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~

Cock-Blocked

This was my first post on an InsaneJournal RP group I just joined recently. No Fandom Politix is run by an awesome guy called aceoheartscajun, and he was nice enough not only to welcome me to his free-form, pan-fandom RP group, but to help get me started with this awesome, hot thread.

In this group, I play Wolverine, and aceohearts plays Gambit.

Enjoy!

~*~
A very dishevelled, very hairy man lands unceremoniously on the floor. His blue jeans are unbuttoned and rumpled, and his black tank top is bunched up as if it were in the process of being torn off. His hair, while clearly always a mess, is even worse than usual now...and the thundercloud-like scowl on his face speaks volumes about his mood.

Two fuckin' seconds ago, I was makin' out with 'Ro in her greenhouse. There better be a damn good reason for draggin' me away from the first piece of action I' ve seen since the Cajun up an' took off.

"Whoever's out there an' thinks this is funny...pal, you better pray I don't find ya."

Catching a scent on the air, he lets out a low growl. Tonight may not be a total loss after all, if whoever's coming isn't averse to finishing a half-started job. His jeans, already tight on his body, grow a sizable bulge just beneath the still-open button on his fly.

[Gambit was merely standing there, shuffling a deck of cards... and then he saw Logan. A grin emerged.]

"Mon ami! Wonderful to see you here! Hate to be de one to tell you but you' trapped. Been doing well?" [another smirk]

"Trapped? Then I'm just fuckin' peachy, Cajun."

Getting to his feet, Logan turns to face the spicy scent and smoking hot body of his teammate.

"Though I gotta admit, it don't suck seein' a familiar face."

Whoever thought Swamp-rat had some kinda charm power might not'a been that far off.

He feels his bulge get tighter against his pants, just from being in Gambit's proximity.

"So, where's 'here?' An' more importantly...it got anywhere I can grab some private time? I was in the greenhouse with 'Ro...an' I hate leavin' a job half-finished."

[Gambit keeps shuffling, an amused smirk remains]

"Remy been told it a nexus.. seem you get people from every place, time, world... Maybe you find somet'ing new mon ami!."

"De're are rooms all over de place... make sure dey are safe though... had man-eating plants in one... Sure you will prune 'dem good!"

[He looks at Logan, he's still so handsome...]

"Cool."

He heads for one of the aforementioned doors, pulling his shirt off over his head, and turns back with a grin.

"You comin' or what?"

"Can't see why I wouldn't mon ami!" Remy replies, a smile still on that demon-eyed face.

[he follows... At least Logan made sure Remy KNEW when he wanted some manlove!]

As soon as the door closes behind him, the shirtless Logan pulls Remy in for the kiss of his life. The sweet, spicy taste of his teammate's mouth, the smell of his skin, his hair...god-DAMN, Logan missed this.

If I gotta be stuck here, there's way worse folks to be stuck here with.

The room is built for one thing and one thing only...Fucking. The bed has black leather sheets. There's a sling in the corner, lube on the dresser, and more toys than the Canadian has ever seen in his life.

"Sweet. I might never letcha leave this room."

After taking stock, Logan sits on the bed, kicking his boots off and spreading his legs.

"Come on, Cajun...strip fer me. Been too fuckin' long since I seen that sweet bod o'yers."

[Remy pretends to be shocked as he is pulled in, but he really goes for it when he hits Logan's mouth, his tongue playfully sparring]

[He glances around... room looks like Logan decorated it!]

"Would I ever try to leave 'dis place mon ami? Looks like heaven!"

[Gambit struts around, slowly dropping the coat, then the armor...]

"Yep... you de same Logan..." (he smiles)

The wild man leans back on the bed, stroking himself through his jeans as he watches his friend peel off his costume. Letting out a low growl of approval, he grins.

"You know me, Rems, I never change. An' yer gettin' me just as hot as ever..."

He thrusts his hips upward a couple times to show his point, his jeans stretched to the point of near-bursting with his hard-on.

"Unwrap yer present, boy, an' play with it however ya like."

"Remy never look a gift horse in de mouth mon ami!" [He slips his hand beneath Logan's jeans, grabbing Logan's thick shaft as he leans over, nibbling Logan's ear]

"You so hot Logan... Remy want to do horrible t'ings to you... horrible by dere tastes of course, not ours" he adds, the voice dripping in mischief.

Awww yeah, I missed that voice.

The Cajun's voice put together with his actions almost brings Logan off right there. A powerful, meaty hand goes to his Cajun friend's ass and starts working it, kneading the globes as he licks every inch of exposed flesh he can reach...neck, chest, nipples, the works.

"Goddamn, Remy...you taste as fuckin' awesome as ever. I could just throw you on this bed an' lick you all over fer hours...but first, I need this ass...an' I need that cock...whatever fucking order ya want. An' don't stop talkin', baby."

[Remy moans as the hand grabs his butt, moans come more as the licks cover his chest, neck, nipples, shoulders...]

"Logan mon cher you know jus' wha' Remy wanna hear!"

[He leans up, grabs Logan and forces a kiss..... You can't have Remy without forced romance! He's an affection-rapist!]

[He whispers into Logan's ear] "You so hot when you ride me Logan... de noises you make..." [he smirks again]

Logan snarls hotly into the kiss...like he'd ever really mind Remy forcing one...and shoves the Cajun onto the bed.

"Then chuck me the lube an' lemme getcha ready, Rems...'cause ol' Logan's feelin' like a ride tonight."

Like a jungle cat, he is suddenly over his friend's nude body, trapping Remy's legs underneath his powerful arms as he licks at the ivory shaft between them, loving the taste, loving how each stroke of his tongue gets him harder and harder.

Logan loves sex with anyone, but with Remy it's a fucking revelation.

[Remy grabs the lube from the nightstand and tosses it to Logan]

"Oh Logan... you are so good wid' 'dis..." he says with breathless moans, relishing every lick of his savage lover's tongue. His hand is running through Logan's hair, an encouraging rub.

[He slightly shivers as Logan rubs the cold lube over his shaft] "Mon dieu Logan... Remy can never get enough of you..."

"Me neither, babe."

Logan breathes on the lubricated cock for a moment while he shucks off his jeans. He's naked at last and loving the feel, the wildness, the freedom of it.

He groans aloud in anticipation as he preps his own ass, then he crawls on top of Remy and pushes back, letting out a long, sustained moan as he fills himself with his teammate's cock.

"Oh, yeaaaahhhh..."

[Remy softly, but deeply purrs as Logan sinks down onto him... he is enveloped in warmth and tightness... he has his hands around Logan's waist, his cinnamon hair is sprawled accross the pillow... that smile seems to be getting wider by the minute]

"How 'dat feel mon cher?"

"Fuckin' awesome, Rems...yer cock hits all the right places inside me, it feels so fuckin' good..."

Logan starts grinding himself up and down Remy's cock, taking what he wants and loving every second. His hirsuite body is covered in a sheen of sweat as he gets himself harder and hotter just from riding that cock. Without even touching it, his own cock grows to its full impressive size and girth, and he actually has to tug on his black-furred balls a couple of times to keep them from shooting off too soon.

He wants his turn inside you, too...

"Remy like makin you happy mon cher" he says, smiling, his hands reaching up and running accross Logan's furred chest.. "You have a sexy smile Logan..." he growls, smoothly moving his hips up and down to meet Logan's thrusts...

And yes, Remy loves to have his friend inside him, as well :)

Logan doesn't smile often, but around Remy he can...and does, letting the pleasure, comfort, and fellowship of this moment show on his face as he lets out a long, low moan of pleasure when you hit a particularly sweet spot inside him.

"Ahhh yeah, that's it...hit that spot again, baby, feels fuckin' amnazing..."

Driven beyond words by the mind-blowing fuck, Logan bends over, still riding the Cajun's cock, and latches on to one of Gambit's nipples, licking and sucking it for all he's worth.

[Remy lets out a cry of surprise... PLEASANT surprise... when his nipple is latched onto]

[He aims for that spot, over and over again, shifting to the precise angle required]

"Oh mon dieu... you so hot Logan..." [he wraps his arms around the stocky, animalistic man, massaging his back] "You know jus' wha' makes 'dis Cajun happy.." [And he's on the brink]

Feeling your closeness, the feral mutant clenches his ass and works his lips and tongue, muscles undulating and writhing in your arms as he does his level best to bring you to as earth-shattering a climax as he can.

"Go ahead, babe...shoot that fuckin' load inside me...I wanna see you get off...I wanna hear you, FEEL you get off...cum for me, Remy. Come on..."

His voice is harsh and ragged in your ear, the smell of his musk and lust evident to even human senses. He won't last long either...thankfully, he bounces back quick.

[Sharp spasms rack Remy's body, his eyes opening and closing, he breathes in Logan's musk as he powers through his climax, his hands gripping Logan's hips, holding him down on the hilt of Remy's cock]

[He gasps]

"Oh Logan... I love doing 'dat..." [and he drags Logan down for another long kiss]

Logan returns the kiss hotly, passionately, flexing his ass around Remy's softening cock. His own manhood is stiff and rigid, leaking precum in a steady stream.

"Awww, Remy, yer fuckin' amazing at this...love doin' it with ya..."

He wants to fuck himself a Cajun. But he's good at the waiting game...and Remy just shot a hell of a fine load.

[Remy looks down at Logan's substantial cock... dripping and desperate for release]
"You were always a challenge mon ami!" [The tone was playful, affectionate even]
"Jus' a minute mon cher... when I recover I'll see abou' gettin you de happy ending you need" (he smiles as he breathes in and withdraws himself)

Logan chuckles softly, and amuses himself while he waits by licking you all over, almost grooming you, the sight of you naked and the taste of your skin and sweat keeping him hard...not that his own hand isn't doing its fair share.

Goddamn, but you're fucking hot. And you know it, too, ya bastard.

[Remy responds to the treatment happily, he almost giggles as Logan licks him all over, lauging and beaming smiles of appreciation]

"Logan! Haaaha! Ohyeah! Hooo!" [its like being on a carnival ride!]

[He notices he is fully recovered through the usual means... a throbbing hardon again!]
[He sends a smoldering stare Logan's way, smirking through it] "You wanna take Remy, mon cher?" [and he KNOWS how much you want it!]

"Bet that sweet ass I do, Cajun."

Logan rolls over to lie on his back on the bed, bringing Remy up on top of him as he takes the chance to feel his sexy lover up all over. The lube is still on the bed, within easy each of Gambit's thief's fingers, and Logan grins up at him as he lays back, hands behind his head, displaying himself proudly for his lover.

"It's all primed an' ready for ya, baby. Just lube me up an' we can go to town."

[Remy straddles Logan, obviously looking forward to the future events, and quickly grabs the lube, slicking up Logan with his fast, lithe hands]

[And slowly, carefully, he lets himself sink down at a measured, gradual pace...]

[His face, it shows only evidence of rapture]

"Oh... ohhhhh [he draws out the moan, slowly, letting it drip out of his mouth]... [and finally he is at the base..] Oh Logan..." [Remy's head nuzzles Logan's neck]

"Fuck yeah, Rems...ohhh, fuck, you're so tight, so hot..."

Logan wraps his powerful, hairy arms around his lover, holding him close in a rare display of affection as he thrusts slowly upwards into that delicious, hot ass.

"You feel so good around me, Remy...I fuckin' love it."

[Remy purrs as Logan slowly withdraws and re-enters him, his eyes fluttering... and when he feels Logan's arms around him he opens them, gazing into Logan's eyes]
"Logan... Yeah you do it good... oh" [he's incoherent right now]...
[Remy manages to grind his special spot right into Logan's cock, slight cries of joy as he does]
"Remy happy you're here mon ami" [it was a growled whisper]

"Me too, Cajun. The rest o'the team's hot, but yer...special."

Remy manages to find his sweet spot, and Logan is happy to oblige him, thrusting into his lover's ass with moans and guttural growls of pleasure as he watches him ride his cock so magnificently

"Beautiful...you belong up there, babe, ridin' a cock like you were born to it"

And Remy is so close to climax now, cock throbbing and dripping]
"Oh fuck Logan... Jus' where I like it... Oh mon dieu..."

[And as he nearly approaches the apex, he instantly comes down, leaning straight to Logan's face and silencing his depraved words with a long kiss, plunging his tongue aggressively into Logan's mouth]

Logan lets out a noise halfway between a grunt and a scream around Remy's lips as his hips hunch forward, bucking himself into Remy as he smashes through the point of no return and straight into his second, screaming, shuddering climax, gouts of pent-up seed blasting from his cock into Remy's perfect ass as he kisses the Cajun like a man possessed.

[Remy climaxes a second time, a moan travelling through his tongue as he puts the last drop of pent up sexual energy into the kiss, his own cum shooting accross Logan's chest as Logan spilled inside him, he kept duelling with Logan, fighting through the kiss until the rage of both of them subsided into playful duelling]

[He broke the kiss, almost gasping for air]

"Remy like 'dat mon cher.." [The smirk could not be erased!]

~*~

Summercest Double-Feature!

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A Day In The Life, Part 2

Hey guys,

Remember this fic? Good. :) Remember how I promised I'd continue it?

Well, better late than never. ^_^; Also, look! Plot!

...We'll see how long that lasts.

~*~

Bobby woke up first, seeing the afternoon sun's rays shine through his bedroom window. He yawned, stretched, and rolled right on top of the big pile of fur that was his sleeping bedmate. They were still naked, the scent of sex barely lingering after the morning's marathon...and just like that, Bobby was horny again.

His hand drifted down his lover's massive chest, to the heavy sac and thick purple shaft resting between his sexy, muscular thighs. It didn't even occur to Iceman to wonder if Hank would appreciate being woken up like this...it had worked this morning, no reason for it not to work now. Taking the Beast's cock in one hand and his own in the other, Bobby started stroking them in time with each other, relishing the size and thickness of Hank's shaft even as his own cock shot jolts of pure pleasure through his body. Bobby felt Hank stir and rumble, but then keep snoring, a thick, shaggy arm draping itself over his smaller frame as he stroked.

Jerking Hank off was fun, but it wasn't enough for Bobby. Not even close. So he crawled down the bed, between those huge, gorgeous tree-truck legs, and licked at his man's swelling member. This got much more reaction out of Hank...the rumbles actually became soft moans and whimpers, and Bobby saw Hank's lips form his name in his sleep. Bobby watched this, and fell in love all over again.

It didn't take long for Hank to cum; it never did. Before long, his hips were pistoning his cock in and out of Bobby's mouth as his massive fingers closed around the younger man's head, engulfing him in darkness and fur as he shot loads of his delicious, spicy-sweet seed into Bobby's mouth. It was too much for him to swallow, and ran down his chin in white rivulets, but Bobby didn't care. It was Hank, so it was wonderful. Better than wonderful; it was fucking perfect.

Those big blue eyes fluttered open and looked at him, that face turning into the sexiest smile Bobby had ever seen. "Well, good afternoon, handsome," he said, and Bobby got shivers. "I do seem to have misplaced my laboratory...or at least myself."

"Blame it on your age, Blue." Bobby chuckled, licking himself as clean as he could. Then Hank came in, long swipes of his tongue cleaning the rest of the seed off his face, before pulling him close for another of the best kisses Bobby had ever had.

It was the best moment Bobby had ever had in his life. It always was. Unfortunately, life wasn't about to let them keep it that way. The intercom chose that moment to flick to life, with their Fearless Leader's voice coming over the airwaves.

"X-Men, emergency! Meet in the hangar, stat!"

Like a mirror hitting a concrete floor, the mood was shattered and both Iceman and Beast were in full 'X-Men' mode. They dressed in their uniforms and headed out without a word.

~*~

One Hour Later

"OK, Cyke, time to spill. What's the big emergency? And oh yeah...are we there yet?"

Iceman knew how immature he sounded. But if he couldn't enjoy the rest of his day, he'd make damn sure his boss didn't either.

"Outbreaks of juvenile conduct notwithstanding, our resident - and rather nubile - animate Popsicle raises a point," Beast said, ever the voice of reason...if not the only thing keeping Bobby and Scott from ripping each other apart. "We have been left somewhat in the dark as to the nature of our summons, our foes...and practically any other relevant details about our mission. And as much as I enjoy a nice aimless flight around the globe..." He flashed the team leader the most ingratiating of smiles. "...I must say I would feel better with a bit more briefing as to the nature of this excursion."

Scott didn't say anything. He simply started straight ahead, hands practically white-knuckled under their gloves around the yoke of the Blackbird's throttle. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the red-headed young man in the copilot's chair spoke up.

"It's the Hellfire Club...namely, Sebastian Shaw. We just saw news reports of a mining operation in the Andes that he's funding. A little digging revealed that the operation...it's just a front for whatever his real objective is."

Beast nodded thoughtfully. "That explains Scott's taciturn-cum-truculent demeanor."

"Also why he's being so grouchy," Iceman piped up. Hank swatted him from behind...gently.

Cyclops had never been terribly fond of the Hellfire Club, but after their members had corrupted the woman Scott loved into Dark Phoenix -- thus triggering a series of unfortunate events that had led to her ultimate demise -- that professional dislike had soured into outright hatred. Despite Jean's reincarnation as John Grey, and the subsequent total separation of John's psyche from the Phoenix (though he had kept the name, in honor of who and what he had been), the bitterness Cyclops had for the Hellfire Club remained, and probably always would.

For his part, John had gone quiet, and assumed a pensive demeanor. Bobby couldn't blame him...after all, he was Jean in every way that counted (except one or two), and so had his own bad memories and demons to deal with. He leaned back to whisper to Hank.

"Blue? Baby? I kinda...think we don't belong on this one."

Hank's paw rested on Bobby's shoulder, and he leaned up to nuzzle his lover. Funny, how such a primitive gesture could feel so natural coming from him. "Be of good cheer, my frosty paramour. Someone has to play chaperone for these two, and as fellow 'old-timers', as it were, I posit that we would make preferable babysitters to those of the team with less patience, such as Wolverine or Bishop."

"Good point," Bobby muttered, once he deciphered Hank's five-dollar vocabulary. Logan would probably have sliced the hull open with a claw and jumped out, not particuarly caring whether he turned into sidewalk stroganoff or not, and Bishop was a total brick wall when it came to sensitivity.

But the four of them, and Wings...they'd formed a connection early on, and that was hard to break. It hadn't broken when Jean had come back looking more GQ than Cosmo, and it hadn't broken when Bobby and Hank shared their first kiss in public at the team's 7th anniversary. Nothing could break up this team, not at heart. Oh, their lives may head off in separate directions, but when it came down to it, no one had each other's backs like the original X-Men.

Good thing, too, Bobby thought as the plane touched down, 'cause whatever Shaw's really doing with those 'mines,' I can bet it's not gonna involve candy or puppies. Unless it's stealing the candy and kicking the puppies.

He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this mission.

~TO BE CONTINUED...~

Found Out

Been a long time, no? Sorry for the wait.

When in doubt, I find it's always best to go back to one's roots to fight off a case of writer's block. Wolverine slash has always come easier to me than anything else I've ever written, so here you go. :)

Enjoy!

~*~
Piotr Nikolievich Rasputin was unsure of just what he was seeing through the crack in Professor Xavier's study door.

That wasn't right. He knew exactly what he was seeing, but was unsure of what it was doing to him.

Wolverine and Magneto, the Institute's newly-appointed headmaster in Professor Xavier's absence, were kissing. Not just any kiss, either...Magnus was bending over Logan and practically shoving his tongue down his throat, and Piotr could hear his feral friend growl in response as he reached up and all but grabbed the Master of Magnetism in his arms.

With a negligent wave of his hand, his lips never leaving Logan's, Erik cleared the desk with a burst of magnetic energy. Both men were panting, the exposed bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, as Magnus shoved the mountain man onto the now-bare wood surface, tugging at his clothes hastily. Logan put up a finger to his lover's lips, muttered something, and then had Magnus sit back in a chair opposite the desk while he got onto his knees on top of it.

What Logan did next made Colossus's jaw drop. He started to writhe on top of the desk, swaying like a serpent as he pulled his costume off. Honestly, 'pulled' was a bit mild...despite the sensuality of his movements, it was clear that he was tearing his shirt off his body in slow-motion.

Colossus heard rustling from the chair, and saw Magneto's pants drop to his ankles. The silver-haired man kicked them out of the way with an impatient grunt...and then Logan was dragging his own claws down his legs.

At first, Piotr thought he was just lightly stroking them for some reason, but when the hirsuite man's claws finished their downward journey, he thrust upward violently with his hips...once, twice, thrice! And his pants flew off his body in ribbons, pooling on the floor before him.

Now naked, Logan leaned back on his knees on the desk, thrusting his hard, thick cock in and out of his fist as he let out a moan of pleasure.

Piotr could hear him for the first time, now. "C'mon, Maggs," he was saying, "Get that hot body an' yer sweet, sweet cock over here an' give ol' Logan what he's been askin' for."

Magneto needed no further urging. He rose to his feet, as naked as Wolverine was...and Colossus gaped. While he had seen Wolverine naked several times in the showers and the locker room...and, yes, watched him long and hard, though he was always careful to keep that to himself...Magneto was a private man, unwilling to show that much of his body off to anyone.

Now that he was seeing it in its full glory, Piotr admitted he regretted that a great deal. Extremely trim and fit for his age, Magneto was very nicely defined...while nowhere near as large as Colossus, he made up for it with definition, and with a smooth, well-formed ass that made Piotr's mouth water.

He approached Logan from the side of the desk, rather than the front, and Logan turned to face him with a knowing smirk. It was strange...Piotr had seen that smirk a thousand times on Wolverine's face, but here, naked on the Professor's desk about to have sex with Magneto, it took on whole volumes of new meaning. Magneto lay himself atop Logan, grinding his hips against the stockier man as he listened to him groan. Both men were gleaming with sweat now, and Piotr had to surreptitiously mop his own brow and adjust his pants...unfortunately, his fingers were so shaky that he fumbled the catch, causing them to pool around his ankles.

Piotr blushed, cursed softly to himself, and leaned down to pick them up...only to have the biggest erection he'd ever been faced with thrust out of the seam in his boxers. Gasping and panting, he looked from his aching hard-on to the couple rutting on the desk...they seemed too wrapped up in each other to notice him.

What would be the harm? a voice said inside his mind. They are enjoying themselves...it seems only fair that you do so as well.

Part of him wanted to say no. To tuck himself back in, go to his room, and start painting, working out...anything to tear himself away from the captivating scene playing out before him. While his mind wrestled with insecurity and indecision, however, his body took on a mind of its own, thumbs hooking into his waistband and flicking his underwear to the floor before one of his meaty fists closed around his cock, pumping it in time with the thrusts of the two men in the study against each other. Piotr could now clearly see that their hard manhoods were grinding against each other...Erik's was long and jutting, Logan's thick and stout...and if he looked hard enough, he could see the glitter of what must have been preseed forming a puddle between them.

After a short eternity of watching the two naked men writhe in each other's arms, Logan pushed Magneto off him, the silver-haired mutant rising to his knees, then leaned up and kissed him hotly for a moment. Piotr almost came right then and there at the sight of Wolverine, naked, kissing another man with such passion and fervor.

Then, the hairy little man lay back, grabbed his thighs, and pulled them apart, exposing his ass to Erik with a grin that sent a jolt of lust through Piotr's balls.

Does he mean to...? No. No, this is Logan. He could not possibly...

To Colossus's surprise, Magneto smiled, licked his lips, and bent his head down, burying his face between Logan's hirsuite thighs. Almost immediately, the smaller man seemed to go crazy, rutting his hips against Magnus's face and crying out, over and over again,

"Aaaah, God! Goddamn, Erik, your tongue feels so fuckin' good inside me! Ahh, Christ! Oh yeah! Awww yeah! Don't stop, you sexy, arrogant bastard! Eat my ass, Magnus, eat my fuckin' ass! Keep eatin' me out, you fuckin' stud, you're lickin' the fuckin' spot right there! Aww, God, ohh, Christ, I'M CUMMIN'! I'M FUCKIN' CUMMIN' WITH YOU EATIN' ME OUT, MAGNETO!"

And true to his word, Logan's cock swelled in his fist and shot streams of pearly seed onto his black-furred chest as he gyrated his hips spastically. Erik, for his part, simply moaned and buried himself even deeper inside Logan. Piotr saw his shoulders moving, and knew he must be masturbating in time with the licks of his tongue.

Finally, Logan slumped to the desk, panting and gasping for breath, and Magneto rose back onto the desk and kissed his feral lover, murmuring something in his ear that Piotr couldn't catch. Logan gave him a fierce grin and nodded.

What happened next had Piotr absolutely stunned. Magneto threw Logan's legs over his shoulders, reared back, and pushed his long, throbbing pillar of male flesh into the Wolverine's thoroughly rimmed ass.

If Colossus had thought Logan had gone crazy when Magneto was rimming him, the man's cries while he was being fucked made the bigger man almost think he was dying. There were no more words...only savage, feral growls, and curses, and cries. These seemed to inspire Erik to thrust harder into him, almost a savage himself as he mounted Wolverine with the force and passion of a man half his age.

It was a moment of pure, unrestrained sexuality, raw, primal lust given form and substance right there in the study, with Magnus hunched over Logan, his hips a blur as he pounded ruthlessly into the moaning, begging man.

All too soon, it was ended. Erik's entire pale body flushed red, and he let out a cry that was mixed ecstasy and agony as his cock swelled inside Logan and shot. From the way Logan was screaming, each blast of seed from Magneto's cock must have been striking Logan's prostate precisely. Colossus's eyes rolled back in his head at the thought of what Wolverine must be feeling like, and his own cock shot jets of seed into the air, landing almost inaudibly on the carpet as he struggled not to cry out, dropping to his knees for the force of the orgasm ripping through his body, leaving him quivering and half-naked on the floor.

When it ended, he was so insensible that he didn't hear the study door swing open behind him. He only came to his senses when he saw Magneto standing naked over him, his dripping manhood still hard, and a small smile on his lips.

"Logan thought he heard something," he said in that urbane, civilized voice he had. "Are you completely spent from your time as voyeur, dear boy, or do you think you have the energy to come in and join our...meeting?" He smiled salaciously at Logan, who returned the grin with a touch of savagery.

"Could always use an extra cock," Logan said. "Or an extra ass...pair o' balls...whatever."

Too stunned to reply, Colossus could only let his teammate and the Master of Magnetism lead him back through the door. As he heard it close behind him, something in him knew life would never be the same after today.

The Priest and the Paladin

I've been needing to write something new for a while now, and I love writing fantasy. So here's my first shot at an original story since 'Conquering the River Lord.' The series will be called "Warriors of Arborea," provided I get past this first chapter.

Incidentally, Sinradhe's name is pronounced "shin-wraith."

~*~

Warriors of Arborea, Part 1: The Paladin And The Priest

The chapterhouse of Deiarch was rarely ever quiet. Home to the Paladins of Straavos, Dragon-God of courage and valor, there were almost always the sounds of combat training during the day, or merrymaking at night; unlike other, stricter deities, Straavos encouraged his followers to never flinch from battle when the occasion called for it, but enjoy life as they could during peacetime, and do their best to ensure that others could do the same.

Tonight, though, the walls of Deiarch echoed with the lone footfalls of but a single knight sworn to His service. The majority of his brothers had been called upon by the Church to assist with a campaign somewhere in the east, leaving only a handful of them at the fort to train the recruits and novices and keep their home safe.

With so few brothers left, discipline had relaxed slightly. While the Paladins of the Dragon-God were famous throughout the kingdom for their shining, ornate armor, and most of the brothers were obliged by tradition to wear it when they did certain tasks like patrol the chapterhouse on nightly rounds, it was by no means an enforced doctrine, and the option did exist to wear civilian clothes instead.

Sir Sinradhe Kal'Drakonas had decided to eschew his armor this evening, but neither did he wear his simple linen clothes either. Aside from his ever-present sword-belt, and a pair of leather boots to protect his feet from the cold stone floor of the hallways, Sir Sinradhe was completely naked, enjoying the feel of the night air on his skin as he walked the halls.

The moonlight gleamed off his sweating, muscular body (it was unseasonably hot tonight, as it had been for the last week), and a breeze wafted in through the windows, ruffling his shoulder-length, jet-black hair even as it cooled his body down from the seemingly never-ending heat wave. The breeze seemed to blow especially pleasantly on Sir Sinradhe's nether-regions, stirring the wiry black hair as it teased the sword between his legs into full arousal. He would have to take care of that when his vigil was ended.

It was customary to begin and end the patrols with a prayer to Straavos at the main altar, and this at least was a custom Sinradhe always followed to the letter. However, at the end of his patrol, when he reached the statue of the proud, noble dragon coiled around a greatsword, he heard a man's voice, speaking softly in quiet prayer, and ducked back into the hallway quickly, looking furtively around the corner to discern the identity of the devout brother.

He was no knight, that much was easy to see at first glance. The other man wore the black, purple, and gold robes of a priest of Straavos, the colors arranged in the pattern denominating him as a fully-ordained monk, but not a bishop or patriarch. Sinradhe relaxed a bit...he would be able to approach this fellow as an equal, rather than humble himself to a superior or assume an air of authority before a subordinate. He loved his life at Deiarch, but hated the division of classes between the knighthood and the Church, and the endless formalities that those divisions entailed.

The insecurity of class gone, Sinradhe looked the priest up and down more fully. Barely into his twenties, the man seemed...a good decade younger than Sinradhe, but already a fine figure of a man. He had a lean build, from what the paladin could see beneath the robe, his fair skin contrasting sharply with the shock of red hair atop his head. When he looked at the young priest's eyes, Sinradhe was astonished at how green they were, how they shone with devotion in the sight of his God.

Seemingly unconscious of his flagrant nudity, Sinradhe strolled casually in, his boots barely audible on the stone floor compared with the constant clinking and jangling of the Paladins' normal full plate armor. Kneeling beside the monk, before the statue of his God, the knight took the cross-handles of Straavos's greatsword's hilt in either hand, leaned forward, and kissed the weapon's fist-sized pommel...the ultimate gesture of fealty to the Dragon-God. Turning as he finished his supplication, he saw the priest's handsome, youthful face blush several shades of crimson.

"Something troubles you, brother?" he asked with a slightly wry smile. Here in the main chapel, the moonlight shone through stained-glass windows and broke into a thousand fragments of pastel, rainbow-colored light. Materializing out of nowhere in this light as he had, Sinradhe must have seemed to be an angel of Straavos come to life...until, he thought with a chuckle, the poor initiate had gotten a glimpse of the tool between his legs.

The poor man seemed to want to bolt out of the hall like a frightened rabbit...except for the obvious swelling in the front of his robes. Probably the reason he hasn't gotten up off his knees and fled, Sinradhe thought. So, I am having an effect on you, brother Priest. Good...I may not have to spend the night alone after all.

The young man was trying valiantly to stammer out a reply. "N-nothing, Sir Knight. I had j-just finished prayer for the evening...I was on my way back t-to bed..."

Sir Sinradhe rose from his kneeling position and stood before the priest in all his glory, his strong grey eyes meeting the priest's own and locking him in place with his gaze. "I think you should stay and tell me your name," he said, his voice quiet but uncompromising, commanding in his very presence.

The priest shook like a leaf as he faced the paladin. “B-Brother Ladon, Sir Knight…”

“Brother Ladon.” Sinradhe nodded. “And how long have you been in service to our Dragon-God?”

“F-four years,” the younger man managed to get out. “I’ve only just been promoted from my novitiate.”

“I see. Given your newness to the cloth, I suppose I sympathize...but I must ask you, Brother Ladon, what you think our God, ever courageous and true, would think of one of his clergy quailing in fear at something so simple as the sight of a naked man?”

Ladon swallowed hard. “Forgive me, Sir Knight...it’s just...I don’t...”

“You must learn to confront the unexpected wherever it finds you, Ladon. To be adaptable, deal with situations as they occur, that is as much a part of courage as being fearless in combat.”

He walked ever closer to the kneeling priest, his movements slow and deliberate. By the time he stopped, he was sure Ladon could smell his musk on the night air...the tip of his shaft was swollen red with his arousal and barely a foot away from Ladon's wide green eyes. Sinradhe saw the younger man's hands smooth the front of his robes nervously, lingering slightly longer than was strictly necessary over a part of him most priests pretended to be unaware of, or else deny the urges of.

Because they're afraid. But your fear is the enemy here, not me, my handsome young friend. If you're going to make a decision, you need to do it, because I'm not going anywhere.

He leaned in close and whispered in Ladon's ear. "I can see you, you know. You're as aroused as I am, and I know exactly what you want. All you have to do is reach out...and take it."

Seemingly independent of his own will, Ladon's hand reached for Sinradhe's proud, jutting member, as his other went to unclasp his robes and led them pool around his pale. youthful flesh. The decision had been made, and Sinradhe felt exultation and pride well up in him.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Conquering The River Lord

New fiction new fiction new fiction!!! About time!

OK...not so much "new" as "stuff I haven't uploaded here yet," but still, I'm proud of myself. This blog isn't dead!

This one's my only stab at a totally original story so far...I have others I'm working on, but as hectic as my life gets (and being on a shared computer doesn't help), inspiration takes its sweet time to hit me with a 2x4 and MAKE me write.

Anyway, this one's pretty self-explanatory: a river spirit (who just happens to look like a sexy bald stud) needs to keep his water flowing. ^_^ Porns ensue.

I may continue this if I get enough feedback...

~*~

The River Lord felt, rather than heard, the first man beneath him cry out as his body convulsed one last time in ecstasy before going still. He felt pride swell in his breast as his loins pumped the his viscous seed into the willing entrance of the second. The third, he hadn’t even had to touch; watching a demigod bring two men under sexual submission had been more than enough to bring him to a shuddering climax, his manhood spasming and throbbing in his hand as he screamed soundlessly in the river’s cool, cerulean depths. After this, the River Lord thought with triumph, the three surface-dwelling chauvinists would never even lay eyes on another female.

As the humans floated to the river’s surface, gasping for breath, the River Lord was already gone, his essence merging with the stream to travel to another shore with another willing set of adventurers who’d heard the legends of the water-spirit, the master seducer who gave men the best sex of their lives before washing them ashore.

The truth was, he didn’t just crave sex, in the way mortals did. He needed it to survive. The flow of his river was dependent on the flow of his seed, and most of those who depended on the river to survive knew it.

There were some small villages on the banks who were skeptical of his nature. They were used to sending sacrifices to the Goddess of Water, slaughtering cattle and livestock needlessly to appease some aloof ice-queen of a deity. The fools. Thank the tides for the lovers in the village, who believed the riverside a wonderful place to have private trysts. No coincidence, that…there were times when the River Lord would take the form of a surfaceman and casually bring some young man to any of a hundred private places, concealed by trees and bushes, where he would tell the youth legends of the River Lord’s insatiable lust until his victim found himself naked and at his complete mercy. Depending on the nature of the man, he might reveal himself then, as he had with these three tale-chasers, and lead them into the waters themselves for an offering. Or he would simply continue to share tales while the boy pumped himself to a frantic, screaming climax, and make his offering that way.

It mattered not to the River Lord what happened to the seed of the males he seduced…just so long as their passions were given up to him, that was all that mattered.

And now, such passions were about to be shared anew. Travelling down the stream of his river, the Lord came to one of many pools where his waters would collect and be warmed by the sun, until they evaporated and went to join the rest of the river in its timeless, endless flow. Lying fast asleep in this pool was an irresistible lure…a muscular Garnet Elf, reddish-tan of skin and midnight black of hair, his body rippling in the dappled sunlight. Garnets, he knew, were more muscular than most breeds of elf, and were renowned for their empathic powers…not to mention their sexual stamina. A Garnet male could sexually satisfy a dozen humans before needing so much as a rest stop. They so loved what they did that their race would often leave the confines of their tropical island home in search of new and exciting sexual adventures, as much as for the traditional reasons mortals had for their escapades.

This one was a particularly fine specimen. Like most Garnet men, he had a fine sprinkling of black hair on his body, and a lustrous sheen to his reddish skin. He had the build of a natural-born swimmer, lean and defined, and when he stood to wash himself, the River Lord admired the spherical, muscular sculpt of his ass, dripping with his waters.

This was a prospect far too tempting to pass up. The River Lord assumed his human form, choosing not to bother with creating illusory garments this time, and hid in the shallows.

He saw the Garnet look up briefly, but remained hidden, camouflaging himself with his surroundings…he was a spirit of water, after all. When the muscular Elf seemed satisfied that he was alone, he returned to his bathing…though the River Lord noticed something different about the way he washed his body now.

Where before his scrubbing had been brisk and businesslike, now his movements were decidedly slower, and more graceful. His hands caressed his compact, tight muscles with every pass of the cloth, and when he rinsed himself, it would be a gradual process of pouring the water down every crevice and sculpted line of definition his body possessed.

As the River Lord watched, the elf crossed into a deeper part of the pool and let his nude body float, his manhood bobbing to the surface like the mast of some great ship risen from the deep. The River Lord had to suppress a groan of desire at the sight…it was an impressive endowment, swollen and red, perfectly shaped and nestled in a patch of glistening, blue-black pubic hair, with round, heavy balls bobbing behind it in the pool. As he watched, the Garnet Elf ran his hands over his body with groans of amorous pleasure, then wrapped a lean, strong hand around the base of the shaft and looked directly at him, his deep, honey-brown eyes softening in wordless invitation.

For a second, the immortal cursed. How could he have been spotted?! Then, he remembered the Garnet gift of empathy, and smiled ruefully to himself. Of course. After a moment’s thought, he realized that the mortal was in the right; this offering would be much more enjoyable if he participated.

Becoming visible to the Garnet’s eyes, the River Lord displayed himself proudly from the shallows. His skin was a dark silver-tan, with a grainy cast to it, like sparkling sand at the bottom of a riverbed. He was completely bald, the only hair he sported on his body a thatch of glittering silver pubic hair nestled at the base of his own considerable endowment. His balls rested on the surface of the water, thick and heavy with pent-up seed…even though it hadn’t yet been an hour since he’d come last, he was always thirsty for more sex, and always ready to bring his partners to the orgasms he craved.

The River Lord swam to the Garnet’s side and embraced him in his own powerful arms, kissing him hotly, passionately. The Garnet’s skin was smooth and hot, while the River Lord seemed to be made of solid water, hard and unyielding as ice, but radiating the warmth of a hot spring. Steam began to coalesce around them as they kissed…not enough to burn the mortal’s flesh, but enough to heighten his senses and overwhelm him with the torrid humidity of their encounter.

The River Lord rose up in the water until his flagpole erection was level with the Garnet’s mouth, and the red-skinned male engulfed it, bathing it with his tongue as slowly and expertly as he had bathed his own body. The River Lord closed his eyes and let out a groan of ecstasy, his voice low and sensual as it sent a thrill of ecstasy through the Garnet’s body. For his part, the Elf displayed his people’s amazing carnal skills by swallowing the River Lord’s impressive mast all the way to the hilt, with a little freedom of movement left to run his tongue lovingly over the silver-furred balls.

The River Lord had been saving this load for a special occasion…normally when he wasn’t coaxing offerings of lust out of some unwitting male, he was masturbating, using his hands to bring forth his seed and perpetuate the river’s flow with his own power, again and again, without more than a few moments’ letup. But for the last hour, this being of perpetual lust and gratification had not so much as touched his cock…for a River Lord, a gesture of supreme willpower.

But even his willpower had its limits. With a grunt of ecstasy, he shot into the warm, willing mouth, his seed tasting like the purest waterfall as it flowed down the Elf’s throat. The raven-haired mortal gave out a moan of appreciation and gulped it down, unwilling to let even the smallest drop go to waste.

Once he let go of the River Lord’s cock, he swam naked to the shallows and lay down in them, spreading his legs wide as he eyed the River Lord wordlessly. His wonderfully formed ass was in the air, being lightly caressed by the pool’s waves…and then the pool’s waves became the River Lord’s tongue, penetrating his entrance with a wonderfully wet, hot pressure, rimming him with an experience born of centuries of seduction. He thrashed and squirmed and splashed under the torturously pleasurable onslaught, his cock burning with need and rampantly hard as he started to pump it furiously, his rising tide of lust a greater offering than the River Lord had experienced in millennia. No longer merely sustaining himself on the lust of the mortal, the water-spirit found himself partaking in it, letting it fuel his own desires in a way that no mortal physicality ever had before. It was in the heat of that moment the River Lord realized he had found a lover in this hot-blooded mortal, not just another giver of offerings..

When his passion reached the point of no return a second time, the River Lord positioned himself at the Elf’s entrance and let loose a second torrent of silver seed, splattering his opening with enough divine semen to lubricate the passage and turn their encounter into an act of pure pleasure. Still panting from his release, the River Lord positioned his still-hard manhood at the moaning Elf’s opening, looking into his eyes in a wordless request for permission…something the spirit had never felt the need to do before.

The elf looked up at him with those warm, dark eyes, and nodded with a salacious smile. Closing his own eyes, the River Lord began to penetrate his lover with agonizing slowness, pushing the pucker of flesh open with infinite care, where with his offerings he’d simply punched through mercilessly, using his magic to drive them so insane with lust that they didn’t care if they were ripped apart or not.
Not so with the Garnet elf. His body was the River Lord’s own temple, more precious to him than the flow of his current, inciting hotter passion than he’d ever felt in his life. The children of the Gods never fell in love, but the River Lord felt he was as close as an immortal being would ever come. He pumped, slowly and with infinite care, in and out of the Garnet’s tight, willing hole, steam swirling about them as they both broke out in a sweat from the heat of their union. The Garnet’s stiff, hard maleness jutted against his muscular belly, and the River Lord repositioned himself so that it glided between them, lubed by the precome the crimson shaft was secreting by the ounce.

The Garnet grunted at the pleasure from both sides of his body, and urged his spirit-lover for more. Harder, faster, he cried, until the River Lord finally complied and began unleashing the full might of his sexual prowess upon the desperate man. Their racing heartbeats were a primal drumming to which they set their pace, the steam from their union coalescing into a full-fledged fog, hot as a sauna but thick as a fall morning. Their cries grew more strident and urgent by the minute as their shared lust and passion spiraled to a crescendo.

When the River Lord came for the third time, he screamed in ecstasy as his manhood shot its load deep inside the Garnet’s willing opening. Trapped between their bodies as it was, the Garnet’s own red member spasmed and shot, drenching their chests and faces with rich, spicy seed that the River Lord found he couldn’t get enough of. They came together in the steam like that, both men crying out in ecstasy as their bodies gyrated beyond all control, for nearly a minute…longer than the River Lord had ever come in his immortal life, and certainly more pleasure than the Garnet had ever experienced.

After a moment that both beings needed to take to recover themselves, the River Lord rose to the Garnet’s side and kissed him again. Where his first kiss had been demanding, strident, and intended to incite lust, this one became passionate, needful, and an expression of a feeling most immortal folk were incapable of.

Finally, the River Lord rolled onto his hands and knees in the sand, and with a look back to his lover, raised his perfect, tan ass into the air.

~FIN~

More New Links

Who, me? Stalling for time while I get over writer's block? o.O

I AM working on a fic (original, too!), but it's slow going. Sooner or later the first chapter'll be up, here and on the y!.

Meantime, check out the blogs of my friends, humbuged and k-type, in the Links list. The Humplex and D-Mode are the two newest links with hot art and creative Flashes that should keep you occupied until this block of mine goes away. >.<

New...Link. Yay.

I know ti's a bit of a letdown to everyone who was expecting ficcage from me, but...well, it's better than nothing. A damn sight better, actually, considering the link.

The Stag God Chronicles, by the Oaken Satyr, are some of the best gay erotic stories I've ever read. ^_^ Hot, sexy, dramatic, scary, insightful, and creative, it's much, much more than just porn...but there's still more than enough of that to keep folks interested.

Give it a look, tell him what you think. ^_^