Wings and Claws

BY : Echo_Dancer
Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 2082
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel Comics, the X-men, or its characters (including Archangel and Wolverine), they are Marvel’s characters solely and completely, and I will not make any money from this story.

Hello, everyone! My penname is Echo Dancer. What you have here is my first submission to AFF. I have high hopes and fingers crossed all works as planned and you enjoy this short story.

"Wings and Claws" is a one-shot I wrote in response to a request for a slash story involving Logan and Warren. To quote the requestor, “Make it rough and tumble, please.” Very well, I agreed with a smirk. Think I can pull that off.

Naturally, AFF came instantly to mind as the perfect home for Warren and Logan's little tryst. So everyone, you let me know if I succeeded in fulfilling the request. Enjoy!

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CHARACTERS: Warren “Archangel” Worthington III and James “Logan/Wolverine” Howlett
CANON TIMING: Some point prior to X-Force
RATING/WARNINGS: Adult+, slash
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Warren or Logan, they are Marvel’s characters solely and completely, and I will not make any money from this story. Simply enjoy borrowing them from time to time.

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Warren had Logan backed into a corner, a predicament he’d allowed to occur out of curiosity. The mutant’s feathered appendages were drawn forward and completely blocked Logan’s view of his room. Wings was being aggressive and suggestive at the same time – a lusty combination uncommon to the normally reserved, all-business corporate tycoon – at least that was how Worthington played it the past several years. That night, though, the CEO of Worthington Industries was nowhere to be found. Instead, the admittedly handsome winged mutant stood mere inches in front of Logan knowing all too well how seductive he could be. While Logan’s brain was conflicted about why the rich bastard was intent on arousing him, his body didn’t care and was responding all too eagerly to the enticement despite the gender of said tempter.

They were drunk, or at least as drunk as accelerated healing factors allowed. Logan’s powers of recuperation were beyond extraordinary and made swift work of burning through alcohol, but if he put his mind to it, he could achieve a healthy state of inebriation. Warren’s healing rate, while not as rapid as Logan’s, also made him work for a buzz. Both had been determined enough for reasons forgotten to get plastered and had predictably achieved their goal of quasi-consciousness. The results, though, were decidedly unpredicted.

“Sho-o-o, Wolvie,” Warren said with just a touch of slur and a devilish grin, “I’m thinking your rep’s overstated. Badass prick with time for nobody.”

“I’m thinkin’, Wings, that yer messin’ with somethin’ ya can’t handle,” he smirked back, grabbing a fist full of feathers and yanking. Could be fun t knock the sometimes self-righteous, in-no-way innocent angel down to Earth.

The lithe body pressed into his and hissed, “Prove it.” The way Warren cocked his head and eyed him reminded Logan of a hawk sizing up dinner. Or maybe in their case, dessert.

‘Jesus, is Worthington really comin’ on to me or am I drunker than I think?’ Logan wasn’t so drunk as to not question unfolding events. He sniffed. No mistaking – his fellow feral smelled like an animal in heat. “Horny bastard, ain’t ya?”

A smile spread across the perfect mouth slowly. “Wishful thinking?”

“Didn’t yer momma tell ya nobody likes a tease?” If Worthington wanted to play, he was game. Could be fun to match alcohol-dulled wits and moves with the SOB.

“Teasin’? Who’s teasing? But you don’t have the balls to tackle these goods.” Warren licked his lips and pressed his wings tight against Logan’s bare arms.

He had to admit, the sensual feel of feathers got the right response. Logan’s libido knew exactly what the man was up to and took the dangling bait readily. “Goddamn expensive bourbon!” he snarled under his breath.

Warren Worthington the Third didn’t buy no cheap liquor…only the finest Kentucky bourbon when he wanted to get hammered. So they slammed down three bottles’ worth of shots of something called Old Fitz 101 from the 70s. Very smooth and very pricey, but Worthington bought, so all was good.

Warren looked down between them. “Hmmm, seems we have a bit of a situation.”

Logan growled, which only served to raise a single eyebrow on the cocky face of his verbal sparring partner. “Playin’ with fire can get yer feathers singed. ‘Sides, ya wouldn’t know what to do with a real man if ya caught one, cupcake,” he explained smoothly, giving the seducer a smile that displayed nicely pointed canines.

“Cupcake?” Those incredibly blue eyes blinked in indignation. “You’re more fucked up than I thought. Got me confused with Summers.”

“That asshole ain’t anywhere near here, bub. No, I’m lookin’ at a cupcake alright – a rich, cream-filled cupcake.”

Logan could tell the slam worked as the so-called Archangel’s eyes lit with fire. Worthington leaned in toward Logan, ready to let loose with some liquor-coated retort that likely had something to do with Twinkies. The slightly pouty lips never imparted their words before Logan’s mouth covered them in a move that surprised not only Warren, but Logan himself. Then he quickly clamped one hand behind the blonde head, another around the back, preventing the winged feral from escaping.

Worthington was strong, but Logan was stronger and the kissing continued despite the younger mutant’s somewhat pathetic attempts to break free. Then in a swiftness born of genetics and training, Logan spun the man around and slammed him into the wall before Worthington knew what was happening. Logan continued to consume the bourbon-flavored lips, urging a parting of the barrier between him and his goal, and was finally allowed all the way in with a groan from the avian.

Feral drives woke. Logan felt their tendrils entwine around and through him. He shuddered. Heat was building in his groin. Possessive desires smoldered. A hand found where flesh transitioned to feather and he began to knead. More groans; stronger, longer than the first. Logan had found an erogenous zone, he was certain of it. Moving the other hand to the opposite wing base, careful not to let the steamy mouth escape, he tested his theory. Another guttural groan, an arching of the back, and a definite bulge in Warren’s pants. ‘Oh, yeah, gotcha pretty boy!’


The world spun wildly after Logan had body-slammed him into the wall nearly knocking the breath out of him. ‘Damn that Old Fitz!’ Warren chastised himself. Wolverine’s mouth smashed against his, the pointed canines scrapping against Warren’s lips painfully. When an arm caught Warren’s waist from behind and pulled him in tightly, the wildman’s erection pressed into Warren’s own. Waves of need raced through him and his own growing shaft throbbed. Then giving in to the pressure on his mouth, Warren let the man’s tongue invade.

For two seconds, lucid thought rose up to decry that it was Logan he was lip-locked with. Another man, for God’s sake. What the hell were they doing?! Two very straight, polar-opposite X-men making out like a couple of over sexed teenagers. He was about to push the feral off when fingers dug into feathers and white hot rivers of sexual bliss ran from wing to groin. Warren moaned in heady lust. Alcohol and a fondled, highly sensitive, very much secret erogenous zone combined to sweep away any thoughts of escaping Logan’s ensnarement.

The second time Logan massaged that feathery g-zone, it was all over for Warren.

“Oh, god!” The words escaped of their own volition and spurred the burly Wolverine on. Suddenly, powerful hands were everywhere – his back, wings, ribs, buttocks – squeezing and working their way up and down while the feral’s mouth assaulted his. The kissing and everything else was rough and savage like the man himself.

As if his hands had a mind of their own, Warren grabbed the back collar of Logan’s flannel shirt and yanked down, pulling the garment from the man’s shoulders, popping several buttons. Wolverine snarled into Warren’s mouth, bit his lower lip, and then snarl-whispered in Warren’s ear.

“So you like it rough?”

The words formed from deep, lusty breath sent shockwaves through his already pulsating body. Carnal need answered and Warren sunk teeth into Logan’s bare shoulder and the man growled and ground his rock-hard shaft into Warren.

Faster than he could comprehend, they’d moved from the corner of Logan’s room onto the bed. Warren’s wasn’t sure how it’d happened, but he ended up on the bottom. Not his preference. He struggled, attempting to gain enough leverage to unbalance the solid rock mass that was Logan. It took a lot to move the nearly 300 lbs, much of that thanks to Logan’s adamantium-encased skeleton.

Wolverine uttered a cross between a snarl and a laugh. “No ya don’t, pretty boy. I’m top, you’re bottom. Period.”

“Sonabitch!” Warren snorted back, renewing his efforts, but just as quickly finding he really didn’t care about being trapped beneath. Something very basal and all feral liked being captured. It was arousal wrapped in trepidation and he was liking it. But he’d never let Wolverine know that.

Adamantium claws extended slowly with that weird sound of metal sliding against flesh and sinew. Warren watched in detached fascination as incredibly sharp blades peeled the clothing off him – he likened it to being skinned alive, but without the pain and blood. Thoughts of those deadly weapons coming so close to slicing flesh both frightened and spun libido out of control. The man wielding those weapons was a killing machine and Warren was at his mercy. A shudder ran from his head to toe to wing tip.


The body beneath him trembled, bringing a sly smile to Logan’s face. He recognized the feral reactions taking over his usually straight-laced teammate. Worthington rarely let that side of his nature show. It was something the billionaire denied and riled against. But now, Worthington was wide-eyed and wanting, smelling and tasting more like animal than Logan could recall in the many years that he’d known the avian mutant. It was driving Logan to that senseless, instinctual place where all that mattered was the completion of what they’d started.

With a low, long growls, he finished his task, drew in the claws, and jerked the last shred of cloth from the naked body. Not a weakling either, Worthington grabbed what remained of Logan’s flannel shirt, yanked hard, and it flew to the floor in shreds. Logan smiled down at his sexual prey, narrowing his eyes. Lucidity returned for a few moments and he wanted to be sure – wanted Worthington to be certain.

“Ever do anythin’ like this before?”

The winged man gave him a still-half-drunk smirk. “Long time ago…playing around, experimenting. You?”

“Yup.” That got two raised eyebrows. “Sames you. Found it…interesting. Thinkin’ this will be much more fun, little birdie.” He knew Worthington hated being called that. Sure enough, a fist came flying out of nowhere straight for Logan’s head, which he easily blocked.

“Bastard!” the avian spat with sparking eyes, but it wasn’t angry fire behind the words. Logan’s senses ratted the other man out – the irritation was feigned, meant as roughhousing.

Next, Worthington bucked trying to dislodge the much heavier feral, but at the same time, a hand went to the waistband of Logan’s jeans to deftly pop the button. That was the last confirmation he needed – pretty boy Worthington wanted to be fucked. Logan would oblige. Thoughts of what two ferals could conjure sent lust into overdrive.

Grabbing a wrist in each hand, he planted them on either side of Worthington’s head atop the wings and came down hard on the waiting mouth. The other man squirmed and wrest one arm free to grab Logan’s ass. With Worthington busily trying to pull the pesky jeans down, Logan sunk the fingers of his free hand down into the downy depths of a wing. How many times had he imagined what they felt like? Not that he’d been lusting after the winged man, but out of curiosity.

The mutant had always been extremely protective of his feathered appendages and it was rare that anyone got more than a brush of wing. Now, though, as the wing invitingly spread across the bed and beyond, he was being given unspoken permission to explore. From Worthington’s shudders and quiet moans, it was quite pleasurable. Logan had to admit, the combination of sensations – stiff, silky, and soft down – was amazingly erotic.

But as delightful as it all was, things could not progress with Logan in blue jeans. And a couple other things needed to be checked.

“Don’t move,” he snarled the order and jumped from the bed, while azure blue eyes that put the visual acuity of a hawk to shame watched every move. Room door – locked. Nightstand supply of lubricant – check. Jeans and boxers on the floor – done.

It was then that Worthington disobeyed. Sitting up, his naked tussling partner grinned with defiance.

“Said, don’t move!”

“Make me!” Worthington punctuated the taunt by having the gall to roll off the opposite side of the bed and crouch low, spreading the blazing white wings to their full glory.

‘Oh, birdman is good. Hittin’ all the right buttons,’ Logan complimented silently. ‘This is gonna to be fun!’

In a blur of motion, Logan leapt toward the prey attempting escape. He had to give Warren credit – he jumped high lightening quick and performed mid-air sideslip maneuver despite the tight quarters. ‘Agile bastard!’ It really wasn’t a surprise. Logan knew his teammate had few equals in the aerial acrobatics department. Then he saw his chance.


Warren narrowly dodged Logan’s grabbing leap, but aerial maneuverability did you little good without aerial space to work with. The first, powerful downbeat of wings had caused an assortment of unsecured objects to become airborne themselves. Before those could even hit the floor, the second beat moved anything else that hadn’t already been dislodged. The next instant brought the sound of all those items hitting the floor and walls. Warren winced; hoping everyone on the third floor and directly below either was a sound sleeper or wouldn’t have the audacity to knock on Logan’s door in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, he was yanked back and downward by an iron-gripped hand around a dangling ankle. “Damn!”

Warren ended up on the bed on his stomach with a whoompf, the headboard banging against the wall much too loudly. Scrambling quickly to get out of the extremely vulnerable position, he managed only to make it onto his side before the other feral was atop and nearly had him pinned. Drawing a knee up just as Wolverine attempted to straddle, Warren propelled the man off using all the mutant-enhanced strength nature had bestowed into leg muscles designed to launch him into the air. The result – Wolverine sailed several feet into the wall with a very satisfying thud. A wall picture clattered to the floor.


The throw-off surprised Logan, but he managed to land on his feet in low crouch.

“Gonna pay for that!” he growled to his sparring partner. Worthington had gotten onto all floors on the bed, wings fluttering as they extended once again, nearly filling Logan’s small bedroom. He sprang from the crouching position straight at birdman. For a millisecond, he believed his opponent was going to take to the air to escape, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Logan crashed into Warren just as the man twisted and turned, allowing Logan’s momentum to turn a full-on body slam into a glancing blow. Sailing mostly past Worthington, Logan was blinded by a face full of white pinions just before his head connected with the headboard with a strange flesh over metal into wood sound. Quite unique. Hurt like hell all the way down Logan’s spine.

Worthington was on him before Logan could recover, locking the crook of an arm around his throat in a chokehold. The cocky billionaire then dared to chuckle his satisfaction, just before bringing his mouth down next to Logan’s ear.

“I’m top,” a husky and oh-so-pleased-with-himself voice announced.


Warren almost couldn’t believe his luck. Admittedly, skill had little to do with the fact that he ended up putting Logan into a chokehold from behind. No, Warren knew it had more to do with too much alcohol still circulating in their bloodstreams. Logan got sloppy – his reaction time off just enough that Warren got the upper hand. Didn’t matter how. What mattered was he had the kick-ass feral exactly where he wanted.

The chuckle came without his permission. ‘Maybe only two bottles next time,’ Warren concluded. He worried the small outburst would be enough to spur his captive into a fury. ‘What the hell, Worthington, you’re already living on the edge!’ So he’d added insult to injury and proclaimed victory into the man’s supersensitive ear.

Hours later, what the next few seconds involved was not entirely clear to Warren. There was blur of motion, a cuss word or three may have been uttered, a few feathers were separated from their follicles to float to the floor, he was pretty certain he’d become slightly airborne for a split second but not of his doing, and then suddenly and shockingly, he was on his back on the bed blinking up at the scruffy face. An extremely smug smile framed a nice set of pearly whites that had a few too many sharp points for comfort. Warren was right back where he’d started.

“I said don’t move.” Logan actually snorted. “And, I’m top.”

Next thing Warren knew, those pearly whites were flirting with his own in a lip-splitting kiss. Then a tongue pushed its way into his mouth to explore with the command of one who owned another.

Warren did the only thing one could do under the circumstances. He bit down. Hard.


Logan shot upright, his tongue throbbing, tasting blood. “Goddamn sonabitch!” He glared with enough fury to be almost lethal. “You fuckin’ bit me!”

Momentarily distracted by his throbbing tongue, Worthington took advantage and twisted violently to roll them both off the bed and crashing to the floor, Logan inconveniently ending up in the bottom of the heap. The blonde immediately smothered Logan’s mouth with his and Logan’s cock with a hand and assailed on him two fronts.

Despite himself, Logan drew in a breath as a surprisingly skilled hand moved up and down his shaft, coaxing it harder and longer. He moaned and shuddered. Worthington broke the kiss at that, cocking an arrogant eyebrow at him.

“Like that?” Worthington asked, then dove down to pick up where he left off without waiting for an answer. Leaving the mouth, the man headed down Logan’s neck, across the shoulder, then rerouted to the chest, twirling tongue around a hard nipple. All the while, the hand moved up and down and around Logan’s shaft.

His body bucked into the fingers encircling his cock – he couldn’t help it. Auto-reflex, he excused. Yet Worthington was doing other things higher up that were equally seductive. Problem was, Logan was on the floor and the winged man above him. Unacceptable, but perhaps he’d endure it a bit longer just to see where Worthington would take things.

The winged mutant was working down Logan’s body. How far would he travel? Logan just couldn’t picture the billionaire industrialist as a cocksucker, but you could never tell. Even if Worthington decided to go that direction, Logan decided he’d stop it to maintain some sense of respectability between them. ‘We’re teammates – gotta be able to look each other in the eye in the morning.’ In a precautionary move, he entwined fingers through the thick golden hair of Worthington’s head.

Lips and tongue danced over the skin of his abdomen, ever closer to the hand massaging Logan’s shaft. Then something soft and light tickled his thigh and he thought he’d loose it there and then. Moans mixed with growls clawed their way from Logan’s throat.


‘What would it be like to have that large presence inside, moving in and out?’ The thought tiptoed through his head as he continued ministrations of Logan’s private area.

Surprisingly, Logan stayed on his back. Warren had expected the man to fight the position. Most ferals don’t like being on their backs – the position is vulnerable. And Logan was more feral than most. Pushing curiosity aside, Warren renewed explorations of his teammate’s very muscular, very solid body.

Laying half atop Logan and half to one side, he nipped, bit, licked, and kissed from the neck to the belly button with a side trip to both nipples for good measure. Of course, his hand was busy and took most of his focus. He was going make the man cum first, damn it. The sudden grab of his hair by with a fist startled him, but it didn’t interfere with his travels. Then just to add more stimulation, he slowly moved feathers across the man’s inner thigh. A smile cross his lips when Logan’s chest vibrated.

He paused dramatically, looking up between disheveled blonde locks and eyelashes at the rugged face. It took a few moments, but Logan’s head rose up, displaying a curious expression, and then baby blues locked on Warren’s azure orbs.

“You’re purring,” he grinned.

“Am not,” Wolverine snarled, eyes flashing.

Warren rubbed a thumb sensually across the tip of Logan’s leaking cock. The born fighter shuddered and another rumble reverberated in the burly chest. “Are.”


Warren shifted his position more onto his hip resting on the floor. Drawing the opposite wing provocatively along Logan’s left side, he moved his face up and took the right nipple in his teeth and pulled. The response was as expected and the baby blues closed, the mouth slacked, and the chest rumbled.

He released the teased nub. “Oh, it’s definitely a purr,” Warren proclaimed with superiority that he knew would get the man’s goat.


‘Damn, the bastard’s good!’ That familiar shock of heat through his groin told Logan he was getting way too close to cumming. ‘Not the way this is going down!’

He darted his gaze across the floor. There it was – the lube tube – mixed with other items on the floor that had been dislocated from the nightstand. ‘Time for a change of vantage point while he’s off-balance.’

Grabbing a wing where it emerged from the back, Logan yanked and rolled more quickly than the younger man could respond. End result – he was on top once again, hand squarely on the muscled chest to hold his fellow mutant in place. Problem was, Worthington was on his back on a hard surface; an extremely uncomfortable position for the winged man. Bartering time.

“Told ya, I don’t purr, birdbrain! Ready to eat crow?”

Logan had to give Warren credit – he stilled, and didn’t let one flicker of discomfort telegraph to his face. Instead, a smart-aleck smirk slid across the handsome features. “Can’t make the kitty purr so easily from down here.”

Lowering his face threateningly into the smug mug, he let loose a growl that in no way could be mistaken for a purr. “Yer bottom. I’m top. Period. End of discussion. It’s my way or I kick your drunken ass outta my room and into the next county.”

“Oh, I’m sober enough to know a purr when I hear it.”

He knew he should have seen it coming. Worthington was wa-a-ay too quiet lying there all submissive. Shoulda been watchin’ the hands, Logan told himself later. Always know where the hands are!

Blinding pain caused the room to go white for a split second. Then the air expelled from his lungs. Next, all he could do was curl over and groan as spasms of agony gripped his manhood. He sucked in air. ‘Healing factor – healing factor will kick in!’ He prayed it was soon.

Meanwhile, his assaulter was extricating himself out from under Logan’s now nearly dead, 300-pound weight. Amidst a tangle of arms and legs and wings, Worthington had managed to free all his limbs as just mutant healing abilities kicked into high gear and pain evaporated. Logan’s voice returned.

“Goddamn mother-fuckin’ sonabitch!” He tried to grab an ankle, but missed. “What the hell was that! We’re ‘pose to be havin’ fun here, ya bastard!”

Worthington was on his backside scrambling away like a crab. “I am!” he shot back as he rolled to hands and knees.

The asshole was going for vertical. That wasn’t happening. Just as Worthington shot up, Logan lunged and snagged a wing to hold the avian down. The feathered limbs were extremely powerful and most people trying that stunt would likely end up with a broken bone or two. It was something Logan didn’t have to worry about.

Sure enough, the wing snapped hard with sufficient force to nearly pull Logan’s arm out of the shoulder socket, but he refused to let go. “No, ya don’t, birdie. You’re mine!”

The look shot his way was all determination and fire and indignation.

“Stop calling me birdie!”

The voice was as close to a growl as the other mutant was probably capable, yet Logan’s ultra-acute senses betrayed Worthington. The man didn’t smell of anger. He smelled all too much of lusty readiness. Spurred on by that knowledge and maintaining his hold on the feathers, Logan kept the man on his knees, just where he wanted him.


Oh, Warren made a good show of trying to get away. He crawled toward the bed almost dragging Logan along with the wing, but truth be told, instincts as old as time made getting captured by his potential mating partner a desirable proposition. As he reached the bed and got elbows on the mattress, Logan was on him in a flash, grabbing a wing base with one strong hand while the other arm curled around Warren’s narrow mid-section. Logan leaned in, nestling his head between wing and ear; panting breath moving over neck and down to meet with eardrum…hot and erotic.

“Well, sparrow, let’s see if yer man enough for what I’ve got.” The words were like an injection of liquid lust. Warren quivered. He shoved his ass back into Logan’s crotch. Alcohol could no longer be blamed for the wantonness overwhelming reason and sensibility. He wanted to be fucked. Then. There. By Logan.


The lube lay within arms reach – very considerate. Enhanced healing meant not a lot of care needed to be taken on prep work if you didn’t mind pain, maybe some blood, and a whole lot of animalistic sex.

Logan didn’t.

He bet that Worthington didn’t either at that point. Wings smelled like sex. It oozed from his pores. Worthington wanted it. The bastard had wanted to be taken down and fucked senseless from the start. All the roughhousing and making out like he wished to be dominant was horseshit.

Still holding Worthington’s waist (he’d take no chances on another escape attempt), Logan extended a claw. The sound of it being drawn drove shivers through the other man. Logan smiled. Neatly beheading the tube, he drew in close, coated a finger, which in turn liberally coated his hardened shaft. That was all the prep he’d bother with.

“I’m takin’ ya, Wings, just like ya want.”

Worthington turned his head around enough to lock eyes with Logan. “Only if birdie is purged from your vocabulary, dickhead.” The announcement came with a ruffling of feathers, some of which had settled tantalizingly over his cock. It was enough to drive a man insane!


One driving plunge and Wolverine was impaled within him. Unprepared opening and unsuspecting inner passageway screamed their shock at the abrupt intrusion, as did Warren’s vocal cords. Pain radiated out from the point of penetration. He sucked in air, shuddered, then quickly marveled at the feel of being full.

At least the brut paused to give his assaulted innards time to adjust. He felt internal twitches and spasms as muscle and membrane acknowledged the new resident and adjusted to their expanded condition.

“You’ll pay for that, bastard!” Warren snarled after he’d found his voice. Logan must have taken that as a cue to begin moving. A slow withdrawal followed by an equally torturous/blissful re-entry right across the g-spot. “O-o-oh, god.” Lame, trite, predictable, Warren knew. Couldn’t help himself.

Then the arm that had locked him in a stranglehold around the waist, moved down and a rough-skinned hand encircled his cock with knowing caresses. Fire was building in his groin from two points and it was delicious. He moaned and threw he head back as Logan’s thrusting picked up speed.

Wings spread wide then drew back. He wanted to feel his lover’s body as it pulsated forward and back. Skin against feather; wings against toned body. Sensual. Erotic. Intoxicating.


Logan was encased in white. The only other thing he could see was Worthington’s golden hair, the skin between the wings, and his ass. Such a fine, rich ass it was. Especially nice with Logan buried inside it. Worthington was tight, hot, and so accommodating. And the arrogant SOB was submitting completely. One more thing would leave no doubt as to who was dominant in their unexpected tryst. With the next thrust, Logan sank teeth around the left wing. He’d put up with pieces of vane between the teeth later. Yes, he did know something about feather anatomy. At that moment, instinct demanded a mark of dominance; maybe a bit of possession.

The reaction was anything but simple. Worthington’s whole body bucked and shuddered, driving him hard down on Logan’s shaft. The half-Human, half avian sound that followed left no doubt about the effect the small bite created. ‘Wings likes that,’ he realized with mild surprise. And so Logan held on with teeth, a massaging grip on Worthington’s cock, and ever-increasingly powerful thrusts into ass.

Soon, he was lost to the feral side and growled in rhythm to thrusts within his conquest. Logan was beyond caring about any pain his sudden intrusion had caused or any sex subtleties. It was only about the single goal.


Warren was in erotic overload. The world spun in a cyclone of blissful sensation colliding with hurts-so-good pain. Breathing was hit or miss. Blood coursed through his veins like lava. More! All he wanted was more.

Instinctively, his body moved in rhythm to Logan’s thrusts to ensure penetration at precisely the right angle and depth, and at the necessary speed for optimum bliss. Teeth clamping down on the hypersensitive wing had nearly sent him to orgasm. The small, still lucid area of his brain registered he’d been marked and the feeling of being possessed was not that bad. All the while, the skilled hand on his shaft brought him to the brink, but wouldn’t let him fall over the edge.

Somewhere within the pain/pleasure swirl, vague recognition came that Logan was perhaps timing them to cum together. Would they? Warren wanted that, he realized. Sex with Logan was striking a deep cord. He’d love the roughhousing and being snared. Feral delights. Feral sensibilities. Feral instincts. Aspects of his nature that Warren had rarely allowed himself to experience. Yet with Logan, being caught and taken by the often savage, rarely gentle, but always loyal warrior felt so primal and…satisfying.

He didn’t want it to end, yet he did. Warren longed to feel what climaxing with Logan in complete control was like.


Each driving plunge forward and rapid reversal drove Logan closer. Blood stained his mouth and lubricated his shaft – its taste, smell, feel drove him wild. His body was primed and ready. Using the leverage of the arm and hand working Worthington’s cock, he pulled the man onto himself even harder – he wanted his sizable presence as deep into the man’s recess as physically possible – maybe further. ‘Shoot seed deep,’ instinct demanded.

Worthington stiffened as release washed over Logan in searing rapture. He was only vaguely aware of the hot liquid spraying with equal intensity from his partner.


When fluid erupted inside him, Warren fell over the dizzying edge. He arched back into Logan, cried out as rapture hit him with flashover speed. It seemed to last forever, yet was over before he was ready to let the bliss go.

He felt Logan’s shaft grow soft within him as he rested on the man’s lap. Wolverine’s other arm slid across his abdomen and he was cradled in the man’s embrace as they recuperated. Warren sighed. He heard Logan do likewise. Unable to speak, they sat there on the floor, next to the bed, in comfortable silence.

Warren finally broke the silence. “Oh. My. God,” he declared, punctuating every word.

The man snorted in his ear. “Original, Worthington.”

“Too wiped to be original.”

“Wanna move?” Logan didn’t seem very eager to do so, though – the man had barely twitched a muscle.

“Not certain I’m ready for that much activity yet,” Warren replied. Wolverine nodded against the side of his head. Then a snort popped out without permission. “There better not be blood on my feathers. It’s a bitch to get out, especially if it dries. Do you know how hard it is to reach that part? If I don’t get in the shower right away-”

Logan grunted his interruption. “Worthington?”


“Shut up.”

“Fuck you!” he snarled back without any real anger.

That brought out a hearty laugh from behind. “Don’t ya mean, ‘fuck me,’ rich boy? Think I did ya pretty damn good!”

Warren grinned. The man had. “I’m moving now,” he announced and leaned forward to extricate his body from Logan.

Once upright, they gathered up the sad remains of clothing. Throwing the last shredded garment in the trash can, Warren caught the other man’s baby blues and gave him a narrow look. “About tonight…”

Logan smirked knowingly. “Never happened.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Warren agreed, shaking his head.

“Must be crazed in the noggin ta think anythin’ like that coulda happened.”

“Completely bonkers.”


Both men stood in silence for few seconds, then Warren grabbed a towel from Logan’s bathroom, wrapped it around his waist, and headed for the exit. Unlocking the door, he hesitated before turning the knob. He gave Logan what he hoped was a slightly wounded look. “So I’m just a one night stand?”

“Got that right! Your rich ass is too expensive. Can’t afford your bourbon.”

“And if I’m buying?”

Logan did a snort/grunt/growl combo that would be impossible anyone else to replicate, forcing Warren to drop his hurt and rejected look and smile widely.

Eyebrows went up on the rugged face and a bemused expression formed. “Well, maybe I’ll come ‘round once in a while…”

Opening the door, Warren slipped into the hall, pulling the door behind him. It was very late and very quiet. Everyone either slept through the shenanigans or wisely chose to ignore it. At the last moment, Warren ducked his head back inside the room.

“By the way, you ever call me a sparrow again, I’ll rip your face off,” he warned making sure his expression reflected how serious he was on that particular point. Then he morphed the stern look into a wide grin. “And you definitely purred!” he taunted, wisely slammed the door shut, and sprinted down the corridor. A very deep, very threatening growl rumbled in the hall to mix with his laugh at having gotten the last word.

# # # The End # # #

A/N: Must admit, had fun with this one. Keeping fingers crossed you enjoyed it. I realize the story could use a little more spit and polish, but then again, I don’t think Warren and Logan will mind too much if their tale is a bit rough around the edges. :D

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