~*~
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~
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