by Azurine
Title: Viewpoint
Author: Azurine
Email: intentionallynaughty@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing:: Logan/Remy. Remy POV. Comicverse.
Summary: Post-mission smutlet.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns them. No harm intended. No profit made.
Feedback: Would be lovely.
Archive: Please ask.
Warning: m/m sexual activity
Notes: At first I thought this would be part of a bigger story, but it’s gone nowhere. Since I’m sick of looking at it on my hard drive, and it has a similar style, I decided to go ahead and post it as a companion to PTFAW.
Date completed: Way back on January 6th, 2002
At first, Logan was just a big shadow looming on the other side of the shower door. Blocking out so much light that Remy noticed the change even with his eyes closed and the water running down his face. Even with his wet hair hanging in his eyes and his tired head hanging between his braced arms. He’d been there so long, letting the spray pound on his back and shoulders, that the cold tiles had long since warmed beneath his hands.
Then Logan was a hard, sweaty body crowding him into the corner of the shower, making the water bounce in all directions. The swirling whirlpool over the drain ran rust with blood and dirt as the big man soaked himself under the spray, tipped his face into the falling water. He shook like a dog as he stepped to the side, cocking an eyebrow in Remy’s direction as he reached for the bar of soap.
Remy was starting to wonder if Logan ever used his own shower anymore.
Then Logan was soapy skin and slippery hands, rubbing him, sliding against him. All that body hair, matted and whorled and a little scratchy against bare skin. A sandpaper jaw scraping his shoulder when a dark head bent to nuzzle behind his ear, a whispered suggestion full of so many dirty words it was probably illegal in a dozen states. The soap fell between their feet as Logan fell to his knees, the pale blue bar sliding slowly toward the drain, where it would soften and melt and grow steadily smaller until Remy retrieved it.
He went through so damned much soap these days.
Then Logan was a strong mouth, taking him in, licking at him greedily, swallowing him whole. Dark eyelashes on wet cheeks, sharp teeth on delicate skin. A slow, relentless rhythm that made his vision swim, and only got slower when he asked for faster. One big, soapy hand gently guiding thrusting hips as the other slid up and down between his own legs. Eyelids fluttering open, hungry eyes above hollowed cheeks, mouth descending faster with each stroke because Remy was begging now.
Then Logan was just wetness and suction and that low growl in his throat that made it oh so much better. Fingers digging deep into firm muscle, handfuls of thick wet hair, and wide shoulders that shuddered and twitched when Remy’s back arched and he came hard into that deep mouth. A muffled groan and a busy throat and thick heat spattering against his legs.
Finally, Logan was panting breath and a forehead resting against his thigh. Strong hands holding on hard to his trembling legs, a boneless heap of sated flesh on the floor of his shower. Dark eyes peering up at him through the cooling spray, a smug grin on that talented mouth. A hot tongue slithering across his hipbone and up his stomach as he gained his feet.
And then, Logan was just a shrinking shadow on the other side of the shower door.
The End