X-Love Ch. 01

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

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

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

Apparently he wasn't the only one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sleep in jeans?"

Logan chuckled while he finished off Scott's beer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"NO!"

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

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