his too-damn-tight Levis for his pack of cigs, and let out a low growl. Out again, he thought, an' outta cash too. Xavier saw to his X-Men's needs as best he could, but disapproving of smoking as he did, Logan often had to come up with alternative means to fund his bad habits. Getting up, he stalked down the hallways in a huff and pounded on the door of the first person who came to mind when it came to fueling his bad habits.
A wisp of smoke appeared under the door, and Logan waved his hand to waft away the brimstone stench. "An' they say it stinks when I smoke one o' my stogies." The door opened, and Kurt Wagner looked at his friend quizzically. Logan noticed that the elf was naked from the waist up, and obviously had been working on getting the rest of the way there.
"Logan, vas ist? You interrupted me at a very critical stage in my agility exercises..."
I'll just bet I did. Putting that thought aside, Logan folded his arms. "I need ta head into the city and buy some more smokes. Mind loanin' me ten bucks or so? I can pay ya back next time Xavier gives us good little kids our allowances."
Kurt folded his arms, one blue-black eyebrow lifting quizzically. "Ze last time I loaned you cigarette money, mein verruckt freund, you tried to con your way out of it by challenging me to a sparring contest for it." He rubbed his neck with a grimace, his white fangs gleaming in the lamp light. "I've still got bruises from zat little tussle."
Logan glowered, and the elf held up his hands. "Easy, Logan! I didn't say no, did I?" His tail came up behind him, waving in a sultry fasion. "I'll just require services...in advance."
Logan breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all? Sure, no problem. So what'll it be, Elf? I lead the next coupla X-Missions instead o'you? Teach you some more fightin' moves? Take you to the next midnight matinee o'Star Wars?"
Nightcrawler's grin was positively demonic. "Nein. Nothing so provincial...Come inside." Kurt's tail coiled around Logan's buttocks, and pulled the Canadian into his room, the door closing behind them with a resounding SLAM.
Logan stumbled, and would have fallen if Kurt hadn't caught him. Born and bred fighter though he was, his agility was nowhere near that of his German friend. Kurt knew how to take advantage of the situation as well, and wrapping his arms around his hairy friend, pulled the Camuck into a deep, passionate kiss.
Part of Logan's mind rebelled against being taken advantage of, but he shut it up without too much trouble. The fur on Kurt's face just felt so damn good...He had to feel more of it. Shrugging his plaid lumberjack shirt off, Logan pressed his own hirsuite body against Kurt's blue-furred chest, feeling the thin layer of fur there, like a mix of silk and velvet rubbing in all the right ways. His jeans were getting real tight, and he said so, at which Kurt let out a merry laugh. "Zen take zem off, mein freund. You won't be needing zem anyway."
Three seconds later, Logan was naked in Kurt's arms, loving the primal, back-to-nature feel of his nudity and Kurt's kisses. Clothes to the Wolverine were a necesary evil, one he shed as often as he could, though not nearly as often as he would've liked. His thick cock was swelling with need, starting to ache, and Kurt noticed this with a grin. "Ach, you're gorgeous! This certainly changes things!"
Logan looked up at the slightly taller elf with a confused, "Huh?"
"I was simply looking to ask for a blowjob, but mein Gott! Do you realize, Logan, I've never seen you hard before?"
Logan looked down, then realized it was true. "Yeah. So?"
"So now, I vant you more zan ever. Now, I vant you inside me."
Logan's confused expression melted away into what he would've called a 'shit eatin' grin.' "A'right then. Elfy. Get these pants off an' lay down on yer back, legs in the air and tail hangin' over the edge. After that, let the big bad Wolverine take care o'everything."
Kurt did as he was asked, and Logan took a moment to appreciate the slender, leanly muscled beauty that was his teammate. People who were put off by Nightcrawler's color and subtle physical differences failed to notice that under it all, there was a hell of a sexy beast. One, in fact, Logan wouldn't have said no to even if he hadn't been bumming for cigarettes.
Kneeling between Kurt's legs, Logan let his tongue roam between the deep blue cheeks of Nightcrawler's ass, prompting squirms and moans of sudden, shocked pleasure. So, ya ain't never been rimmed before? Kurt, boy, yer in for a surprise. Logan let his tongue dive into the musky, clean sweetness inside Kurt's pucker, and paid special attention to the underside of his tail, which caused Kurt to let out a scream of pleasure. The Elf was sporting a raging hard-on, which he tried to grip, but Logan batted his arm away. "Ya don't get t'touch till I say ya can touch, Elfy. House rules, when yer playin' with me."
Kurt let out a frustrated moan, but the frustration turned to gratification when Logan slid his fingers into Nightcrawler's well-lubricated hole. He felt Kurt clench and unclench around him, and stroked his own cock...slowly, smoothly, with infinite patience...until he felt it was as hard as it had ever been in his long, long life. Then, he guided his leaking head to Kurt's ass, and pushed in, gently but firmly, with a long, low growl of anticipation.
Waves of pleasure assaulted both men's bodies as Logan slid in, causing Kurt to tremble and cry out uncontrollably as the initial stretching pain died away to a wonderful, full pleasure. Once Logan had hilted himself inside his friend, he leaned down and marked Kurt with a possessive bite to the shoulder, pinching a nerve junction just right, to make the elf go limp with ecstasy.
"Ach, mein Gott, Logan..." Kurt was a quivering bundle of flesh and fur, soaked in sweat, his body burnign with the need for release. But helpless as he was, he could only lie there and take Logan's slow, inexorable penetration as he looked up into the ferally handsome face, grinning wickedly down at him as he started to thrust into his tailhole.
When the fucking actually started, Logan's body was sheened in sweat. Both men were panting with heat, with need, with mutual lust, their cocks drooling a steady stream of precome that mixed and pooled on Kurt's belly, and in his ass. Logan scooped some of the pre off Kurt's abs and held the fingers to his mouth. "Lick it up, Elf. Show me how much you're wantin' this."
Moaning in time with Logan's thrusts, Kurt reached up with his tongue and swiped Logan's fingers clean with a single pass, taking the fingers into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth, even as Logan's hips started to increase their tempo, practically tearing the Elf in two with pleasure as he moaned and cried out shamelessly, unafraid of who would hear. They were both animals now, reduced to their most primal needs and urges as they screwed each other wantonly.
Logan wasn't exactly silent, either. "Yeah, come on, Elf...Ya love it, ya want it, take it all! Feel my big hard cock ridin' up inta that sweet blue ass? Yeah, I know ya do. I'm gojn' faster now, can ya feel it? Yeah, I can tell, yer achin' ta get off...Go ahead, Kurt, grab yer cock...jerk it off, stroke it in time with me...Tell me how much ya love me fuckin' ya, how ya wanna be my Elf-bottom fer the rest o'yer life. Ahh, Kurt, I'm gettin' close...Ya want us ta cum t'gether? Come on, hen, Elf...I'm gettin' there...Cum NOW!"
With a roar torn from the very depths of his soul, Nightcrawler bucked his hips into the air, his fist clenched in a visegrip around his cock as he coated both himself and Logan with his creamy, white semen. It looked like they'd spilled milk all over themselves, with its thickness, creamy whiteness, and the sheer amount that Logan had fucked out of him.
Logan himself was cumming hard, too...His cock was spewing deep into Kurt's innards, keeping up a primal, jackhammer pace, until the last drops of semen were forced out of him and he slumped heavily over Kurt, panting and gasping for breath.
It took Kurt a long time to recover from that. He felt a warm hand on his face, and found himself opening his eyes to see Logan there, looking fine as ever, if a little worried. "You okay?"
Kurt managed a nod. "Ja...just needed a minute...to let my body catch up with me." He pointed to a nightstand. "My wallet is over zere...Help yourself to what you need. I'm sorry I made you do zis for money."
Logan waved a hand casually, still completely naked. "Don't worry about it, Elf. Fer you, I woulda done it fer free.
"Besides...ya got me thinkin'. Maybe this ain't such a bad way t'earn some dough on the side." He grinned at Kurt's shocked expression. "Come on, Elfie, think about it. My healin' factor keeps me from gettin' sick, an' keeps me comin' back fer more." He turned, and Kurt saw with a groan that he was already fully hard again. "I can take care o'myself, I ain't got no hangups about any kind of sex, an' ya gotta admit..." he gestured to his body, "Ain't that many callboys that look like me."
Kurt cocked his head. "I suppose there aren't, at that. Still, are you sure? Not all partners will excite you as much as..." He stopped short. "I'm sorry. Zat sounded a lot less arrogant in my head."
Logan leaned beside Kurt on the bed and kissed him. "Ya got good reason t'be arrogant, Elf. You were a helluva bottom. I ain't come that hard in a long time."
Rising back to his feet, he took ten dollars from Kurt's wallet and started for the door. "An' yeah, sure I'm sure. Who knows? This could be fun."
It wasn't until after Logan left that Kurt realized he'd left all of his clothing on the floor. Nightcrawler blinked once, twice, then started to laugh. "Wolverine...mein verruckt freund... I don't know if ze world is ready for you to be a male prostitute."
~*~
Introductions and Disclaimers
1) I WRITE GAY PORN. That means man-on-man action, two (or more) guys doing the Mattress (or hay loft, or linoleum floor, or wherever the urge strikes them) Mambo. Anyone who's either too young to read it, or has a problem with it, shouldn't be here. Critiques will be welcome, flames will be ignored.
2) I WRITE WHAT I FEEL LIKE. Mostly, I'm a fanfic writer. The main body of my work right now is slash fiction from X-Men and Kingdom Hearts II. I have some original work as well, based on a D&D campaign I'm running with my boyfriends. (Yes, I said boyfriends, plural.) Some of it will be sexually explicit, some will not. It depends on how inspired I am, and in what way. My fandoms right now are X-Men (and the Marvel Universe in general), some of the DC Universe, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gargoyles, Final Fantasy 7 and 10, Fable 2 & 3, Dungeons and Dragons (game OR cartoon, though I refuse to write porn of the cartoon), Forgotten Realms, X/1999, Chrono Trigger, and Kingdom Hearts I and II. I know these fandoms well enough that I feel I can write them convincingly. I will listen to requests, but by and large I write as I am inspired.
3) JUST BECAUSE I WRITE SOMETHING, IT DOESN'T MEAN I PRACTICE IT. I am a polyamorous gay man. I admit that freely. You may find furry fiction, incest fiction, bestiality, and other such squicky concepts here. No one's holding a gun to your head, so if any of this bothers you, you do not have to read. But I have not actually done most of the things I write about...I have no more slept with a dog or family member than I've had sex with Wolverine or Xaldin. And even though sexual abuse may make for a good story, it isn't cool in real life. Fantasy is not reality. I write fantasy, but I live in reality.
4) I ENCOURAGE CRITIQUE. If you have something to say beyond "Hot story," or "Your story sux," I'm happy to listen. Tell me what you liked, and what you didn't. I listen. Most of the time, I take people's suggestions into consideration. But again, I write what I feel like, so I don't take fic requests unless they really grab my interest and attention. Either post a comment on the blog, or e-mail me at triplenerdscore70@gmail.com with the story title in the subject line. I reply to almost all e-mails in some way or another, except flames.
That's enough of that, for now. If this sounds like it may be up your alley in any way, shape, or form, keep an eye on this spot.
2) I WRITE WHAT I FEEL LIKE. Mostly, I'm a fanfic writer. The main body of my work right now is slash fiction from X-Men and Kingdom Hearts II. I have some original work as well, based on a D&D campaign I'm running with my boyfriends. (Yes, I said boyfriends, plural.) Some of it will be sexually explicit, some will not. It depends on how inspired I am, and in what way. My fandoms right now are X-Men (and the Marvel Universe in general), some of the DC Universe, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gargoyles, Final Fantasy 7 and 10, Fable 2 & 3, Dungeons and Dragons (game OR cartoon, though I refuse to write porn of the cartoon), Forgotten Realms, X/1999, Chrono Trigger, and Kingdom Hearts I and II. I know these fandoms well enough that I feel I can write them convincingly. I will listen to requests, but by and large I write as I am inspired.
3) JUST BECAUSE I WRITE SOMETHING, IT DOESN'T MEAN I PRACTICE IT. I am a polyamorous gay man. I admit that freely. You may find furry fiction, incest fiction, bestiality, and other such squicky concepts here. No one's holding a gun to your head, so if any of this bothers you, you do not have to read. But I have not actually done most of the things I write about...I have no more slept with a dog or family member than I've had sex with Wolverine or Xaldin. And even though sexual abuse may make for a good story, it isn't cool in real life. Fantasy is not reality. I write fantasy, but I live in reality.
4) I ENCOURAGE CRITIQUE. If you have something to say beyond "Hot story," or "Your story sux," I'm happy to listen. Tell me what you liked, and what you didn't. I listen. Most of the time, I take people's suggestions into consideration. But again, I write what I feel like, so I don't take fic requests unless they really grab my interest and attention. Either post a comment on the blog, or e-mail me at triplenerdscore70@gmail.com with the story title in the subject line. I reply to almost all e-mails in some way or another, except flames.
That's enough of that, for now. If this sounds like it may be up your alley in any way, shape, or form, keep an eye on this spot.
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