Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1133385.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men_(Comicverse)
  Relationship:
      Hank_McCoy/Scott_Summers, Logan_(X-Men)/Scott_Summers, Hank_McCoy/Logan_
      (X-Men)/Scott_Summers
  Character:
      Hank_McCoy, Scott_Summers, Logan_(X-Men)
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Anal_Fingering,
      Spanking, Past_Underage, Past_Sexual_Abuse, Rimming, Submissive_Scott
      Summers, Size_Kink, Size_Difference, Penis_Size, Non-Consensual, Rough
      Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-13 Words: 24605
****** Do Over ******
by gregorin_greymalkin
Summary
     Henry McCoy’s latest mutation brings out the animal in Beast. Cyclops
     takes the brunt of it.
Later, it had helped for Henry McCoy to remember that he had told Scott to keep
away. That he was never quite himself for three days after so violent a change,
and less himself than ever when his long-term girlfriend had just dumped him
because sex with him now counted as bestiality. But Scott, as always, had
thought he knew best. He was the one who thought that the way for Henry to get
through those three days of adjustment was to come with Scott on a mission,
just the two of them. Henry had tried to explain how it felt to be like this,
to have changed from an ape-man to a lion-man, to have these primordial
impulses throbbing through him that were not just strange and terrifying but
intoxicating. To want to go and chase down prey and rip out its throat. To want
to kill, want to mate. Three days and everything would settle down again, but
right now, he really wasn’t safe to be around.
Logan would have got it, but Scott -- lacking an inner beast -- had too many
gaps in his comprehension. He might dimly be able to grasp that Logan pumped
out too much testosterone and that half the time it was his over-active sex-
drive that made him so murky, ill-tempered, and prone to drown himself in beer,
but he could not grasp it of Hank McCoy. Not good old Hank, steady, reliable
friend of his adolescence, and a genius to boot. Hank was too smart to be a
creature of his id, and Scott was too rational to be a slave to hormones. A
mission, he insisted, was just what Hank needed to take his mind off things,
And, feeling simultaneously like a junkie sweating for his next fix, a serial
killer salivating for his next victim, and an animal in the mating season,
hungering to find something in heat, Hank had been desperate for a distraction.
That was why he had made the mistake of listening to Scott.
Really, looking back the problem had started in the Blackbird. In such a
confined space, that odor coming off him, like the lion enclosure at feeding
time, had been impossible to miss. And it wasn’t just scent, of course, it was
a sense-shower of pheromones. Scott had been sniffing and then inhaling and
they had been sitting much too close, pilot seat to co-pilot seat. With so many
impulses throbbing through him, Henry hadn’t been quick enough to realize that
the urge to mate was getting the better of him, or that Scott kept leaning
toward him to have another sniff, or that, as the journey continued, Scott
became more and more quiet and subdued. Neither of them had realized then that
Scott’s most basic brain -- the subconscious part that did nothing but try to
keep him alive in the midst of insanity -- had already assessed the situation
and recognized what Henry was -- a dangerous animal in search of subordinates
and cub-breeders, who would brook no opposition. That part of Scott’s brain had
already been working overtime even as Scott was piloting the Blackbird,
responding to those pheromones and sending out subliminal messages that he
needed to be receptive and obedient, and, above all, that he wanted to submit
to the primal pack leader that was shortly going to claim him for a mate.
Unfortunately, in doing so it also tapped into the submissive inner man within
Scott, whom he kept concealed beneath his crisply perfected surface, because
beneath the confident team-leader lived a little orphan boy lost who would
accept any abuse from a loved one as long as it came with some affection also,
and beneath the man who gave the orders lived the insecure boy who wanted
someone else to take charge. There was also, of course, his sleeping masochist.
The one who wanted to be mastered and forced to obey.
By the time they reached the place Scott wanted to investigate -- a warehouse
that was supposed to be empty but was sucking so much power from the grid it
had to be used for something -- Henry was very uncomfortable in his own skin
and a blizzard had blown up out of nowhere, reducing visibility to almost zero.
Scott flew them into a safe landing in a snow drift on his dash readings and
sheer instinct, but although it was now so bitterly cold outside, Henry still
felt as if he was burning up with the need to…something. The weird impulses
were getting stronger and he wasn’t sure he was safe around humans. It didn’t
occur to him, then, that he might also not be safe around Scott.
Scott had assumed the people using the warehouse were making Sentinels, because
the company who owned the warehouses had been investors in the Sentinel
program, but it turned out -- after they had landed in that snow bank, then
struggled through deep drifts out of sheer bloody minded cussedness because
they had come this far and they were goingto investigate -- that the warehouse
was being used to grow marijuana, hence the tin foil and soaring heat-readings.
Scott didn’t kill humans, even when they were drug-dealers with semi-
automatics, but drug-dealers had no compunction about killing him. Henry had
realized how imperfect was his control over his new mutation, when Scott’s use
of carefully measured optic blasts that only knocked the bad guys out, earned
him a vicious attempted murder by bullet-riddling, that he only evaded because
he threw himself aside at the last second. Scott had unleashed his optic blast
to take out the angry gunmen, but Henry was already seeing red. A lion had
roared and he had found himself hurling men aside like ragdolls, hungering for
their throats.
Scott had grabbed him and shouted his name, and Henry had snarled at him
furiously, like Logan in the grip of a berserker rage, and Scott’s face in that
instant, as they were pressed together much too close in the dark corner of an
overheated firing range, flashlit by gunfire and deafened by percussion echoes,
when Henry roared, had registered a groin-thrilling mixture of terror, wonder,
and sheer visceral excitement. That was when Henry had realized that both he
and Scott wanted to see the lion unleashed. He had grabbed Scott, thrown him
over his shoulder, and flung them both out through a window, rolling to avoid
the stuttering turf-tear of gunfire, as men poured out after them, wanting them
dead.
They had run through the blizzard, both of them acknowledging that Henry wasn’t
safe around enemies right now. ‘A danger to himself and others’ pretty much
fitted him like a glove. And Scott had kept sniffing and Henry had found
Scott’s scent much in need of being smeared with his. He felt an urgent need to
rub himself all over him, and then realized that ‘over’ wasn’t enough. He
wanted to claim him completely. It was just bad luck for Scott that he was the
only friendly face around at a time when all of Henry’s new confusing instincts
were telling him he needed to gather a pride around himself, kill off any
rivals, and then begin to father his cubs.
Spitting out a mouthful of snow, Henry said, “Three days, Scott! I told you I
needed to be by myself for three days so I could get to grips with what I am
now. Because the truth is I don’t knowwhat I am right now, except that it’s
horribly dangerous and not under my control.”
Scott said, “It’s too late to do anything about that now, Hank. They’ve cut us
off from the Blackbird. We need to seek shelter somewhere they won’t find us
before we get too cold to function. Survival is our priority.”
Henry grabbed him by the front of his uniform and shook him, vicious jolting
shakes, then pulled him up so their mouths were level. He suspected his eyes
were wildly glowing and he could hear for himself that his voice was a deep,
raging roar: “Listen to what I’m saying to you, Scott. I’m not safe. If those
men get too close I will kill them. I will kill them all with my bare hands.
And you’re not safe with me either.”
Scott, imperviously maddening leader of the X-Men, leaned in and sniffed him,
and his face got a drowsy dreamscape look about it. He inhaled Henry like he
was a hookah full of hashish and then tried to curl in against him, softly as
burning paper. He said, “I always feel safe with you, Hank.”
Henry swallowed hard. “I’m putting out pheromones. Animal-strength ones.
They’re muddying both our thinking to the point where neither of us is sane. We
should separate.” But he said the last without conviction, because already he
found his grip was tightening on Scott’s tight, body-hugging costume, and all
he wanted to do was rip it off him, right here in the snow, and hungrily mouth
his skin. He looked at Scott’s mouth and it was beautiful, his nose, his mouth,
his jaw, his throat. He had a sudden memory of a month since: Scott in the
shower, nothing to think twice about, just good old Scotty in the shower. But
now he remembered how the water had cascaded over his body and poured down his
shoulders and spine, and his high, firm little ass cheeks….
Gunfire broke them apart; Scott stepping back like someone had slapped him out
of a trance. Henry’s protective instincts roared up and there was no way he was
letting Scott out of his sight when there was danger, but he could feel himself
that it wasn’t a goodprotective instinct. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep him
safe from harm. It was that he wanted to keep him alive to swell his pride.
Scott was Henry’s prize possession, the only thing out here that was his. He
wanted to claim him and scent-mark him before those other potential rivals
caught up with them, but most of all he wanted to teach Scott that Henry was
his pack leader and plant his cubs inside him.
Henry said urgently, “You’re not safe with me, Scott! And you’re getting less
safe every minute. This latest mutation…it’s nothing like under my control.” I
will make beast babies with you, over and over again, if you don’t get away
from me now.
Scott stepped back toward him even as the air filled with gunfire and shouting
as their pursuers drew closer, and he already looked half-hypnotized. “I trust
you, Hank.”
“Don’t you get it?” He grabbed him by the shoulders again. “I’m notHank. I
won’t be Hank again for three more days. Right now, what I am…is a beast.”
That was when the gunfire had stuttered way too close to their heads and Scott
had stepped back, lost his footing on the treacherous snow, somersaulting
backwards down a steep incline into a racing, icy river, hitting his head on a
log as he did so. Henry had hurled himself down the bank after him, and thrown
himself into the freezing rapids, just in time to grab Scott’s uniform in a
desperate three-fingered blue hand. They had gone under the log bridge
together, Henry trying to keep Scott’s head above water as the ice-swollen
torrent did its best to drown them, and been carried downstream at breath-
stealing speed.
By the time Henry managed to drag Scott to the bank and clamber out, both of
them dripping, the gunfire was far more distant, the Blackbird even more so,
and Scott was unconscious, and turning blue with cold. High above them, Henry
could see a cave. He made for it at a loping run. The beast was roaring in him
now, he could feel that the adrenaline rush of being shot at, of others trying
to take one of his own away from him, and then dragging Scott from the water
had amped up his animal instincts. Scott was utterly his now -- he had just
saved his life, and his fury at being chased by inferior animals was making him
even more dangerous. Scott was a shivering lightweight in his arms, negligible
and vital at once; his own wishes of no consequence, his importance to Henry as
one of his possessions paramount. He could feel how little of Henry McCoy there
was at the forefront of his mind right now. Pursuit by men with guns and that
adrenaline-spiking rescue of Scott from the river had suppressed everything but
the basic and this last thin shred of reason and compassion. If he took Scott
into that cave, just the two of them alone in there, bad things were going to
happen. If he didn’t take him into the cave, Scott was going to die of cold.
Scott was shivering convulsively in his arms, blood trickling from that cut on
his forehead. It was the old Henry McCoy that gathered him to him, remembering
too many other occasions when Scott had been vulnerable and hurt and in need of
saving.
“It’s men with guns, hypothermia, or me,” he said aloud. Reason grimly fighting
instinct and losing the battle as Scott smelled like something that belonged to
him to do with exactly as he wished. “I won’t kill him as long as he doesn’t
resist me. Given the pheromones, he probably won’t resist me. Every other
option spells certain death. Ergo his only hope of survival is being trapped in
a cave with a hungry, lustful, unreasoning beast.”
With Scott carried tightly in his arms, Henry ran for the cave.
 
In the cave, Henry had to work fast to get Scott out of his clothes. He was
shivering violently, teeth chattering, skin bluing fast. A fire would give them
away, but he had to get him warm somehow. He looked deathly, freezing to the
touch, shuddering convulsively in his grip.
He stripped off the last clothing -- Scott’s sodden white underpants -- and
gathered him into his arms, enfolding him in his blue furry bulk and rubbing
his back. It was not unlike cuddling an iced-up Bobby at first, no pleasure at
all. But then as Hank kept breathing on his skin to warm it and rubbing to keep
the blood circulating, the convulsions finally began to lessen a little. He
kept stroking his skin, steady, soothing strokes to keep the blood flowing and
warm him back up and Scott went from a dripping, shivering thing to warmer and
more supple, albeit one utterly drenched in Henry McCoy’s new leonine scent and
dominant alpha male pheromones. Henry kept breathing on his skin to warm it and
stroking him and rubbing him and keeping him wrapped in the warm furry strength
of his arms, and slowly Scott’s shivering subsided and he gave a little sigh of
awakening.
“Scott…? How do you feel?”
He waited for Scott to react to the fact that they were naked, and that Scott
was very up close and personal with Hank’s new and still-strange latest
mutation, and pull back in embarrassment. But apparently they had been friends
for too long for Scott to feel any embarrassment, or else he was still slightly
off his head with hypothermia or the pheromones were completely clouding his
thinking. It was hard to tell.
"I’m so cold and you’re so warm….” Scott burrowed in against him, trying to
keep Hank’s warmth pressed against him, wriggling and shifting so that he was
better encompassed by his grasp. He rested his head on Hank’s shoulder and
wriggled even closer, effectively climbing onto his lap to do it. Things at
Hank’s groin level began to stir. He wondered if he could blame that on his
latest mutation or if the Henry he had been before would have reacted in the
same way; perhaps lion-like sex organs were more omnivorous than ape-like ones.
They were undoubtedly larger.
Scott was rocking a little, the way children did to comfort themselves in the
arms of someone they trusted; unfortunately he was doing it while straddling
Hank’s new and all too over-exciteable lap. Wanting to get warm, Scott wrapped
his legs around Henry’s lower back, meaning that his rocking made his opening
brush tantalizingly across Henry’s hardening groin.
“Scott….” He swallowed hard. “That might not be the best idea you ever had.
This mutation is still very…new to me. Think of it like driving a strange
vehicle where you don’t know where all the gears are yet. Especially the
brakes.”
Scott didn’t always do too well with metaphors but Henry would have thought
even he could understand why reckless acceleration when they were both naked
and he was three hundred and fifty pounds of blue-furred gorilla-lion with very
tenuous control was not a good idea. But Scott only wriggled in against him,
still rocking, and burrowed into his neck needily. Scott murmured drowsily, “I
still feel safe with you, Hank.”
Gritting his teeth as his cock filled up in response to those maddening little
brushes of Scott’s bare ass crack tantalizing its tip, Henry said, “Scott, I
don’t care how damn safe you feel, you’re not. You’re horribly unsafe with me.
I don’t have much control over this mutation as yet, and if you keep doing that
I am going to get rough with you in ways that we will both regret….”
Sounding far too much like a child unused to being naughty but trying it out
for a dare, Scott said breathlessly, “I always wondered what it would be like
with you after you changed the first time, and now I’ll never know. That two
versions of Hank I never got to do it with.”
Dry-mouthed, Henry said, “Third time’s the charm? Is that what you’re thinking,
Scott?”
Scott was still wriggling and rocking against him and Henry’s new cock was now
stiff as a post, and yes, he wanted to be wanted by someone in this new body.
He wanted to feel desirable and sexually alluring and not just like a freak.
But he felt like a humvee poised on a sharp downhill gradient. If he took off
the handbrake he was afraid of what happened next; too much momentum and he
didn’t think he knew any way to stop. “Are you sure you’re not just off your
head with hypothermia, Scotty?”
“Warming up nicely now,” Scott murmured shyly. “Just really…curious, Hank.
Would it matter if we did this…? Would it really be…wrong?”
Would he rip out his throat after he’d fucked him? He didn’t know. That was why
they could not do this, however much Henry’s new mutation thought it was no
more than his right. “Not wrong, no. Perhaps, however, fatally unwise, at least
for you. If we start down that path, I don’t think there is any stopping me.”
Yet even as he said it, that regretful tone of someone too sensible and
rational to let this foolishness go any further, Henry realized how much he
needed someone to make him feel comfortable in this uncomfortably unfamiliar
body. He wanted that desperately. It was just that his new impulses weren’t
under his control yet. He couldn’t be sure of himself or what he might do if he
let the lion out.
He pushed Scott off his lap and onto his back on the soft leaf carpet of the
cave and kissed him, his own hunger taking them both by surprise. Scott
responded passively at first – just opening his mouth so Henry could push his
tongue in with hard, demanding pulses that shocked him a little. As he
plundered Scott’s mouth, he could feel the leonine brain working that had not
been there before, the lord of the jungle arrogance that wanted to take Scott
hard and brutally fast. He realized he was even less at one with this mutation
than he had thought; there were dark undercurrents to it he had not yet got
anything like under control. There was a new animal within him and it had not
been melded enough with his human consciousness to be even close to…safe. He
suspected it was the animal that was calling to Scott; probably some residual
feline pheromones being pumped out, confident lion to shy, stray housecat, that
was feeding straight from id to id. For whatever reason, Scott was much too
responsive to animal dominance, no resistance at all, spreading his legs for
him and opening his mouth obligingly, a little surprised by the breathless
depth of Henry’s kisses, and the bruising grip of his fingers, but in no way
resistant.
Henry was losing control, had already lost far too much of it in the warehouse
and the river and no longer had enough of it left to negotiate his way through
sex in a cave with someone of such woefully limited experience as Scott; he was
exerting enough of a rein on his basic needs to stop himself snarling or claw-
flexing, but he was hungrily aroused and had not yet found the buttons he
needed to switch to have command of himself. He had been thinking they needed
to stop this now when he thrust his tongue deep into Scott’s mouth, and
realized it wasn’t enough. He needed to fill his mouth and his throat. Needed
him to submit until his knees were sore with it. It was terrifying and
exhilarating at once, to feel so filled with basic power, so hungrily,
arrogantly, in charge. The humvee was running away from him now and he was no
longer even wanting to brake. Kneeling over Scott, he closed a blue-furred hand
in his hair and pulled him up after him, as he shifted backwards on his
quarters until he had his back against the cave wall and a naked Scott
stumbling on his hands and knees after him.
Even then, even as he pulled Scott’s mouth down onto the head of his engorged,
leaking cock, he thought Scott would refuse and he would let him go. Instead
Scott let his head be pushed down and opened his mouth, shocked but
comprehending, and Henry realized even as that spluttering warmth closed over
his aching glans that his fingers had made no attempt to slacken on Scott’s
soft hair or respond to Scott’s uncertainty, but were still relentlessly
pushing him forward. Once again, he felt the terror and excitement of realizing
that he wasn’t in charge. Nor was Scott. Some snarling inner beast that had not
yet melded with his consciousness was running this show, and it was still
holding Scott hard by the hair and ruthlessly pushing his mouth onto his cock
in rough, rhythmic jerks.
The excitement of it was incredible, the tiger-by-the-tail disassociation like
something from a dream: half nightmare of all his worst fears of losing control
and reverting to the animal inside mingled with every dark sexual fantasy he
would never have dared own to in his human shape. He was making Scott suck him
off, sputtering and clumsy, jaw aching with the effort of accommodating
something so large, and -- as Henry thrust deeper -- probably back of the
throat bruising, his three-fingered hand still clamped mercilessly to the back
of Scott’s head, but Scott wasn’t trying to pull back; he was keeping his mouth
open, even as his gag reflex kept kicking in, and doing his best to relax his
throat. Henry was slamming his head roughly over his shaft, making him take it
deep and fast and Scott was doing his inexperienced best to comply. For a few
minutes the sounds were glorious, that rapid flesh-slapping and Scott’s
spluttering incompetent willingness to receive what he was being given in
choking, sucking gasps. Henry came hard in Scott’s mouth, emptied himself down
his throat in a spine-arcing pleasure pulse that made him tighten his grip on
his hair and haul him up until Henry’s balls were bruising his lips, forcing
him to swallow every drop.
He pulled out and waited for clarity to come back, bringing self-loathing with
it, but although Scott was coughing and gasping and choking on his hands and
knees in front of him, there was no remorse. Henry still had all his animal
needs and his bright, animal confidence. In fact the beast was hungrier than
ever now it had tasted orgasm, craving more. Henry pulled Scott onto his lap
with a rough jerk of the upper arms that was going to leave bone-deep bruises
and Scott straddled him, still wheezing for breath. When Henry kissed him,
hard, Scott melted like a milkmaid at the lord of the manor’s first rough kiss,
and it was intoxicating -- tasting himself, feeling Scott’s throat still
working convulsively as he tried to breathe around the bruising, feeling his
submission, all feeding the beast within. Henry pressed his fingers to his
slender neck and said, “Can you feel that?”
Scott said breathlessly, “Yes.” And his voice was a muffled whisper from the
rough cocksucking he’d been obliged to provide having punished his vocal cords.
It made them both hot to hear it. Henry kissed him again, deep and hard, and
Scott wriggled on his lap, setting up his needy rocking again, blindly
submitting to whatever it was that Henry’s last mutation was pumping out,
drugging them both.
Henry said in a harsh whisper into Scott’s ear, “Have you ever had it up the
ass before, Scotty?”
Scott gave a breathless little pant of longing. “No.”
“Then you’ll be good and tight.”
Scott offered a choked little wail of need and fear and Henry sucked hard at
his throat, making him shiver and moan as Henry’s fingers bruised him and his
teeth pressed hard against the soft skin of his throat. He flipped him down
onto the cave floor on his hands and knees, licked down his spinal column then
spat between his firm high ass cheeks, working the spit in with his tongue,
tasting soap, far too much soap and no taste of Scott at all. He growled
chestily with frustration and painted precome up the back of his thighs and
between that taut little butt with the tip of his oozing cock, his big hairy
hands spanning his ass easily as he worked him open with fingers and tongue.
“No noise,” Henry warned and it didn’t even sound like him, that guttural
Wolverine snarl that came straight from the id. “However much it hurts, I don’t
want to hear a sound from you, Scott.” They were not sending out any sound
beacons. It wasn’t even because there were men with guns looking for them now,
it was that Scott was his possession and he wasn’t sharing him with other
pleasure-seekers or even witnesses. If anyone -- friend or foe -- stepped
across the threshold of that cave right now, he would rip him to pieces for
even seeing Scott naked. This must be how it feels like to be Logan, he
thought, and had no idea, in that moment, if he pitied him or envied him for
it.
He pushed his meaty tip into Scott’s tight little hole and Scott whimpered
pitifully but straddled to receive him. It hurt him, making him ache and
stretch cruelly, and it was terrible in that moment how much they both relished
it, this proof of Henry’s superior size and strength, and Scott’s breath-
sobbing submission. Henry grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Scott’s head
back to hold him still as he pushed on in, Scott groaning with the pain of it,
stretching to receive it, every meaty, blood-filled inch making itself felt as
it slid brutally home. He was trying not to wail but there were sounds escaping
and Henry clasped a huge hand across his mouth, stifling every snagged whimper
as he pushed on in.
“You’re going to take every inch of me like a good little whore, Scotty,” he
breathed harshly in his ear, heart hammering with the exhilaration of how badly
they were both behaving, the animal flexing gloriously while Scott responded to
it still, like they were nothing but beasts here, dominant and submissive, as
nature intended.
He pushed in deep and Scott moaned into his hand, licking it appeasingly, and
straddled to accommodate his cock, and moaned and straddled again with each
rough shove. Henry worked his way in quite brutally and Scott bent himself
lower, keeping his ass up submissively, shoulders down like a supplicant to a
cruel god, whimpering, puppy-like, as Hank kept that hold on his hair so he
couldn’t wriggle forward and escape his bruising cock.
Henry made Scott impale himself on the last two inches himself, voice a quiet
warning: “Push back. Do it.”
Scott did, sobbing with the pain of it, as Henry’s hugely thick shaft hurt him
in every direction; loving how much he was not having to be in charge at a
primordial groin-pulsing level even as he whimpered piteously. By the time
Henry’s balls slapped hard against his ass cheeks, his untried little hole
cruelly stretched, Scott was a panting, sweating, pain-spiked thing, abject and
brutalized and utterly acquiescent to every abuse.
Henry said, “Say it.”
Scott whispered, “Fuck me, please, Hank.”
Henry grabbed Scott’s sodden underpants and tied a knot in them then pushed the
knot into his mouth and gagged him, tying the wet cotton behind his head. It
proved a wise precaution. He pulled out and slammed in and Scott screamed into
the gag, which muffled it down to an animal sound, just something one might
hear in a forest where things prowled and pounced. Henry spit-fucked him with
rough, deep strokes, each one earning another choked scream, as he worked him
open with brutal thoroughness until Scott’s bruised throat was wrecked from
sobbing, and Henry had him slicked with enough precome that he could get a good
hard rhythm going that slammed the breath from Scott’s body and painted black
bruises on his ass and knees.
He had never fucked anyone like this before – not up the ass, not this hard,
not this selfishly, and never with this glorious, animal disregard for any
wants but his own. He pounded Scott mercilessly and Scott took it and took it,
like it was all he was fit for, like Henry honored him with every savage
thrust. Henry sped up until he was pistoning into him, animal fast and hard,
the slam-slam-slam so rapid that his thrusts were too fast to count while Scott
clutched and clawed at the ground, body reverberating from the impact like road
kill dancing to a pile driver, and let out muffled keening wails. He yanked
Scott’s head back savagely as he deep-dicked him to the hilt, balls bruising
Scott’s pounded ass. Hard. Deep. Hard. Deep. Scott’s knees were bouncing off
the ground from the force of the impact, Henry’s huge blue-furred body
completely dwarfing his as those thick blue arms and massive blue thighs
smothered his lean, boyish, hairless form. Henry had a furred arm wrapped
around Scott’s waist now, bracing him to take each thrust, and Scott had
straddled and struggled and stretched to accommodate him, abjectly unresisting
despite the way the breath sobbed in his throat. A last thrust so savage it
lifted Scott completely off the ground and Henry was coming into him, barbed
and triumphant, roaring with it, utterly animal, king of the jungle quite
unleashed, as hot come pumped and pumped as deep into Scott Summers as anyone
ever had or ever could get.
Even Logan couldn’t fuck him any harder or deeper than that, he thought, and it
was childish how much satisfaction the thought gave him.
Panting majestically, Henry kept Scott hauled back hard against him with a
mercilessly strong arm around the waist so he couldn’t evade a drop of the hot
semen filling him up, enjoying the way Scott squirmed helplessly against him,
the barb a bright pain, and the pungent, steaming semen a flash of liquid heat.
When Henry ordered quietly, “Push back, Scott,” Scott obeyed him, wriggling
back so Henry’s softening shaft still filled him to the max. He kept Scott
pulled in tight against him as he moved them both onto their left side, so his
massive body spooned around Scott’s slender, boyish one. He undid the gag and
eased it from Scott’s mouth and Scott, sobbing from the pain and his
contradictory need to submit himself to more of it, made soft pleading sounds.
Henry knew how much Scott wanted to curl into him but he made him wait as
Henry’s cock softened gradually inside him, pulsing slowing, so they could both
focus on those sensations as Scott’s drilled ass started throbbing with
reaction. Henry eased his flaccid cock out of him gradually and Scott whimpered
with relief and loss as it finally slid loose, come pouring from him after it.
Henry thrust two fingers up into him and Scott whimpered harder, but let
himself be tipped back onto his front, ass in the air as directed, as Henry
hungrily licked him clean. Scott flexed from his rough tongue’s incursions,
throbbing with soreness and completely over-sensitized, but took every lapping
tongue slap and lick. Henry finished licking him clean then knuckled into his
abused little hole playfully, making Scott keen, another thin, high, purely
animal sound.
“Good boy,” Henry breathed, and it didn’t even sound like him, that low, animal
sound, the way a lion would speak after a kill, the blood of a zebra still
bathing its throat. “Tell me no one ever fucked you that hard before in your
life.”
“No one ever did,” Scott whispered back.
Henry patted his chest at last and let Scott snuggle in against him, which he
did needily, wriggling in close, clutching at his fur, rubbing his cheek
against Henry’s chest and sighing with relief as an arm encircled him and held
him close. Henry pulled Scott’s long slender thighs over his hips and Scott
crossed them obediently at the ankles, only uttering a pleading little whimper
when Henry brushed the flaccid tip of his cock against his sore hole.
“None of that,” Henry warned him, voice low and dangerous yet with a seducer’s
growl beneath it, caressing him like a loving whip. “I’m keeping you filled
with me -- filled to the brim.” He offered it like a gift as well as a command
and a warning and Scott shivered and twitched against him, sore and wincing but
still slavishly bound to Henry’s will and Henry’s body. His cock, his come, and
when he couldn’t get hard enough to pump spunk into his aching ass, there would
be fingers or, as now, the wet tip of his dripping manhood. No one, including
Scott himself, was going to imagine even for an instant, that Scott Summers
belonged to anyone but Hank McCoy.
                                   ~*~*~*~*~
Thirty-Six Hours Later
Wearily, Henry landed the Blackbird on the top of Warren’s beautiful penthouse.
The man was waiting for him, as requested, and alone, also as requested. He had
been pacing up and down and now barely let Henry get the doors open before he
ran up the ramp.
“Everyone’s been worried sick. I did as you asked. I told the Professor you had
been in touch and that you and Scott were fine but needed to come here to see
me before you flew home. They were very relieved it was just the bad weather
that stranded you out there. Henry, wasit the bad weather?”
“Yes and no.”
Henry gathered the sedated, blanket-wrapped, naked Scott in his arms and
carried him down the ramp while Warren fluttered around them, asking too many
questions. Only when he carried Scott into the infirmary that Warren had there
for exactly those occasions when the X-Men needed running repairs away from
Westchester, did Warren stop talking and fall back. As Henry laid him on the
gurney and folded back the blanket, Warren paled with shock at the sight of the
damage.
“Oh my God. Was he…was Scotty gang-raped…?”
“Again, yes and no,” Henry said grimly. “If you consider me, myself, and I a
gang, then, yes, he was.”
“You would never…. Hank, what happened?”
“Bad transition to the new me. I warned Scott that I wasn’t safe.” Henry rolled
up his sleeves and washed his hands with thoroughness, concentrating on the
next step so he wouldn’t have to look too long at the big picture. “It
wasn’t…rape as such, in that he consented, but whether he was in his right mind
to consent is debateable, whether either of us were in our right minds is
debateable. We were mostly slaves to hormones and…survival of the fittest at
its most basic. What I think can’t be denied is that even if we had chosen to
have sex while completely ourselves, we would not have chosen to have it either
so brutally or so often. I need to fix him up, Warren, and I think you and I
would probably both prefer it if you didn’t have to watch me do it. I also
don’t want him to wake up while he’s still being treated which is why I’ve put
him under.”
“Is he going to need stitches?”
“Warren, trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Henry worked on Scott by himself, narrowing his focus so that all he thought
about what was needed to be done next to repair the damage done to him. He had
washed him out with warm soapy water, used a camera to map the tears, and used
a device of his own design to make those dissolvable micro stitches, each one
so tiny that it was of pinprick size, then the ointment, also to his own
recipe, which would soothe the soreness and bruising as well as the edges of
those invisibly mended abrasions. He suspected that if he put Scott’s injuries
into the computer and asked them to check for a similar catalogue of damage it
would find only rape victims, probably ones found in prison infirmaries. He had
done the good friend whom he loved that level of hurt, and, at the time, had no
doubts at all that it was his right to do it, or that Scott’s whimpers of pain
were anything but his due. It didn’t help much that Scott had agreed with him.
Scott, drunk, dazed, and bedazzled by Henry’s leader of the pack pheromones,
had been as unlike Scott as Henry had been unlike Henry. Even now, when he was
rigid with self-hatred, it could send a lick of longing through him to remember
the way Scott had clung to him and rocked on his lap, his eager opening
brushing over the wet tip of Henry’s cock.
He had to make sure an over-protective Xavier didn’t wipe it from both of their
minds. It was important that at least one of them remembered. It was important
that they didn’t make the same damned fool mistake the next time Henry’s body
decided to turn him into another unreliable beast. He took down the
nanotechnology box and took a deep breath. He believed they would make
everything right, inside and outside of the Scott who had been fucked over and
over again, night and day, for the past too many hours; banish the bruises from
his body, heal up the fissures and tears, soothe away the soreness. They seemed
to work like a computer that was programmed to return itself to an earlier
setting if it became too compromised. It was what they would do for Scott. What
they hadn’t been able to do for him. That, of course, had been their original
function, to put Henry McCoy back to the way he’d used to be, but they couldn’t
reverse mutation, that was beyond them. They just made the subject sick and
feverish when they tried. Bodily hurts though, that they could fix. McCoy just
wanted to make sure that he had done everything ordinary medicine could do
first before he tried pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
He stuck a nanotech blocking strip over the useful cut on Scott’s forehead and
then set them loose elsewhere.
 
They worked too much like magic. He almost thought it was a mistake, the way
they went in there and fixed everything: Scott’s nibbled neck and cock-
bludgeoned throat, his blue-black contused ass cheeks, the imprint of Henry’s
balls, so clearly visible on them, smoothed away as if the bruises had never
been, and then working their wonders inside him so that Scott’s virginity was
miraculously restored from that torn, sore, stretched ass back to a tight,
untouched one. They too completely erased Henry’s crime. He wanted a do over
more than anything in the world, wanted this never to have happened, and
something far better to have occurred in its place, but he didn’t deserve to
be…let off. Did Scott, however, deserve to wake up stitched and sore just so
that Henry could continue to feel choking remorse? He had been the equivalent
of someone drugged and mind-controlled. He was probably going to wake up
feeling utterly degraded as well as filled with self-disgust for the way he had
so eagerly acquiesced to his own abuse. He did not need to feel physical pain
as well. Henry thought of Scott having to wince every time he moved and along
with the bright stab of self-loathing there was the thought of how humiliating
Scott would find that, particularly with Logan around. So, he let the nanotech
do its work. Let it smooth over Scott’s injuries and erase Henry’s crime as if
it had never been.
Henry slid latex-gloved well-lubricated fingers into him very carefully when
the nanotech had done its work, and it truly was a miracle, no heat, no damage,
everything perfectly unblemished in there. His careful stitching had been
redundant; his ointment unnecessary. Perhaps he’d just needed to do something
himself to undo the damage he’d done. Perhaps even that had been all about him.
Scott, of course, always awkward, chose to wake up then, when Henry was still
examining him. He gave a shifting wince and said in obvious confusion, “Henry…?
Do you want me to cough?”
Henry said, “Yes.”
When Scott obliged, politely turning his head like the well brought up Boy
Scout he was so he wouldn’t cough at Henry, Henry flexed his fingers
automatically, checking for things he already knew were well. Scott didn’t have
a hernia. There was nothing amiss with his prostate. He most certainly did have
two descended testicles that hung in the right place.
“Is there some reason why you’re giving me my physical now?” Scott noticed
their surroundings. “And here…? What happened?”
Henry could barely breathe for…hope. Because although he didn’t deserve to get
away with what he’d done, the brief, shining prospect of it was so dazzling. I
will make it up to him. I will never hurt him again. Cautiously, he said, “You
don’t…remember?”
“No…um, Henry…?” Scott gave another shifting little grimace and Henry realized
his newly-repaired and consequently virginally tight ass still had Henry’s
fingers in it.
Henry very carefully withdrew his fingers and Scott barely winced, because his
ass was elastic and undamaged and absolutely not bloodied and torn from being
fucked and fucked and fucked some more by a man with an animal inside him.
Henry stripped off the latex gloves automatically and dropped them into the
waste.
Scott said again, “What happened?”
“I got frisky with you in a cave when we were cut off in a blizzard and entered
your…Sotadic zone,” Henry said.
Scott smirked. “Of course you did.”
“Well, Burton did include all of the Americas as being gung-ho for pederasty,
so we’re geographically pre-excused. I’m a little disappointed that you’re not
pregnant. I was hoping for triplets.”
The extraordinary thing was how like himself he sounded.
Scott said, “What really happened?”
Henry held up a mirror so he could see the healing cut on his forehead as he
pulled off the protective strip to reveal its bruised skin and ragged scab.
“You had hypothermia and a concussion. I thought I might as well give you the
full physical while I had you sedated for the cat scan. You usually fidget your
way through it when you’re awake.”
“Well, you have big fingers.”
Henry looked down at them and it was still a shock, he wasn’t used to them yet,
the blue fur he had adapted to, but not only having three phalanges. He
supposed he should be grateful his latest secondary mutation had at least left
him with an opposable thumb.
His fingers were even bigger now, the ones he had left. His own voice went on
mechanically, like it didn’t feel any guilt: “Logan has offered to give you a
prostate exam, more than once. Of course, it wasn’t an entirely platonic
proposal, unless he truly thinks prostate exams are best performed with erect
penises….”
He could see his own erect penis, blood-flushed and hungry, pumping and pumping
into Scott’s tender ass. Scott on his knees, whimpering submission as he
obediently took every inch. Scott wriggling onto his lap, after Henry had
filled him up with more come; craving some affection to offset the butt-
pounding pain. Scott cuddling in against him, the perfectly obedient beta
slaveboy, grateful for any tenderness at all, even if every kiss came with
another hard prick for him to straddle as he was told to work his way down onto
it and then ride it just right.
The nanotech had reset Scott Summers to an earlier setting, too. Not just his
anal-recto trauma but his mind, too. Henry said, “Do you remember the
warehouse? Do you remember going in the river?”
Scott needed to concentrate hard but that finally seemed to shake itself loose
from the fog.
“I remember the warehouse…” he said slowly, frowning with the effort. “And then
they shot at us and… Did I fall?”
“Backwards down a slope and then into the river – most inelegantly, I might
add.”
“You went in after me?”
“Well, I wasn’t very busy just then. I decided I could spare a few minutes to
rescue you from inevitable death. What else do you remember?”
Scott tried, he really did, but the nanotech had done its work. It had
backtracked to the point where Scott had stopped being Scott and fixed him.
Real Scott had gone into the river. Pheromone-controlled Scott had been carried
out. The nanotech had reset to Real Scott.
“You had a nasty bang on the head. You’re probably not going to remember those
missing hours. They weren’t that exciting. We hung out in a cave and tried not
to die of hypothermia. How do you feel…?” He had let a tremor through. He had
to be careful of that.
“Fine. My head doesn’t even hurt.”
“Anything else hurt…?”
Scott shook his head. “I feel great.” No doubt the nanotech had tuned up his
muscle strains and fixed his bruises too. Ironically, the trip, in the long
run, had probably done him good.
Henry said, “Good…” automatically. He was probably still saying it when Warren,
unable to bear the suspense any longer, walked into the room. They exchanged a
speaking glance and Henry tapped his temple and nodded at Scott, then shook his
head. Warren’s turn to ask Scott how he was with a tremor in his voice while
Scott jumped down from the gurney athletically and asked if there was any
chance of some clothes, also some food as his stomach was growling.
“That’s just the triplets,” Henry reassured him and wondered what kind of a man
made jokes with his victim about his brutal, multiple sexual abuse of him. Ones
to whom none of this seemed real, perhaps?
Scott flashed him a wry grin over his shoulder. “Henry, not to be personal, but
I’ve seen you naked. If we’d had sex in a cave, trust me, I would have
remembered. And Warren would probably have heard me yelling ‘ouch!’ from here.”
Scott headed for the dining room, tossing over his shoulder a request for
anything healthy Warren’s chef could whip up in the shortest possible time,
also…clothes? While Warren looked at Henry and whispered, “He doesn’t
remember?”
“The nanotech wiped his memory when they fixed his body. It’s gone. The whole
event. No longer saved to his mental hard drive.”
Warren put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Get rid of it too, Henry. You
don’t need to remember it either. It wasn’t you.”
Henry shook his head. “‘Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat
it.’ Santayana was right about that. This mustn’t happen again.”
                                   ~*~*~*~*~
Back in Westchester, Henry slammed the mental doors closed against probing
telepaths, while Scott, having nothing to hide, left them open, reassuring
everyone without even trying. Henry waxed poetical about the joys of thirty-six
hours in a damp cave with a concussed Scott -- ever the sparkling
conversationalist. He taunted Logan quite deliberately and in public with being
medically required to snuggle up with a wet, naked Scott to cure his
hypothermia and how disappointed he knew Logan was at having missed out on that
particular gig. Scott was long-suffering about the quips from Bobby asking if
they had made their own entertainment and said that yes, apparently, they’d
passed the time with sex, unfortunately it had proven to be so unmemorable that
he didn’t recall any of it. Who knew that Henry was such a forgettable romantic
partner?
“The best kind of orgasms can sometimes cause amnesia,” Henry said blandly.
Everyone laughed because of course it was unthinkable that good, kind Henry
would ever have taken advantage of innocent young Scott in a blizzard.
It was forty-eight hours in and he was starting to think he might be able to
unmask his face from its frozen joviality, to peel from his lips their witty
quips, when Logan shuffled into the infirmary, glowering and furtive. He was
barefoot and shaggy in a wife-beater, his jeans ripped at the knees. As usual,
he wasn’t wearing any underwear and he smelled like Henry did, like someone who
had strayed a step too close to Nature, and couldn’t now get back. Logan closed
the door behind him and said, “When ya came back here, why did the Boy Scout’s
ass smell of ointment? Why did ya stink of guilt? And why does the Blackbird
smell like sex?”
Henry turned away so Logan couldn’t see his face, busying himself amidst blood
samples. “I told you, Logan, Scott and I made out in that cave, just because he
doesn’t remember it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
Logan, the other man in the building with an animal inside him, said, “Kinda
soon after yer latest change to go on a mission, wasn’t it? Doesn’t it take a
few days to…bed in?” A darting suspicion arrowed his way from Logan’s
unsettling eyes. Henry had often thought there was something attractive about
his ugliness, but today all he could see was ugly. That and the view in his
mind’s eye of his body impaling Scott’s. Logan continued relentlessly, “Ya left
here smellin’ one way – came back smellin’ another.”
Henry said, “Logan, if this is a serious investigation on your part, may I ask
what you smelled on Scott?”
“Ass-ointment. Still waiting for an explanation for that. Ya tellin’ me Pretty
Boy’s got piles?”
Henry said, “I took the opportunity to do the usual physical while I had him
sedated to assess the concussion. I was out of vaseline so I used that ointment
for a lubricant instead. Apparently my fingers are still unpleasantly large,
so, who knows, Logan, you may get your chance to give him that prostate exam
next time, after all. You do seem to have an unhealthy fixation with his back
passage.”
Logan said brusquely and unexpectedly. “Was sure ya’d fucked him in the worst
way. Was sure I could smell it on him, even with that shower ya made him take
at Warren’s.”
“I can assure you that neat freak Scott has never needed mine or anyone else’s
persuasion to have a shower.”
“So, last night, seeing as Jeannie’s still away seeing her folks and Junior’s
all alone, I put a couple of sleeping tablets in his cocoa. Then I give it an
hour to kick in and I go in there with the latex gloves and the vaseline and a
really good flashlight and I discover that the Boy Scout has just the kind of
ass you’d expect a Boy Scout to have – clean and pure and tight as the driven
snow.” Logan scratched at his jaw uncomfortably. “S’why I came to say I’m
sorry. Shouldn’t have thought that of ya, Hank. It was wrong of me.”
Henry said tersely, “Did you fuck him? When you had Scott there, drugged and
naked, I mean?”
Logan blinked in surprise. “What? No.”
“Did you want to?”
There was a moment when Logan seemed to be fighting something inside himself
and then he shrugged. “Yeah. What of it? You sayin’ ya wouldn’t wanna fuck him
under those circumstances?”
“Well, I would need him to be conscious and responsive. It’s a little quirk of
mine.”
 “Yer smellin’ awful angry right now, Hank.” Logan looked him up and down. “Me
touchin’ Cyke? Having him helpless like that? Ya hate it right down to the
primal.”
Henry said crisply, “Yes.”
“When did ya stake yer claim?”
“I believe his…freehold is still up for grabs.”
“You gonna ask me to arm wrestle ya for him?”
Henry took a step back. “Scott doesn’t belong to me or to you and wouldn’t do
whatever infantile contest you devised to test our so-called suitability to be
his bed partner.”
Logan flashed him another of those soul-stripping looks. “Betcha’d take a
pityfuck right now though, wouldn’t ya? After that business with Trish.”
“What? Being told that an attraction to me now counts as zoophilia? Who would
be offended by that?”
Still watching him levelly, Logan said, “Yer not ‘offended’. Yer hurt. Like
anyone would be. Bitch of a thing to say to ya.”
“Logan, I’m not really in the mood for sympathy right now, however well-
intentioned.”
Logan held up his hands and retreated. “Came to apologize – apologized. You and
me still good?”
“As ‘good’ as we ever were. Drug Scott again, however, and we will be somewhere
quite a long way away from ‘good’.”
Logan said, “Hank – sniff yerself.” Unwillingly Henry did so and then winced.
Yes, indeed, the possessive rage was stinking on his fur. Steadily, Logan said,
“I can smell a prior claim when it’s chokin’ me. You did make out in that cave,
didn’t ya? Seems to me that if Scott and you got it on and that bang on the
head made him ferget, then there wouldn’t be any harm in remindin’ him before
Red gets back.”
Thickly, Henry said, “It wasn’t like that, Logan.” God, how I wish that it had
been like that! I would give anything for it to have been like that!He
pretended to be absorbed with test tubes, shoving a skin sample under a
microscope as if he cared what he was looking at. “I wasn’t myself and neither
was he. Now, please drop the subject. I am in far greater control than I was
but my temper is still somewhat erratic.” When he looked up, Logan was gone.
                                   ~*~*~*~*~
Hank had been so unhappy since his last mutation. Trish Tilby dumping him had
plugged straight into his self-loathing and made it a hundred times worse. The
pretending to be gay to get back at her thing was childish, but Scott could
just about grasp that it was the only way Hank could feel empowered right now,
the only way he could feel in charge of any part of a life that kept turning
him into the figure in a Kafka novel, even if it was based on a lie. Ever since
their mission together -- that Scott could barely remember -- he had tried to
give Hank affirmation as someone who was still loved and needed, by Scott if
not by Trish, but Hank kept pushing him away. Now, with Jean still away, Xavier
away, and Ororo, Bobby and Logan on young mutant-supervision duty, and Scott a
few drinks the wrong side of sober, Scott thought he would have another go at
making Henry feel better about being rejected by Trish….
Scott realized that he had definitely had too much to drink. People -- well,
Logan -- kept complaining about him being a lightweight and then pushing booze
at him anyway. So, now he was drunk and it was Logan’s fault. Sometimes he
thought Logan might be…hitting on him, and sometimes he thought he was just
bullying him because Logan was a dick. Either way, his company was jangling and
Scott had ended up feeling needled and picked on all through dinner, and he had
missed Henry, who had claimed to be too busy in his lab to come and help out.
Sitting alone in front of a blazing fire while the snow fell outside, and Scott
nursed the bottle that Logan had told him he was too much of a wuss to drink,
Scott couldn’t help thinking how comforting Henry was compared with Logan. He
didn’t call him by stupid nicknames, or tell him that a woman like Jean needed
a real man to keep her warm at night, not an uptight pretty boy, or keep
talking about Scott’s ass and the likelihood of him keeping sticks in it. Scott
looked at his watch and realized that it was blurry. Lots of things were blurry
and he suddenly felt very tired and very lonely, and much more upset about all
the crappy things Logan had said to him than he had been at the time. He missed
the past like it was a person he wanted to talk to who wouldn’t take his calls.
He missed Warren, who didn’t live with them any more, so no longer swept Scott
up in his arms and flew off with him in that exhilarating/terrifying way he’d
used to do, and Jean, who wasn’t exactly hurrying back to him. He realized that
he wanted Hank.
The corridor was a lot longer and more unstable than usual. It was like being
on an el train when it went around a bend, jolting Scott roughly from side to
side, but, at last, a little bruised and breathless, he had made it to Hank’s
bedroom. Scott fumbled the handle a few times -- it was tricky tonight -- and
then made his way unsteadily in. He closed the door behind him, irresolutely,
because Hank was asleep, when he had been expecting him to be awake. In fact
Hank was sprawled, nakedly blue-furred, across his king size bed. He looked
safe and warm and cuddly. Scott decided that he wanted company and that Hank
wouldn’t mind.
Unlacing his shoes was much more complicated than he remembered but once he’d
finished doing that, he realized that he must be undressing now, probably
because it was night-time, given all the twinkly stars outside the window, so
he should get on with that. He fell over taking his socks off, but, luckily,
the carpet here was very, very soft…. Scott came to with a jolt, with
everything weirdly tilted, and his face oddly close to the floor, and realized
that he had been cuddling Hank’s carpet, sockless, and had possibly dozed off,
whether for a few seconds, a few minutes, or a few hours, he couldn’t tell. He
needed to finish undressing, that was clearly paramount. He did so, with quite
a lot of difficulty, and then found he was naked, and cold because Hank, having
fur, never switched the heating on in his bedroom. Scott crawled on his hands
and knees over to that big, inviting bed. It was a matter of moments to climb
up onto it, then to snuggle in next to Henry’s furry, warm body with a little
sigh of contentment, as he pulled the man’s big furry arm over him like a
comforter and drifted off to sleep.
                                   ~*~*~*~*~
Henry woke with a jolt and smelled Scott. The aftermath of the dream was so
vivid – the one in which he’d been granted that do-over he so desperately
craved, where he had been gentle and tender and coaxed Scott to climax after
climax with his fingers and tongue – that for a moment he could not only smell
Scott but feel the relaxed weight of his hairless, naked body pressed against
his.
When he opened his eyes, he realized that he could smell him so clearly because
for some inexplicable reason, Scott had decided to climb naked into his bed and
cuddle up with him. He swallowed hard and had to tell himself that the beast
was under control now. The lion was sleeping. He was in control of this mind
and this body, and the man he really was would never hurt Scott like that foul
animal had done. Cautiously, he bent his head and smelled his hair. It carried
the scent of some herbal shampoo that Jean had probably bought him, and he
could separate the chemicals in it from the natural soaps. He pressed his face
closer and inhaled, and got a bouquet of Scott’s shower gel, the way it reacted
with his skin, and the grilled fish he’d had for dinner, and the marzipan
liqueur that some idiot had let Scott drink unsupervised, when Scott could get
drunk on a thimblefull of Christmas sherry, and, oddly enough, his own carpet,
which Scott seemed to have been embracing like a long lost friend.
Scott’s eyes must have opened behind his visor because he said, “Hank…?”
Henry was proud of the way he kept his voice so steady: “Any particular…reason,
why you’re naked in my bed, Scott?”
“I wanted a cuddle. I miss Warren. I miss Jean. I miss you, Hank.”
He really was drunk off his head. He usually passed out when someone -- well,
Logan -- got him this inebriated. Henry had never realized that he had an
inbetween stage as a snuggler. “You’re one of those adorable drunks, aren’t
you?” he said resignedly. “The affectionate, confiding type? That’s really very
trying of you, Scotty. Can’t you just get argumentative and then puke like
normal people?”
Scott snuggled in against him and rubbed his head against Henry’s chest. “I
like being here with you. I like the way you feel. Do you want to do
something…naughty?” he whispered, very daringly.
“More than you can possibly imagine.” He was swelling just in response to
Scott’s cat-relaxed naked body with all its honed muscles and planes pressing
against his; he felt light-headed for a scary moment as everything filled up,
but then he was breathing around it, the erection and the need that came with
it, and he was still -- thank God -- himself. He was himself with a painful,
aching erection and a maddeningly desirable Scott plastered to his body, but he
was still Henry McCoy. He dropped a brief kiss onto the top of Scott’s head and
said, slowly and clearly, “Scott -- you are drunk off your delightful ass, so
we won’t be doing anything naughty.”
Scott’s protesting whine did absolutely nothing to quell his erection, nor did
the way he wriggled in closer and clung on tight as if he feared bodily
eviction from the bed. “Please, Hank…? I want a cuddle.”
“You can have a…cuddle, Scotty, you dopey little inebriate. You just can’t have
anything approaching sexual intercourse. No -- hands up here where I can see
them.” He grabbed Scott’s wrist quickly as Scott made amateurish attempts to
stroke him below the waist. Luckily, Scott was clueless, but given how hard he
was, even Scott’s uncoordinated fumbling might be enough to get him off and
then Scott would have given him a hand-job and they would be right back to
Scott being taken sexual advantage of while not himself.
Henry was glad that his fingers were so big as it meant he could wrap them
around both of Scott’s wrists quite easily, and pull them in against his chest,
finger-cuffing him quite effectively. “Stop wriggling,” he told him sternly, as
Scott squirmed against him encouragingly.
Scott murmured hopefully, “Will you spank me if I don’t…?”
“Oh, my stars and garters, what hell-lab designed to punish those who have
previously transgressed dreamed up this drunken incarnation of you? Scott, you
must never ever ever go to Logan’s bedroom when you’ve been drinking, do you
hear me? Never!”
That was probably not a good idea to have put in his head. Scott cocked his
visored head to one side and said thoughtfully, “Logan…?”
“Oh no, definitely not!”
Scott said, “He was mean to me at dinner.” But he was clearly still weighing
his options.
“That’s because he’s a mean, bad man -- whose bed you are absolutely
notclimbing in while on your quest for carnal affection. Scott, we’re having a
lovely cuddle, and you feel warm and safe and very, very sleepy, don’t you…?”
It took a little persuasion but Henry hung on grimly to Scott’s wrists and let
him wriggle against his body in a way that struck agonizing sparks from his
aching cock but did at least satisfy Scott that he was getting enough physical
comfort from Henry’s warm, furry body that he didn’t insist on struggling free
and seeking out Logan’s warm, furry body instead. Henry had a very bad five
minutes when he wondered if it was actually possible to pass out from the pain
of a cock throbbing like a diseased tooth, but at the end of it, Scott had
wrapped himself around him affectionately and dozed off on his chest.
He would have loved to slip out from underneath him and go and give himself
some relief in the bathroom, but Scott was sleeping much too lightly, and Henry
had no doubt at all that if he woke up and found Henry gone Scott would totter
off drunkenly to Logan’s room in search of another cuddle. Henry briefly
envisaged a scene in which he, naked and semen-stinking from having hastily
jerked himself off in the shower, thundered into Logan’s room like a stern
father from a gothic novel and ordered Logan to unhand a naked Scott. He
suspected that if a willing Scott climbed into Logan’s bed that Logan would
quite promptly and efficiently flip Scott flat on his back and be in him before
Henry had caught up with them, and would then have the brass-balled effrontery
to go on thrusting while casually telling Henry over his shoulder to take a
hike even as Henry was telling him to stop that at once. He could just imagine
how many spectators would turn out to watch that particular scene.
So he bore it, grimly, teeth-gritted as the ache built to the point where it
really did feel as if his cock was going to burst open, and then gradually,
agonizingly subsided. He gasped with relief and slackened his death-grip on
Scott’s wrists a fraction, and Scott gave a snuffling little flex in against
him, sighing with contentment as he pillowed his face on Henry’s fur, rising
and falling to the exhalations of Henry’s massive leonine lungs. His lips were
slightly parted and his breath surprisingly sweet. Henry remembered forcing his
cock into his mouth and Scott so obediently trying to accommodate him, and the
self-hatred overpowered the jolt of arousal like dry foam on a flash fire.
                                   ~*~*~*~*~
Henry could not sleep, not with a naked Scott drowsing on top of him,
occasionally murmuring nonsense, once trying to suckle from Henry’s manly,
blue-furred chest, so Henry just lay there and endured it, while keeping hold
of Scott’s wrists, and bearing all those little twitches and flexes and sighs
and wriggles that Scott apparently did in his sleep, just to torture the person
he was sleeping on. Scott’s long, slender legs fitted neatly in between Henry’s
strong furry thighs, his quiescent cock lying just where Henry’s painfully
erect one could feel its weight. He got the justice of it, certainly. He was
the one who had wanted a chance to make amends. To have the same scenario
offered to him where a Scott who was not himself was at his mercy and he kept
him safe even from himself. He had just imagined it being more…heroic, and
infinitely less ridiculous.
Finally, as dawn light broke through the undraped window, Scott stirred and
licked his lips then said in confusion, “Henry…?” in a way that sounded like
himself.
“Good morning, Mr. Summers. Please do tell me you have a killer hangover?”
 The way Scott clutched at his head and moaned seemed to confirm that.
 Not unsympathetically, Henry said, “Did you inadvertently move your eyeballs
perchance?”
 “Yes,” Scott rasped.
 “Rookie mistake. I am going to lift you off my body now and place you on the
bed beside me. This is not, as you will undoubtedly conclude, an act of heinous
sadism, it is because I urgently need to urinate and, once having done so, I
can then procure for you an excellent hangover cure of my own devising.”
 “Please don’t talk so loudly,” Scott whispered, clutching his head. “And I
need to piss now too.”
 “Do you need to vomit…?”
 “Oh hell….”
 He had to grab him and sprint with him into the bathroom where Scott threw up
violently into the lavatory bowl, clutching at his head in anguish as his
body’s heaving retches made far too many parts of it move in ways that tortured
his hangover headache. Resignedly, Henry urinated in the shower while making
sympathetic noises.
 On another occasion, having been kept awake all night by him, not to mention
prick-teased to the point of bursting, Henry might have enjoyed Scott’s
suffering over the next half an hour, but he was still too guilt racked from
abusing him in that freezing cave not to feel sorry for him. Scott was far too
virtuous to have suffered many hangovers before, so the same man who shook off
capture and torture by bad guys on a more or less regular basis was turned into
a whimpering mess by the simultaneous revolt of so many of his body parts at
once. Finally, however, when he had puked until he could puke no more, pissed
out what seemed to be almost pure alcohol, and been helped into the shower, he
got to the point where he could stand upright almost unaided -- he did have to
hold onto the soap dish for balance -- while Henry, who had now just accepted
that no new humiliating test was not going to be set for him, washed off the
vomit, sweat, and pungent odor of his own fur by coating Scott’s slicked warm
skin with shower gel and foaming it over every taut, leanly muscled temptation,
before rinsing him clean.
Scott rallied enough to take over washing himself, and did so with focused
concentration. Henry, momentarily forgotten, but watching, was surprised,
aroused, and then as the full ramifications sunk in, dismayed, to discover that
Scott’s ordinary shower routine involved soaping himself up inside and then
thoroughly douching himself clean with the detachable showerhead -- held a
rigid two inches away from his body at all times. He didn’t think he was
watching a clean freak at work here. He was watching a man who had once been a
boy who woke up on a regular basis with sticky secretions in his ass and had
got in the habit of washing himself there. Given the way Scott’s mind tended to
slam the doors on the past so it couldn’t be examined too closely, Henry
wondered if Scott had ever actually let himself realize that invasive things
must have been done to him while he slept -- or while he was awake which he had
then been compelled to forget. Both Sinister and Winters had been telepaths.
They could do what they wanted to his mind, but if they or their minions had
ejaculated inside an adolescent -- or God, please, no, pre-adolescent -- Scott
it would still take soap and water to wash away the evidence. For all Henry
knew, Scott had been mentally programmed to wash himself that way every morning
and not to think about it, years since.
He knew there had been a boy at Sinister’s orphanage whose image Xavier had
picked up sometimes when Scott was feverish and they were working as one -
- Henry to heal his body and Xavier to soothe his mind -- who had bullied Scott
and shadowed him, obsessed with him, pushing other boys away and keeping Scott
for himself. He had been Scott’s size in the beginning but had all too quickly
grown bigger and stronger and no less bullying, no less obsessed. Scott never
spoke of him but Henry wondered just how many times that boy had climbed into
Scott’s bed in the orphanage and done as he liked.
He helped Scott into his robe and steered him back to the bed, his hands on
Scott’s shoulders to gently push him forward. Once safe-harbored on the bed, he
told him to stay absolutely still and not turn his head or move his eyeballs
and to drink the glass of water Henry was now putting in his hand while Henry
got him some medicine that was way better than alka-seltzer.
“My hangover cure is a miracle cure.” He patted him gently on the shoulder.
“Trust me, Scott.”
Scott, damp, sweet-smelling, and weirdly desirable given how much vomiting he
had been doing, sipping the water with the curious rigidity of a man trying not
to move his eyes, said, “I’d be a dick not to, wouldn’t I, after last night?”
Henry gaped because, of course, he thought Scott had suffered the usual amnesia
of the inebriate. It had not occurred to him for an instant that Scott might
not have done. “You…remember…?”
“Henry, I got into your bed naked and pretty much begged you to have sex me.
I’m so sorry. I know you’re straight. I don’t know what came over me. I think
it was just seeing Warren again. It made me think of the old days. But I’m so
sorry I hit on you like that. It was a terrible thing to….”
“Scott, stop talking.” He squeezed his shoulder gently. “There are things we
need to talk about but let me get you something for that headache first, okay?
And, just so you know, I was not remotely offended, only very flattered and,
frankly, rather painfully aroused.”
He could practically feel the self-flagellator who was Scott not believing him,
but he really wanted to ease Scott’s headache more than he wanted to ease his
mind, so he headed off down the corridor, then -- remembering the way Logan
could smell anything and everything, possibly including vulnerable drunken
remorse and slippery nakedness under a borrowed bathrobe -- strode back to his
door, reached inside for the key, and then firmly locked Scott in. Logan could
possibly harangue him through the keyhole and demand details of what had gone
on, but he could not actually get in there and start sniffing him.
By the time Scott had swallowed Henry’s hangover medicine, brushed his teeth
three times, and finished drinking two large cups of black coffee, he was more
or less back to normal, albeit with damper hair. He was just utterly mortified.
He thanked Henry again for his help, apologized wretchedly, and made to head
off, looking in that moment so painfully like the Scott Henry had first
encountered back in High School -- the new kid who would never make eye
contact, head bowed, body thin, bruised and seared with cigarette burns from
his vicious abuser -- that Henry simply couldn’t bear to let him walk out of
the room feeling like that.
“Scott, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s a very shocking and brutal
thing and I was hoping to…frankly, I was hoping to get away with it. But I
realize now that I never had the right not to tell you what happened, so, I
need you to come and sit down and listen to me.”
Scott looked confused, as well he might, but he obediently came back and sat on
the chair while Henry, having locked the door to keep out any intruders,
perched on the bed.
“That last mission we were on that you don’t remember. This is what really
happened….”
He had thought Scott would interrupt, but Scott was too bright for that, too
much the quiet leader who absorbed all available data before making a decision,
so he listened, without asking questions, just nodding every now and then to
show that he had understood. A few times, listening to himself, Henry could
hear that justifying note creeping into his voice, trying to excuse the
inexcusable before he backed away and stated it baldly, that it had been every
bit as bad as that.
At the end, he waited and there was a long silence before Scott said, “So,
Warren knows? But nobody else.”
“Logan suspected. He pretty much got it, I think, but then when he examined
you, of course, there was no physical evidence of us having had intercourse,
and plenty of physical evidence proving that when it came to anal sex you were
pure as the driven snow. He decided he was wrong and I let him believe it.”
Scott said unexpectedly, “You know it wasn’t you, right, Henry?”
“I…hoped it wasn’t me. I wasn’t really sure until last night. Now, I’m fairly
confident that it wasn’t because -- the truth is, and I need you to know this,
so you know exactly who it is you are trusting yourself to in the future -- I
do still want to have sex with you. I really wanted to have sex with you last
night, and had you been sober and climbed into my bed naked, I would gladly
have done so.”
“You should have told me what happened.”
“I know. I thought I was trying to protect you. The truth is I was just trying
to protect myself. I did a terrible thing and I didn’t want to have to fess up
to it.”
“You should have told me so you weren’t having to shoulder it by yourself. It
wasn’t you who did it. It wasn’t -- by the sound of things -- even me you did
it to. The guy that -- the guy that you were -- did it to seemed to be fine
with it. So, that guy, who was never you, had brutally ass-ripping rough sex
with a guy who was never me, who apparently liked it that way. I’m not sure
what that has to do with you and me when we weren’t even there.”
“Well, because, Scott, to be crudely direct about it -- it was my cock that
ripped up your ass. Warren took one look at you and thought you’d been gang
raped, that was how bad it was. You were still bleeding from the last session
when I was climbing on you for the next one. At Warren’s place I was stitching
you back up for an hour before the nanotechnology rendered my efforts moot.”
Scott still smelled neither shocked nor angry or afraid. He tilted his head and
said, “Do you want to do that now? Ram your cock down my throat and make me
choke on your come? Fuck me until I bleed?”
It was as shocking hearing those porn movie words from Scott’s sculpted mouth
as it would have been to hear them from a nun. Henry might actually have
gasped. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure?”
Henry thought about it, trying to reach into his darkest depths, and realized
there was nothing of that in him. He wanted to have sex with Scott, but not
like that. Never like that. “Quite sure.”
“Good, that makes two of us then.” Scott squared his shoulders. “Henry, I came
here last night because in my drunken incoherent way I wanted you to know how
wrong Trish was. I wanted to show you that you’re still wanted and needed and
how desirable you still are. In fact, as we’re sharing soul-stripping shameful
secrets, I’ll say it bluntly. I liked you a lot when you were human-shaped and
I think I would have enjoyed having sex with you. I liked you just the same
when you grew blue fur, and I think I would have enjoyed having sex with you in
that incarnation, too, but I didn’t start thinking about it as much as I have
been doing lately until you looked like this. But since you started looking
like this…I’ve been thinking about it a lot more than I should have done.
That’s what Jean picked up on in my head. That’s why she decided to go visit
with her folks.”
It rippled through him, warm and glowing, the realization that Scott was
telling the truth. Of course, he was telling the truth. Scott Summers was a Boy
Scout, who probably couldn’t lie without crossing his fingers behind his back.
Even like this, no -- especiallylike this -- Henry McCoy was appreciated,
wanted, and desired. Henry felt as if his veins had just filled up with mulled
wine spiced with honey. He swallowed hard and Scott rose to his feet and let
the robe slip open, lean-bodied and slender and strong as a whip, and crossing
the few feet between them to stand in front of Henry as Henry sat, gaping, on
the bed. Scott’s hollowed abdomen was right in front of him, and below it, the
finest line of hair leading the eye down to it, and beginning to show interest,
was his firming cock.
“What -- what did Jean suggest you should do about those thoughts…?”
“She suggested that I should see if you were willing for me to act on them. She
thought it might get it out of my system. She thinks it’s that I crave
affirmation from the alpha males in my life because of my childhood, and that I
probably have a subliminal need to submit myself physically and sexually to you
and to Logan to balance the imbalance of me leading the team when I’m younger
than you are and you’re both stronger than I am. She thinks it would make me
feel a lot better if I did that. She thinks it might make the two of you feel
better, too, and less inclined to resent me later.”
“Jean’s a very wise woman, except for the part where she thinks you need to
submit yourself sexually to Logan. That’s obviously just…wrong. Well, unless, I
was also there to ensure…fair play and that he didn’t get too rough with you,
and, yes, given what I did to you in that cave, I appreciate the irony and
still in no way retract that condition.”
“Wasn’t you. Wasn’t me. Not our problem, although I’m glad you developed that
nanotechnology.” Scott moved even closer and there was really no denying the
fact that his cock was bobbing tantalizingly close to Henry’s mouth. “That
means that if we do this, it really will be our first time, won’t it? I mean -
- you practically gave me a brand new ass…?”
Henry found he was licking his lips, hungering for Scott’s cock in a way that
surprised him. He was also getting hard again. He had, however, not the
faintest idea if Scott was so unperturbed about hearing that he had been
brutally and repeatedly sodomized because, having no memory of it, it had no
reality for him, or if something that traumatic was automatically and
efficiently repressed by the labyrinthine confusion of his damaged mind; like a
pop-up ad with an unpleasant image flaring that was suppressed by the defense
systems of the machine before anyone got more than a passing glimpse of it.
He said, “Scott, you do understand…? You were sexually…used by me, roughly,
many times, and with no consideration of your bodily needs or even of your
consent, to the point where I did you physical harm?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t us, that was just something that happened. That isn’t
relevant to this.”
He was pretty sure Scott’s mind was just going to keep scooping up any
references Henry insisted on making to Scott’s brutal buggery in a cave and
filing them firmly under ‘Nothing To See Here’. Scott’s mind was apparently
very good at that. It probably had bulging filing cabinets of abuses carefully
locked away where Scott would not accidentally stumble over them while looking
for useful mission inventory.
Henry felt a sense of desolation sweep through him at how damaged Scott was and
then forced himself to take a look at the young man standing in front of him,
who simply functioned like this. Functioned very efficiently too. In fact, if
one was going to go nuts from an unwanted secondary mutation, and sexually
abuse a teammate for thirty-six hours in a freezing cave, perhaps it should be
the one who already had the mental apparatus in place to deal with it. He
wondered just how many assaults it had filed away over the years -- from
Sinister, the other boys in the orphanage who all seemed to have been either
aspects of Sinister or his trained spies, there to provide the emotional damage
done to Scott so that Sinister could assess it at his leisure when
experimenting on his hapless little lab rat. He had often wondered why Xavier
had learned so little about what exactly had been done to Scott in that hellish
place but he was now getting an inkling as to why.
The scientist in him just couldn’t help himself. “Scott, that boy you shared a
room with when you were in the orphanage? The one who bullied you…?” And who
seemed to be compulsively obsessed with you, perhaps because Sinister
programmed him to be.
“He’s not important.” Yes, that expression. Blank followed by a sort of
dismissive head movement. He suspected there was a set of benign memories over
the real ones, perhaps due to Sinister’s system of mental blocks, and that on
some level Scott suspected that they were false but found the benign ones
easier to live with. Or perhaps he just didn’t remember what it was like to
have a brain that hadn’t been endlessly messed around with by malevolent
outside influences so thought a brain that came with its own trauma clean-up
crew, that came in and swept away all the disturbing things to the dark corners
so he had clear space to strategize, was a normal way of thinking.
“Can we stop talking about the cave now?” Scott said, clearly having moved on
from that past irrelevance and wanting to get back to here and now. He smelt
very aroused and slightly guilty and as if he were enjoying feeling both of
those things. He edged a little closer and his body language was docile and
coaxing at the same time, like a kitten trying to persuade one to play -- an
irresistible combination to any healthy lion-man who had spent a very
frustrating sleepless night. Scott went on carefully, “Because I’d much rather
talk about me submitting myself to you sexually.”
Henry had to swallow hard. “We can…talk about that if you like.”
Scott held out his wrists and Henry saw with a jolt that he had bruised them
while keeping Scott from touching him while internally wrestling with his
painful erection. His fingermarks were clearly imprinted on the skin in
purpling contusions.
Scott used a voice that went straight to his groin and practically breathed on
the tip, “I know you didn’t tie me up last night, Hank, but it’s making me
really hot right now -- pretending that you did.”
The noise that came out of Henry’s throat was not one he could have imagined
making while still man-shaped, nor was that impulsive grab and throw down of
Scott flat on his back on the bed, entirely unrelated to darker animal needs.
The light behind Scott’s visor flashed with excitement and he spread his long
lean legs as Henry straddled him hungrily.
“You’re sure…?” Henry breathed, dry-throated. “After what happened last time…?”
“I’m not with that guy now. I’m with you. I trust you.”
Henry bent his head and something like a sob of relief came from his throat
before he closed his mouth over Scott’s firm cock and began to give him the
best, deepest, most brain-melting blow job ever delivered by a large mutant
genius covered in blue fur.
 
The noises Scott made while being fellated were incredible, so was the
squirming and the spine arching and those jerky flexes of his long, slender
legs. Yet, much as he was enjoying himself, Henry couldn’t help thinking that
if Logan were the one doing this, Henry would get to watch Scott responding to
it. He could kiss him, deep and firm, and taste those little moans on his own
tongue. He could slip a supporting hand under his head and help him twist over
just enough to take Henry’s cock into his mouth and be able to watch his face
as Logan’s hot, demanding mouth made him come. He imagined them competing over
Scott’s smooth, boyishly beautiful body, yellow glare to yellow glare,
predators pawing the ground over prey both considered rightfully theirs. It
would be ugly and basic and probably very stupid, but it would also be hot as
hell.
He was quite sure, too, that Scott would love every minute of it. He thought
again of that skinny teenage boy, trying to wrap his head around Nietzsche,
knowing he would be going home to another beating later because no one cared
enough to intervene. Even though he was coming to school in rags, half-starved
and with band-aids barely covering his cigarette burns, no one gave a damn
about him, except when his powers manifested, whereupon angry men wanted to
kill him for being a mutant. No wonder the stoic leader of the X-Men, under his
handsome surface shell, was riddled with all that self-doubt and insecurity.
Henry wondered if that was part of what this was about from Jean, also -
- wanting to get Scott some affirmation from his peers in a way that he might
be able to comprehend. Perhaps praise didn’t cut it with Scott, however well
Xavier or anyone else phrased it, but actual touching did. Two of them wanting
to touch him, alpha males to boot, the kind that had brushed past him,
unseeing, in school corridors, shoved him out of their way carelessly for years
when he was a skinny kid who had not yet reached his adult height, those kind
of men that focused on him, competing for his attention. Yeah, Scott would
probably love that.
He wondered if Sinister had caressed him when he was pleased with him. If there
had ever been times when Winters stopped yelling and hitting him and -
- deciding Scott could multitask to fulfill some of his other needs -- did a
little coaxing instead. He had never liked to ask Scott if the man who had been
beating him had also been molesting him. It seemed too dark a thing to
contemplate, but there would be a terrible symmetry to it if the only times his
previous protectors had ever been kind to him was when they wanted sex. If that
was the only physical affection he’d been shown since he’d lost his parents
perhaps he couldn’t really believe in love when it came in any other form.
He had kept sucking all the while, much more skilled than Scott at relaxing his
throat muscles so he could take him all the way, and Scott was squirming
ecstatically, innocently surprised by being deep-throated. Henry had always
suspected that his sex-life with Jean was a little vanilla, possibly a
frustration to Jean, too, if Scott had put her up on a pedestal and wouldn’t
ever let the poor woman step down long enough for them to get a little dirty
together. He leaned over him and took him in deep, not really a penance for
making that poor confused Scott in the cave do this for that brutal animal, but
feeling all the same that fair was fair. And he was enjoying it himself, he had
to admit, making Scott arch and gasp and twitch and make those shocked rising
octave sounds.
There was a bang on the door and Logan snarled, “Ya sound like a fuckin’ girl,
Summers!”
Henry lifted his mouth off Scott’s cock and gave the tip a swipe with his
tongue that made Scott shiver and his toes clench. He said softly, “How naughty
do you want to be, Scotty…?”
And there was something deliciously innocent about the way Scott looked like a
good boy trying to work out how one might be really reallybad. “Naughty…” he
admitted, face turned Henry’s way as if assessing what the right answer was
meant to be.
“Naughty enough for two…?”
Scott gulped and gave a rapid, guilty little nod. Henry smirked at him. “You
are going to have to give back those merit badges, you know, Scott.” He raised
his voice and said, “Come back in half an hour, Logan. Maybe I’ll feel like
sharing. I just have an itch I need to scratch first.”
There was a shocked silence from outside the door and then Logan bent his mouth
to the keyhole and hissed, “Hank, let me in.”
He sounded worried, so Henry cast a raised eyebrow Scott’s way, reluctantly
climbed off him and crossed over to the door. As soon as he unlocked it, Logan
burst in and sniffed him suspiciously, then looked at him in confusion.
“Ya smell like you….”
“I am me, Logan, you halfwit. I’m also, you may have noticed, a me who is mid-
coitus with Scott, who would consequently like you to clear off and….”
But Logan had already loped over to the bed where Scott was looking up at him
in both confusion and embarrassment while trying to tug Henry’s robe over his
saliva-slick erection to hide it. Logan sniffed Scott too, who flinched and
then gave an aroused little shiver as Logan’s hot beer breath ruffled his hair
and played on the nerve down his neck. “And you smell like you.” Logan planted
a palm across Scott’s forehead and sniffed the air. “Don’t seem to be runnin’ a
fever….”
“He’s not running a fever. We are neither of us running a fever, nor mind-
controlled, body-snatched, or otherwise unlike ourselves. We are simply feeling
horny and experimental. Now would you mind clearing off? I’m endeavoring to
bring Scott to a mutually satisfactory climax with glossal dexterity alone.”
Logan blinked and put two fingers to Scott’s neck to feel his pulse
automatically while still looking at Henry. “You’re sucking off the Boy Scout?”
“With considerable skill, I might add.”
“That’s true,” Scott admitted.
Logan took Scott’s face by the jaw and turned his head to stare into his face
with a penetrating amber gaze. “You feel like yourself, Cyke? You ain’t feeling
weird?”
“Yes – I mean, no,” Scott protested. “Perfectly like myself.”
“You two just decided to get frisky with each other?”
Henry gave Logan a smug smirk. “Scott finds my latest mutation irresistibly
attractive.”
To his surprise, Logan shrugged. “Can see that. Ain’t sayin’ it ain’t
kinda…majestic.”
“Yes!” Scott surprised them both by sitting upright and then hastily clutching
the robe back over his erection. “That’s the perfect word for it. It’s
like…getting to make out with Aslan.”
“Who was effectively allegorically…God, of course,” Henry said, crossing back
over to the bed as Logan showed no sign of moving away from Scott and he didn’t
want him establishing squatter’s rights. “Although, I suspect that was not his
appeal for you. Indeed there are now mental questions being raised about your
interior fantasy relationship with anthropomorphic animals in children’s
literature that trouble me somewhat. Did you -- perchance -- think Bagheera
was…hot?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Scott returned, clearly nonplussed.
“Shere Khan…?”
At Scott’s perfectly unselfconscious nod, Logan and Henry exchanged a glance
and Logan said, “Don’t suppose ‘Call of the Wild’ was a favorite, too, was it,
Slim?”
Scott said, “The way Buck has to revert to the primitive to survive in the wild
is kind of thrilling, don’t you think?”
As if it was of no account, Henry said, “Did you ever have…odd dreams about you
and Buck out in the snowy wilderness, having to snuggle up to keep warm?”
“Oh yes,” Scott said, clearly still in his ‘doesn’t everyone?’ place.
Henry said to Logan in an undertone, “Well, super-alpha wolf-dogs and all-
powerful big cats seem to have been his go-to for suppressed emerging sexual
fantasies as a pre-adolescent, which makes his attraction to us both more
explicable and…disturbing.”
Logan hissed, “He wanted to get fucked by Buck from ‘Call of the Wild’?”
Henry murmured rapidly, “Not on any conscious level. Subconsciously though…I
wouldn’t be at all surprised. I suspect he admired his ability to strike off
into the snowy wilderness and overcome all odds through engaging the primitive
and animal -- much like yourself in your escape from the Weapon X program.
Scott, being stuck in Nebraska, bound by the bonds of civilization to conform
and submit to both oppression and abuse, may have felt that it would be nice to
hand over responsibility for his body and his future to someone who had already
proven himself worthy by…choosing a more unfettered path. He had no female
avatars to imprint upon except his mother, so shied away from women as sexual
fantasy fuel, and had known only bullying and abuse at the hands of human
males, so perhaps sought non-human role models as saviors, the only creatures
who were not tainted by association. It would explain why he’s so sexually
unadventurous with Jean yet has been drawn to you from the day you showed up
here being an unbridled ass to him and why he’s been pining after me since I
turned into a big, blue lion-beast. We are both the comfortable, familiar
heroes of his childhood made flesh, and the personifications of his first
inchoate sexual urges – which, interestingly but not unexpectedly, given his
abusive past, seem to have been entirely passive and receptive.”
Logan said impatiently, “Yer saying Junior’s got no hang-ups about taking it up
the ass from you and me because we remind him of his first forgotten wet
dreams? The ones he had in the orphanage after reading too many kids’ books
about talking animals?”
“I think I phrased it somewhat more elegantly.”
Scott said, “Why are you whispering?”
“No reason,” Henry assured him blandly. He was surprised at how much he wasn’t
resenting Logan bursting in on the proceedings. He had been thinking he wanted
some time alone with Scott first, like a man getting to deliver the lecture
before he opened the floor to questions. But in fact -- shamefully -- he found
he rather liked the idea of another alpha male bearing witness to him claiming
Scott, not to mention Scott submitting to him, and he more than liked the idea
of watching Scott being fucked by some other male animal, preferably one
somewhat smaller and less impressively hairy than himself. Aloud though, he
said, “Now, if you don’t mind, Logan, before you interrupted us, I was trying
to orally satisfy Scott.”
“Still not convinced yer yerselves,” Logan grunted.
Henry sighed with exaggerated patience. “Well, do you want to stick around to
ensure that we don’t start acting wildly out of character or hurting each
other?” He was genuinely surprised by how much he wanted Logan to take the
bait. He had no idea where this new exhibitionism came from but suspected that
it might be a lord of the jungle thing.
Logan flared up with resentment and arousal and Scott just flared with arousal;
a guilty, shameful excitement as his mouth opened in shock and he turned his
head between them. Henry had quite deliberately not asked him this time,
understanding, he thought, that what Scott had been trying to tell him with the
pretend bonds was that he wanted not to be responsible for what took place in
this bedroom. He had already admitted that he wanted to be naughty. He was
trusting Henry not to hurt or exploit him while nevertheless letting Henry know
that this was not a mission and Scott very emphatically would not be the one
calling the shots. That suited Henry just fine. So, he was now high-handedly
inviting another man to watch Scott giving it up to Henry, without seeking
Scott’s opinion on the matter, and Scott was guiltily excited at both Henry
treating him like a chattel and at the prospect of Logan sticking around.
Logan shrugged, like he wasn’t stinking with want, resentful and jealous and
horny and curious all at once. Darting glances at Henry like he was seeing him
for the first time, those fingers still against Scott’s neck as he felt his
pulse quicken at the prospect of Logan staying, he said gruffly, “Guess I could
stick around. Show ya a few tricks.”
“I thought old dogs couldn’t learn those?” Henry returned blandly, letting him
know that, yes, there would be an element of competition and, yes, he probably
was going to be something of an ass.
“Ya might be surprised, Bub,” Logan growled. He bent and stole a hot, hungry
kiss from Scott who jolted in surprise at those rough lips bruising his but
then opened his mouth eagerly to receive Logan’s demanding tongue.
Henry let him plunder Scott’s mouth for a few arousing breaths then pulled him
off Scott and shoved him in the right direction. “Lock the door. I really don’t
think we want one of the students wandering in uninvited.”
He went back to blowing Scott while Logan watched; showing off, majestically,
just how good he was at this, while Scott arched and whimpered ecstatically and
moaned, “Oh God, Hank…” in the most gratifying fashion, while Henry played him
like a viola solo. Logan took the sight of Scott squirming in an orgasmic
fashion while Henry toyed with him for a few minutes and then bent and
whispered something hotly in Scott’s ear.
Scott, in between moans and arches, panted a shamed whisper back that Henry’s
ears picked up easily: “You have to ask Hank. He’s in charge.”
Logan growled but his scent and look were lust-bright and Henry could sense
that the competition was adding an exciting edge to events for him too. Logan
said, “Well…?”
Henry deep-throated Scott in a leisurely fashion, making him shudder and arch
and wail his way into the pleasure of it, but once again pinched the base of
his cock to prevent him from coming until he had settled back down and moved
away from the brink. He lifted his mouth off Scott’s cock and said, “Well,
what?”
“Can I put my dick in the Boy Scout’s mouth?”
“You know, in an hour or so it’s going to be really inappropriate for you to
use that sweet little pet name you have for him, because not only would Scott
have been drummed out of the movement for bad behavior, calling him that is
going to make you feel like a pedophile.”
Flushing a little with anger, frustration, and a weird getting-off-on-
submitting-to-lion-beast-Henry vibe that neither of them had seen coming, Logan
said doggedly, “I won’t come in his mouth, just want him and my cock to get
face to face acquainted. Fact is I think you should let me have his ass first.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Logan said, “It ain’t an alpha male competition thing, it’s a straight up size
thing. Yer bigger now. Too damn big for that tight little virgin hole of his
‘less I loosen it up fer ya. You try shovin’ that into him as his first time,
however much you slick it, Slim’s gonna be bitin’ the pillow before yer halfway
home.”
Henry was torn between wanting to have Scott himself and dreading the thought
of freezing up with horror when he remembered those tears he had left with what
was the same equipment. Certainly, he had every intention of wielding it far
more gently but he was still shocked by how much damage he had done, and
although there was not a sign of it anywhere else, those images were still all
too clear in his mind’s eye. Also, he had to admit, that he found the thought
of actually watching another cock sliding into Scott’s ass very arousing,
particularly Logan, hairy, alpha, big dog that he was, staking a claim that
Henry, in all his equally hairy, alpha male, big cat superiority, would
undoubtedly want to dispute. He thought that, practically, Logan doing so would
loosen Scott up enough that Henry’s cock entering him would be a far more
pleasurable experience for both of them, and, psychologically, would be the
impetus he needed to push past his trauma-related resistance to anally
penetrating Scott.
Henry said, “All right, but if you hurt him…I may find myself killing you too
late to stop. This mutation has a somewhat uncertain flashpoint and I have my
own reasons for feeling very protective of Scott right now.”
Logan said gruffly but with a dogged honesty that was quite undisguised, “I’ll
be gentle. We both know he’s just a kid.”
Scott said breathlessly, “I’m not a ‘kid’. I’m the leader of the X-Men.”
“Yer both, Slim,” Logan told him, but the way he ran his fingers through
Scott’s hair was unexpectedly tender.
Scott murmured, “Henry, please…?”
As he bobbed his mouth on Scott’s aching cock, Henry kept watching Logan, and
the man was a lot gentler than he expected. He stroked the back of a finger
down Scott’s cheek, encouraging Scott to rub his face against Logan’s hand,
which he did, shyly and sweetly, in a way that made Logan’s face soften. He
brushed Scott’s hair back from his face and said, “Ya sure yer up for this,
Slim?”
Scott nodded, still flexing and panting in time to Henry’s skillful sucking,
but with his attention torn between the two of them now. Logan pulled his t-
shirt over his head, then stripped off his jeans matter-of-factly, revealing a
densely muscled body lightly furred with dark hair. His cock was only half-hard
as yet, but it was impressive, if not as large as Henry’s, certainly large
enough. He held it in his right hand and offered the tip to Scott who
obligingly licked the end, as if it were an ice cream cone.
“Just spit it out any time ya ain’t comfortable, Cyke,” Logan said. “I ain’t
gonna be offended. Ain’t gonna push it in either, you take as much or as little
as you like. We clear?”
Scott said, “Yes, Logan,” and he sounded sweeter somehow, too, like he had let
go of all the surface armor he had to wear to lead them through a mission and
was just unvarnished Scott Summers, naked in a bed with two men he had given
leave to dominate him. He arched as Henry sucked hard and then licked Logan’s
cock again, less tentatively and with increasing curiosity, savoring the flavor
of it, running his tongue over his lips to assess it. Henry did flinch inwardly
as he remembered cramming his cock down Scott’s poor bruised throat but it was
clear that Scott had no such memories, he was taking the head of Logan’s cock
into his mouth curiously and trying a little head bobbing suction that was
making Logan’s cock harden perfectly to a thick flushed length.
Logan ran a still gentle hand through Scott’s hair and supported the back of
his head, saying, “Good boy…” in a rough voice that fooled no one. Henry had a
suspicion that Logan could get very sentimental during sex, and Scott was, in
any case, just the sort to bring that out in a man; given how trusting he was
being. Logan kept supporting Scott’s head but not pushing it forward even
though Henry knew he must be desperate for Scott to take him in deeper than he
was doing. Scott grabbed Logan’s forearm in frustration and pulled himself up
and Logan put an arm around his shoulders to help steady him. Scott immediately
bobbed much deeper onto Logan’s cock, eager now, and matching his rhythm to
Henry’s on his own cock.
He was as amateurish as anyone would have expected but he was willing and
determined, trying to do what Henry was doing and then falling back in
frustrated spluttering.
“Easy, Slim -- you got a gag reflex working against ya there. Nothing wrong
with that. Ya don’t need to take me any deeper than yer comfortable with. Just
get used to the taste and make it feel welcome and I’ll be a happy man….”
Henry, who had been holding back on purpose, gave Scott a good five minutes to
get Logan fully hard and pleasurably wet, then began to work his throat around
Scott’s aching shaft with deft swallowing pressure that made Scott arch and
gasp and Logan’s cock slip from his mouth as he spasmed with the pleasure
jolts. Logan held him up quite tenderly, crouching down to pull him in against
his chest and Scott clung to Logan and wailed shocked ecstatic incoherence that
Logan hastily smothered with a muffling hand, holding him in tight as Scott
thrashed and then arched before shooting creamy ribbons all over his own bare
chest.
“There ya go, Slim. Easy does it….” Logan kept holding and soothing him,
stroking his hair back from his face, and gave Henry a grin over his shoulder.
“Guess yer pretty good at that.” He soothed Scott with the same rough
tenderness, giving his back a brief, consoling rub, while Scott curled in
against him as he came back down from his orgasm high.
“You are a very responsive boy, aren’t you, Scotty?” Henry drawled.
“Frickin’ gift from the pleasure gods if you ask me,” Logan said, with
unexpected poetry. “You back with us, Slim?” Scott nodded, clearly a little
embarrassed about his wailing orgasmic loss of control. “You wanna suck Hank’s
cock for a while, just to get it nice and slick fer ya? While I get you opened
up?”
Henry was sure that Logan smelled that brief scent flash of fear and foggy
hormonal excitement as well as he did, but Scott only gave a tight little nod.
If Henry had needed any further convincing that this Scott was no more the
Scott he had sodomized in that cave than he was the Henry who had sodomized him
it was there in that spike of apprehension. That pheromone-drugged Scott hadn’t
had the sense to be scared of an oversized cock in his virgin ass; this one was
excited and scared in one inseparable twist of reaction.
As Henry seated himself at the head of the bed -- feeling more than a little
kingly as Scott obligingly wriggled over onto his hands and knees and shyly
reached out to touch his hardening cock -- Logan was getting supplies from
Henry’s bathroom. It was strange to realize that he had gone on missions with
the man so many times but was still surprised by the quiet efficiency with
which he went about assembling the necessary accoutrements.
Scott was shivering with excitement and a little apprehension but Henry
suspected that, if he had been able to see his eyes, they would have been
shining with anticipation. He definitely liked the role-playing aspect of
submitting himself to Henry and being his to command -- Henry could smell that
all over him and it was as amusing as it was touching. He wondered if Scott was
secretly disappointed that Jean was not the type to tie him up and take him
roughly with a solid heft of strap-on. Scott’s fingers curled around Henry’s
shaft and he lapped at the weeping tip.
When Henry purred, “Good boy,” Scott gave another of those tight little shivers
of subjugation. It was very arousing. So, was the heat of Scott’s sweet mouth
on his cock.
Logan opened the wardrobe door so that the mirror on the inner door leaf was
angled just right to let Henry see what was going on, gave a satisfied nod, and
then climbed carefully onto the bed behind Scott. He was careful not to block
Henry’s reflected view, even then, as he splayed his big hands over Scott’s
taut little ass cheeks, spreading them so they could both admire the pink
enticement of his hole. Henry shifted automatically at the sight of it and his
cock firmed up in a way that made Scott give an admiring gasp. He sucked and
mouthed at the swollen tip manfully and Henry breathed carefully around his
lapping tongue and the sight of Logan bending to lick just as delicately at
Scott’s soap-scented ass.
Scott jolted with the shock of that warm wet muscle probing inside him, giving
another gasp. Henry purred, “Did you like that, Scotty…?”
“Yes,” Scott admitted. “Oh yes….”
Logan delved deeper, licking fiercely, and then raised his head to say in
exasperation, “Is there anywhere you don’tsmother with soap, Summers?”
“Maddening, isn’t it?” Henry said. “He really does wash more thoroughly than
anyone I’ve ever met.”
Logan kept at it, still bitching about the mouthful of soap he was getting,
while Scott sucked and sucked at Henry’s cock, trying to take it deeper and
being frustrated by the smallness of his own mouth and his inability to relax
his throat. Logan slicked up a finger with lube, spread Scott’s ass cheeks with
his left hand and slid it in. Scott gulped and tightened and Logan fingered him
slowly, giving him time to get used to it, as he said conversationally, “Slim,
ya’d have to be porn star to swallow that monster cock of Henry’s. Let me get
you good and ready for him and ya can sit on it instead. Betcha’d like that,
wouldn’t ya?”
Scott blushed exquisitely, and Henry pulled him up by the hair for a rough,
demanding kiss that made Scott shudder with longing. Henry whispered in his
ear, “Would you like that, Scott? Would you?”
Scott breathed, “Yes. God, yes….”
“How are you for real, Cyke?” Logan grinned. “Lookin’ like that and bein’ that
way? Damn!” He began to fingerfuck him in earnest, Scott making small excited
sounds in response. He pulled away from Logan’s digital manipulation to
scramble into Henry’s lap, rubbing his hardening cock against Henry’s erect
one, and Logan crawled along the bed after him, grumbling. “Ya keep fidgetin’
that little ass of yours, I’m gonna swat it.” At that jolt of reaction from
Scott, Logan and Henry exchanged a smirk over his head.
“Damn, Slim,” Logan murmured. “If Hank could clone ya in his lab we’d all be
billionaires.” He thrust two fingers in for punctuation and Scott gave a jolt
of reaction, lips parted, spine flexing, shuddering breath slowly released,
that had Logan and Henry both hardening and flushing in response.
“Like that, do ya?” Logan reached up, grabbed a handful of Scott’s hair and
dragged his head back as he drove his fingers in fiercely, then kissed him
hard. Logan flashed a defiant look Henry’s way as he did so and Henry felt his
own eyes flash gold in response. For a moment they gazed at one another and
then Logan gave way, shame and arousal billowing off him, as he pushed Scott’s
head down so that his mouth was over Henry’s cock. “Suck, Slim,” he said
hoarsely. “I want Hank to feel it when you feel my cock sliding into you.”
Logan issued directions on how Scott needed to take Henry’s balls into his
mouth, lick up the underside of the shaft, tease the weeping tip with his
tongue, and then relax his throat and take him as deep as he could.
As Scott obeyed, Logan fondled his own cock, meeting Henry’s eye as he did so.
“Ya givin’ me permission, yer Highness…?” he growled.
Henry smiled, breathing carefully as Scott’s licking and sucking sent the
pleasure pulses shooting into his balls. “Be my guest.”
Logan leaned forward so his hard, hairy body was foursquare over Scott’s and
breathed, “May have to hurt you a little, Slim, getting into ya. That okay with
you?”
Scott nodded, swallowing hard with excitement. Logan pushed three fingers into
him and Scott winced and arched into it, tongue flexing blindly before he
collected himself and licked obediently up the underside of Henry’s shaft.
Henry reached out a hand and stroked his hair encouragingly, feeling all too
much like a monarch on his throne as Scott did his eager best to pleasure him.
He held Logan’s eye. “Hurt him too much and I can’t answer for my actions.”
Ashamed and horny, Logan grunted, “Understood.”
Holding his cock in his right hand and spreading Scott’s ass cheeks with his
left, Logan pushed the tip into him. Scott shuddered and breathed in hard.
Logan stroked a hand down his back, then rubbed his thumb hard at the base of
his spine, working it above his just-impaled hole like a massage. Logan said,
“Good boy. Breathe out.” As Scott did so, Logan eased in another inch. Pain and
excitement chased themselves over Scott’s chiseled features, as he savored
every sensation. Logan said, “Breathe in.” Scott was a model of obedience and
Logan pushed in another inch.
Closing his hand over Scott’s hair, Henry said, “Do you feel stretched and
filled, Scott?”
Scott licked at Henry’s cock and said, “Yes.”
“Can you imagine how it’s going to feel when he slides the other five inches
into you? Did you notice how thick it was at the base? You’re going to feel
that going in, aren’t you?”
Scott made a choked little sound of excitement and did his best to take Henry
down his throat. He was getting better at relaxing his gag reflex and breathing
through his nose.
“Such an amenable boy,” Henry purred and nodded to Logan who pushed on in.
Scott’s body danced in repressed flexes and flinches as Henry watched Logan’s
shaft sliding into him in the wardrobe mirror. It was a beautiful sight, that
thick pole pushing its way in to Scott’s tightly clenching hole, Scott
swallowing his cries on Henry’s cock, the pain-flickers that danced across his
face were beautiful, as was the arch of his spine. Henry reached down and
pulled his head back off his cock, and it came free with a deliciously
pornographic sucking sound. “Tell me…?” he demanded.
Gasping, Scott said, “Hank…it hurts so good….”
Logan pushed on in with a groan and grabbed Scott’s hips, holding himself
pressed in deep while Scott wailed and arched until Logan was seated as deeply
as he could get. Breathing hard, Logan said, “Hank, ya wouldn’t believe how
tight he is. It’s like having yer cock squeezed by warm velvet.”
Purring, Henry said, “Logan’s going to fuck you now, Scott. He’s going to
thrust his long, thick cock into that sweet, virgin ass of yours. As this room
is soundproofed, you can make as much noise as you like. You can beg and moan
and wail and sob if you want to, but Logan is only going to stop if I tell him
to stop and I’m only going to tell him to stop if you use your safeword.
Otherwise, however much you whimper, I’m going to tell him to keep fucking you,
deep and hard. Understood?”
Even the words were enough to take Scott to the brink, he was so over-excited
by their dual attentions that Logan had to quickly grab the base of his cock
and squeeze it. “No you don’t, Slim,” he warned, grinning.
“It doesn’t matter if he comes,” Henry said, still majestically. “He’s still
going to get that nice long hard fucking from you, Logan, but he’ll enjoy it
more if he’s a good little Boy Scout and shows some self-control.” The last
words carried a steely edge and Scott gasped and steadied his breathing and
tried hard to obey. He clutched at Henry’s thighs like a supplicant, and Henry
stroked his hair back from his face. “Do you want to come onto my lap, Scotty?
Do you want me to cuddle you while Logan’s fucking you?”
Another breathless over-excited little gulp and then a jerky nod. Henry nodded
to Logan, “Pull out a minute.” Logan gritted his teeth with the effort of
control but eased out, straight and careful with another sucking sound that
went straight to all their cocks.
Henry patted his chest and Scott scrambled onto his lap and pressed his ear
against his breast, wanting to hear his heartbeat. Henry stroked his hair
again, a few soothing strokes, and then reached behind him and fingered his
slicked, open hole, displaying him to Logan like a prize. Scott made small
sounds of pleasure, pushing back eagerly, and Henry fingered him deeper. “He
really is tight as a drum, isn’t he?” He realized that Logan had been
absolutely right to say that Henry should not have Scott first; he was frankly
surprised that Logan had managed to push himself in there.
Scott pressed in against him harder, rubbing his cock against Henry as if the
man was his personal scratching post, and Henry let him jerk against him,
slipping his finger out so that Scott’s ass brushed over the tip of his cock.
The feeling of its dancing over him, plowing a warm path through his ass cheeks
and then skimming his perineum was deliciously tantalizing. Over-stimulated and
over-excited, Scott flexed down disobediently, and Logan grabbed him by the
hips just as Henry caught him under the thighs. Scott yelped as he realized how
much bigger the head of Henry’s cock was than his opening was able to take as
yet, and Henry said sternly, “That completely serves you right, Scott. If we
hadn’t stopped you, you’d have a very sore ass right now. Which is what we’re
going to give you in punishment. Logan…?” He nodded to him imperiously and
Logan smacked Scott hard across the right butt cheek. Scott jolted, flinching,
and then flinched again as Logan gave him another stinging slap across his left
ass cheek.
“If ya knew how much I wanna put ya over my knee right now, Slim…” Logan
growled. “Am I gonna have ter take my belt to ya? Get off Henry’s cock, ya
little whore.”
Scott penitently scrambled to do so, pressing onto Henry’s lap and rubbing his
head apologetically against his chest.
“Ought ter leather him,” Logan said, breathing hard, cock jutting up from its
nest of hair, flushed and angry and oozing. It was a most impressive organ,
curving up proudly like the prow of a sailing ship.
Henry ran a hand through Scott’s soft, chestnut hair and said, “Are we going to
have to thrash you, Scotty? Is poor Logan going to have to wear himself out
taking his belt to your rosy little buttocks?” The way Scott choked and
squirmed and pressed in harder against Henry, rubbing his cock against him with
an urgent little choked off wail, suggested that Scott was so over-excited by
that prospect that he could barely restrain himself.
Henry grinned at Logan, “One hard crack of that belt and he’ll be coming like a
steam train. I think, if you want to be inside him, when he comes, we had
better save punishing him for later.”
“From now on, ya do as yer damned well told, Slim,” Logan said crossly. “We
know what we’re doin’ and you don’t have a fuckin' clue. Ya can’t just shove
anything ya fancy straight up yer tight little ass.” He took Scott by the hips,
moved in close behind him and then gave a rough thrust.
Scott wailed and squirmed ecstatically and Henry hastily grabbed the base of
his cock and nodded to Logan. “I think you may dispense with finesse, Logan. A
good hard, deep fucking, that’s what Scotty wants now, as basic as you like.”
Henry had never expected to find another alpha male’s pants of exertion so
arousing but it was the sound of Logan rhythmic grunting with every balls-deep
thrust that was making him strain with the best kind of discomfort; that and
Scott squirming against him, whimpering needily as he jolted between pain and
pleasure and pleasure and pain, clinging to Henry and sucking at his nipples
and rubbing his eager body against his while Logan slammed into him, giving his
ass the steady pounding it craved.
It was delicious how slim and smooth Scott looked, squirming between their
hairy, big-bulked bodies. He was so leanly sculpted, the boyishness of his tiny
waist and narrow hips offset by his nicely muscled shoulders and the hard
ridges of his thoroughly adult flexing abdominal muscles. He winced
ecstatically, head thrown back as his spine arched in response to Logan
speeding up. Henry thought regretfully of his dream-Scott who had wanted to be
coaxed and fondled and to whom Henry had been planning to show all that
patient, gentle, selfless attention, and the one in reality -- who was clearly
always going to crave being on the receiving end of walloping displays of
dominance by alpha male beasts.
Logan gave Scott a good, hard fucking that gave the impression of being rapid
and careless but that was actually measured and controlled, only Henry,
perhaps, appreciating just how very careful Logan was being not to bruise Scott
with his apparently brutal thrusts. Henry kept his fingers clamped either side
of Scott’s urethra to hold the semen back and extend his pleasure -- which,
going by all the wailing and squirming seemed to be intense. Logan’s rhythm was
turning ragged and his eyes were getting a dazed look, his fingers clutching
convulsively at Scott’s left hip, before Henry finally released his firm grip
on Scott’s cock and let nature take its course. A last rough shove from Logan
and Scott came screaming, while Logan came shuddering and groaning from his
very depths. He nearly crushed Scott into the bed with his last heaving
collapse and then quickly pulled out and said, panting and voice-wrecked, “Now,
Hank, while he’s still coming….”
Henry needed no second invitation. He sprang behind Scott -- who collapsed,
shoulders shaking, on the bed, reaching for a Henry who wasn’t still there with
uncoordinated clawing grasps -- lifted up his hips, setting him on his knees
with his ass raised and pushed steadily in. There were flashbacks to that other
Henry with that other Scott, but the sensation was so different this time -
- Scott so slicked and fucked open by Logan’s pathfinding, still warm and
slippery with his semen. Henry realized that sometimes sloppy seconds were the
best kind of feast as his cock slid in easily, Scott stretching wider to
accommodate him with none of those sobbing slaveboy pain-whimpers, just a moan
of pure unlooked for pleasure.
“Hank…” he gasped, awestruck and nothing but appreciative. “Oh Hank…you’re
so…big.”
He and Logan exchanged a knowing look, suspecting that this current sensation
mirrored perfectly those half-imagined and dimly craved in the past; Henry
having become indeed the disproportionately oversized beast taking him and
taking care of him that boy-Scott had subconsciously imagined as his rescuer
and initiator in those far off captive days. He clearly associated size with
magnificence and munificence; a noble proportion for a noble beast.
Henry fucked him slowly and carefully, not giving him the full length as yet,
keeping his fingers supporting his narrow, bony hips, while trying not to think
about a spiteful adolescent bully holding Scott down in the night, bruising him
with a mean little cock that he pushed in unwanted, frustrated by its
inadequacies as he shoved it in roughly for a few frenzied, rabbit-fast jerks
before spurting hotly, always to be undone by his own underwhelming equipment
and lack of self-control. He imagined the boy Scott bearing it stoically,
probably disassociating as he thought instead of splendid quadrupeds in the
wilderness who would one day sweep in, teeth bared, undo his abusers and carry
him off.
Logan had wandered off to the bathroom where Henry was vaguely aware of him
brushing his teeth -- not, he sincerely hoped with Henry’s toothbrush although
he thought he had better throw it away just on the off chance that Logan hadn’t
used Scott’s -- and then gargling with a mouthwash, before he re-emerged with
Henry’s very good single malt in his hand and already being tipped down Logan’s
throat.
“Do you mind?” Henry demanded.
“I brushed my teeth first,” Logan protested.
“Not really the point.”
Scott gave a low, abandoned whine, looking around for Logan needily.
“Okay, Scott…?” Henry prompted gently.
Scott nodded, fingers flexing on the coverlet, but it was clear that although
he was loving Henry’s steady, slow thrusts, that he missed being able to curl
in against him, still turning his head to look at Logan.
Logan said, “Demanding little fucker, ain’t ya, Cyke?” But he did clamber onto
the bed and open his legs obligingly, patting his chest with an air of weary
resignation, which fooled no one, so Scott could press in against him for hard
kisses and hair strokes. Logan kept his fingers wrapped around Scott’s hair so
he couldn’t start trying to cocksuck, lecturing him on things one didn’t and
didn’t do and the order that one did them in when assfucking was concerned
while Scott probably listened to none of it, too intent on rubbing against
Logan’s chest hair and flexing back to meet Henry’s steady thrusts.
“Don’t take too long in there, Hank,” Logan warned as he played with Scott’s
softening cock, fondling it casually, like a needy pet. “We don’t want Captain
Tightass here walking funny for a week.” Scott made an inarticulate protest and
Logan bent his head to murmur, “Ya know I’m right, Slim. Don’t be a greedy
little bitch.”
Henry said, in between deep, measured thrusts that jolted Scott’s knees off the
bed, “I will spend as long pleasuring myself in the welcoming constriction that
is Scott’s magnificently stenotic back passage as I please, Logan. Afterwards,
I may fuck you too. I’m in a lordly mood.”
“Fuckin’ unbearable is what mood yer in,” Logan retorted gruffly but he raised
no objection, Henry noticed, to the prospect of being Hank-poled. Their pecking
order had been established now to everyone’s mutual satisfaction, others might
be added to it later but wherever they fitted in, Scott would most assuredly
remain at the bottom and Henry -- magnificently -- at the top.
“What brought this on in any case?” Logan grunted, rubbing an expert thumb over
Scott’s nipples in a way that made him squirm deliciously even as Henry shifted
his angle so he could strike direct hits on his prostate. Scott, with his
incredible physical fitness and youth on his side, was already getting hard
just from being ass pounded and fondled by two masterful men.
Henry shifted his position again, eased out with a deliciously obscene sucking
noise, spread Scott’s ass cheeks so he could admire the sight of that semen-
slicked hot little hole and then shoved back in hard -- that won him an
ecstatic keening wail. “Scotty here was missing Warren,” he said blandly.
“Feeling bereft, he climbed naked into my bed. You can bear your share of the
blame for having got him drunk first.”
Logan cocked his head to one side and gave Henry a meaningful look. “Warren,
eh?”
Henry pulled all the way back and then slammed in hard -- another bulls-eye to
the prostate, another squirming ecstatic wail. “Warren indeed. Always a team-
player, in my experience, albeit one with a bad habit of picking Scott up and
flying off with him so that he can play with Scotty by himself. That habit, I
think, we would need to discourage.”
“Damned straight,” Logan growled possessively. He grabbed a handful of Scott’s
hair and tugged his head back, looking down at his visor sternly. “Hey, Slim -
- you missing Gambit, too?”
Scott nodded and Henry suspected that he was wide-eyed behind the visor, the
very picture of innocence. He said, “Yes, Logan. I miss Remy too.”
Logan cocked his head thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t mind nailing Gumbo’s ass while he
was nailing Cyke’s -- specially if Cyke was sucking off Wings while he was
doin’ it.”
“And where would I be while this delightful spectacle was taking place?” Henry
enquired, giving Scott another deep, prostate-thrilling thrust that earned him
a grateful wail.
“Figured Wings would need a nice warm lap to sit in while he was getting that
cocksucking from Cyke.”
Henry smiled. “You paint a very pleasant picture, Logan.” He could imagine
Warren’s prim, unconvincing protests, and then his dignified submission; he
could also imagine how good it would feel to have a lap full of white-winged
Warren squirming on his cock while Scott deep-throated Warren eagerly and
Gambit drove in hard and deep while taking those punishing thrusts from Logan.
“I think you and I need to make that happen.”
“You ain’t a man that’s any too easy to resist right now, Hank,” Logan said
wryly. “Reckon you tell Wings and Gumbo to get their asses over here for an
orgy you felt like throwing, they’ll find their diaries free up just fine. It’s
that king of the jungle roar.”
Henry gave Scott his full attention for a moment, giving him a good firm
fucking that pounded his prostate perfectly without bruising his deliciously
tight little ass. He was still holding back, concerned the thickness at the
base of his shaft might stretch him painfully. Scott was rocking back to meet
him eagerly, making strangled cries of pleasure, completely overwhelmed not
only with orgasmic sensation but so much tactile attention, the unloved little
orphan boy utterly reveling in being the center of their attention.
Logan’s thoughts seemed to be following similar lines. He rubbed Scott’s
nipples with his thumbs and said, “Afterwards -- Slim gets to sleep in the
middle. Wings and Gumbo only ever get the outside of the bed.”
“Agreed -- especially as they won’t care. I will, however, need to order a
somewhat larger bed.”
“Tell Wings to get it fer ya as a birthday present,” Logan smirked. “He can
have it made up special with reinforced springs -- I’m thinking it’s gonna
need a lotta reinforced springs.”
Henry rubbed his fingers soothingly down Scott’s back to steady him and bring
him back down a little and said, “Now, Scotty. That naughty little trick you
tried earlier…? Shall we give it another go with my permission?”
“Yes, please, Henry,” Scott said promptly.
Henry positioned himself with his back against the bedhead and then beckoned
Scott to him. There was nothing that was not delightful about Scott scrambling
across the bed with unseemly haste, lips parted in anticipation, smelling of
eagerness.
“Ain’tcha never heard of playin’ hard to get, Slim?” Logan smirked.
“Scotty is far too much of a good boy to try to play games with you and me
while naked, Logan,” Henry said, expression stern as he beckoned Scott forward.
“Elsewhere he can be the stalwart leader as much as he likes, but in the
bedroom he is always going to be a very obedient boy. Isn’t he, Scott?”
Scott said, “Yes, Henry,” with what were probably modestly lowered lashes
behind the visor.
Henry continued ruthlessly, “Because Scotty knows that if he wasa naughty boy
in the bedroom, he would be punished for it.”
Scott twanged like a guitar string, he was so thrilled by the prospect. He
climbed onto Henry’s lap and burrowed into his neck, breath hot and excited as
it gusted through Henry’s thick fur. “How would you and Logan punish me,
Henry?” he breathed, voice catching with excitement.
Logan climbed onto the bed behind him. He grabbed Scott by the hair and pulled
his head up roughly so he could kiss him, hard, forcing his tongue in as deep
as it would go while Scott opened up to him obediently. He let him go and said
huskily, “We’d spank yer ass for ya for starters. Spank it good an’ hard.”
Scott’s shivering reaction could hardly have betrayed less opposition. “What
else?”
Logan pulled Scott’s arms behind his back and crossed his wrists, gripping them
with his left hand, and breathing in his ear. “Tie ya up nice and tight.”
Henry lifted Scott by his leanly muscled thighs, while Logan, still holding
Scott’s wrists in his left hand, wrapped his right arm around Scott’s hollow
abdomen and helped to raise him. Very carefully, they positioned him over
Henry’s cock, Scott gulping hard with unashamed arousal, his own cock straining
and weeping with it.
Logan darted a look at Henry as he pressed his own bearded bristly cheek next
to Scot’s smooth one and said, “But mostly we’d just fuck it out of ya.”
Scott’s tongue darted out to wet his sculpted lips. He said, “I am going to be
so, so bad.”
“I’m not sure you’ve grasped the point of today’s lesson at all,” Henry
scolded, trying not to smirk back at Logan who was smirking unashamedly at him.
Logan whispered, “You trust us, Cyke?”
Scott said, “Yes.”
“We’re gonna lower ya onto Henry. Yer gonna relax that sweet little ass of
yer’s and yer gonna slip down onto that fire hydrant of his as smooth as silk.”
Scott nodded and Henry and Logan worked together, Henry holding him by the
thighs, while Logan kept his arms behind his back and held him around the waist
as they lowered him very gently to where Henry’s blue-skinned cock in all its
newly leonine magnificence was jutting up hungrily. It seemed to be as eager to
make contact as Scott was, standing proud as that sweet little hole was lowered
onto it. They all sighed and then groaned in unison as Scott was slowly
impaled, giving a gasping sigh of pleasure as he was inexorably filled by
Henry’s thick length. His head fell back, his spine arched, his mouth opened
and a needy moan of sheer pleasure broke from his lips.
Henry said, “Careful, Scott -- don’t push all the way down.”
Scott said, “Yes, Henry,” and pushed all the way down with a shivering blissed-
out wince. For a moment he just wailed at the sensation and Henry and Logan
were both reaching out to snatch him off that clearly agonizingly ass-
stretching torture cock when Scott raised himself up so he could push down
eagerly onto it again, emitting another wail of pleasure. Henry was
disconcertingly reminded of a boy on his first space hopper and hastened to
catch Scott under the thighs before he could slam himself down the full too
many inches once again.
“You,” he told him firmly, “are going to be spanked.”
“And how,” Logan growled, tightening his grip on his waist so he couldn’t
wriggle himself back down onto Henry’s cock shaft.
Scott smirked at them unrepentantly. “Good.”
Henry enjoyed the way Logan looked to him and waited for Henry’s regal nod of
permission, but he enjoyed even more the way -- having received it -- that
Logan hauled Scott up, flipped him face down onto his lap, grabbed his hair in
his left hand to keep him down and administered a series of hard fast slaps
across Scott’s shapely ass with his rough right hand. Each slap rang out loud
and true and Scott squirmed in what was clearly far too much enjoyment for this
to be classified as punishment.
“I’ll make yer sorry, Slim…” Logan growled, redoubling his efforts.
Henry let Logan give Scott a good spanking to their mutual satisfaction -
- Logan’s cock was practically poking Scott off his lap by the time Logan
paused, breathing hard, and palm stinging – his hand’s redness, of course,
fading far more quickly than the rosy glow now lending warmth to Scott’s firm
little buttocks. Then said calmly, “That’s enough, Logan. Scott, you very bad
boy scout, come here and sit on my lap.”
Scott’s bowed head show of penitence was fooling absolutely no one, but he did
climb onto Henry’s lap like someone who wanted to be petted and forgiven, which
Henry was quite sure he did.
“You,” he said, giving him a rough two-digit finger fucking as he spoke, “are
going to learn that not all punishments are pleasurable. For instance…” While
still jabbing his fingers into him hard and fast, he outlined a few of them -
- the cock ring that would stop him climaxing, the ball gag that would stop him
cocksucking, however appetizingly Henry and Logan’s dicks swelled to attention,
the knobbly, painful things any good sex shop would undoubtedly sell them to
shove up his disobedient little ass until he was whimpering to have it taken
out in earnest. “Not to mention that Logan and I could just take off on a road
trip and not take you.”
That earned a whine of protest that did sound genuinely penitent. Still
fingerfucking him, Henry continued sternly, “As we’ve established that you are
not, in fact, a good boy at all, Scotty, nor even remotely obedient, but will
only do as you are told if you are made to, Logan and I will have to be very
strict with you indeed from now on. Verystrict with you.” It escaped no one’s
attention, that Scott gave another little jolting shiver of arousal at that
prospect. Henry waved a hand. “Logan go and wash your throbbing erection until
it is clean enough to shove down Scott’s throat while I give him the good hard
ass pounding that he so richly deserves. On your hands and knees, Scott. Now.”
Logan said, “Damn but it makes me hot when ya go the full Lion King, Hank.”
The alacrity with which Scott scrambled onto his hands and knees and presented
his ass to Henry suggested that Logan was not the only one so affected. And if
his taut high firm little butt had been enticing before, now that it bore the
blushing marks of Logan’s spanking, it was doubly desirable. There was the
briefest bad flashback to the cave and the animal he had been, but Henry
dismissed it, took Scott by the hips and thrust in to the hilt. Scott wailed
deliriously. Henry thrust again, just as deep, and Scott whimpered ecstatically
with the pleasure of it.
Henry fucked him majestically, each thrust leaving him squirming and whimpering
and less coherent; being filled so deeply and stretched so wide blissing Scott
out like really good drugs. Logan came into watch, toweling off his washed cock
as he did so, now less erect but beautifully clean, clearly impressed, while
Scott kept wailing and panting and clutching at the coverlet as he rocked back
to meet Henry’s hard, deep thrusts.
“Talk about a bitch in heat…” Logan marveled.
“I thought I gave you an order,” Henry reminded him.
Logan gave him mocking salute but lost no time in obeying all the same, pushing
his soft cock into Scott’s wailing mouth. Scott immediately dug his fingers
into Logan’s hips and sucked eagerly, occasionally breaking off to wail again,
before doing his best to swallow Logan to the root, only pulling back
impatiently every now and then to hungrily mouth Logan’s balls and lick
ardently at his perineum before flexing his mouth and throat back over his
cock. Unsurprisingly, Logan went from mostly limp to achingly hard in about ten
seconds.
“After you’ve taught our pupil how to cocksuck to degree level, you’re going to
shoot your load down Scott’s throat, Logan,” Henry told him in a gravel voice
that made both Logan and Scott shudder submissively. “And he’s going to swallow
you down and beg you for more. Yes?”
Logan rasped out, “Yes.” His eyes were fogged with lust but he pumped his cock
into Scott’s eager mouth like a champion.
Henry was unashamedly enjoying giving Scott a good, honest ass pounding that
was deep, hard and dominant but by no means brutal while Scott squirmed with
pleasure, clung to Logan’s hips hard enough to leave bruises and shuddered
between them, taking every inch of Logan and every inch of Henry with equal
enthusiasm.
Logan gasped out, “Henry…?” And it made them both hot that Logan felt he had to
ask for his permission to come. On another day, Henry thought he just might
force him to wait, but today he was feeling kind. He gave Logan a nod and
increased the pace of his own thrusts until for a moment Scott was a pendulum
jolting between them, his prostate so vigorously and accurately pounded that he
began to convulse just as Logan came in his throat and Henry shot his load with
a leonine roar so magnificent that it made the windows rattle.
They all collapsed onto the bed, panting, Scott’s whimpers of post-orgasmic
ecstasy only becoming audible when Logan eased his limp cock out of his mouth -
- Scott slurping after it, automatically, come trickling from the side of his
mouth like ice cream. He was utterly limp himself and Henry needed a moment to
regain his strength before he picked Scott up and pulled him in against his
body. “Now, there, you were a very good boy, Scott,” he said, and Scott
wriggled in against him needily, rubbing his head against Henry’s chest.
“A nap, I think,” Henry said, slowly getting his breath back. He beckoned to
Logan. “You too.” He peeled back the coverlet and they all crawled into bed,
Scott curling in against Henry and almost asleep, but giving a twitch of
pleasure when a hard-breathing Logan fondled his ass crack as he climbed under
the covers next to him and then gave his butt cheek a fond smack. It escaped
neither of their attention that Scott opened his legs automatically as he
snuggled onto Henry so that if anyone should want to play with his dripping
little hole, they could. As Henry slipped his index finger towards it from the
right, Logan pushed his in from the left. They exchanged a smirk and then
worked their fingers in together feeling the way everything was so hot, slick
and still pulsing in there as Scott’s eagerly clenching little butt came down
from its last pounding. They both pushed their finger in to the knuckle and
Scott gave a soft sighing groan that sounded nothing like a protest.
“Boy’s insatiable,” Logan grunted.
“Just as well given the libidos of the men he is now going to be servicing,”
Henry pointed out. They withdrew their fingers carefully but when Scott offered
a whined protest, Henry said firmly, “That’s enough, Scott. No more nonsense.”
He gave Scott’s ass a warning slap that made him yelp, wriggle, and snuggle in
penitently, suitably chastened.
Henry gave him a moment to learn his lesson and then planted a forgiving kiss
in his hair. “You’re a very good boy, Scotty,” he told him quietly. “And Logan
and I are both very pleased with you. You’re going to stay here with us where
none of the other animals can hurt you and we’re going to keep you safe.”
As Logan looked on fondly, Scott gave a little sigh of contentment and drifted
off to sleep while Henry stroked his hair gently and Scott rose and fell to the
steady rhythm of his breathing; warm and safe on his great blue chest like a
dreamer at peace on the waves.
 
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