Disclaimer: Don’t own any of these characters, they belong to Marvel Comics©. I’m just borrowing them for some amusement.



Marvel universe: Comic



Pairing: Kurt/Ororo/Logan



Archiving; Get in touch with me first.


Feedback is always appreciated :)





Author’s Note; I’ve had the seed of this idea in my head for nearly a year now but baulked at tackling it. But then I decided that if I was going to try it, I just had to get my head down and start. So after many a long discussion about the dynamics of this ‘ménage-à-trois’ (Kurt’s personal struggle, Ororo and Logan’s role within it) with my good friend NemB, I got the story roughly sorted in my mind before sitting down and clacking away. And here is the finished result for your delectation. I truly hope you enjoy it as a story as well as for the smut factor! It does jump back and forth in time but all events take place over the space of a week or two and it should make sense overall...I hope!

This story takes into account Kurt leaving the Priesthood but it is outside of the ‘Draco’ and ‘Holy War’ storylines, so as far as he and everyone else is concerned he really did become a priest. Also, I’d just like to say I’m coming at the ‘religious angle’ from an outsider view, being a non-believer, so I don’t mean to cause any offence, and hope I haven’t.


Also, just a quick warning that this fic does deal with EXTREMELY adult material, so please, please read responsibly.


And finally I’d like to dedicate this story to Nemesis Becoming for being a brilliant beta and for opening my eyes up to ALL the possibilities within this story. And also to Pari for having such a great site. Thanks a million, you’re both true stars, M’iko, xx


*



‘When the wheel of ecstasy is in full motion, there is no textbook, and no order...’

Extract from Vatsyayana’s ‘Kamasutra’(3rd century CE(?))


*


Under blue moon I saw you
So soon you’ll take me
Up in your arms, to late to beg you
Cancel in though
I know it must be
The killing time, unwillingly mine


Fate, up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to Him


In stolid nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky hung with jewels
The Killing Moon, will come too soon


Fate, up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to Him...


‘The Killing Moon’ By Echo and the Bunnymen

********************************************************************





The Killing Moon.
****************





He stood. The soft brown veneer of the door that loomed in front of him was the only thing in the world, with its red life veins, its muted sheen... He simply stood. This feeling, this conflict was tearing him asunder. Surely they knew that...she knew that. He couldn’t understand why he was being given this. He would never understand it, and this guilt, his guilt would never go away. His heart pumped, he’d never felt it thump so relentlessly...he couldn’t...he just could not...And so he turned on his heal from the door and headed swiftly back up the oak-panelled thoroughfare; walking with a one-track determination. But half-way down the thick crimson and gold Chinese runner something made him stop. He was only two doors down from the one he’d been agonising over entering, no more. A compulsion made him turn, implored him to; his heart fluttered, rhapsodic, with his growing sense of lasciviousness thwarted, his breath not coming to him easily. And again his mind turned; that sensual kiss, the promise of passion to come on those full warm lips...he found he craved it more than ever. The sudden tightness in his groin at the thought implored him to hold himself there, but he resisted the impropriety of his own touch. Instead, he held on for something more, what was yet to come...


He turned back, slowly, the pain not registering in the blind yellow, but instead in the deep creases of the face; the furrow of his brow, knitting together. Again he imagined her touch...a moan of a breath whispered past his lips. Tight lines ran from his mouth, pulled into a smarting grimace. He cut an oddly shadowy, almost macabre figure with the low light of the hallway lamp coming from behind him; his fur almost black against the white of his shirt and pale blue of his faded jeans. He sighed, holding his face in his hands, the three wide digits of each running up into the lose wave of his shortly cropped hair. He made a noise of frustration, almost a choked sound as his feet moved him back towards the door at the end of the hall; the tread on the carpet ominous to his ears, heavy, daunting. He stopped at the red veined panel and raised his balled hand to its surface.


* * *


The glasses chinked with irregularity and the scrape of the cutlery made for an abstracted symphony, a low-key Alfred Schnittke. No one spoke---they just ate. The mission had subdued them, as they often did. Their mental and physical exhaustion had settled them into a calm sedation. It had been a rather routine excursion, the usual X-Men fodder, stopping a small problem in ‘Mutant Town’, downtown New York, from spiralling out of control. As usual they’d come off looking the bad guys to both sides perception, but they were used to that. More than used to it, it was water off a ducks back, as they say.


Many of the team had decided they deserved a good night out, and so had ventured down into Salem Centre. Only these few remained for dinner.


Not one of the six present felt recourse for conversation though, all settling into a private realm as they ate. There could have been nobody in their proximity at all for all the attention they paid to one another. The Schnittke continued...


“Can you pass me the salt?�


Kurt leant forwards a little, picking up the delicately cut crystal cellar and stretched to pass it two chairs up to Scott who sat sullenly next to his wife. Or rather, not sullenly...but with that well-worn Summers phlegmatic presence.


“Thanks.�


Kurt barely acknowledged it as he came back to settle into his high-backed seat, his eyes casting to his left where Logan sat with complete casualness. But they didn’t move casually away, instead they fixed there...A subtle fascination festered as he witnessed a large weathered hand, slowly dipping down, falling onto a bare coffee thigh...He cut off another piece of chicken, placing it carefully in his mouth. It tasted of nothing...Nothing.


His sallow eyes flitted to the side but it was impossible for anyone present to tell, unless they really concentrated. Their golden swirls were often unknowable. But he watched...He watched as a dry, strong hand ran along the surface of dark silkiness, reaching up and up until it disappeared beneath the high band of her cut-off denim skirt. He briefly looked up at the other three faces around the table; Jean, Scott, and Charles, up there at the far end of the grand twenty-seater dinning table, cutting a most singular, solitary figure. All had their eyes down cast, lost internally as they performed the routine act.


Kurt inclined his head to the left again; her dusky toned face betrayed nothing to his curious gaze at this moment. She chewed demurely on her food, her knife and fork clashing together as they zigzagged across one another, clacking on the bright white porcelain. Though for a moment, just the briefest instant, her hands ceased to move her implements, her blue eyes lidded over and she issued the softest breath he’d ever heard, the most tender of breaths...Then her fork came to her mouth and she continued, as if...nothing.


Logan was watching her now too. Kurt perceived the action with uncanny vigilance as Wolverine coughed spuriously to cover his growl, his feral response to her reaction. His hand still moved with action so subtle as to be non-existent...but it was. It moved beneath her skirt with measured intention, shaded for the most part by the sheer linen of the table cloth.


They continued as if alone, but HE had noticed...Neither of them seemed aware of that.


She titled her head, just slightly, making her Luna pale hair fall down from its precarious balance on her left shoulder, sweeping down as if by virtue of one of her winds. Drawing them in slowly, she wetted her lips, catching them on her teeth for just a second as her dark lashes fluttered; butterflies caught in a net...


Kurt caught his own breath, the lurch in his stomach exasperating the growing heat within. He swallowed down hard, the image replaying in his head, causing his throat to tighten... “Will you excuse me?� he said as he scrapped back his chair, breaking the silence, causing all eyes to fall on him with sudden, yet somehow muted interest. He stood from the table, picking up his half-full plate as he did so. In fact, he’d barely taken a bite; the peas and carrots rolling about haphazardly as if on a tossing ship, the dark gravy splashing and lapping over like waves.


“Is something wrong Kurt?� Ororo asked as she looked up; her voice neutral, her defined features completely impassive.


He opened his mouth to speak, the sharp whiteness of his teeth like a flash from the dark, but the words that were there caught momentarily as Logan’s hand subtly re-emerged, taking up his silver knife that had lain idle.


“Nien,� he stated simply, his features unflinching, focusing on the bright glint of the knife. Looking up he caught Ororo’s eye, and for a moment, the briefest of moments, he saw a keenness flash in their calm pools. A spark of...something...or was his own clouded judgment playing tricks on him?


“Excuse me,� he murmured again, turning and making to leave the large dinning room, all eyes following him to the far end until the door closed to block him from view. They carried on eating, without speaking or exchanging a glance.



* * *



The hands on the clock denoted that it was ten to twelve and all seemed quiet in the Xavier Mansion. Ororo Munroe sighed as yet another minute ticked by and still he hadn’t come. But the sigh was not one of irritation, moreover frustration....Frustration born of anticipation. She shifted as she sat on the edge of Logan’s bed; it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as her own, but it would do. She resisted another furtive glance at the clock, instead peering disinterestedly at her surroundings. The various katana hanging in neat horizontal rows from special hooks on the plain walls in their delightfully intricate scabbards of Japanese jade and smooth black lacquer; just one or two photographs of friends and lost lovers; everything that suggested the mystery that the man was---even to those closest to him. All except her...perhaps.


The light from the lamp that spilt over everything, affording them a soft glow, did not reach the far side of the room; hence it was swathed in a thick darkness. So she turned from its blank canvas, facing again to the door. Waiting. Still waiting...


There was a soft knock on the door; three light hollow raps in succession.
“Hello?� the hesitant voice rang out, trying not to disturb those in the adjacent rooms. “Storm?�


Ororo smiled, the deep red of her painted lips glittered in the orange light. “Come in Kurt,� she called, suppressing a soft laugh at the hesitant shuffle that followed. Eventually the door opened, creeping in with a certain amount of uncertainty, “I am glad you came.�


Kurt stayed on the threshold of the room, his hand still firmly around the brass door knob, his body heat swiftly warming it up. He felt the slight clench of his jaw as his eyes fell upon the Windrider, draped in a white cotton dress that came to her ankles. None-the-less, the split in the side cut the material in two almost up to the top of her left hip; her leg on what suddenly seemed to him gratuitous display. He felt his mouth begin to dry, but somehow be swamped at the same time. He swallowed down, that lurching, tingling sensation arising in his stomach, just like before...


“Ororo,� he said simply, his voice sounding a little frail, encouraging him to clear his throat. “Where is Logan tonight?�


Ororo smiled, adjusting her left leg casually so that the thin dress slipped a little further, exposing a richer cocoa skin; a truly unintentional consequence on her part. “Around,� she answered after the pause, with a privately amused fondness.


“Oh,� Kurt said shortly, trying desperately to look anywhere but at those legs, “I see.� He went quiet for a moment, his sudden nervousness not helped by Ororo’s intent and unabashed gaze.


Ororo regarded him, her look not changing, “Are you going to stand there all evening?� she asked, “Or are you coming in, my friend?�


“Oh, yes. Sorry,� he said hurriedly, tripping over the words as he came into the room and closed the door, quiet as he could, behind him. Immediately he walked over to the chest of draws opposite the end of the bed, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans; even that simple gesture appeared awkward, again making Storm want to laugh, but sympathetically, not cynically. Was it nerves or guilt? She knew full well...


“Ororo I---I,� he stuttered and then sighed in frustration as he lent heavily back against the tall set of draws behind him. “I’m sorry liebchen---but this all feels so strange, so...� he sighed again, this time bereft.


“Sordid?� Ororo offered dryly. He shrugged his shoulders, but then relented with a disconsolate nod of the head. He looked up at her to see her patting the space on the bed at her side left side, “Why don’t you sit?� She was happy that he came forth without need for further persuasion and took up the space next to her on Logan’s king size.


The springs squeaked under the added compression, but only for a brief second before they settled to the extra weight. “Sordid...� He repeated her word, smiling sardonically at it. It was too perfect.


“In a way,� she replied cryptically, saying the words slowly as if she were contemplating the hidden answer behind them even as she spoke. “But only because you insist on seeing it as such Kurt.� She was confident in that, and so obviously comfortable that it did make him question his own reactions. It disarmed him as it were, put him at ease to an extent.


“If I may speak freely liebchen?� he clasped his hands together over his knees, looking down at them as he did so.


“Always, my friend.�


“Why---why would Logan allow this?� he asked, a little sheepishly.


Ororo made a soft noise, a knowing noise, “Allow me Kurt?� she raised a sharply shaped eyebrow at him, “You assume my subservience to him.� She mocked peevishness with good humour.


Kurt considered this, fighting against his conventional morality as he did so. But at the same time, he knew that his two closest friends in the world were anything but conventional in their view of the world---why would their approach to their relationship be any different? Still, it was a concept that he struggled to grasp. “The two of you have been---seeing each other---for a number of years, in one way or another. There has always been a...connection,� he said thoughtfully, admiringly, “...everyone could see it. Yours seemed a perfect match,� he paused for a moment again, “But I suppose it is clear, when I take the time to think on it, that you and Logan are no Scott and Jean,� he laughed, genuinely relaxed.


“Too true,� she replied with fond dryness. Ororo and Logan were certainly not a mirror of the orthodox couple down the hall; their spirits too free, too independent to be slave to such formal notions.


“When I look at you both,� Kurt started, feeling much more relaxed as time went on, “there seems to be such contentment in your souls, when you are together at least, such obvious harmony. You seem so comfortable with who you are and with the very idea of each other that I often wonder; will I ever find that place for myself?�


“You could say so, I suppose.� Storm turned her body more towards him; her legs slipping off the floor and onto the bed as she shifted, resting her weight leisurely on her left arm. She fixed him with her duskily set blue eyes, a curious air in them. She smiled at his subtle flinch, marvelled at the way the light played with the tones of his fur; a soft pelt that was glorious to touch. “Logan and I have certainly come to a much more...quiet place in our lives. But it has taken us time. We were, for years, just as you.�


“But it is difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you’re still floundering in the darkness,� he gave her a weary look that tried for lightness, attempting to brush aside his growing need to hold her, to feel that soft swarthy skin beneath his palms... “Remember that,� he added.


She watched him for a moment, toying over her words before she pushed them into the ‘arena’...“Over dinner last week,� she said after the pregnant pause passed; a demure smile coming to his lips as she saw his genuine ignorance at her words turn into gradual understanding and then furtive guilt. “I saw you.�


“Ack!� He shook his head, dismayed at himself, “I am sorry Storm, I know I shouldn’t have---it was irreproachable of me.� Again he shook his head as he focused on his hands, to embarrassed or perhaps ashamed to look at her.


“Oh Kurt,� she laughed gently as she reached up and ran her hand through his soft mass of vaguely curled blue hair. It wasn’t quiet as easy on the hand as the fur that covered his skin from head to toe but it still felt pleasing to her. “You have nothing to reproach yourself for. We were not exactly behaving in the most courteous manner in other peoples company, after all.�


Kurt made a bitter noise, “That’s kind of you to say liebchen, but it doesn’t make me feel any less...voyeuristic.� He finally looked back up at her, feeling a tendril of pain at the serenity on her face, “But it did make me realise my...loneliness, all the more. My need for the understanding embrace of another person.� He looked away from her for moment, “I can not deny,� he began quietly, “that...I enjoyed it, I enjoyed watching you—your pleasure...Logan’s too,� he added tentatively, diverting his gaze again, “simply by giving pleasure to you.�


Ororo smiled and raised a milky eyebrow at him, “I know my dear Kurt, I know how you feel...,� she shifted slightly on the bed, “We have all been there. All we want now is to help you, in anyway we can.�


Kurt laughed despite himself, “It is certainly a unique gesture of friendship, and I am grateful. But still...� he reached up to remove Ororo’s hand that still lay entangled in his hair at the back, gently placing it back into her lap, “I mean you no offence when I say this but, to be truthful, this all has the unsavoury air of...well...� he shrugged, “just an unsavoury air, that’s all.�

“Prostitution?� Ororo said neutrally, “Is that what you see this as?�


“I cast no aspersions on you, or Logan,� that familiar feeling of shame flushed him, “it is my own conduct, even the fact that I have come here---it says volumes, don’t you think?� he looked at her as if he expected an answer, but he didn’t, “and to think I wished to be a priest only months ago---this casts doubt over my convictions and devotion from the beginning.�


“Your guilt,� she stated; bewildered, amused, “I shall never understand your almost masochistic desire to torture yourself Kurt. What way is that to live your life? But then, I think, is that the attraction?�


He shook his head, “None. I know that,� he answered to her first question and then thought on the second for a moment. He smiled wryly to himself, acknowledging the joy to be had from forbidden desire, the esoteric arousal arising from constant denial, “perhaps I knew that all along and had been fooling myself for years.�


“Perhaps,� she agreed, “but now might be the time for you to change that, do you not think? To finally act upon your deepest...darkest...craving?�


He wetted his lips, their dryness almost painful as his hankering began to rise up from its constant simmering; tracing the hard line of her shoulder with his eyes, down to the barest show of her cleavage beneath the top of her dress... “And you are sure that Logan is completely comfortable with this?� he asked absently, not sure at that point whether he cared or not, one way or the other.


“Logan and I have an...� she rolled her eyes skyward as she searched, “an understanding,� she finished, thinking of that conversation a few days ago, his willingness to please her in any way she saw fit. It took a strong man to submit to her deepest desires, her most lewd of wishes... “It’s really quite simple Kurt...� she said softly as she reached up to his hair again, this time bringing her legs beneath her to kneel at his side as she sunk them both in, her excitement building at a long held fantasy about to come true...



* * *


“Ahhh—argh---ummmm...� Ororo turned her head down into the pillow to smother her verbal passion, her arm reaching behind to grip at Logan’s hair as he pushed further into her. He continued to move in a steady rhythm, rocking against her as they lay cupped and on their sides, his cock now all the way into her anus. His head was buried in her thick hair, surrounded, immersed in the sandalwood as he breathed harshly into her ear, ragged, feral growls. His hands held to her hips, helping in their rolls towards his body. The sounds of their movements filled the contented stillness of the attic room, bathed in the warmth of the late afternoon sunlight.


“Logan...do you---argh,� he pushed into her harder, “---fantasise?� She closed her eyes, tugging gently at his hair, desperate to contain herself.


He made a vague noise of affirmation, a guttural grunt. He began to move faster in accordance with the roll of her hips, the sound of her pants, quiet but wanton. He could smell the wetness of her sex keenly, ready and waiting to expel. He reached down, gliding his hand down her slicked skin until he ran his fingers through the small mound of hair and up into her vagina, penetrating with the same timing as the movement of their unified rocking thrusts. Two thick fingers pushed into her, catching the excitable little fleshy nub between them.


“Kurt was watching us---,� she gasped shamelessly, “huh—ahh—at the dinner table---las---last night---oooohhh...� She arched her head back, her mouth setting into a pained grimace as she became desperate for release.


Logan growled, but she could read his feral noises as though he had spoken the words. His animal language was clear to her. It wasn’t a noise of anger at all. He fucked her faster, the mattress shuddered with their movement.


“He was watching us---watching us from the moment you slipped your hand up my---ahh---ahhh,� she grabbed his hair harder now, her climax coming, “when you put your fingers in---inside me...� He bucked hard into her, a stunted roar flowing into her ear. He bucked again and this time came. Ororo held back her moan as she quickly reached down and urged his fingers on, suddenly exploding a loud breath as she too flooded down and every part of her body screamed with the electric tingle of every nerve end. Her body shook tensely as she made a noise that sounded very much like a sigh of relief, a breeze rustling through leaves.


As they let their bodies wind down from the excursion Ororo turned her head to kiss him lightly, her hand still entangled in his rough tresses, as he pushed himself up on his elbow and came above her a little more. His hand came up from her relived sex to fondle her breast, smearing a light film over it as he kneaded it.


“Did you like it?� he asked gruffly as he moved his lips to her ear and nibbled at it, quickly turning them into rough bites, cooled by the wild lick of his tongue.


“Knowing he was watching?� she groaned softly, “yes...�


He grabbed more insistently at her breast, “Did it make you wanna cum?� His deep voice tickled her ear as he asked her.


“Yes...� she hissed...


* * *


Logan put the beer down on the coffee table already open and settled into the well-worn lazy chair opposite the sofa where Kurt lounged unselfconsciously. The Elf reached forwards and took the bottle from the table, taking a sip.


“Tell me then?� Logan asked as he put his feet up on the coffee table, feeling comfortable in doing so as anyone who would have chastised him for doing so was safely out of the way in bed, so he took advantage of that fact.


“What?� Kurt replied after a time, his fingers idly flicking the buttons on the T. V. remote that lay on the seat next to him.


Logan ignored the irritating flickering of the bright screen, despite the fact that to his eyes it was as bothersome as a strobe, flashing in the periphery of his acute vision, “Why you’ve been walkin’ around the joint with a bottom lip so low ya could trip over it?�


Kurt didn’t react to Logan’s usual flippant attitude, not even the faintest flicker as he changed the last channel and flicked the red off button instead; the set making an odd noise as it screen swiftly faded to black. The silence began to spread; reaching out into the waiting game for he knew Logan would sit contentedly and say nothing for hours, until he spoke that was, until he deigned to answer him.


He looked across the table at his best friend, even the blank glow of his orbs managed somehow to appear sad. No, not sad...weary, listless. “There is nothing I can add that you do not already know, mien freund,� he said.


“Maybe,� Logan said quietly and tipped his bottle back, “maybe not.�


True and not true. There weren’t many in the mansion that did not know of Kurt’s recent crisis of faith, the agony with which he had renounced his priestly studies. But not even Logan had a true idea of just how deep it ran. Perhaps no-one ever would...Was that a blessing, or a curse, he pondered. But he was jarred from thought by Logan’s next words, unexpected words.


“When a man has reason to feel that what he believed was his vocation, was nothin’ of the sort---it’s enough to damage somethin’ inside that can never be fixed,� he regarded Kurt for a moment, seeing that hurt in his friend, feeling that hurt as his own, “that’s if he lets it, o’ course.�


Kurt managed a half-smile at his friend’s words. He could certainly be a wise man when he wished to be, which was not often enough unfortunately for those around him. “And tell me Logan,� he began, “what does the man do to keep that from happening?�


Logan smiled crookedly, his stark blue eyes not affected by the gesture, keeping their detached veneer, “I’m the wrong person to ask about that one bub.�


The German laughed, a soft wry laugh, “I feared that’s what you’d say.�


They each slipped into a personal taciturnity, the hush of the room and indeed the entire mansion in the foreground. Again, Kurt felt Logan was simply biding his time, waiting for him continue, but at his own pace. He appreciated his patience.


“Do you know what the worst thing is?� Kurt suddenly asked.


“No, what?�


“It is...,� he hated to say this aloud and indeed could not bring himself to hold Logan’s eye as he said it, “knowing the reason that have forsaken what I was prepared to give a lifetime and beyond for. The true, specific reason.�


Logan pushed himself up from the gradual slouch he’d been falling into; shifting his body weight via his forearms on the padded arm rests of the chair. “Why don’t ya fill me in on that reason?� Not that he didn’t know...


“It---,� he hesitated, moving forwards in his chair as he subconsciously clutched tighter to his still almost full bottle, “it is really rather embarrassing, mien freund,� he eventually elaborated.


“Hell, I’m sure I’ve heard worse,� he grinned wickedly, “in fact I’m damn sure I have.�


“Perhaps,� Kurt said dryly, “but I am not you.�


“No,� he concurred, “an’ ya should be grateful. If I had half the discipline and dedication you had I’d be better man,� he said with a half-serious knowingness that demonstrated the truth of his words. “But I’m curious?�


“About what?�


“About how carryin’ this constant guilt around is workin’ out for ya?� he asked with a note of satire. “Then again, guess that’s half the fun.� Kurt didn’t take exception to Logan’s words---he found himself hard pressed to disagree with him, “but you still haven’t given me yer reason bub,� he added.


“Isn’t it obvious,� Kurt replied with dismay, coming forwards in his seat a little, “After everything, I found that the one thing I craved most was the one thing the church resolutely refused me.�


“Sex,� Logan said simply, rather crudely.


Kurt shook his head, “No, it is not that specifically,� he flopped back into the sofa, bringing a hand to his brow as if in an attempt to staunch a headache, or smooth back the tense lines that creased it beneath the fine layer of fur, “it is more...it is...genuine affection. True intimacy. Is it so wrong to want these things? �


“I understand, Elf.�


Kurt let his arm fall back down, dejectedly, “I don’t know if you do,� he whispered.


“Yeah, I do Kurt,� Logan rebuked sternly, “an’ I’ll tell ya somethin’ fer nothin’—ya can’t hide behind that dog-collar anymore. This ain’t got nothin’ to do with yer beliefs or yer damned vocation.� He lent forwards purposefully, placing his bottle on the table as he put his feet back to the carpet. “Maybe yer just learnin’ that yer as ‘human’ as everyone else in this place—an’ that’s just somethin’ you’ve gotta accept Elf. Yer halo ain’t slipped—it was never there in the first place.�


Kurt clenched his jaw but didn’t reply.


“Do’ya know what I think?�


“No,� he replied drably, “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.�


“Ya never really wanted to be a priest Elf. It was just the easiest way out. It stopped from really questioning what’s in here,� he tapped his heart, “Time ya took the wall down an’ faced up to it—ya gotta quit beatin’ yerself up over it.�


Harsh words, but the truth often was...


* * *


“I have noticed the way you’ve been looking at me for months now---the others too,� she crooned as she came closer to him, cupping his head in her hands. Her own passion was tinged with a nervous delight, fluttering in the pit of hr stomach as she moved them knowingly towards this breech of this most risqué of taboos. Moving her lips down to his ear she breathed, “...and I have enjoyed it.� Her lips brushed over his lobe before her teeth snatched forwards to nip it.


“Ororo, please. This is still---.� He tried to pull away from her but his effort was half-hearted to say the least, made all the harder by the fact that he dared not put his hands on her body. He couldn’t be sure where it would lead, but knew within himself where he wanted it to. She was the serpent, whispering in his ear and he swiftly found himself with no will or want the halt her; the dusky brush of her mocha voice stirring the need that uncoiled within him.


“Kurt relax,� she admonished gently, one could say calmingly, “we are doing nothing wrong...� she ran her tongue up to the devilishly pointed tip of his ear, “...nothing wrong...� she sighed again as she sucked on its practically furless steeple, perhaps repeating in confirmation.


“Yes but---.� His words were lost as she moved in front of him and crushed her ruby lips to his. It didn’t take long for the rest of him to go the same way...He grabbed at her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her ferociously; an action he’d daydreamed of so many times recently, not necessarily with Storm as the fantasy object, but he’d be lying if he said she hadn’t featured often. What had happened that afternoon had been hard enough to digest; this was even worse...but enjoyable. Touching her, holding her, tasting that gentle floral musk that surrounded her...Taking hold of her hips, Kurt lay Ororo down on the bed and moved above her, not once breaking from her mouth. His right hand stole down to the split in her dress, pushing it aside so that he had liberal access to her silky smooth limb. He hitched her thigh up over his hip without thinking, giving a random rock of his groin into hers, making her groan in satisfaction at the action.


Ororo’s hands found their way beneath his simple white shirt, attempting to pull it up like a t-shirt rather than bother with the cumbersome little pearly buttons. There was something that felt so familiar about running her hands up his chest, the way the fur parted beneath her fingers was not a million miles away from what it felt like to perform a similar action on her regular lover; the rock hard muscles perfectly set out under the soft growth. It all felt so...natural, so right. As Kurt moved from her mouth to her neck she moaned softly to feel his hands busying themselves at hitching up her dress; grabbing frantically in desperation to uncover her.


Turning her head to face the stare into dark void of the far end of the room, she urged Kurt with her uncontrollably breathy wantonness, “Kurt, slow---please slow...�


He instantly stopped his frenetic fight with her dress, resting his hands on her body for a moment as he pulled back from her neck, panting, “I’m sorry Ororo---it just that it has been such a long time---I...�


“I understand,� she assured him as she gazed up at him warmly, stroking at his hair. She reengaged with his mouth, shifting upwards as she did so. With his hand at her back he moved backwards with her, sensing how she wanted to play this he turned them over so that she straddled his lap and he lent in a half sitting position against the solid headboard. Reaching down she grasped the hem of his shirt, determined to finish the job that she had started, and yanked it up, pulling back for only a second as she removed it from over his head. Letting the garment fall to the floor, she gripped at his shoulders, gradually moving her hands inwards to his neck as if she were massaging him, eventually bringing them up to embrace his jaw.


“Huh-ummm...Kurt...� His hands ran up her thighs, taking the lower half of her dress with them as his fingers slipped beneath the lace of her underwear. His thick middle digit brushed along her sex, spreading the warm moisture along that already came from it, working at lubricating her. But still, even as he did this and even as his erection strained against the crotch of his trousers. Like an ever-present ailment, the pressure that weighted heavy on his soul maligned him---he couldn’t help but feel himself traitorous, no matter what Ororo had said; to his God, to his best friend...to himself.


“Storm.� Her name was muffled against her lips and he had to ease her back as he took his other hand away from her vagina. “Storm---Ororo, please---.�


“What is it?� she asked, still insistent in half-kissing him as she spoke.


Eventually he gave in and stopped trying to break from her and instead to any opportunity as their lips parted to speak. “I know---you’ve assured me---that---this is okay---but---I just have---one---question---why are we doing this here,� he did force her to stop then, temporarily holding her at her shoulders, �in Logan’s room?�


“I think I can answer that, bub.�



* * *

ToBeContinued...

The Killing Moon: Part Two



* * *


The sound was oddly comforting as Logan ran the lint-free cloth along the bright flawless blade of the sword; a muffled drawing noise, not unlike the sound that issued as he unsheathed his own deadly weapons, but with a softer edge. Her blue eyes trailed the path that his sure hand ran; the careful caress of a lover across the body of his beloved...


“Tell me again...� she asked sleepily, her voice husky with content as she watched him, resting on her side her, in his bed, letting the cool breeze that flowed from the slightly open window brush its cooling effect across her entirely bare skin.


Logan looked over his shoulder at her and smiled vaguely, a crooked twist of his lips—the only sort one could expect from him. “About what?� As if he didn’t know...


“The sword...� she crooned, her voice soft as the air itself, caressing her with deference, ruffling the disarrayed sheets every now and then...


His smile broadened into something much more genuine, even reaching his eyes, albeit tinged with a bitter-sweet edge. She witnessed it just from the corners in half-profile as he faced the wall that held his katana, but was turned to her a little. The cloth reached the edge of the lethal blade, slipping seamlessly off its perfectly sharp point. “Masamune,� he said, with a quiet reverence, “crafted the blade for the very first Lord of the Yashida Clan.� He had a detached vacancy to him as he spoke about the sword, as if lost in thought.


“You told me...� Ororo said as she lazily, trailing off as she rolled onto her back. Her hand crept up between her bare legs, resting lightly between them close to the top of her long thighs, as the other reached back casually into her sprawled hair, “You told me all about the swords history... but you never explained what it means,� she stretched with an easy elegance, looking for a time like a bronze statue, perfectly moulded, “what it means for you...� she added with the lightness of sleep once more apparent in her voice.


“No, I didn’t,� he said as if to avoid the question; practically in statement as he turned fully back to face the wall. He breathed in deeply, brushing the unusually soft cream cloth along once more, although it did not need it; the ritualism of the action already complete. It was an action he routinely perfected almost every day. The blade tipped forwards slightly in his hand, in a cut-off vision he saw himself reflected in its mirror-esque surface; a stoic face that betrayed nothing in its hard deep lines and heavy pale eyes.


Ororo took her hand from her hair impossibly long, thick locks and pushed herself up on her elbow, her other hand still resting betwixt her legs. She watched his back carefully as he appeared to be studying the sword with familiar interest, “What does it mean?� she asked again with the clarity of an innocent determined to have their answer; a beautiful naïveté born anew, a constant fascination to him. How could she be at once so wise, so knowledgeable about all things but still retain that core, that pure core that she possessed and he had recognised the moment Charles had brought her back from Kenya, from the pedestal of a Goddess, all those years ago. Still the Nature Child of the African planes...


Logan made a noise; half wry laugh, half unpresumptuous sigh. He held the handle firmly, the handle that was as deep a red as the Life’s blood that had been spilt on its blade over its hundreds of years of existence. The golden tassel brushed softly against the back of his hand, whispering against the dark covering of hair as it hung gracefully over it, shining in the light like the most beautiful jewel, in belie of its purpose; to bring death, honourable death.


“It’s an honour sword,� he explained, “this piece o’ metal represents the very soul of the clan it was made for—symbolises their dignity as a line of distinguished noble men...of samurais.�


“The Yashidas,� Ororo said plainly, thoughtfully. She smiled at him as he looked around at her; stirred by the light in his eyes as he observed her deeply toned flesh under soft light, stretched upon his pale sheets. She moved slightly, aroused by his observance of her nakedness, her mind drifting from the object he held in his hand to other things. That was until he spoke again...


“Yeah...one of the oldest families in Japan,� he resisted the urge to whip the perfect blade around in a precise swipe of demonstration, for he had never wielded it; in practise or in combat. “Some of the most honourable men have held this sword—brought nothing but righteous death with its blade.�


“But not you,� she said as she watched him and the temptation he held, as if reading his thoughts.


He remained quiet for a moment before picking up the swords intricately detailed gold and black scabbard from the dresser top and placing it back within its secure vicinity with the sound synonymous with the sheathing of his own claws.


“No...not me.� He could not...he dared not. His worth was a tormenting question that did not have an answer. He carefully placed the sword back onto the hooks drilled into the wall, there expressly for its mounting. And so it hung there; observed with a dignity all of its own. His life, his failure...


Ororo slipped from the bed and walked over to him as Logan took up the ‘sword’ that lay beneath the Masamune blade; his Bokan. The practise sword of the samurai; its smooth rich surface told in places of its story; every hit, every scar, every dint caused by unruly use. As the former Goddess got up from the bed with the lazy but perfect agility of a sleek cat and sidled up behind him, pressing her stunning body up to his partially clothed one, she reached down to touch it. She let her legs brush against the thin cloth of his wide legged black trousers that he used for his meditations, his only form of dress, as she ran her hand along the smoothly crafted Bokan; touching every imperfection with a natural curiosity.


Logan watched observantly as her slender fingers worked their way over the caramel wood, weaving slowly over his own digits as they reached them at either end of its length. His grip tightened automatically around this weapon; his worthiness of the Bushido it would decree always there with the gentle touch of it...so close but yet so far...


“And this was your practise sword,� she crooned delicately into his ear, resting her cheek down on his broad hard shoulder; the hair that covered it wonderfully lenient against her skin. He had told her of this long ago; its purpose, its significance.


“Yes.� He drew it along, pulling it through her hands slowly, “But I was never worthy...I could never prove myself with it.� His openness, his honesty touched her with its acceptance, its familiarity...


Ororo planted a kiss on his solid shoulder and then moved her patient lips up to his neck, letting her hands fall from the round edged length of wood down to his flat hard stomach. She brushed up through the dark hair, loving the feel, whispering delicately against her fingers, and she adored the surface of the compact muscles beneath. Up they went; gratuitous in their fondling and then down again, over the elastic band at the waist and further south...She clutched with a genteel urgency at the quickly hardening mound that lay underneath the black material of his traditional dress; rubbing up and down, receiving a deep feral groan in response. She smiled, making her movements more insistent, noticing the slackening grip on the Bokan as she continued to arouse him...


But then, unexpectedly, he seemed to stiffen; his entire body suddenly tense.


“What is it?� Ororo asked as he placed the sword down rudely on the dresser top and moved away from her. Quickly she slunk back across to the bed, no more than a couple of steps away, automatically pulling the pushed back sheet over her body to cover her nakedness as she watched her lover prowl purposely.


Logan got to the door of his room, instantly noticing the slight crack where it had not been shut properly; surprised that he hadn’t sensed it earlier. He reached for the handle and yanked it open quickly, half stepping out into the hall. It was vacant; he looked down it both ways to make sure. But not quite satisfied he tilted his head up in order to scent the air. The faint trace of sulphur made his oversensitive nostrils twitch...So he hadn’t imagined the noise that had disturbed him...


“What is wrong?�


Logan gave one last check along the hall, “Nothin’ darlin’,� he replied concretely, before closing the door firmly and making his way over to the bed.



* * *



Kurt walked past the rows of classrooms on the second floor of the east wing. It hadn’t been that long ago that these rooms were unused bedrooms, lying idle, waiting for the next intake of X-Men. Now they were bona-fide teaching facilities, just like the notice on the front gate had always said they were. They were no longer living a lie...in so many ways. But inside, Kurt felt its interminability more than ever...There was nobody about right now, the summer holidays having thinned the ranks of the permanent pupils. These corridors lay as uninhabited as they had been formally, and would do so for another month. He was only up here to collect some personal effects; books that he’d lent to Charles for teaching purposes. His own desires to teach had been unexpectedly stunted by his position as the leader of the second team, for the tenure that that ill-fated venture had lasted, anyway. Another failure...


He felt as if he were cut off from everyone else as he made his way down the hallway---everything was so still, so quiet.


The hard *pock* sound of a shoe, someone else’s shoe, cut through Kurt’s solitary rumination.


He stopped, his rubber-bottomed sneaker squeaking. It echoed. And then she appeared. Her lose long skirt mirrored her flowing hair; her peachy strapless top hugged her torso like a corset.


Ororo smiled affectionately as she came towards him; serene as ever, “Good afternoon Kurt,� she said as she slowed on approach, fingering at the edge of the slim volume she held.


“Gutten tag frauline,� he returned, “what brings you over this way?�


She gestured with the book in her hand, flashing the title up. It read ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses—by P. A. F. Choderlos de Laclos’. “I left it in my desk at the end of term. I’d been searching high and low for it.�


“Ah,� he indicated in comprehension with a small nod, somewhat self-conscious in his manner.


“Is there something the matter?� she asked, a little confused at his, what she could only describe as bashfulness.


“Nein, nein,� he protested, holding her eyes to convince her of its truth. He took his hand from his pocket, distractedly pointing at the book she held in her hand, “I was up here for the same reason—to collect some books the Professor borrowed.�


She would have let it pass and continued on her way, if it were not for that thought that had harangued her all week, had not left her any peace. Even more so since her talk with Logan that morning. “Kurt, may I speak with you for a moment?�


“Certainly, liebchen,� he agreed, wondering what could have warranted the seriousness in her tone, the almost dire sense of import.


“In here.� Ororo walked to the small lecture hall on the left of the corridor, just a couple of doors down from where they’d stopped. Kurt followed wordlessly. The windowless room was almost pitch black; the rows of red plastic seats that rose up to a high point at the back were just discernable. The front area with the white projection screen came into light as Ororo turned on the overhead strip bulb used to highlight the speaker. Kurt stood as Ororo half-lent, half-sat on the edge of the desk, both hands clasped around her book, resting on the top of her thighs.


“You know you are a dear friend Kurt, and I’d like to think you could speak to me about anything that is concerning you.�


“Ja, of course,� he shrugged as if the notion were obvious, it were negligible to even speak of it.


Ororo nodded amiably, “It is fair to say that you have not been yourself of late, is it not?�


A dawning of realisation overcame him, and his usual passivity abandoned him, “Have you been talking with Logan?� his German accent developed a bite that was not normally there.


“He mentioned that the two of you had---.�


“He had no right!� Kurt snapped uncharacteristically, turning from her in rare anger, an anger that was tinged with shame.


“Kurt,� Ororo said calmly yet firmly and waited for him to face her once more, which he did, eventually. “we are concerned about you, that is all. You are one of our oldest friends—our best friend. If we can see that you are suffering, then of course we will discuss it.�


He nodded, just barely, “Ja...I’m sorry,� he sighed, scratching at the back of his head, “But what I told Logan, I presumed it to be...in the strictest of confidence, you understand.�


“Logan did not break your confidence Kurt,� she informed him, “and I’m surprised you would think such a thing.� He cast her a guilty look. “He only told me you had finally opened up to him—no more.�


“I see,� he said quietly, feeling a fool but also relieved, “I am sorry for jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst. And I dare call myself a friend?� he said self-deprecatingly.


Ororo smiled and moved off from the desk, placing her dog-eared book upon it, “You are a friend,� she countered, “and a good one at that,� she confirmed and would hear nothing to the contrary from him or anyone else, “besides, Logan did not need to tell me anything. There was nothing he could say that I would not have already known my friend.�


That sudden relief he had felt a moment ago drained from him as he spoke; a deep dread churning in the pit of his stomach instead. “What do you mean Ororo?� He hoped she had it wrong, he prayed...


She descried him, very much in the manner Logan had, waiting for him to make the first move instead of foisting it upon him. But when he resolutely refused to say anything further she decided to take it upon herself to move the matter forwards. “Kurt, the pain has been all but etched on your face for months,� she told him, “that regret, that loneliness,� she paused, gauging his reaction, “that desire...�


He hung his head as her last words echoed in his ear, the stirring low melody of her dusky tone, his eyes squeezed tight; distinguishing their bright glow in a stroke like water had been poured on them. His head began to shake gently from side to side as inside his resolve began to break; this weight was too much to bear, this constant need for contrition had all but crushed his soul. And as he felt the warm comfort of slim bare arms embrace him, it finally cracked under the pressure. Kurt held onto Ororo as if for dear life, the wet of his unexpected tears pooled on her shoulder as she murmured words he had no comprehension of into his ear. His hands held to her back all the firmer, holding her as close as he could as he shuddered with silent cries.


“Shhh,� Ororo soothed as she stroked at his hair; she had a fair idea of his turmoil, but would openly admit that she could never understand it completely. All she could do, as a friend, was treat the symptoms. He would have to work through the deeper issues alone. But she would do anything to help him. Anything. “Oh Kurt, if your hurt was such, why did you not come to us sooner?�


Slowly his tensely jerking movements slowed, and his hands weren’t so tight around her. He pulled back a little more, taking one hand from her and swiped at the wet that had made the indigo of the fur on his cheeks even darker. Ororo noticed the shake in his hand and gently took hold of it, bringing it to her mouth and planting a soft kiss on the tips of his two fingers. “All you need is to let go, you can not hold onto feelings that have long died inside you.�


“Nein...� he whispered as he locked with her eyes, instantly calmed by the tenderness he saw in the often hard sapphire. And although it was all that his mind currently dwelled on at that precise point, he was still taken aback as she let go of his hand to cup his face and pressed her lips to his. He held onto her again; demonstration of his agony all poured into that kiss, his desperate embrace. But soon a mournful sound came forth, muffled for a moment until he forced himself to part from her.


“Mien Gott---mien Gott---mien Gott...� he repeated to himself in a fierce whisper again and again as he stumbled back, aghast at what he’d just done.


Ororo expected as much and so let him vent his shock for a while longer until she attempted to help him find reason. The remonstrations wouldn’t be long in coming, she was sure. “Kurt, I know you may think---.�


“You’re my best friend’s girlfriend, and through my own damnable selfishness and self-pity, I can not even control myself with you,� he spat bitterly, directing the diatribe at himself as he turned his back on her, not able to stand the thought of her looking at him, as if her gaze were as deadly as Medusa herself, “If I can be so fickle in life, then what chance did I ever stand in becoming a priest.�


She made an attempt to take his arm but he pulled away as if her hand were laced with poison, “You have this all wrong my friend, this is not a betrayal---.�


“How can you say that?� He raised his voice again, but immediately looked apologetic, “How can you say that?� he repeated quietly, with an air of disbelief, for he really did not understand.


Ororo came to him, slowly this time, as if approaching a horse that might bolt at any moment. But he didn’t move, or flinch when she held onto his arms, in comforting gesture. “You crave something...no,� she corrected, “need something, that can be given so easily---why should you deny yourself—torture yourself—because of it. I say, no more,� her voice was stern, held its normal command, “I can not watch you suffer any longer.� She moved closer to him again and he didn’t resist. He let her kiss him; his need was too great to give in to the fact that he knew it was wrong or at least felt it to be so. Her lips moved softly, carefully; in capitulation, Kurt was swayed by her guidance. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, through his light knit sweater she could feel his body tremble, pulsing, his breath gradually speeding up.


Gently, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, purposely snagging the tip over one of his well developed canines; his two little devil fangs that served to enhance is devilish appearance. He was hesitant at first, but was soon persuaded to reciprocate; taking her tongue up with his own and drawing it deeper into his mouth, only to drive forwards and delve his further into hers with an expertise she hardly expected.


Ororo made a sound, like a half sigh of pleasure, prompting Kurt to hold her closer; his hands at her back, catching up in the great mass of loose silvery strands that shone luminously as the moon with the strong, crisp light coming from behind her. He remained uncertain as to why she was doing this, why he was allowing it to happen, but when he felt her trying to part from him all he knew was that he had to hold her tighter. He was all but grasping at her when eventually he allowed her to pull away, by now his entire body trembling with all the nerves, desire, shock and relief that suddenly swamped him.


They were still in an embrace, albeit a gentler one, as Ororo slowly ran the fingers of her right hand through his hair, just brushing back the curl of his fringe over and over...He looked so...innocent, with his eyes pursed shut, still looking so lost that it made Storm’s heart break. Break with the pain she felt vicariously for her friend.


“Kurt,� she began musingly; he didn’t respond, “Meet me tonight.�


At that his eyes did open, just as she broke away from him completely and went back over to the desk to collect her book. He watched her, a wounded look overtaking him; why was she doing this to him? Tempting him with what he must not, could not, have?


“Ororo...why do you toy with me like this?�


She looked at him, utter sincerity upon her features as she clasped her book to her stomach. But she did not answer him. She walked past him to the door, leaving him to watch after her. As she came to the door, she instructed him further, “I shall be in Logan’s room. Meet me there, at twelve.�


Before he had chance to question any of this, Storm had left the room, the door closing in near silence behind her. Kurt listened as the muffled pitch of her footfall receded into nothingness, and he was left alone, dowsed in the small pool of light. The bell tolled; his soul, that hung by the merest thread, threatened to unravel, to shatter into infinitesimal shards. How long could he keep his grip on all the frayed strands, their raw edges like nerve-endings? The shadowy demon held his head in his hands, the man who would be the priest further away than ever...



* * *


Kurt froze, for a moment not daring to look in the direction that the deep, rasping voice came, emerging as if from the depths, out of the consuming dark half of the room. He held no notions of fear, only a silent understanding. He may have been training for ‘the cloth’ but he was far from naïve. It was all a question of conscience, his mores. He could see now, as he followed the path of Ororo’s dangerously glinting blue eyes to watch Logan emerge from the gloom, that they were offering him a way out. That was all.


That pang, that sharp stab returned to Kurt as Logan came up to the bed, casually leaning forwards slightly to kiss Ororo as she remained astride him. Bright yellow pools watched them joining in a kiss so deep it was as if he were not there at all. And in that moment, he recognised the cause of that stab that had wounded him so deep for a second. It was that green devil...jealousy. Not the petty kind, born of the male ego. This was a man far above that. No, he was jealous of the level of their intimacy, their trust, their love...


Ororo pulled back from Logan, stroking at his hair as she had with Kurt hours earlier, brushing back the wild, perky whips of his fringe that fell into his eyes. She turned from the man who now kissed at her neck and gave lovingly, a beatific smile to the other. The most beatific look he had ever seen among women or angels. His heart expanded in his chest; a butterfly breaking from its cocoon after such long slumber.


“If you do not want this, then say now,� Ororo whispered as she lent in to kiss him. Kurt responded to her offer by locking her in the hardest kiss he could muster; his sudden abandon liberating. He felt the bed tip, springing back up as Logan’s weight moved, away from it where he had kneeled on its edge for the kiss, and then heard the measured, heavy tread on the floor as he walked around to the other side of them. He looked down on them with unreadable eyes, their pale glassy appearance almost containing a cynical light; a jaded light.


All around it floated like an invisible mist, the aroma of Ororo’s arousal, of Kurt’s arousal mixed with an apprehension, an unknown fear. And then, of course, there was his own desire, Logan’s desire, lurking beneath it all, the menacing alpha male. It became all the stronger as he watched Kurt kissing Storm with the beginnings of release, of the liberation of all his hidden lust; the feelings he’d denied for so long... But the cage remained around the locked down animal that threatened to surface. Instead a different pleasure asserted itself, a new feeling to be experienced; her insistence, her wistful, wilful joy. He lived for her, nothing but her now...everything she wanted... If this was her desire, then so be it...


As Ororo broke from him and lent back, Logan immediately came to her from the left side now, smattering frantic kisses over her shapely neck and shoulders in his uncontrolled need to reclaim her at that moment. His hands found its way past the plunging neckline of her dress to fondle her breasts as Kurt’s slid up her thighs to take hold of the two thin bands that kept her knickers settled on her slender hips. She kneeled for him as he edged them down and as they came to her knees, Logan did the honours; taking a hand from her chest and sliding out just half of one claw, so slowly it didn’t make a sound, only a thin trickle of crimson emitting. In seconds the lace bands were sliced and the underwear discarded. Ororo lent forwards then, manipulating her nimble fingers around the buckle of Kurt’s belt. The sound of the hard dry leather drawing out against itself was loud and long; eyes of both saffron and sapphire focused on it as Logan kept his attentions elsewhere.


That was until, after Ororo had undone the top brass button and teasingly pulled down the zip, she turned to Logan with a sultry smile, telling him, huskily into his mouth, holding back from kissing him, “Take his jeans off.� The power she felt on utterance thrilled her...


He tried to kiss her but she pulled away, taking Kurt’s hands from her too as she rolled onto the other side of the bed, the top sheet cool beneath her. Her eyes flickered with a dulcet excitement as Logan came onto the bed, acquiescing without question, and took hold of the now loose waistband of Kurt’s jeans and began to pull them down.


Kurt’s back slipped down the varnished wood behind him, sinking slowly into a lying position. He felt his heart thumping in reaction to a pleasure so furtive, he’d never known anything like it. He gasped as the sharp clamp of teeth enfolded his nipple and soft sandalwood scented hair fell over his chest. He wound his fingers up into it without thinking as he lay fully naked now, his eyes lightly lidded; the feel of her tongue wetting the fur exhilarating. His breathing became deep and his mouth dry as this new world opened up to him, and he slowly gave himself over to revel in its dark delectation...It was this new world of sin and he could no longer fight it; he had not the desire to. Not anymore. The heart of a man would prevail...


Ororo worked her way down, achingly slow, relishing Kurt’s every gasp, every soft, longing moan, her desire building deep within her, anticipating the moment of full contact, the embrace of both lovers. But her will and patience were strong....Though she did not have to wait long for the exasperation of her own pleasure as she felt Logan’s hands close around her hips and gently move her so that she was once again straddled across the striking blue body beneath her. Logan’s searing breath blasted against her ear as he moved himself over her; his still sheathed erection briefly pushing against her arse, and his voice seemed to her deeper than usual as it was his turn to deliver the orders...


“Put his dick in your mouth....�


He backed off from her then, kneeling close behind but no longer touching as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head and began to unbutton his jeans.


Kurt whimpered as he heard Logan’s words and further still when Ororo’s hand closed around his exposed penis. He muttered something in guttural German, something that turned into a half choked prayer as the moist heat of her mouth touched the bare blue skin of his cock, the only patch of his body that remained furless. Her head bobbed up and down in a measured rhythm as he gave himself over to what was a new experience; no other love had graced him such....Ororo’s sudden moan caused the sensation to multiply. He opened his eyes for a moment to find the cause, seeing Logan, on his knees, right behind her, his right arm moving in a quick, purposeful motion...


Storm tried to channel all her concentration into the warm manipulation of Kurt’s dick, swirling her tongue around its tip every time she came up to it. But her distraction was a most welcome one as Logan thrust a finger into her vagina and his hard skinned thumb brushed at her anus. Her moans against Kurt’s now completely erect cock matched the timing with which Logan’s fingers pushed in and drew out; first one, then two and then three, loosening her.... She cried out and her head flung back despite Kurt’s hand tightly grasped in her hair urging her head down during the fellatio, a reflex reaction to Logan’s thick thumb pushing quickly into her anal flesh. She strangled a second, potentially louder scream, as he began to move his fingers within her in a rougher manner as he often did. No matter how many times, the rawness of the sensation remained, like each time were the first. She could do it again and again and again...


Logan couldn’t resist it anymore, the lust was close to choking him, its scent filling his head, the taste of it the most pungent he had ever known. More so now than ever....He growled with furious heat, un-tempered desire. The familiar sharp zing of adamantium rang out, making an appearance for one job and one job only. Ororo licked her lips, her head tilted back as the cold smooth surface of one claw ran its flat along the side of her body, accompanied by the rendering sound of her dress being slit all down one side. A drop of blood, his blood, dropped onto the sheer white; the scarlet of Snow White lips against ashen skin...


Kurt marvelled at the trust. Pure trust. They way Storm seemed to relish the feel of the flawless metal against her skin suggested to him she had felt it often and she enjoyed it; relished the proximity of such danger. It stirred the heat in his loins all the more...As soon as her breast became exposed as the thin white material was pulled away from her body entirely he reached up for them, feeling them with wonder, a precious curiosity.


Her eyes fluttered open with that serene smile of hers as she placed her own hands atop of his, encouraging his thoughtful gropes. Suddenly her lips parted, nothing emitting at first as Logan’s hands became firm about her hips. She edged her knees further apart, preparing herself as the rounded tip of his cock nudged against her from behind, just ahead of the perineal flesh.


“Ohhh—Lo—GAN!� she shrieked...


Kurt quickly sat up and caught her to him as she lurched forwards with the force with which Logan shunted himself into her. He wrapped his arms around her midriff, laying a steadying hand on her lower back at the same time. He couldn’t resist a groan himself as, with her chin resting momentarily on his shoulder, she moaned directly into his elfin-like ear. Another quickly followed as Logan eased back from her and pushed slowly in again.


But he only repeated the motion twice as a readjusted Ororo took charge of the situation. She suddenly pulled back from Kurt, an action he wasn’t for, only exasperating his oddly pleasurable surprise as she roughly shoved him back down to the bed by pushing at his chest; his upper body bouncing against the soft mattress. Logan moved forwards as she did, edging further up Kurt’s body until she was above his large erection. It only occurred to her briefly as to whether or not she would be able to take both of these men at once, but she soon brushed that thought aside with a mental wind. Taking hold of Kurt’s manhood with a steady grip, to which she smiled gently, but with a hidden edge, at his groan and the uncontrolled buck of his lower body, she lowered herself onto it, wet enough for it to slide right in. She took his entire girth in one, with just the barest quiver of her lips as he filled her. She held herself still for a moment, regulating her breathing as her body adjusted to this unnatural but none-the-less gratifying position; her sex and anus now easily pliant to both men. Her friends, her lovers, this ultimate intimacy...


“Ready darlin’?� Logan’s sandy voice came as if from nowhere, as if from that dark place, taking her from the abstract sensation of the moment.


“Yes,� she breathed, before repeating the affirmative again as she locked eyes with Kurt beneath her, the unspoken agreement passing between them, “Yes.� She answered for them both.

And in one fluid movement Ororo began to ride Kurt as behind Logan rode her. They started slow, only the bed groaned at the action, their breaths rustling and rambling in the quiet. Only the occasional illicit moan from the Windrider broke through it. Tears pricked at her closed eyes as she rocked herself and was in turn rocked, the feeling almost indescribable. She moved her upper body down, wishing again to feel his velveteen pelt on the tip of her tongue, titillating his nipples. She let out a sharp brief laugh at Logan’s obvious pleasure at her shift in position as he began to pump into her harder, taking a fistful of hair for good measure.


Kurt fought to contain himself, holding desperately to the pillow beneath his head. He let himself descend, free fall into the climax that was steadily building inside of him, flowing as did his blood, agitated and hot, whipped up to boiling point. In this welcome disquietude the bud of true life exploded into existence. And he gave himself over to its warm pleasure, its surreptitious elation. Just hold on...just hold on...He needed to gain a point of focus, a place of concentration as resisted the flood of delirium that threatened to spill over. His eyes moved past the mound of her stark white hair, over the dip of her body with its soft sheen that rose up again in a smooth hillock, clasped by two strong hands, beyond his form as it rutted with hard tense movements; forwards, forwards, forwards...Tripping through this buzz, this amalgamation of physical and mental furore, over Logan’s right shoulder he found his point. The Bokan, Logan’s Bokan mounted alone, away from his other katana and his prized Masamune crafted honour sword. This simple wooden crafted practice katana stood alone—the exact opposite of the Masamune. And at that moment Kurt knew. He at last understood that glassy look in the man’s eye. But he kept that Bokan there, kept it in full view for him too see at all times. The symbol of his ‘infra dig’. His failure...


Ororo sat up again, as much as she could manage, and began to ride him faster, in accordance with Logan’s haste, the ache of this great stretch rapidly being replaced by a different sort of ache that she would soon cry for release from. She steadied herself by grabbing at the solid length of Logan’s arm behind her, fixed down rod-straight to her hip and then taking hold of Kurt’s raised thigh that ran along side her. Harder and harder she rocked herself, for there must be some relief. And she was unbridled at the sheer fecundity of this love; this impossible compassion...


They were filled, as if with free-floating blossoms, smothered with the sound of his frantic breath, her longing moan, his animal grunt...


“Move,� Ororo gasped suddenly as she pushed herself backwards, taking herself from Kurt’s erection, prolonging their torture for her delectation. Logan did as she bade him; withdrawing from her and helping her turn over to face him; whipping one long leg over and around. There she knelt, her legs still spread wide, ready to take them both again in renewed fervour before its ephemeral nature took it from their grasp, dissipating it into nothing.


Kurt had abandoned his all now, not slow to do what Ororo wished of him, he knelt up behind her, placing his hands formally where his best friends had been. Her body shook in quick spasms as Logan entered her at the front without mercy. The fact that he’d never taken a woman in this way before as he steadied his cock against her anus, mattered little. All false decorum had broken down in him, all pretence of moral servitude. He was in walking, waking death no more. No more denial. There was more to love than goodness, a truer path than virtue. He had found it, they had shown him....In all his newly unfettered carnal desire he thrust himself forwards and back into her, to which she bucked helplessly forwards with the most wicked cry.


And so their movement began anew, but their journey towards that ultimate point, that blissful implosion, was as near as ever. They moved with a rhythm, a perfect syncopation. Ororo held her lovers close, holding tight at the nape of Logan’s neck with one hand, grasping at Kurt’s hair behind her with the other as one man used her thighs as leverage and the other her trim waist. His six thick nails pinched at stomach and back in their wrapped around position, making the sweat sting as the start of long horizontal bruises began to appear beneath Logan’s hard clenching fingers....


As the final paroxysm began to herald with the quickening thrusts on the verge of convulsion, their union reached its high point. With unrestrained pants, shrieks and roars, they each came to their conclusions. Ororo broke first, arching, flinging her head back to rest on Kurt’s shoulder as she could take no more, weeping like her rains, her body racked as if by a tempest of her making. Logan followed with one final furious thrust as her sex clenched about him so tightly it could do naught but submit to it.


And there, finally with a sweeping current, Kurt was taken in too. Passion welcomed him, sorrow cleansed by its warm waves; this love, his sanctuary, at last. He could rest now, he could rest as he came inside her, instantly slumping against sleek, fiery brown skin; his check rested in the space between her scapulae, his breath harsh and quick.


The sleepy push of sated lust overcame him, with such natural force he would not have thought such bliss were possible, his bleared eyes again went past the two in front of him as they fell into kissing lightly and tenderly. He was only dimly conscionable of them moving from him, Logan taking Storm into his sure arms, letting her now slack exhausted body rest in his lap, wrapping her in a protective embrace. But all of this action existed on the periphery of his vision and his mind, the smooth curved wood of the Bokan again the only fixed thing as his spend body collapsed back against the bed, his head sinking into the pillow.


Honour, dishonour. Courage, weakness. Control, unruliness. Strength, passion...Kurt smiled, releasing an indifferent sigh.


~The End~