Date: Wed, 16 Jul 2003 03:36:13 +0000
From: Tony Ryan <hotstorylvr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Cyclops and Wolverine - X-Love

X-Men belongs to Marvel Comics. The movies belongs to Marvel and 20th
Century Fox. James Marsden and Hugh Jackman, the gorgeus and talented men
who play Cyclops and Wolverine, do not belong to me (I WISH!!) and this is
not a suggestion of their sexual preferences. This is just fiction, a story
based on the film and the incredible chemistry between the two men. Don't
read if you aren't over 18, ask me first before distributing or archving,
etc.

This chapter is short and doesn't have a lot of sex. I'm putting this out to
test the waters. I was really caught up in their relationship, especially
their hug, near the end of the second X-Men film, but if I'm alone in that,
there's no point in writing a big story. So if you want to see more of
Cyclops and Wolverine, then PLEASE e-mail me and tell me so, tell me what
you want them to do, if you want any other characters involved, any of that.

--

Flames and fire. Not water, fire. Logan woke up drenched in sweat, as he had
so many nights before. At least he'd stopped screaming out Jean's
name...that was progress, huh. A few months had passed since Jean Grey's
death, but Logan saw her face, felt her calling to him, every night. They
had never been lovers, not even close, but his bed still felt more empty
than he could ever imagined.

He stood up, his flawless body shimmering from perspiration, the hair
sticking to his chest and legs and belly. He threw on a pair of jeans,
finding his way to the kitchen, his keen sense of vision unencumbered by the
darkness. He had a private stash of beer which Professor X had let him keep
since Jean...since Jean was gone; Logan really needed that bottle tonight.

Apparently he wasn't the only one.

"Sorry, Wolverine. I'll replace it."

Logan grimaced at the sight before him. Cyclops, otherwise known as Scott
Summers, had finished off one of his long-necked brews and was a third of
the way through another. Logan considered getting into a fight, drawing
blood, craving that emotional release for his anger and pain. But instead of
hate, he was transfixed by Scott's chiseled upper torso, his erect nipples
in the chill of the fridge, the muscled, ample rear end jutting from those
snug pajama bottoms. Scott did not notice his ogling, as he was too busy
with his liquid comfort.

"S'no problem, Scott. Only problem I have is that I thought the raciest you
got was putting three scoops instead of two on your banana splits."

Scott matched Logan's weary smirk with one of his own before downing more of
the alcohol. Logan licked his lips as that swanlike, surprisingly delicate
throat let the nectar course downwards, Scott's Adam's Apple throbbing from
the burning aftertaste.

"That's real funny. Since when do you call me Scott? It's not like we're
best friends."

Logan could swear that Scott sensed the heat rising from inside him as he
made his way over. If Scott did, he wasn't talking, but he did let his eyes
dart down when Logan brushed his fingertips, gently stealing the bottle from
him.

"I don't wanna be your best friend, or your enemy. We're grown men, Scott.
Time to act that way. We got real names and we should use them. We know
about pain, know about loss, and God help me, never thought I'd say it,
but...I feel a connection between us."

Scott normally counted on his ruby quartz glasses to hide his most primal
emotions. Fear, hate, lust. Love. He knew that this time, nothing could mask
what was swirling inside him. Why were his fingtertips still burning from
Logan's touch? Why did the intensity in Logan's stare seem to pierce all his
defenses?

He decided to change the subject, and since his eyes were glued to the
matted and swelling pectorals in front of him, they were the natural topic.

"You sleep in jeans?"

Logan chuckled while he finished off Scott's beer.

"I sleep naked, but with all the kids here, showing my hairy ass at 3 in the
morning isn't gonna work."

While he squirmed under Logan's gaze, Scott tried to joke along, but every
word died before he opened his mouth. For a few moments, no words were
spoken, as both men were almost afraid to break the tension in the air.
After years of being rivals, the third in their triangle was gone. Yet, the
chemistry remained, had mutated into a new form. Logan was entranced by this
astonishingly beautiful young man before him; Scott was confused and stunned
by his attraction to the grizzled, rugged hunk in front of him.

Logan finally broke the tension as he reached out to carress Scott's face.
His soft skin sizzled under Logan's callused fingers. Scott moved closer
into the grasp of that hand, at the human contact he had missed so much.

"I dream about her every night, Wol...Logan. But, I-I, I dream about you
too."

Wolverine stepped closer, leaving no room between their muscled, straining
bodies. He tugged off Scott's glasses. When Scott began to cry out, he was
silenced by a thick, stern finger thumping his lips.

"Just trust me. Give in to me. Please."

Scott nodded, slowly, with uncertainty. Logan's thumb was rough yet smooth
against his eyelids. The thumb glided down his perfect nose and angelic
face, between his pouty lips. Scott sucked in the fat digit, tenderly biting
down. Logan moaned, imagining his big thick cock between those soft lips.

"You're so beautiful. Fuck, I never realized..."

While Logan put his glasses back on, Scott reached out to feel Logan's
sculpted chest. He tugged on the sexy dark fur, losing himself in the
sensations of skin on skin. Their faces were inches apart, breath reeking of
summer longing and cheap beer. Scott wanted this kiss, he'd wanted it from
the first day he'd met Logan, somewhere deep down. Then he remembered. Jean.
The love of his life. Jean.

"NO!"

Before Logan could stop him, Scott fled the room. Logan felt even more
devastated than he'd imagined. He threw the empty bottles against the
kitchen floor tile, sinking to his knees in despair. Another night alone.

Scott sank into his mattress, blinking back the bitter tears. He knew he
would dream of Logan again. It would take every ounce of self-control to not
make those dreams a reality.

--

Please e-mail me at HotStoryLvr@hotmail.com