BY : Citizenjess
Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 1858
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men" or any characters therein. I am not making any money off of this story.

Summary: Charles and Erik's and Logan's respective paths cross a second time during Charles and Erik's mutant recruitment road trip. Warning: Bondage, rimming. 



They'd found the man using Cerebro, like all the others, though unlike the rest of the mutants they'd approached so far, this one had strange metal attached to most of his skeleton that, as Charles was both intrigued and horrified to realize, he hadn't been born with. He wanted to know more, but the man - 'Logan,' Charles had mentally confided to Erik; and then, 'he doesn't know his last name' - had told them off in no uncertain terms, and that had been that. 

Erik, personally, had been fine with counting his losses - the fact that the man's metal frame was akin to someone holding up a toy with a bell in it for a particularly rambunctious kitten aside, Logan was a hairy, anti-social jerk. However, Charles had a bleeding heart, and enough scientific intrigue to make him, at best, obnoxiously determined, so Erik wasn't surprised when he heard Charles telepathically giving Logan the address for their hotel, 'in case you change your mind.'


He's standing in front of the bed, the backs of his knees nearly bumping the edge of the mattress. Logan's short, but still somehow taller than Charles, and the difference in their physical girth, one which significantly favors Logan, makes Charles feel slightly crowded. The feeling escalates when Logan reaches out to grip his upper arms. His own biceps are bulky and rippled; he's got some build even on Erik, who stands in the background, watching with passable disinterest. 

Logan smiles, and it's all sharp teeth and scruff. "You're in way over your head, Chuck," he breathes, and it could mean several things at once. Charles is the sort who might try to parse out a few of them, but then Logan is using his considerable leverage to tug him close and then, to shove their mouths together (the scruff against his skin is noticeable, but not unpleasant), and suddenly, it seems rather unimportant.


"He won't change his mind," Erik had vowed, watching absently while Charles strapped himself into the passenger seat, And yet, the unmistakable essence of Logan no-last-name and those miraculous metal bones of his suddenly pervades all of Erik's senses; and just like that, his words are effectively eaten.

"I thought we were supposed to go fuck ourselves," Erik intones pointedly when he rounds the corner and spots Logan shoving coins into a vending machine. In response, the other man raises a thick eyebrow.

"A guy can't just get a room somewhere without an interrogation?"

Erik rolls his eyes, but is still vaguely gratified when Logan follows him down the hallway and back to his and Charles' shared room. It's nothing special: Two beds with gaudy coverlets, separated by a squat desk containing a lamp and, Erik supposes, probably a phone book and the requisite Bible in one of its drawers. On one of the beds sits Charles, whose expression brightens when he realizes who their visitor is. "Nice to see you again, Logan," he beams, and Erik watches as Logan's face flits through about four different emotions in as many seconds.


He wouldn't term it 'jealousy,' exactly, when Erik stalks across the room in measured paces and folds Charles into an embrace that leaves him pliant and swooning. He also can't help but compare Erik's mouth to Logan's when Erik bites at his lips, and then probes his teeth apart with a determined tongue. Namely, Logan's there for a good time, whereas Erik is there to claim Charles as his own.

Soft chuckling from Logan does well to prove that this realization does not particularly bother him. "Not planning to move in on your territory, bub," he murmurs. This seems to please Erik, and then the mental image he sends Charles of the three of them together makes Charles' knees go weak. 'Yes, please,' he manages to send back, sharing it with both men, and it'd be difficult to judge whether Erik's or Logan's expression is more devious at this point.

Some prompting from Erik and then a lazy gesture from the metal-bending mutant soon finds Charles' wrists bound in front of his face, lashed snugly to the bed with twisted up pieces of the frame itself. It becomes necessary to recline on his elbows and knees, though long fingers start to grope at his lower half, and he eventually finds himself on his belly, legs splayed widely. There's a playful slap to his bare ass, and then a couple more, and then he feels a depression in the mattress near his legs.

The digits spreading his cheeks make him wiggle, as does the cool air that passes over his puckered entrance. Still, it's nothing compared to the thick swipes of tongue - Logan's, he knows, because Erik is greedily projecting the show that he's getting into Charles' own mind - across and, occasionally, inside of his ass hole, as the soft wailing that the sensations elicit from him help to indicate. Logan chuckles, then, and the vibrations continue to send bursts of arousal to pool in his groin. There's got to be at least a small wet spot on the bedding now from where his cock has been rubbing frantically against it, and he moans and keens as Logan's mouth continues to lick him out. 

"Ohhh, f-fuck," he mutters, straining his arms a little as he tugs uselessly at the head board. Desperate and rutting and wanton, he doesn't notice Erik right away, but then suddenly, there he is, staring down at Charles' flushed form and red mouth with a mixture of fondness and predatory determination. "Erik," he gasps out, bucking suddenly when Logan's tongue spears a particularly sensitive spot. Then he watches with dizzy elation as Erik begins to strip off his clothes.


"So, mutants, huh?" 

There seems to be something amusing to Logan about the fact that Charles has a name for what he can do - namely, the quick healing ability that seems to be responsible for his unnaturally long life. Most of this information Charles ascertains from glimpses into Logan's mind; the other man shifts uncomfortably at the intrusion, even as Charles tries to be gentle. 

When it's over, Logan gestures at Erik. "What super power does your, uh, 'friend,' have?" he queries. Erik ignores the implication in favor of bringing forth what he already sensed was there: Two-foot-long claws that extend from the other man's knuckles, ripping open the flesh as they pierce the skin. 

"Erik," Charles gasps in horror, but he can't help but be intrigued. He peers at the graceful curve of each claw. "Does it hurt?" he asks, staring at the bloodied spots on the back of Logan's hands. Another concerned glance at Erik, and Charles can tell that he's no longer holding onto the claws. He watches Logan retract them, and then as his flesh automatically mends itself. 

Logan looks up. "Every time," he admits hoarsely.


Erik's cock is slick from Charles' mouth as it pushes inside of him, and Charles whimpers as he reclines against Erik's chest. Nimble fingers rub pre-come around the head of his dick, and he gazes with wide-pupiled eyes up at Logan as he approaches.

"Fuck his mouth," Erik suggests/orders, and his hand does not stop fondling Charles when Logan grasps the back of his head. His cock is heavy, and Charles' jaw and neck muscles ache from the angle required of his head. The repetitive movement elicits small, pleading noises from the back of his throat, which seem to please both Erik and Logan. "Good, Charles," Erik tells him between thrusts, and his hand continues to pump at Charles' erection. Charles chokes when Logan comes down his throat, and Logan smiles as he drags his thumb along the corners of his mouth to wipe at the excess mess. 


Charles extends the offer - "come with us, help us carve out a place in the world for mutants" - and Logan politely (for him) declines. "Not really my scene," he says, though Charles senses his unease at the mention of the CIA. It's the same sort of distaste that Erik has for government organizations, and he doesn't push the issue.

They watch Logan's motorcycle round a corner out of the parking lot. Logan's destination is as much a mystery as his past, which is convenient for someone who doesn't want to be tracked down. "You think we'll see him again?" Charles asks, stepping away from the window.

Erik's face is unreadable, his eyes gleaming in the lamp light. "Stranger things have happened," he shrugs.

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