Another day, another Wolverine porn fic. Or so I thought when I first sat down to write this. Turns out, the story contained so many of Logan's thoughts, I figured it might as well be written entirely in his voice.
I think the key word I was going for here was "depraved." Granted, most of my fics are depraved in some point or other, but I just wanted to write some pure, utter filth.
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I fuckin' love bein' supervisor on Danger Room sessions. It's almost as much fun as gettin' to shred stuff in it.
Surprised ya, didn't I? Most people think I'm only inta scrappin'. All-fight, all-the-time. But that ain't me, any more than Frost sits in her 'bu-dwaah' an' drinks champagne all day, or Summers gets all his jollies outta bossin' us around. OK, maybe he does, but that ain't th' point! Point is, we're all more than we seem ta be onna surface.
An' besides bein' a born scrapper, I'm one horny fucker most'a th' time. So, give a guy like me th' job a'watchin' a team like this, an' you bet'cher ass I'm gonna love it.
Take today, f'r instance. it's a straight up, four-on-four team brawl. Only rule is, like always, don't hurt nobody serious-like. The holograms whipped up some big-ass alien moonscape or whatever, but that ain't important.
What is important is the lineup. Blue team is Scotty, Hank, Alex, an' Drake...Cyclops, Beast, Havok, an' Iceman, if ya wanna keep track. Nate, the Russkie, the Elf, an' the Cajun...Cable, Colossus, Nightcrawler, an' Gambit...are Gold team, or as I like ta call it, "Sexy Accents Central." 'Cept fer Cable, every one'a them's got a voice makes my skin crawl. In th' good way, if ya know what I mean.
Ah, hell with it. There ain't a guy down there whose bones I wouldn't jump, given half a shot.
I signal th' start a'the session, an' they're all in action. Cyke an' Havok fire off shots at Colossus at th' same time, figurin' him fer th' biggest threat. Since Cable's the only psychic down there, I figure they might be right...even though that whole techno-virus or whatever is gone from his system, he don't like usin' his powers 'less he's gotta...or when he's in bed.
My mind starts wanderin'...the good part about bein' supervisor. I c'n picture the Summers Brothers under the mistletoe, all naked an' sweaty from a roarin' fire, makin' out an' rubbin' up against each other while Cable's on his knees, servicin' his Dad an' Uncle Alex with that hot mouth. He ain't much fer facial expressions, but he reminds me of that Nine Days song from a few years back...I absolutely love him when he smiles. An' when he smirks, it goes right ta my loins. Guy's one sexy silver daddy, an' it's like he don't even know it. Too obsessed with th' flaws, I guess.
Back in th'real world, Colossus ain't even slowin' down as he marches up ta th' Summerses. His uniform's torched from th' waist up, an' his metal bod is built. Lookin' at him like this is like starin' at a piece of fine art...but when his shirt's off an' there's skin underneath it, that's when I start feelin' all lightheaded. Th' kid may be an artist...damn good one, too...but he's hot enough ta be a fuckin' professional model. I've lost count'a th' times I've wanted ta push him onto his back on a locker room bench, climb on top'a him, an' just sit my ass down on that hard Siberian hot rod. I love a big hard cock inside me just as much as I love givin' it ta someone else good an' hard, an' with Petey I definitely wanna go both ways. Wouldn't be able ta call him Petey Pureheart after that, that's fer damn sure...though Petey Pound-Me-Real-Good has a nice ring to it, too.
Speakin' a goin' both ways, Bobby an' the Elf are keepin' pace with each other nicely. Th' kid's playin' snowball-tag while the Elf teleports, that sexy German laugh a' his echoing in my ears like a silk curtain brushin' over my skin. Drake and I never got on that well...too much alike. Back before I signed on, he was pretty much me, arguin' with One-Eye every chance he got. He turned that anger on Petey, Kurt, an' me when we joined...the original X-Men were the only X-Men, ta him, an' we were the intruders messin' with th' natural order. Can't say I appreciated that, but I understand. Over th' years he's mellowed some, but he never really grew all th' way up, an' 'Crawler's been helpin' with that every chance he gets. Wouldn't surprise me ta walk in on 'em some day, fuckin' on the War Room table, Bobby thrustin' an' groanin' on top while Kurt tailfucks him from below...Damn, it's gettin' hot in here.
No one can see me in th' control booth from behind th' holograms...They ain't gonna care if I give "li'l Logan" a little air.
That's better. Now, where was I?
Hot damn. Th' Cajun an' Hank are makin' like it's the fuckin' Olympics, bouncin' around each other like jackrabbits on speed. Hank's claws are tearin' up LeBeau's coat, so he tosses it aside...doesn't need th'drag...showin' off that lean, wiry bod in th'skintight armor. An' that ass...I used ta think Betsy had every guy on th'team beat in the ass department, but one look at Gumbo from behind, without the trench gettin' in the way, an' all I can think of is how much I wanna kiss those perfect cheeks, an' shove my tongue all the way in between 'em, lickin' his sweet spot till he cries out some mangled French obscenity an' creams me good.
I'd be doin' Hank a disservice if I didn't mention his fine, beefy ass...kinda wish all th' guys on th'team dressed like him, in nothin' but skin-tight Speedos. I love a big guy with a heart, an' they don't get any bigger, or more big-hearted, than the Doc. His fur's the same shade'a dark, dark blue as the Elf's, an' I wonder what it'd look like if they got t'gether in a dark room. Would McCoy's eyes glow like 'Crawler's as he sucked th'German's dick? Would I even be able ta make out Kurt's body writhin' under Hank's as the Beast locked him in a hot, sexy 69? An' when they fucked, whose voice would send me over the edge without touchin' myself faster?
My fist is wrapped around my meat, an' I'm beatin' off while I watch these hot guys pretend ta kick the crap out of each other. I wish I could say a word an' get 'em all as revved-up as me, watch the uniforms fly off an' get eight naked, sweaty mutant men all rubbin' up against each other. As it is, th' only person down there who could even guess what I'm thinkin' about is Cable, an' he's busy backin' up a half-naked Russkie. His big-ass guns fire stun beams outta both barrels, an' Scotty an' Alex dodge like one being, their instincts honed an' trained ta work in perfect tandem even though they ain't even been on the same team all that long at a time. My brain goes back inta Happy Incest Land, an' I'm in a three-way with the boys, Alex fuckin' me from above while I plow Scooter missionary-style. I wonder if their mouths would taste alike if I kissed 'em while fuckin', one after the other...even though Scotty's the older brother by a good couple years, they act like twins more often than not. That'd be one helluva check off my personal Bucket List, bein' in th'middle a'that hot-ass sandwich. Throw Nathan in fer good measure...could always use an extra cock, mouth, ass, or pair a'balls. Woof.
When I cum, it sneaks up on me...somewhere between fuckin' the Summers boys, havin' a threesome with Blue an' Bobby, or bein' gangbanged by Petey, LeBeau, an' 'Crawler, my whole body spasms, an' I gotta bite my lip ta keep from screamin' out loud as I buck my hips like crazy, fuckin' my fist like there's no tomorrow as my cock swells up an' shoots load after load all over the control console. My whole body arches an' writhes, an' I'm caught in the grip a'the best damn orgasm I've had since servin' with Steve Rogers in the Deuce (a story fer another time.)
I cum fer a good 30 seconds before I come down, an' come back t'myself. Thank fuck Charley had th'good sense ta get it waterproofed when he upgraded...don't need ta make the Room go haywire just 'cause I wanna get my rocks off. As it is, the whole thing's covered in my jizz, an' I'm gonna have a helluva time cleanin' it up before one side or the other wins.
I look out the window ta make sure no one figured out what I was doin'. Nope...they're all involved, havin' the time a'their lives. Even Slim's grinnin'. Lookin' sexy when ya smile must be in th'Summers genome somewhere, along with overly complicatin' yer life by makin' bonehead decisions. Oh well.
I grab a rag from th'supply closet nearby an' start moppin' up. Suddenly, by mistake, I press down too hard while wipin' up a keyboard, an' an army of Sentinels materializes in th'Danger Room.
Oops. Better find a cover fer this. Thinkin' fast, I tab the mic.
"New plan, folks! Yer all on th'same team again, an' everyone's goin' inta recycling!"
They spring into it like th'pros I know they are. Ta be honest, I like watchin' 'em fight as a team way more than I like seein' 'em fight each other. Reminds me a'what makes th' X-Men so different from any other outfit I ever belonged to. That, an' watchin' 'em fight t'protect each other gives off some real nice Theban Band vibes.
Maybe I won't put my pants on just yet.
~FIN~
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