All the Time in the World

BY : Norvegica
Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 895
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

“So that’s it. I’m to die, Management says so and there isn’t anything to do.”


“And then I will be stuck here. For who knows how long.”

Wolverine nodded, surveying their surroundings. It was like the Danger Room, only less physical than that, a room with no walls and only a whisper of floor or ceiling. The Waiting Room, where characters resided between gigs, pulled into place and action under the pencilers’ hands and words put into their mouths by the scriptwriters.

Nightcrawler by this point was telegraphing complete moroseness, his tail limp on the floor by his feet.

“Aw, hell, Elf. Think of it like a vacation.”

Logan thought briefly that he needed a cigar at that moment and the Waiting Room obligingly popped one into existence in his hand. That was the cool thing about the Waiting Room. When you weren’t under the dictates of the scriptwriters, anything goes.

“For at least two. Whole. Yeeeeears!” Kurt’s hands went up into the air. “Or more.”

“I get that you feel bad. Not going to be the same without you sharing panels with me.”

“Will it? I’ve been aimed at this inevitability for years, now that I have time to brood on it.”

Logan took a meditative puff on his cigar.

“…Yeah. Guess that’s true. But by the time you get to get back in rotation, some new folks will be working, probably. You’ll get good stories again. You got fans, you know.”

Kurt sighed at that.

“Cheer up, Elf. Or else I’m going to kick your ass.”

Kurt smiled despite himself.

“You can try. You are certainly not going to succeed!”

And he vaulted away from the swipe of claws at him. It had been too long since they’d last mutually agreed, wordless, to amp up the danger in a sparring. Now, as long as Logan had that cigar, things weren’t at all too serious yet. They circled each other, a feint, a dodge, a kick, a block, a sharp thwap with his tail, stinging like a whipcrack. That made Logan grunt with annoyance, nearly biting the cigar off from between his lips. It made Kurt giddy with mischievousness.

He teleported dangerously close, his chest brushing Logan’s, long enough to snatch the cigar in his fingers before bamfing away. The double shot of brimstone in Logan’s face was insult to injury.

There weren’t any words. A bloodcurdling roaring came out of Logan’s throat and he charged.

He was going to regret his pesky daring, Kurt distantly thought as he grinned and laughed at each and every swipe he escaped. It was difficult at this point to determine whether Logan was more concerned with drawing blood or retrieving his cigar. It didn’t help that Kurt was deftly juggling it from hand to hand, and now it was in his tail-spade’s grasp, waving jauntily in the air. Taunting him.

Logan wasn’t that far gone. It wasn’t like that one time when the kids at the Mansion managed in one cursed day to destroy each and every single tv in the place in the middle of hockey finals. On accident, so the brats claimed. He gave them a proper scare that amped up their adrenaline thresholds for the rest of the week because of it. He also got a patently unfair pissy Scott on his case afterwards. But as it was, nobody gets between a man and his cigar. It was the principle of the thing.

They kept this up, chasing and running around and around the Waiting Room, Kurt managing occasionally to wish hard enough for a wall or other obstacles to pop into existence, only for Logan to go slicing through them. And Logan was just as creative, attempting to trip Kurt up by making the floor slick as ice (no thanks to years of tolerating Bobby’s hijinks in that area) or incredibly sticky. In the end, Logan’s sheer stamina forced Kurt to concede after an hour or two. He was tackled and his tail squeezed tighter than strictly necessary in Logan’s fist.

“Ow! Okay, okay, here, you get it back! Let go!”

Logan took the cigar, now a stub, really, and took a satisfied puff. His grip loosened just a fraction, but he didn’t let go. He also settled his weight more firmly on Kurt’s midsection. And considering the adamatium inside of him, he was for all intents and purposes a dead weight on Kurt, with no hope of him leveraging free.

“I kicked your ass, Elf,” he concluded.

And here it began. Kurt rolled his eyes, though of course nobody could ever see him doing it, his tail jerking ineffectually like a fish on a line.

“No ass was kicked, Logan. You merely recovered your cigar.”

Logan just made a perfectly smug expression, puffing away on his cigar. And the both of them knew that so long as he was holding onto Kurt’s tail, teleporting wasn’t going to do a jolt of good when it came to getting away from him.

“So. Got you laughing again,” Logan said more to himself than to Kurt. “That’s about time.”

Kurt sighed, before nodding. He did feel better.

“Thank you, my friend.”

Logan nodded back in acknowledgement before finally letting Kurt go. The both of them sat in the vast vagueness of the Waiting Room. Logan flicked the cigar stub away with his fingers and it popped out of existence.

“This place can be anything you want it to be. You just have to see the freedom you got now, no deadlines, plot holes, that retconning crap. You get to do whatever you want, here.”

“And here I thought I was the optimistic one.”

“You know I can’t stand seeing you mope. Longer than usual, I mean.”

Kurt let that sly, for Logan, dig pass.

“Freedom. Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

Kurt’s tail made quick figure eights as he thought on the possibilities. There were people to see, who weren’t afforded page time. Brian and Meggan for one, he could definitely visit them. And maybe… Cerise. Or Amanda. His thoughts skittered to a halt, hesitant. Careful.

Logan sat beside him, knowing that interrupting Kurt in the middle of a brood wasn’t good for anybody. At least he wasn’t sensing crushing depression or anything like that from him. Didn’t smell it.

No, it would be no good. Nobody got to go back to the past, not the way it was. And Kurt wasn’t about to dwell on futilities when he could look at possibilities. And what possibilities were there? He was at a loss. He’d been doing what the scriptwriters wanted for so long, he hadn’t thought on where he wanted to go, ever. Freedom was suddenly daunting.

“What’s eating you, Elf?”

“I was realizing something about my written path, that’s all.”

Logan said nothing, because he simply wasn’t that prone to jawing for no good reason. Kurt would fill in the gap eventually. That was the comfortable established ebb and flow for the both of them.

“I am starting to think that perhaps I ought to look at paths now that were not even in sight while I was on page. I am free, after all, like you said.”

Kurt glanced at Logan sideways. He got away with that a lot; nobody could really say exactly where he was looking at any given moment. It was sudden and absolute a realization; that he was very much free, in all senses of the word. And like dominoes knocking over one after another, another realization came to him. Desire bloomed, new and familiar at the same time, in his chest. He wouldn’t waste it, he resolved.

“I think- Yes, I do think that I want. I want to do something. Something here, where it hasn’t been drawn or scripted. And I like to think that I’d get away with it too.”

Logan could feel the air moving from Kurt’s nervous tail twitching. He smelled something in the air, uncontrolled and faint. His mouth twitched.

“Don’t know until you try, huh? And you aren’t a coward-”

Kurt darted forward, his tail convulsively curling around one of Logan’s biceps, planting a kiss on him. He wasn’t afraid of getting claws in his torso. Not here, not in the Waiting Room. You were invulnerable here. The only thing to fear was a rebuff. And then he’d be alone.

He felt the heavy grip of Logan’s hands on his shoulders and he withdrew, cheeks flaming, unseen under his fur.

“No. I’m not a coward,” he forced himself to look at Logan; a little afraid of what he would see.

“That was about time, too,” Logan snorted fondly, drawing him in and returning a kiss that was rougher, already possessive. Kurt made an unintelligible surprised, pleased sound.

The both of them drew it out, because it was intense and sharp, the getting after inarticulately wanting for what seemed like reams and reams of pages. They had to breathe and paused their kisses. Kurt had his eyes closed, his cheek pressed against Logan’s, wanting to be very sure of his presence.

“Will you look at that,” Logan muttered.

Kurt lifted his head and laughed. The Waiting Room had molded itself to their wishes; privacy, familiar comfort. A neatly formed little room had coalesced around them, made of wooden beams and they smelled of age, of herbs and coffee and smoke. It could’ve been a remote cabin in the wilderness, to shut the cold out and keep the warmth in. It could’ve been a pirate captain’s quarters, it could’ve been one of the painted and varnished vardos that Kurt lived and traveled in with the circus. It was all of them and none of them at the same time.

“Made a bed,” Kurt’s voice was suddenly very chipper.

Logan manhandled Kurt into the bed, which was no more than three steps away and Kurt let him, laughing at the familiar ease in Logan’s arms wrapping around his midsection and just lifting him; many other times Logan needed to do it in the middle of battle and here, it was better. Hotter. Logan ended up draping Kurt on himself like a blanket. Logan made it so Kurt was able to move and Kurt did as he resumed kissing, full body squirming and rocking on him. Logan’s solidity was a new delight to him; he hadn’t ever thought before on the possibilities of a body that didn’t yield, with broad hands that weren’t gentle over his fur.

Logan was shearing Kurt’s clothing off with a claw, smirking at how he got Kurt to shy a little away from it. Kurt put up no more protest than that, simply tapping a finger on the sleeve of Logan’s shirt.

“Off,” he commanded.

And the Waiting Room obliged, disintegrating Logan’s clothes in one blink. He didn’t have more time to contemplate on how cool it was to experience something like being a telekinetic when Logan reached out and wrapped his hand around Kurt’s cock and gave it a friendly squeeze.

“Mmm-” Kurt arched into his touch and Logan felt that he’d never get tired of seeing the way he did it.

Kurt made a move to return the favor but Logan was having none of it. He didn’t want to be distracted, not when he finally had Kurt where he wanted him. Kurt wasn’t making it easy, of course. While Logan did get the message across that he intended to be in charge of the proceedings by restraining one of Kurt’s wrists with his free hand, Kurt’s tail-spade was scooting around, blindly groping at Logan’s crotch.

It was just like Kurt to be so vaguely piratical when it came to his insubordination about the whole thing. He had good enough reason considering his stint of celibacy and the following dry spell consisting of a few kisses he managed to snatch on page. This was off-page rated material he was working with and he grinned with confirmation after his tail-spade got secure hold of Logan’s hardon.

Logan didn’t give him a chance to say anything; he knew a sassy quip was bubbling its way up to Kurt’s lips and words were not wanted. He shifted, letting go of Kurt’s wrist and clasping his hip. He ran his palm firmly against the grain of Kurt’s fur and when Kurt twitched away from it, Logan took that loss of equilibrium to tip Kurt onto his back. He was on Kurt then, with nary a warning before sucking Kurt’s cockhead into his mouth.

Kurt made a blurt of nonsense noise, followed by a helpless gasp when it became clear that Logan was fully determined to have him compliant through liquefying rational thought by way of his tongue.

Logan looked up occasionally while he was at his task. Kurt’s head was turned to the side and his eyes not completely open, obliquely glancing at him. It was a look of lascivious shyness; he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to see what was being done to his body, and yet unable to close his eyes because Logan was the one doing this to him. His tail had let go of Logan already and was coiling around like an agitated snake on the bedsheets, constricting on itself with each suck and unfurling with trembles when Logan laved broadly at the veined underside.

Kurt’s pheromones jumped and plumed out into the air and Logan made a propriety rumbling sound in his chest in response. He’ll have Kurt’s whole body lighting up from inside first. He wanted to see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, have it wash over him and he’ll know it the way only feral mutants can. And if he forgot, because forgetting was that curse that stalked him, he’ll just have to do it again and again. And find out if Kurt’s body spoke in different ways, under different circumstances.

Kurt was crying out, doubling over, clutching Logan’s shoulders from the intensity built up, compounded by long denial. His hips were moving on their own volition, here it was hot and wet and so good to feel-

Logan clamped Kurt’s hips still at the first gush, swallowing it all down. When Kurt’s body went lax he let go and crawled up, running his nose over him, scenting him. His fur collected sweat and it was a hot read; Logan licked at the spots that had the must pungent impressions of Kurt’s lust and they tasted heavy and luxurious.

Kurt watched him do this and guessed at what he was doing. It made him laugh, how nothing of him was a secret to Logan, not like this.

“Logan, let me touch you, let me.”

Logan relented, lying beside him.

“You knew before I did,” Kurt murmured as he ran his hands over his shoulders, kneading.

Logan just tapped his nose.

“And you didn’t say anything!” Kurt shook his head, bemused. “We could’ve-”

Logan barked out a laugh.

“With Management in the way? Naw, Elf. Naw. Now, I admit, I got to regret not getting you like this sooner. You’re real fun, Kurt, anybody ever tell you that? You got moves in your hips and that’s just from sucking you off.”

A blush blazed out under Kurt’s fur. It had been a long time since anybody had reason to assess him in this area and Logan was certainly the most frank about it!

“In fact,” Logan continued, relishing Kurt’s discomfiture. “I want you this round. No wasting time about who goes first or nothing. Give me your dick, Kurt. I want it.”

Kurt blinked for a few seconds and Logan laughed again. It was actually something Kurt had been worrying about in the back of his mind since they first started. He had been expecting otherwise and the mechanics of that was completely beyond his experience.

“I love it when you take charge,” Kurt finally said, running his hands downward.

Logan briefly thought that Kurt’s grin once he got hold of his prize was best described as scary. Must be the fangs.

Kurt wasn’t able to hold back gleeful purring snickering as he squeezed Logan’s girth and stroked it. Stroking an erection wasn’t the novelty; that it was Logan’s was the new thing and he made Logan’s hips hitch up a couple of times, which just made him even giddier.

“Come on, Kurt, you’re killing me here,” Logan muttered good naturedly after Kurt spent time figuring out just what to do to really get him twitching.

“But what a way to go,” Kurt quipped, leaning over to take an experimental lick over the slit of Logan’s cockhead.

That was sufficient to abate Logan’s impatience and Kurt found the taste tolerable. He kissed at it and licked some more. It became clear that he simply wasn’t going to be able to give proper head, not with his fangs, but improvising with his hands and tongue in tandem was more than enough to get Logan making those delicious rumbling noises.

Logan caught hold of Kurt’s tail when it got within his reach. Kurt made a questioning look.

“Keep going,” Logan sighed. “Just want to get things moving.”

Lube. Got to have lube, Logan thought. And the Waiting Room obliged. Kurt’s tail-spade flexed in his fingers as he coated it.

“You get the idea, right?”

Kurt nodded and Logan let go. Logan spread his legs as Kurt insinuated the tip of the tail-spade into place and began a cautious rubbing and sliding in. Logan shuddered. That was different, definitely. Finer than any finger and more flexible than it looked. Kurt wasn’t diverting his attentions away from Logan’s cock either, which was better.

“More, you know I ain’t going to break,” Logan muttered, smiling. “It’s good.”

Kurt’s eyebrows quirked, intrigued. He curled the flanges of his tail-spade closed and eased the whole thing in, before unfurling it, moving it. What he could feel of Logan from it was tempting; hot and holding, tight and new. Logan’s body was flexing, eager for a fight from the invasion. He ignored that, that was going to go away just as soon as Kurt quit messing around and found-

“Yeah- Do that again-”




“Come on, Kurt! Get-”

Logan reached for him, a palm slick with lube grasping hold of Kurt’s new erection and sliding over it. It was an uncoordinated, fumbling series of maneuvers; Kurt’s tail withdrawing, Logan arching for him, holding himself open, and Kurt lining up and sliding in, fighting the resistance and hissing from the sharp pleasure of it.

“…Oh! Oh, Logan, Logan-”

“Fucking move, fuck-”

“Language, Logan-”

Logan clenched down on Kurt; he was definitely not in the mood to be lectured about cussing during a fucking. Fucking priest. Heh. Fucking a priest. Fuck.

Logan was different, Kurt managed to think. Well, of course, he was a man most obviously, but that wasn’t it so much as the fact that Logan was unmoving strength, heavier, built for endurance. And Kurt had never, never ever had a chance to take a body the way he wanted to truly, deep down inside. He had hidden that part of himself; he took pains to be gentle and unassuming, friendly and considerate because his looks worked against him for so long. Demon; all the insinuations of… darkness that would be on himself should he even give hint of such desires. Logan didn’t need civilized carefulness. He didn’t want it. And Kurt gloried in that.

Logan goaded him, deeper, harder, make him feel it the next day and he cursed up and down while wrapping corded muscle thighs around him and drove him out of his mind. Open mouthed, tongue tangling kisses, tinged with blood from fang nicks, quickly healed and licked away. Sweat sprang up between them, Logan’s hand working on his cock between them, howling. Logan’s grip on him, solid and desperate, dangerous, so good. He never let go, Logan. Perfect.

Kurt fucked like he wanted to fuck the breath out of him. Like it was this important, all encompassing goal to lodge his dick in deep and tight and hard and see if he could make Logan yell for mercy each time. Not fucking likely, Logan rumbled in wordless challenge. But fuck, it felt good, better than good, fucking fabulous, in fact and Logan ran out of words except-


“Logan- Logan- Ahhhh-!”

There was nothing but their slowing pants in the room, when Logan finally received twinges of discomfort from their position, with Kurt inert on top of him. He shifted and Kurt moved for him just enough to get on his side, dazed. Logan looked at him, noticed how glossy he looked with the sheen of sweat on him and the beauty of it seemed to him sublime.


Logan reached out, pulling a cover over the both of them.

“…Mmm. Just give me a minute…”

“All the time in the world. We got all the time in the world now.”

Kurt smiled and his tail coiled around one of Logan’s knees. Yes.

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