Letting Go

Here's my newest submission to y!Gallery. At 17 faves in 24 hours, it's also the fastest one to gain popularity. Not that I'm bragging or anything...it's just really flattering to have so many people like your work so quickly. :)

I think I have to credit Sabretooth for the fic's success. I hate Victor Creed with a fiery, blazing passion. When I read Wolverine's killing of the man in the comics, part of me let out a vindictive cheer.

But part of me felt...cheated, somehow. Creed has only been used right a couple of times in the whole course of the comics. When he's played savage, but smart...cunning and predatory, as opposed to growly-snarly...he takes on whole new levels of danger.

And, like Magneto, I am obsessed with the idea of taking that Sabretooth and bringing him over to the good side. Because I read Sabes in "Exiles," and fell in love.

Anyway,that's enough rambling from me. On to the smut! Enjoy!

~*~


Bobby Drake wasn't happy, and he didn't care who knew it. Babysitting Victor Creed was the absolute last thing on his list of "Things to Do With My Day," but Storm had other ideas, and when the Gold Team Leader put her foot down, the subject was pretty much closed.

He wished Hank, or at least Petey, were here to suffer with him. The worst part about guarding Sabretooth during what the professor called his 'trial rehabilitation period' was the solitude. Iceman knew he acted about ten years younger than he actually was, but he was a people-person...he liked having folks around to laugh with him, or at him. Even yelling at him gratified him...a little...because at least he stood out that way.

But in here, there was only the force field, the walls...and Creed. Staring at him with those hungry blue eyes, which seemed to flash yellow every now and again just to creep him out.

I really, really don't wanna be here.

"Well?"

Iceman jerked out of his self-pitying reverie to glare at the man behind the force field. "Well, what?"

"Yer the clown, ain'tcha? Go ahead, Popsicle. Do somethin' funny."

"Like shove an icicle so far up your ass you'll get frostbite in your trachea?" Bobby deadpanned. That got a laugh out of Creed. Harsh, rough, and not at all pleasant, but a laugh.

Iceman smirked...he couldn't help it...and sat back, pulling his Game Gear out to kill time.

Two hours to go. You can make it, Bobby...you got Sonic and Street Fighter to get you through this.

Unfortunately, he'd only been playing for about ten minutes when the system flicked off. Fuck. Batteries. Anybody got an extra six lying around?

"Aww, too bad, Frosty. Looks like yer gonna have ta stick it out, just like me."

Iceman sighed. "Creed, I'm not gonna tell you again. Keep your trap shut or I'll freeze it shut for you."

"Come on in and try," was Creed's all-too-predictable response. "Although...seems t'me fightin' ain't whatcha really wanna do with me."

Bobby's head came up. He'd been expecting more fighting words, but that had come out of nowhere...."Uh, come again?"

"I can, y'know. And again, and again if I wanna. In yer mouth...all over yer body...in yer ass, as many times as ya want." One huge, meaty hand caressed his tight blue jeans, groping the bulge in them suggestively. "C'mon in an' I'll show ya."

Bobby's mouth went very dry as his brain promptly went on strike. "Are you...are you seriously suggesting...?"

Creed licked his lips in assent. His tongue was so red, his mouth so tempting underneath the scruff and stubble...then Bobby caught a flash of his fang-like canines, heard the first hint of a growl in his throat, and willed himself back to reality.

"Nice...nice try, Vicky. Get me in your cage, and the next thing I know, there's pieces of me all over the brig and you're a free kitten. Nuh-uh. Mama Drake didn't raise no fool. You can just stay in there and jerk off for all I care." And Iceman sat back in his chair and stared at the wall.

He expected Victor -- Creed. Or Sabretooth. What the fuck is up with this 'Victor' shit? -- to growl and roar, pound on the shield and demand to be let out right the fuck now, or else.

Instead, the wild man smiled broadly, exposing his fangs to Bobby and running his tongue over them again. "Bright kid. I might just do that..." And his hand went down the waistband of his jeans.

The next few minutes were unspeakably awkward for Bobby...Creed was not quiet when he masturbated, and with nothing to distract him, all Iceman could do was stare at the wall and try not to listen.

"Hrrrrr...oh, man, this feels fuckin' amazin'...nothin' like pullin' yer pud with a hot fantasy. Ya wanna hear my fantasy, Drake?"

No, Bobby thought. Not particularly. I want to get out of here. I want to go up to my room, plug in the Nintendo, and block out everything that's going on.

What came out was, "Shoot."

"I'm picturin' you, bare-ass naked, in one o'those leather slings like you see inna pornos. Yer legs are spread wide apart, an' I can see yer cock and balls restin' there. Yer tremblin', scared, but gettin' harder by the minute. Oh, yeah, it's so fuckin' hot to watch...I kneel down between yer legs an' life up yer balls, real gentle-like so's I don't scratch 'em, an' I get my glimpse o'that hot little hole o'yers. It's pink, clean...an' it's beggin' me t'fuck it. But not right away. Not dry. That wouldn't do either of us a damn bit o'good."

Bobby let himself look at Creed now. His pants were off, tossed into the far corner of his cell, and he was only wearing that black wife-beater he loved so much. His cock jutted upwards, long and thick, out of a bush of straw-colored pubic hair. His balls, thick and round, rested on a muscular, sumptuous ass that made Bobby lick his lips and let out the tiniest of whimpers.

Stop staring, stop ogling, stop perving out. It's Sabretooth, you fucking idiot, he's just trying to get you in there so he can rip you a new one...and not the way you want him to, either. Just a pose, that's all it is, a fucking lie...

Bobby told the paranoid (or just plain rational) part of his brain to go hang.

Creed was pumping his meat now, writhing his hips on the floor like he was part snake. Fluidity and fur, muscle and skin and sweat, those terrifying, sexy eyes fixed on Bobby, blue-then-yellow-then-blue-again as he spoke, that tongue licking his lips practically between sentences.

"So I dive in, lickin' yer tight asshole, rimmin' you fer all yer worth, an' you're whimperin' and groanin' fer me...yer hole all slick an' wet from what I'm doin' to ya. It don't take long before yer beggin' me for it, Popsicle...an' I give it to ya."

His hips thrust upwards once, twice, and Bobby saw the head of his cock darken with precome as it trickled down the shaft. He hadn't even noticed his own hand going down into his pants to wrap around his own shaft until he felt it close.

Creed was still talking...Bobby didn't want him to stop. "Think what you want of me, kid, but I ain't no rapist. Everyone I've ever been with has ta ask me for it, an' I ain't never hurt no one in bed. An' I don't hurt you, neither...I push inta you, slow and steady-like. You let out this moan...it's long and drawn-out, an' I love the sound of it...super-hearin' lets me feel it when you moan, like silk brushin' across naked skin...gets me harder'n ever, an' you feel me swell up inside you just as I get it balls-deep in there...aw yeah, Bobby-baby, can ya feel it?"

Bobby-baby? the Iceman thought to himself. Then he reminded his rational brain that it was still on vacation, and kept listening. At some point his pants had dropped around his ankles, but he didn't care. It just made pumping his cock easier...

"Yeah, yer feelin' it, boy. Yer feelin' it, an' yer lovin' it, lovin' my meat slide in an' outta you. The sling's fuckin' rockin' back an' forth, but it just helps me fuck you deeper, harder...yer moanin' non-stop now, tellin' me how good a fuck I am, how you ain't never had it better...ohhh, yeah, baby, I'm gettin' close. Can ya feel it? Can ya?"

Creed's vocabulary was going the same direction as Bobby's brain...which was to say, out the window. But at this point, Bobby didn't care...all that mattered to him was that Creed kept talking.

"Oh, yeah, baby, I'm gettin' close...fuck, almost there...ohh, yer ass feels so good around me...fuck, fuck fuck FUCK! Awww, Popsicle, I'm CUMMIN'! You ain't never had a load like this before! Awww yeaaah!!"

With that final half-growl, half-scream, Creed started thrusting his cock frantically into his hand, letting loose a torrent of seed the likes of which Bobby had never seen before. The signt of him...the sound of him...was enough to push Bobby over the edge, and soon he too was crying out in ecstasy as his cock spurted in his fist, cum landing all over the metal floor as his body shook and convulsed.

When it ended, he went limp in the seat, sagging and gasping for breath, his face flushed and his entire body coated with a sheen of sweat. Sabretooth, he noticed, wasn't much better. But Victor was wearing a smug smirk as his eyes fixed on Bobby.

"Not bad, huh Popsicle? Thing is...I can do this over an' over again. You want it? All ya gotta do is let go."

Bobby looked at Creed for a long minute...then picked up his pants, wiped himself off as best he could, and walked out the door.

Someone else could take this shift. He was done, whatever Ororo said.

"You'll be back!" Victor called after him. "You ain't never cum so hard in yer life, an' you know it. You'll be back!"

The worst thing, Iceman thought to himself as he put his clothes back on, is I'm not sure he's wrong.

Room Service

Another No Fandom Politix smut thread, this one continues the Logan/Remy party, and drags in a totally new character...Matt Parkman, of 'Heroes' fame, played by the obscenely talented (and talented at the obscene!) thinktank.

Quick note: Despite my love for all things superheroic, I never got into 'Heroes.' Watched the first two episodes and liked it, but couldn't get over the cliffhanger-a-week format. That said, a couple of the characters really fascinated me...Hiro was fun as hell, Nikki/Jessica fascinating, and Matt was studly and sensitive. Maybe now that it's on DVD I can watch without having trouble with those damn endings-that-aren't-endings.

Anyway, back to the smut. This takes place right after Matt gets taken to a bar, gotten plastered, and then ditched by Gears of War's Damon Baird for Final Fantasy VII's Cid Highwind. (it makes sense on the site, I swear!)

~*~


[walks out of the bar after seeing Baird and Cid head for the trenches]

I'm drukking funk. That Baistard bard... wh'ever happnd to leave wi' the one who brung yah?

[mumbles, grumbles, fumbles and tumbles, ends up in a gutter with a wet face]

Nice guys finish fast! I mean, finish last...

This is all Mohinder's fault... 'f it weren't for him I'd only be gettin rejected by girlses...

There's gotta be something interesting in one of these rooms...

[pokes into hair salon room, into room with infinite number of monkeys on typewriters, into oval office of white house, into quite possibly the TARDIS]

'Lo? 'Lo?

[And Gambit is standing there, his red-pupiled demon-eyes glowing softly as he shuffles a deck of cards]

"Bonjour mon ami. Rough night?"

"I'd say so, Remms. Kid's completely sloshed."

Logan steps in front of the man, holding up two fingers.

"You alright, pal? How many fingers d'ya see?"

[Matt, bleary-eyed]

Um.... seventeen, I think. I dunno, should I count the big spiky ones?

Or, y'know the ones sticking up from your head?

Or, y'know... that big one between yr...

[::urp::]

Hey, there are two of you. [turns to Remy] Hi, pretty.

"Why T'ankyou mon ami, but 'dat could be jus' de alcohol talking, at leas' right now." [Smirking again]

Remy then turns to Logan. "Wha' should we do abou' 'dis man? de restaurant?"

Logan grins.

"I say we drag 'im to the bathroom...give 'im a nice hot shower, then when he's got th' sense t'feel it..."

He gropes the bulge in his jeans meaningfully as he looks down at the insensible man.

"That's why yer plastered, ain't it? Got an itch no one's willin' ta scratch? Don't worry about lyin' man, I can smell it on ya."

He saw the claws without my even poppin' 'em. That means he's gotta be some kinda skull-scanner...If so, hottest one I've ever seen.

The thoughts that go through Logan's head are obscene, to say the least.

~**~

[Hot water running across his face and chest and Matt wakes up, blinking his eyes. He's in the shower. Oh, that's great. He's in the shower.]

Oh, God, I feel like I was run over by a truck carrying an aircraft carrier.

The hell am I? Last I remember I was outside and there was this guy who..

Last I remember I wasn't naked.

I'm naked now.

What... what's going on here?

[looks around frantically]

[Have a smirking, clothed Remy standing outside the shower, shuffling a deck of cards and only rarely taking very short glimpes at you] "Feeling better mon ami?" he says through a smirk.

[Yikes, there's a guy outside looking at him once in a while] "Uh, yeah. Hey, uh, do you mind, I'm sort of... not decent here...

[steals a glance at him too, never mind the French stuff the guy is kind of really, really striking, gorgeous face...]

[Remy makes sure not to take any more glances, for a while at least]

"Jus' makin' sure you don' go fallin' over an' crackin' your head on de tiles mon ami. You really love de bottle huh?" [Again smirking]

[Matt groans.] "No, not really. I just got frustrated. Ya know, you have to tune out for a few minutes and the guy you came in with is leaving with someone else, it's annoying."

[pauses, then peeks out at him with a confused scowl on his face.] "What the hell language are you thinking in? Is that French? I can't understand a word you're thinking."

"Language I'm t'inking in? French is my native tongue, oui... you telepat'ic? Logan suspected as much."

[He groans. Like it or not this guy's accent is kind of sexy] "Yeah, I can hear thoughts pretty well. This Logan guy, he was around before, right?" [Turns the water off] "Hey, can I have a towel? Unless you want me tramping around-- wherever I am-- naked, that is."

"Yeah, 'dat was Logan before." [He hands Matt a towel, always the graceful host!]

"Would you like some painkillers for de headache or?"

[Matt shakes his head stoically.] "Nah, it'll pass. Always does."

[He looks the guy up and down. Suddenly he's full of questions. Where is he? Who is this man? What's his relationship to that big meaty guy called Logan? Why'd they take him out of the gutter.] "So I guess I owe you thanks for getting me inside and cleaned up, Mr., uh..."

"Remy. Remy LeBeau. Don' mention it mon ami, Remy no like seein' people wid' killer hangovers. Still, de offer of painkillers is open."

A knock comes on the wall outside the bathroom, and Logan saunters in, "dressed" in a similar fashion to Matt. His black body hair is sparkling with water droplets and steam comes off him in small smoky curls.

"Hey pal, you feelin' better? Here, drink up. It'll help, trust an old drinkin' pro."

He hands Matt a glass of water. Logan's healing factor protects him against many, many things, but despite his claims to the contrary, getting completely shit-faced plastered is not one of them. He turns to Remy with a cheeky grin.

"This place has a sauna, didja know that? A fuckin' sauna! How long I been buggin' Charley ta let me put one'a those in the Institute?"

Matt eyes the man who came in. Now this is someone who's his type. "You're Logan?" he asks. "Thank you for... for your help." His eyes drift south a second, but he rights himself. "I'm feeling much better, thanks."

He turns to Remy. "I really appreciate the offer, but I don't need any pills, thanks." There's two reasons for this. One, he's done the painkiller addiction thing and doesn't need to go back; and two, two hot guys in a bathroom with you does a whole lot to clear up the cobwebs. Not much room left to feel a headache when all your blood's south of the border.

Remy turns to Logan] "A sauna? 'dat would be quite useful wid' our new friend here, don' you think Logan? [Through a most seductively evil grin]


[He turns to Matt]"No problem mon cher, it's your choice" [he walks away from the medicine cabinet].. "So, Logan tells me you been lookin' for some company recently?" [And flashes another smirk]

Logan leans back, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his towel. He doesn't answer, not in words...but his posture, his stance, and most importantly his dirty, dirty thoughts, tells the newcomer exactly what he'd use the sauna for in this case.

"So, ya know my name an' his...but we dunno yers. Or do we just call ya 'Hot Psychic Drunk Guy?'"

Matt turns red. Remy has just called him on his horrible inclination to be a whiny drunk; and when he's being whiny about a chance lost, he starts asking strangers for it. Of course, these guys are just exuding sex, and Matt has the weird feeling they would have said yes-- that they brought him here because they would say yes.

Yes, life is definitely weird.

"M-Matt Parkman," he says, stumbling as he finds his voice. "But, you know, I'd answer to Hot Psychic too. If that's what you think."

He takes a step. "So do you guys do this as a team all the time? Find drunks, clean them up and take them to bed?"

[Remy just smirks and slowly advances on the target, chuckling a little at the stammerring]

"No need to fear us mon ami, we don' have any sinister plans... as leas' no plans we t'ink are sinister" [and that evil grin grows]

"Well Logan an' I haven' done 'dis before as a team but... if 'dis goes well 'dat may change!" [He turns to Logan, smiling]

Logan returns Remy's grin, and fixes it on Matt.

"Bottom line is, yer lonely, pal. I could smell it even through the booze...yer hormones give ya away."

He walks over to Matt. 'Stalks', really...his dark eyes boring into the psychic as he gives him yet more sneak previews of what he'd like to do to him.

"An' trust me...yer in th' right place. We're the best at what we do."

Matt flinched a little from the power of the images. This guy knew how to get into a telepath's head, and he wasn't shy about doing it. He was so, so much man too, with that broad chest and srong jaw. And Remy was beautiful for a different reason, handsome and devilish.

His voice got very small. Small but hard and purposeful. "Then why aren't you doing it?"

"'Cause we wan' to know what you like mon cher" Remy purrs through his smirk as he gets behind Parkman, his teeth softly nibbling on his neck... "why no' tell Remy and Logan 'dose desires of yours? We wanna hear... you won' regret it, we promise."

Remy's hands travel down Parkman's chest as he whispers into his ear.

Remy smiles at Logan, knowing Parkman's answer already but wanting to hear it come out of his mouth.

Oh motherfucking crap, Remy's touching him, biting him. Any and all doubt deletes itself from his memory, and he gives a little sigh-groan. "I want you to use me," he says. "To do all those things that have been in your dirty-ass mind this whole time. You want to fuck me in the shower? You want me to fuck you right here? Sauna, bed, doesn't matter. Just do it."

With a rush of sudden desire, he grabs Logan and pulls him into to kiss that stupid, horny grin away.

This is what Logan was waiting for...the moment when the stud actually lost it and pulled them in, taking what he wanted.

"Oh, yeah, this is what I'm talkin'..."

He's promptly shut up by the psychic's kiss. And he doesn't mind one bit. With a flick of his wrist he sends both his towel and Matt's tumbling to the ground, their nude bodies grinding together in a mash of heat and flesh. Breaking the kiss, he grins at his lover and their tasty new bedmate.

"Let's get back t'the bedroom so the Cajun can undress fer the occasion. I wantcha to enjoy this, Matt...give ya just whatcha want."

"Oh, hell, yeah," Matt says with a grin. He follows Logan out of the bathroom and looks around. He wonders if this is their home, what it is. Not that it matters, they're a march of two naked men toward inevitable sex and that is A-OK with Matt.

He grabs Logan's ass just for the fun of it. It's muscular and perfect and now Matt's imagining those muscles clenching hard against his cock. Fu-u-ck, but Logan's just his type.

[And all three arrive in the black leather room, decked out with toys and potential places to fuck. Really, there's too much variety, it would take years to exhaust all the possibilities [And believe me Remy and Logan are working on doing just that!]]

[To Matt] "Anyt'ing grab your attention mon cher?" [Remy of course does not stop nibbling on Matt's neck... he also goes up to the earlobe, and his fingers squeeze Matt's nipples firmly but gently]

"Oh, fuck," he says at the twist of his nipples. "Oh, fuck," he says again, looking around the room. "God damn, you're going to have to put a cock ring on me or I'm gonna come in five seconds. This is too fucking perfect." He turns in Remy's arms to kiss the other man's mouth, sliding his tongue against Remy's and feeling electricity curl his toes. "Holy shit. Yeah, yeah, I want.. I want everything, damn it. I want you to tie my up and tease the hell out of my body. Tell me there's a goddamn cock ring in here."

"You know asking for everyt'ing can get you in trouble in some places" Remy said through his apparently-permanent smirk.

[Remy looks at Logan and motions towards the cock-rings whilst Remy gets a few short lengths of soft leather rope...]

[And he slowly, carefully starts by pressing Parkman onto the bed, then proceeding to bind his wrists and ankles to the bedposts. He smiles as he does, stroking Parkman's shoulder caringly]
"You gonna have a lot of fun tonight mon ami, 'dis we promise"

Logan grabs a few rings from the top of a dresser, and kneels in front of Matt's groin.

"Damn...yer even more eager than I thought, pal. This is gonna be so fuckin' awesome..."

He holds up the rings to the psychic's balls, one after the other.

"Nope...nope...that one's too small, too...damn, stud, yer big...There we go. Perfect fit."

Sliding it on and securing it, Logan grins eagerly and moves to one side, kneeling on the bed beside Matt as he leans down and gives his now-restrained cock a long, slow lick.

"C'mon, Rems...strip down fer him. Slow an' sexy, like ya did fer me. Show him what he ain't seen yet, 'cept in my head."

Matt groans loudly as the ring slips on and tightens. "Oh, shit," he whines at the feeling of Logan's tongue on his dick. This is insane, this is his fantasy come true, this is... oh god, now he gets to watch Remy strip? He has a feeling his cock is gonna bulge to a size where it might crack the ring entirely. Sensation's shooting up and down his body.

"Yeah," he encourages. "I wanna see that. Ooh."

[Remy of course is more than happy to oblige! His trenchcoat simply slides off his body effortlessly, and the body armor finds its way off with remarkable ease (especially considering its hot pink kevlar}. The top half of the armor removes to expose his muscular-yet-lithe chest dusted lightly in cinammon body hair, and the armored trousers are zipped off quickly as well]

[Remy then straddles Matt, staring him in the eye] "Logan 'dere is probably gonna make 'dat cock of yours scream for joy... what do you want from Remy 'den?"

Logan's lips are sealed around Matt's cock. The wild man is loving the sounds he makes, the taste of his hardness, and the look of his body all spread out beneath him.

His eyes remain on Remy while he strips, taking in the show and letting it work its magic on his untouched hard-on. When he gets a new guy in bed, Logan loves to make them scream in pleasure first, and then worry about himself.

From the way Matt grabbed his ass, it's clear he wants to fuck him. And that is just fine with Logan...but first Remy needs his share of this hot man's body too.

Matt's eyes bugged out as he watched Remy strip. He was far broader and more manly than he'd looked all slimmed down by that coat of his... he looked fucking delicious. Matt wanted to run his tongue down that chest, taste the sprinkling of hair. Make him scream obscene things in French.

And Logan, fucking Logan was sucking him off, that big wet animal mouth of his, and Matt's blood was pulsing, straining at the ring. He must be huge by now. He couldn't even look down-- just the noises, slurping and sucking, were enough. "Aw, fuck," he said helplessly, wriggling in his restraints. "Fuck, that feels so goddamn good. You're both amazing. Oh, God."

[Remy smirks more at Matt's face, so contorted in pleasure, he's obviously not had nearly enough]

"I t'ink you're enjoying 'dis mon ami! Remy has an idea, how abou' having Logan ride your cock while I ride your ass, mmm? [He turns to Logan] Like 'dat idea Logan?"

Logan takes Matt's cock out of his mouth just long enough to grin.

"Aww, hell yeah."

He turns to Matt, licking his nipples as he crawls on top of his bound body.

"How 'bout it, stud? You been starin' at my ass since I dropped that towel. You wanna fuck it, baby?"

He grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand and starts pouring it in his hand, his eyes never leaving the psychic's handsome, agonized face.

Matt stares, no, gapes, open-mouthed. He's so turned on he can barely breathe and now these guys want to make a fucking sandwich out of him? Forget orgasm, his entire dick is going to explode. "Oh, fucking God, yes," he pants. "Want it so bad. Got to have you. Want both of you. Jesus, don't make me wait." He wants to paw Logan's ass, but the tethers are too strong; he whines in frustration.

[Remy snickers at the bonds, as he unties the wrists from the bedposts... he slips behind Matt, resting Matt's back against his chest and rubbing his nipples slowly, then tying his wrists again, but in front of him this time]

"We won't mon ami, we won't" he says in a reassuring tone, grabbing the lube bottle from Logan and proceeding to slick his fingers up with it....

"Remy gonna prepare you right... won't hurt you cher..." again in that reassuring, almost downright caring tone, as he slides one finger into Matt, slowly, following it with a second one, meeting little resistance as it entered the beefy psychic. A third finger followed, stretching him a little wider, Remy's other hand rubbing Matt's nipples as he delicately prepared him... he nibbled again on his neck, alternating between soft chews and kisses.

Remy then positions his cock at Parkman's entrance, and carefully slips himself inside, slowly making his way in deeply.
"You feel good around Remy mon cher" he whispers, planting another kiss on Parkman's neck.

Logan is slowly grinding his ass up and down Matt's cock, letting its slickened length slide in between the cheeks, kissing his entrance in time with Remy's gentle fingers. Though this is their first time doing it with a third party, the two have had more than enough sex with each other to learn each other's rhythm and style, and synchronize it, the better make their victim writhe.

"An' yer gonna feel fuckin' awesome inside me, babe...I'm all set. All ya gotta do...is thrust."

Logan positions himself just right, letting Parkman take the initiative, and take what he wants.

"Oh God oh God oh God," Matt mutters. He can't take this. He's never done anything like this. Ever. And he doesn't think he'll ever do anything else ever again. His body is full up with pleasure and just hovering there, not crashing down, just taut and vibrating in midair.

He grabs Logan's hips and slides in just a tad. "Tell me if I hurt you," he says, though he gets the feeling Logan wouldn't mind if it did.

And then Remy's in him and he's in Logan and they're all three of them moving like waves on water. Matt groans and gives a long cry at the sheer completeness of it. The testosterone thick in the air is like a drug. He's in ecstacy. "Fuck, you feel good," he growls, kissing Logan's shoulder and kneading those amazing ass cheeks.

Meanwhile Remy keeps smoothly gliding in and out of Parkman's tight butt, and rubbing his nipples at the same time, planting kisses, licks and bites on Parkman's neck and shoulder... he gives a satisfied chuckle at Parkman's appreciative moans, growls and whimpers..] "Remy glad you enjoying 'dis mon ami"

When Matt's cock sinks inside him, Logan's claws flash out, and he snaps the bonds restraining Matt with four quick and painless swipes. Bondage is all well and good, but a guy sandwiched like this isn't going anywhere for a while.

"Yeah man...you feel so damn good..."

He actually leans over and nuzzles Matt, the roughness of his hair brushing against the psychic's face.

"Now come on, stud, you can fuckin' go deeper than that. I'm built ta take it rough, babe...so you can let it all out."

Logan's hair like wire around his face is scratchy, raw and amazing. "I'll go as deep as I can," Matt says, shifting Logan's hips to pull him so close there's barely an inch of space between their bodies. He slaps Logan's ass, grabbing and pinching, and grinds inside him, not pulling out but just pushing and twisting, their hips flush together and voices groaning in almost the same tone.

Bump against his prostate and Matt sees stars. "God, Remy, fuck me," he mutters almost inaudibly. "That's too fucking good. Yeah. Oh, Jesus, your hands," he moans as Remy twists at one hard nipple. "Fuck, what amazing hands." The cock ring is still holding him back, and Matt feels like he's cresting past sheer orgasm into some level of bliss he has never attained before. Everything's hot and dirty, man everywhere, and he's losing his mind. Doesn't ever want it back, though. Ever.

[Remy chuckles at the "amazing hands"] "Never tire of hearing it mon ami" [He then targets Matt's prostate, making sure every deep, smooth thrust hits the spot, hearing Parkman gasp each time, synchronising twists of the nipple with thrusts of his cock]

The three of them are so synchronized, so in-tune with each other and so fucking perfect that Logan would swear the hot psi fucking him has some sort of link going between them...not that he minds.

Letting out inarticulate groans and growls, he starts feeling like Remy's fucking him through Matt...he wants to kiss Remy behind him, and Matt beneath him...so he does, leaning back to tongue Remy's lips open and force his tongue in, then forward to do the same thing with the cop. All the while his prostate is singing, his own cock on the verge of exploding without even being touched. Too good, it's all too fucking good...

He can taste Remy on Logan's lips, and it's the hottest thing ever, kissing two men at once or the closest thing to it.

When Logan kisses Remy again Matt's eyes drop to the man's waist. Holy fuck, he'd almost forgotten Logan's cock, big and ruddy and heavy against his thigh. Oh, man. Matt fails. Well, time to make things right. He grabs the hot shaft in one hand as fast as he can, pumping it while his other hand skims across the head and dips to caress his balls. The man's so hairy it's hard to even find them, but Matt manages. And they're warm and sensitive to the touch. He looks up at Logan again, hoping to see those intense eyes roll right back in his head.

Remy approaches climax with heavy, ragged, breathy moans and purrs. As he continues pistoning into Matt's tightness, he leans further forward into Logan's kisses, grinding Parkman more tightly between the two as a pleasant side effect.

"Oh mon dieu Matt, you so warm and tight inside..."

"Nnnuh...not yet...too fuckin...soonnYEEAAAARRRRGH!"

When Matt's fingers close on Logan's cock...and his balls, a total turn-on for the hairy Canadian...that's it. He's gone.

His eyes roll back in his head, and he throws his head back and howls as his hips buck uncontrollably, his cock swelling and blowing its copious load all over Matt's sexy, burly chest. His ass clenches and flexes and go absolutely wild on Matt's cock, and his own chest heaves with gasping breaths as he lets out shuddering groans of pure, animal lust.

Holy shit. Holy... holy shucking flit that was the most incredible thing he's ever seen. Logan just had the biggest apeshit orgasm Matt's ever witnessed. His come is everywhere, all over Matt's chest and belly, and he's so fucking close that he's pretty sure even with the cock ring it's gonna be any second now.

He watches Logan and Remy kiss, tries to worm in himself by biting their ears, tonguing their cheeks. Remy's cock is warm and pulsing and he's burning in and out. "Oh, God." His voice has a warning tone to it. Oh, my God, fuck, fuck me harder. holy shit-- Logan don't pull away please God, just another second--"

His body goes to some place beyond pleasure and hangs there for what seems to be an infinity. His hips buck wildly on Remy's and his cock bulges inside Logan. Everything goes white.

This kind of pleasure should not be possible. Not without coming buckets and then passing out. But he hasn't. Cock ring or no, why the hell not?

[Remy reaches the height of orgasm during the tongue-duel with Logan. He moans loudly, planting one final, hard, deep thrust directly against Matt's prostate, spilling his load inside the psychic]


"Oh mon dieu... Matt... Logan... 'dat was magnifique.."

Damn fuckin' right..." Logan kisses Remy again, still feeling surges of pleasure.

He wants that ring off Matt's cock. He wants their new friend to come as hard as they have. He doesn't want Matt to pull out.

Luckily, the answer's built right in. SNIKT!

And the cockring is split down the middle with not a single scratch on Matt's tenders.

"Come on, babe...wanna feel you fuckin' shoot it in me!"

Logan leans forward and gives his sexy, studly, awesome fucker a deep, soul-scorching kiss, gripping his ass as he literally pulls that cock all the way in him!

Matt's eyes pop a little out of his head at the sight of the claws. Further out when they deftly sever the ring. And then Logan gives him this pull that's not even human in its strength, like he's trying to pull the orgasm right out of him, and God help Matt but he succeeds because the instant that ring is off fucking EVERYTHING in his body is shooting through the end of his cock all over Logan's insides. He's pretty sure he lost a couple of internal organs along with all that come. He's never let so much go at once.

He screams, like fucking screams like a girl, and his hands claw into Logan's back as fireworks rain through his brain. "GOD! Holy fuck fuck fuck fuck!" he cries out as he tumbles through space. His brain spills out when he hits ground and he has to scramble to recover it, panting in triple-time. "Oh my God. Oh my God, that was, oh, oh shit, you... you guys.. fuck... oh, thank you, I fucking needed that..."

He grabs Logan and kisses him hard, does the same to Remy.

Lies back and grins.

This day didn't end up so bad after all.

Remy returns the kiss, demon-eyes happy and playful]
"Remy happy to help you out mon ami"

"Me, too, babe. Yer the hottest thing t'come our way in a long time."

Logan rests on the burly chest for a moment before finding the willpower to drag himself up and off that hot body...the unstoppable badass wavering a little as he gets to his feet.

This was, without a doubt the hottest thing he has ever done. He grins at Remy, then at Matt.

"So, ya wanna hop inna shower, find Hot Psychic's threads, an' go grab a bite?"

It'd be a shame to cover up such a luscious body...but other people might not enjoy a hot naked Matt Parkman as much as Logan and Remy do.

"Shower sounds good," Matt says lazily. "Now that I'm awake and sober enough to enjoy it."

It's been a good long while since he has felt hot at all-- to be titled the hottest thing to come their way is a hell of an ego boost, to say the least.

And he's thrilled to have met Logan. Remy too, but especially Logan-- he's just pure sex appeal. Everything broad and big and muscular that Matt ever found sexy. It's funny-- he likes his girls small and his men big. And Logan is big, in more than one way.

Although Matt keeps wanting to laugh his fool head off every time Logan says "babe"...

~FIN~