Logan was pissed. Horny, hot and pissed. Not a good combination. Not something you'd want to meet in the dark. He strode back down the hallway, listening, sniffing, sensing, but all was peaceful.
He stopped at a door, cocked his head, bared his teeth at the telltale sound of a lighter flicking open, flicking closed. Banged the door against the wall, knowing he startled the kid, though he tried quickly to regain his cool.
"What the fuck, Wolfman?" John spat angrily.
"Get up," growled out.
"No way, it's night, if you hadn't noticed, and that's when normal people sleep." A snide chuckle. "Oh wait, look who I'm talking to."
"Don't know what your problem is, kid, and don't really care, but you got a smart mouth and you need to keep it shut."
"This about Bobby?" John asked. "Figured when he didn't show up tonight that he went off crying to Marie or someone. He's the one who needs to keep his mouth shut, whining about 'responsibility' and 'control,' like the Professor's little lap dog. Christ!" Flick of the lighter. "If I wanted to hear that, I'd spend more time with all the other mutant sheep."
Flick open, flick closed.
"What about you, Wolfman? You're not a sheep, are you? Don't you want to break free of the Professor's stable, go out and make the world respect you? If humans don't love us, they should at least fear us. Like those cops today. Them with their guns and all, afraid of a little fire. Afraid of mutants. Afraid of me."
Logan shook his head, could see now how John's unrelenting flood of words would convince Bobby that up was down and black was white. But he stood frozen in place, like Bobby had infected him somehow. Still the kid kept going.
"Imagine the mutants rising up and eradicating all those humans who hate us. Get them before they get us. Imagine a world where mutants are not freaks, where we're free to come and go as we like, where our origins aren't hidden away like something we're ashamed of. Where we rule."
Flick open, flick closed.
"Maybe not even all the mutants. Maybe we don't want them all. Not the whining sheep, like Bobby; not the frightened sheep, like the Professor, all just wanting to get along. Maybe those mutants don't make it either. Cull the flock, if you know what I mean."
Flick open, flick closed.
"So, how about it, Wolfman, are you with us or against us? Sheep or not-sheep? Cause maybe you're just what I'm looking for. Someone to teach me how to fight them, how to kill them."
Logan was breathing heavy, angry that this kid could push him so hard so fast. The tips of his claws shot out and back before Logan could get them under control.
Flick open, flick closed.
"Never mind, Wolfman. I can see Dr Grey's got your balls in a vise. Love's a wonderful thing, isn't it? Just ask Bobby." Another sneering laugh. "Turns out you're a sheep after all. A sheep in wolf's clothing. I'll keep looking for somebody worthy to follow. You're not it. Now get out."
Flick open, flick closed. John turned over dismissively.
Freed from his immobility now that the words had stopped, Logan's rage surged through his body, turning his vision red, straining every muscle and tendon in his body. How the fuck had the kid done that? Time to take him down a notch, remind him of his place.
Moving so swiftly that John didn't have a chance to even turn his head, Logan pulled him up by the nape of his neck and slammed him hard against the wall. One hand pushed gripped hard against his throat, the other, claws extended, stabbed into the wall beside his head.
For a moment, John's sneering, blasé mask slipped and Logan glimpsed the frightened boy underneath. But as quick as a flick of his lighter, the mask was back. Despite the tight hold on his throat, John wheezed out a contemptuous "fuck you."
Logan smiled a most dangerous smile, retracted his claws and ground the boy's wrist bones together until he dropped the lighter. Without releasing his hold on John's throat, Logan retrieved it. Holding it up in front of John's face, Logan said in a low, lethal tone: "No, fuck you. Not so brave without this little weapon, are you? Now you get to listen."
He lifted John up, no great feat as Logan must have outweighed him by a good 50 pounds and all of that muscle. John was still a boy but that didn't stop Logan from turning him and slamming him up against the wall again, holding him there with one powerful hand on the back of his neck. All John's struggles were in vain, couldn't get enough leverage to push back so his hands scrabbled at the paint and his feet kicked out backwards but Logan was back in control. He waited until John had tired of twisting and turning in his grasp.
"Not sure what sheep do, fireboy, but let me tell you about wolves." Logan whispered soft and ominously in John's ear, enjoying his quick panting breaths and the fact that his mouth was no longer spewing nonsense.
"Wolves run in packs, kind of like mutants. And there's always only one Alpha Male. One. And in this school, that one is me." He was pressed in close behind John now, holding him to the wall with a full-body press. Could feel the tiny tremors running through him. Bet it wasn't often that someone controlled the firebug by force.
"The Alpha Male sometimes needs to single out a young cub who requires an attitude adjustment. Separates him from the pack." Hard press of his erection with each phrase. "Mounts him. Takes him and fucks him hard. Shows him who's in charge. Teaches him his place.
"And if the cub doesn't learn from the first lesson, then the Alpha Male comes back and does it again. As many times as it takes. Fucks him into obedience, you might say."
Another thrust against him and John's nails dug into the wall. Tried to straighten his arms but Logan's heavier body was braced against him in a way that allowed him no freedom.
"How many lessons do you need, Pyro? How many times should I take you and remind you where you belong?"
A small whimper, then silence. Logan pulled John's body back from the wall and nudged his knees apart, inserted his long, muscular thigh between those slender ones and lifted just slightly. John raised up on his toes but made no sound.
Logan shrugged. He didn't care how John felt as long as the lesson was learned and retained. He gently thrust his thigh up and down, felt John's hips move in response and laughed cruelly. John's eyes closed. "Waiting to hear your answer. What's it going to take to make you obey, not just me but the Professor and Jean and Scott?"
"Fuck you."
Had to give the boy credit, he didn't back down easily. No skin off Logan's fangs. He was hard and aggravated and a bout of rough sex, done for educational purposes of course, suited him just fine.
John twisted as best he could against Logan's weight and managed to turn halfway, enough, he must have figured, to make a run for it. He jerked back hard and Logan's grip loosened momentarily. John's leg muscles flexed and he pushed off the wall.
Almost got somewhere, but Logan knew all the tricks, tricks that this punk hadn't even thought of yet. Logan used John's momentum to fling him facedown on the bed. John went into immediate evasive action. Logan simply laid down atop him, forcing the air from his lungs and spread his legs wide apart. As hard as John bucked up and fought, he couldn't find the leverage to displace Logan.
"Time for your lesson, fireboy."
Still holding John firmly to the bed with a hand to his neck, Logan reached under him and unbuttoned his jeans, slid them down as far as John's wide-spread legs would allow, and reached for his cock. Wasn't much of a fight. As easily excited as only a teenage boy could be, John was hard and wet after only a dozen expert strokes. Though he hissed and spit his fury, his body betrayed him at every twist of Logan's wrist, at every soft pull on his balls, at every hard rub of that sensitive skin behind them.
All his arrogance gone, he did manage to get out a weak "fuck you" again between the pants and gasps. Logan bit down hard on that tender muscle at the join of neck and shoulder in response. John bucked up again and again, trying to free himself.
Logan was suddenly tired of this boy, his futile resistance, his half-baked philosophies, his juvenile intimidation factors. Didn't want to hear another "fuck you," not another lecture on sheep, not another "John says" from Bobby. And most certainly, not another flick of that lighter. He wanted peace in his pack; there were enough people out there gunning for them, they didn't need a sniper from within.
He stroked John's length hard and rapidly, letting the pressure build up, then he stopped. John's hips continued to hump the air, desperately seeking friction to ease his need. Logan drew away from him enough to push his legs together and yank his jeans off. Frantic movements and a stream of profanity-laced pleadings.
"Please" alternated with "no" and "yes."
Logan didn't listen. Opened his jeans only far enough. Slicked himself up with John's own lubrication and rose up on his knees, pulling John up and back against him. He positioned himself and gently but inexorably pushed his way in. John just hung there, gasping, shivering, twitching occasionally. But not pulling away, as frozen as if Bobby had iced him down. Logan groaned at the feel, the heat, the exquisite tightness that was John.
Halfway there and he paused to catch his breath, to make it last, to wait for some kind of acceptance or surrender or acquiescence from John. His earlier anger had faded and he was beginning to feel the first tendrils of guilt at his rough taking of the boy.
He wasn't going to last much longer anyway, fatigue and strain and alcohol draining his staying power. Reaching under John's body again, he stroked in long, smooth pulls and rolled the heavy, full balls back and forth. Didn't try to ease his way in any deeper, but instead moved with short, hard jabs right over the spot he knew John was ignorant of until now.
John took a whole new interest in the proceedings now, rising up and pushing forward into Logan's warm grip and back onto the hard cock that was eliciting some hot new pleasure from him. Each thrust drew Logan deeper into his body; they both moaned at the feel of Logan's balls pressed tight against John's ass.
You're so tight, so hot, so good, Logan wanted to tell him. I could do this again, this time with pleasure not anger. You're tough enough to stand up to me but you still require a firm hand. You need me. Maybe you're what I need, too; maybe you are.
Feeling his release coming fast, Logan pushed in deep and made little humping movements just to feel that tight passage clench around him. John was breathing hard and arching up, making high keening sounds in the back of his throat. Logan had only a moment to hold tight, then John went wild, thrashing, hips bucking up, gasping. Logan rode him hard and came deep within his body just as he felt John stiffen and his release spurt out in hot streams.
Still inside him, Logan rolled to the side, pulled John out of the wet spot and curved around him. Breathing slowed and muscles relaxed.
"Logan?" First time he has used that - any - name other than the sarcastic Wolfman. "Logan."
Logan closed his eyes. Please don't let the punk start talking again, because blood will be shed.
"Sorry I said that to Bobby. I was just mad that Marie likes him. Want someone to love me. Or want me."
Logan grunted, unwilling to be drawn into any conversation, and certainly not another one about love.
"Want somebody to see me as special, you know?" John turned, tried to look at Logan. "Here, I'm one of a lot of mutants. Out there I'm a freak."
Deep breath. "I want someone to look at me and say, 'John, you are one among millions' and mean it. I'd follow that person anywhere, do anything he said."
Another grunt but this time with a slight hug. "Not going to happen tonight, fireboy, not tomorrow, not ever. You belong here with us, you'll stay here with us. Now go to sleep."
John lay in the dark, body aching because of Logan, heart aching more. Thought Wolverine was different, thought he hated humans, too, for what they did to him. Would take John down a different path; instead turns out he was just like the rest of them.
"Fuck you," he whispered, sure that Logan was asleep but still a little afraid of him.
Rebellious rage, never extinguished in his soul, flared to life again. He cautiously searched Logan's pockets for his lighter.
He'd stay here now because he had nowhere else to go, but he wouldn't stay forever. He was Pyro, after all, not some kind of mutant sheep. As soon as he had a choice, he was gone. Out of here. Like a fireball, baby. Would never look back either. Anything was better than this.
Flick open, flick closed.
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