Professor Jackass - X-men - Logan/Scott
Title: Professor Jackass
Pairing: Scott/Logan
Word Count: 1250
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "writing on the body" square of my kink_bingo card.
Summary: Logan finds himself in bed with an unconscious Scott and a set of marker pens. He's hardly responsible for what he does next.
Logan strokes his thumb over the clean, pale skin at the small of Scott's back. Lying pliant and half-asleep on his front, Scott grumbles and begins to raise his head to see what he's up to; Logan only has to place his other hand on the back of Scott's head to get him to lower it back down onto the pillow.
He loves Scott when he's fresh-fucked. It's the only time that he'll do what Logan tells him without complaining and bitching about it the entire time.
With those red glasses shielding Scott's eyes, Logan has no way of knowing whether he's fallen back to sleep or if he's lying in wait. The slow defenseless rhythm of his breathing implies that he's drifted off.
Logan runs his hand over the small of his back once more. Scott's skin is unmarred and unmarked; there isn't a single freckle or hair out of place. He's the All American hero, the leader of the team, everything that Logan isn't - everything that Logan would never want to be.
He may not want to be it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to own it.
There's something about Scott that raises every alpha instinct that he has; the arrogant way he holds himself makes Logan want to pin him down and show him who's boss.
He slips from the bed and walks over to Scott's meticulously organised desk, lit only by moonlight. The coldness from the open window is refreshing on his bare skin, even if Scott starts to shuffle under the covers in his absence. Logan has always burned hotter than everyone else around him.
He snatches a Sharpie from Scott's carefully aligned selection of pens, and purposefully messes up the arrangement of the ones he is leaving behind. Making his way back to bed, he ignores the smile that creeps onto his face at the sight of Scott's sleeping form. He isn't the kind of guy that is prone to warm and cuddling feelings.
Scott groans when Logan slips back into bed and peels the covers away from his body once more. Every inch of skin is a new temptation; he wants to mark it all, wants to claim every inch of it. Fuck, he wants to drag Scott out into the hallway just like this and fuck him where everybody can see, just so they know exactly how unravelled Scott can get.
Defiling a teacher in front of his students might be going a step too far. Even the ever-patient Professor X might feel the need to put an end to things if Logan tries that step.
So he settles for stretching out beside Scott and uncapping the pen. He aims for the small of his back first, writing his name in block capitals across the smooth skin and the dips on either side of his spine. It makes him wish he was more artistic, that he could make something special of it, but there's something perfect about the thick, decisive lines of his name taking up space on Scott's skin.
Scott shifts and grumbles his way towards consciousness with each swipe of the pen, but Logan murmurs softly until the sound of his voice causes him to settle again. He's like a goddamn kid in that way, but Logan can't say he minds. Secretly - and, god knows, he'll never admit it aloud - there's a part of him that likes having that effect on Scott.
With his name safely imprinted on Scott's back, he shifts again, his attention rising as a smirk settles on his lips. The pen is brandished like a weapon as he rests the tip on Scott's forehead. Scott twitches and moans but Logan soothes him again at he writes, filling Scott's forehead with block capitals before shifting down onto his cheek as well.
PROFESSOR JACKASS.
He's really looking forward to Scott's reaction when he sees that name written over his face. If Logan is lucky, it won't fully wash off for days.
He hooks his legs over Scott's thighs, straddling him once more, and gives his ass a light swipe to wake him up. Scott surfaces with a groan, raising his head, before the brushing of Logan's hand over his ass gives him a clue about why he's been woken up. "What time is it?" he asks.
"Early," Logan answers. He presses his hips down, the tip of his cock smearing pre-come over his skin. Only when Scott groans and pushes himself up onto his knees, back against the insistent pressure, did he guide himself between Scott's cheeks to his puckered entrance. He pushes inside with no hesitation; having taken Scott already only hours before, it's still a little too dry, but it's perfect like this.
Scott pants beneath him as Logan fucks him hard, but all of Logan's attention is on the words just above Scott's ass, the block capitals marking Scott as his. He wants to ink it there forever, but the thought of Scott getting the stick out of his ass for long enough to get a goddamn tattoo is impossible.
But, god, this is nearly as good, marking Scott and then taking him from behind, fucking him hard and making him moan. There's a primal knot in the centre of Logan's chest that only this can loosen, only taking Scott and pulling him to pieces. He thrusts a hand beneath Scott's body and finds his cock hard and wanting. Wrapping his hand around it, he makes Scott cry out - the teachers in the rooms nearby will be sure to hear him. Storm must hear it every night, the way that he takes Scott apart, the way that he makes him forget all hints of stuck-up composure.
He jerks Scott off as he takes him and growls into his ear, gritting out possessive threats about what he'll do if anyone else tries to touch Scott, tries to take him away. Scott moans, his mouth open, his lips parted, and as Logan bites down on the curve of his shoulder he comes hard, spurting come onto the bed beneath them and flooding through Logan's fingers.
Logan grunts in satisfaction and pumps him through it, but god Scott is tight and hot and he's not going to last, not when he pulls back to look at his name scrawled like a brand over Scott's back.
He slams into him hard one last time before his body tenses and he comes, more intense than before, slumping over Scott's back. His hips move frantically through it, burying his seed deep inside Scott's body. Fuck. Fuck, nothing else feels like this. No one else.
He pulls out of Scott and cleans the pair of them up, while Scott simply avoids the wet patch on the bed as he flops against the mattress and starts to drift off back to sleep as if he'd never been woken up. It's better than like that, actually - it means that Scott isn't conscious when Logan affectionately swipes at his cheek, running his thick finger over the writing there.
*
In the morning, he's woken up by a miniature explosion of sound from the bathroom. Even half-asleep, Logan starts grinning when Scott starts shouting.
It's going to be a fun day.
Pairing: Scott/Logan
Word Count: 1250
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "writing on the body" square of my kink_bingo card.
Summary: Logan finds himself in bed with an unconscious Scott and a set of marker pens. He's hardly responsible for what he does next.
Logan strokes his thumb over the clean, pale skin at the small of Scott's back. Lying pliant and half-asleep on his front, Scott grumbles and begins to raise his head to see what he's up to; Logan only has to place his other hand on the back of Scott's head to get him to lower it back down onto the pillow.
He loves Scott when he's fresh-fucked. It's the only time that he'll do what Logan tells him without complaining and bitching about it the entire time.
With those red glasses shielding Scott's eyes, Logan has no way of knowing whether he's fallen back to sleep or if he's lying in wait. The slow defenseless rhythm of his breathing implies that he's drifted off.
Logan runs his hand over the small of his back once more. Scott's skin is unmarred and unmarked; there isn't a single freckle or hair out of place. He's the All American hero, the leader of the team, everything that Logan isn't - everything that Logan would never want to be.
He may not want to be it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to own it.
There's something about Scott that raises every alpha instinct that he has; the arrogant way he holds himself makes Logan want to pin him down and show him who's boss.
He slips from the bed and walks over to Scott's meticulously organised desk, lit only by moonlight. The coldness from the open window is refreshing on his bare skin, even if Scott starts to shuffle under the covers in his absence. Logan has always burned hotter than everyone else around him.
He snatches a Sharpie from Scott's carefully aligned selection of pens, and purposefully messes up the arrangement of the ones he is leaving behind. Making his way back to bed, he ignores the smile that creeps onto his face at the sight of Scott's sleeping form. He isn't the kind of guy that is prone to warm and cuddling feelings.
Scott groans when Logan slips back into bed and peels the covers away from his body once more. Every inch of skin is a new temptation; he wants to mark it all, wants to claim every inch of it. Fuck, he wants to drag Scott out into the hallway just like this and fuck him where everybody can see, just so they know exactly how unravelled Scott can get.
Defiling a teacher in front of his students might be going a step too far. Even the ever-patient Professor X might feel the need to put an end to things if Logan tries that step.
So he settles for stretching out beside Scott and uncapping the pen. He aims for the small of his back first, writing his name in block capitals across the smooth skin and the dips on either side of his spine. It makes him wish he was more artistic, that he could make something special of it, but there's something perfect about the thick, decisive lines of his name taking up space on Scott's skin.
Scott shifts and grumbles his way towards consciousness with each swipe of the pen, but Logan murmurs softly until the sound of his voice causes him to settle again. He's like a goddamn kid in that way, but Logan can't say he minds. Secretly - and, god knows, he'll never admit it aloud - there's a part of him that likes having that effect on Scott.
With his name safely imprinted on Scott's back, he shifts again, his attention rising as a smirk settles on his lips. The pen is brandished like a weapon as he rests the tip on Scott's forehead. Scott twitches and moans but Logan soothes him again at he writes, filling Scott's forehead with block capitals before shifting down onto his cheek as well.
PROFESSOR JACKASS.
He's really looking forward to Scott's reaction when he sees that name written over his face. If Logan is lucky, it won't fully wash off for days.
He hooks his legs over Scott's thighs, straddling him once more, and gives his ass a light swipe to wake him up. Scott surfaces with a groan, raising his head, before the brushing of Logan's hand over his ass gives him a clue about why he's been woken up. "What time is it?" he asks.
"Early," Logan answers. He presses his hips down, the tip of his cock smearing pre-come over his skin. Only when Scott groans and pushes himself up onto his knees, back against the insistent pressure, did he guide himself between Scott's cheeks to his puckered entrance. He pushes inside with no hesitation; having taken Scott already only hours before, it's still a little too dry, but it's perfect like this.
Scott pants beneath him as Logan fucks him hard, but all of Logan's attention is on the words just above Scott's ass, the block capitals marking Scott as his. He wants to ink it there forever, but the thought of Scott getting the stick out of his ass for long enough to get a goddamn tattoo is impossible.
But, god, this is nearly as good, marking Scott and then taking him from behind, fucking him hard and making him moan. There's a primal knot in the centre of Logan's chest that only this can loosen, only taking Scott and pulling him to pieces. He thrusts a hand beneath Scott's body and finds his cock hard and wanting. Wrapping his hand around it, he makes Scott cry out - the teachers in the rooms nearby will be sure to hear him. Storm must hear it every night, the way that he takes Scott apart, the way that he makes him forget all hints of stuck-up composure.
He jerks Scott off as he takes him and growls into his ear, gritting out possessive threats about what he'll do if anyone else tries to touch Scott, tries to take him away. Scott moans, his mouth open, his lips parted, and as Logan bites down on the curve of his shoulder he comes hard, spurting come onto the bed beneath them and flooding through Logan's fingers.
Logan grunts in satisfaction and pumps him through it, but god Scott is tight and hot and he's not going to last, not when he pulls back to look at his name scrawled like a brand over Scott's back.
He slams into him hard one last time before his body tenses and he comes, more intense than before, slumping over Scott's back. His hips move frantically through it, burying his seed deep inside Scott's body. Fuck. Fuck, nothing else feels like this. No one else.
He pulls out of Scott and cleans the pair of them up, while Scott simply avoids the wet patch on the bed as he flops against the mattress and starts to drift off back to sleep as if he'd never been woken up. It's better than like that, actually - it means that Scott isn't conscious when Logan affectionately swipes at his cheek, running his thick finger over the writing there.
*
In the morning, he's woken up by a miniature explosion of sound from the bathroom. Even half-asleep, Logan starts grinning when Scott starts shouting.
It's going to be a fun day.