Author: Kat Lee
Challenge/Prompt: prompt_in_a_box: Nightmare
Word Count: 1,207
Date Written: 12 July, 2016
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He knows he's there long before he wakes. He smelled his scent hours before his arrival, when he first caught whiff of him and decided to come after him. He knew from that moment, too, why he was coming and exactly what he wanted from him. Logan grunts as he returns to consciousness. He continues to lay there for a while, smelling the heavy musk of Victor Creed's arousal and debating rather or not to respond.
He knows what he should do. He should ignore his presence. He should wait for him to leave, or kick his ass if he refuses to go. What he shouldn't do is to get up, pad bare naked across the dingy hotel floor, and look out at him in the moonlight. Simply watching the man never leads to anything good, especially on a full moon night, but that's exactly what he does.
The silver light of the moon shines on Creed's blonde hair. He's grown it out again; it's hanging in a long ponytail now that sweeps back and forth in the shadows of the night in a silent invitation. Logan grunts again. He turns from the window, but then he turns back. That's always his problem: He can never stay away from the man.
He watches him smoking down there in the cascading light of the full moon. His muscles ripple as he moves slightly, and Logan knows he's aware that he's being watched and is waiting for him to make up his mind. He watches the way he sucks on his cigar, and the flash of his deadly fangs makes something deep within Logan's own throat rise. His lips pull back from his mouth in a silent snarl.
Damn it, but he knows what that man's lips are so damn good at doing! They're good at taking his. They're good at biting his flesh, leaving marks all over his body that will heal in just a couple of hours after they've parted. They're good at sucking on his cock and making him cum with a force that no one else has ever mastered.
But they're also good at ripping into other things. The man has killed so many of his friends and former flames. He shouldn't even consider the thoughts running through his mind now, but yet still, there they are, filling his body with need, making him tight and hard just with their memories.
He should turn away. He should walk away. It's what he would advise the kids who have fallen underneath him for leadership to do. The man is a walking nightmare. Nothing good can come of their being together. He may fuck him hard tonight, but tomorrow, he's still just as likely to kill somebody he loves.
He's a walking, living, breathing nightmare. He knows exactly what he's capable of, and none of it but one is good. It's safer for him to jack off to the memories filling his head than it is for him to walk down those steps, and it isn't his safety for which he's concerned. He can take Creed. He's always been capable of taking him. But there have been too many times when he hasn't beaten him to somebody he loves.
He should walk away. The beast is grinning, and there's a feral shine in his wild, green eyes. Damn him, he knows exactly what he's doing to him! He should walk away. He should --
Creed throws his head back and howls, long and loud. Any one else hearing him would think he's a wolf, and the sound would send chills down the bravest of their spines. The local coyotes answer with their yipping howls. Logan stiffens, his claws tearing the curtains behind which he's hiding.
"COME OUT, WHELP!" Creed thunders, tired of waiting for him to make up his mind and as impatient as ever. "COME OUT AND PLAY!"
Logan growls. He swallows hard, hushing himself. He does want to play, but every time they've "played", it's turned into fights that have taken lives. He doesn't want any more lives taken because of him. This small, New Mexico town wouldn't be the first to fall if their loving turns into a brawl.
"COME OUT AND PLAY," Creed demands, "OR I'LL START PLAYIN' BY MYSELF!"
Logan knows exactly what that means. He's out of time. If he doesn't go to him now, he'll take the next person he sees and rip them apart. He leaps out the window and lands on the ground in front of Creed's bike.
The bigger man smiles, showing his fangs. "'Bout time," he smirks. He rips one long, muscular leg around his bike and stands.
Logan faces him, reminding himself again and again that this man is a nightmare of which he should have no part. But the full moonlight sparkles on his gleaming fangs, blonde hair, and bulging muscles. Logan's hungry for something no one else can give him, and it's been so very long . . .
"Your choice, pup," Creed snarls, coming toward him. "Play or rut."
He should be disgusted by the way he phrases their relationship. He should be disgusted by all the things he knows he's done, and he is. He should hate him, and he does. But no one else has ever filled him like Victor Creed.
Creed says it's his choice, but Logan waits, forcing his hand, forcing him to make the first move. He doesn't disappoint. He grabs hold of his head, his claws ripping through his graying hair and touching the very base of his skull -- but stopping there. He turns Logan's head forcibly up and slams his own hungry mouth down on top of his.
But if Logan was hungry before, he's starving now. He's still naked, and the reaction Creed's kiss brings from him is obvious to both men. He swells in the moonlight as he answers him without any further hesitation. His tongue plunges up into his mouth as his claws rip away his leather pants. Creed throws him at his bike, and Logan goes willingly -- bending over the hard metal, letting Creed mount him from behind him, letting him fill him, and howling out the pleasure that he only gets when he's inside of him.
Victor twists around him, pumping into him from behind and plunging his tongue into his hot and ready mouth from the side. Logan's hands grip his legs, his claws scratching his skin, and yank him deeper still. This is what he's needed all Summer. It's what he's needed since the last time they parted.
He knows he's damned, because it's what he'll always need. No matter how much Victor Creed is a nightmare, no matter how many times he twists his life into a nightmare, he's the nightmare Logan needs. He's the dream he needs to possess and the nightmare he needs to ride. Soon, Creed'll be gone again, taking with him his dream and leaving Logan behind to his solitary nightmare, but he knows, even as they roar inside of each other, that no matter what they do, next full moon if they're both still around and neither's on a mission, they'll find each other again. They'll always find each other.