Der Doppelgänger

BY : Karl55
Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1729
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men, nor do I own the characters from it. I make no money from the writing of this story.



This story takes place between Uncanny X-Force #23 and #24

Point of view alternates between Logan and Kurt Darkholme.

German translations are at the end, but I’ve tried very hard to make it understandable in context.



I wasn’t at my best when I decided to remain here in this strange universe while the rest of my friends went back where they belonged.  It had taken me several days to even begin to recover from the injuries Archangel had inflicted upon me, and I could barely manage to stand up straight, since the pain was still very bad.  I had refused any pain-killers for most of that time, knowing my mind had to be clear in order to come to a decision.  Stay here, or go back with the others? 

I told no one what I was considering, not even Jean.  Not that I didn’t trust her, of course, but rather that I felt this decision must be mine alone.  I think we were all tempted to stay.  This world had just defeated the Heir of Apocalypse, who in this case was Archangel, not Wolverine, as it is in our world.  No matter what happened next, it had to be better than what we would face at home.  Relative peace and security would have been welcome to any one of us. 

Jean felt she had to return because of her husband Logan, who is now our archenemy.

Victor Creed?  Well, who knows what his thoughts were?  I did know that he had been impressed by the way this Logan had presented him with the sword of Ogun and then bowed to him just as Gateway opened the portal to our dimension.  I’m glad those two are getting along, since the Victor I know is a good man.  I’m reasonably certain that the Sabretooth of this world is not.

But me?  What did I feel?  Why had I even come here with the others?  I could have stayed behind.  Goodness knows, there was enough fighting to be done back home.  But Jean had asked and I had agreed to go.

Why?  Had it all started back when I first laid eyes on this Logan, even though he had seemed to be an enemy, an accomplice of the Dark Beast, invading our world?  During the time he was there, I had been acutely aware of him.  There was something behind his eyes whenever he looked at me, something that did not bespeak hatred, even that first time when I had stolen the Life Seed from him.  Back then, Weapon X, as the Logan in my world was called, had been thought dead, yet I seemed to be facing him.  He had been taken aback, as if he had thought the same about me. 

When I first appeared here in Logan’s world, he had stammered, “K-Kurt – you – you’re –” But I cut him off before he could go any further.  There was no time for anything except winning this battle, which we did in the end, but not without cost. 

I was puzzled then, but now I think he was just as surprised as I was.  After all, hadn’t Archangel taunted me about being dead in his world, in that final conflict between us?  Could it be that I had agreed to return to this world because Logan and I had never resolved whatever it was that hung unspoken between us?  Did it bother me that much?

Yes, I must admit it did.  Oh, I told myself there was another reason, but if I were to be perfectly honest, that was the feeling that lay beneath my expressed desire to get revenge.  I wanted to know about this other Kurt, my apparent doppelgänger, and what had happened to him.  And what he had meant to Logan, that Logan had been so affected by my presence.


Time passed, I fought side by side with these X-Men through several vicious battles, and we finally defeated the Goat Monk’s attempt to take over Otherworld. 

Nevertheless, I had learned very little more about Logan than I already knew.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was about to change.

We had all taken a lot of hits during that last fight, so we arrived back at the X-Cavern exhausted, hurting, and hoping for a couple of days of downtime before any more shit hit the fan.  My entire body was covered with bruises, my fur was matted and damp from my own sweat, every muscle in my body had begun to stiffen up, and even my tail hurt.

I wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a long rest.  Much to my dismay, I found that the hot water was being repaired in my part of the X-Cavern and wouldn’t be ready for another couple of hours. 

Logan was in a different wing, so I had reason to believe his would be working fine.  I fretted over it for a while, figuring he might well be in his own shower if I hurried over too soon.  Finally, I grabbed a towel and made my way to his section, still wearing my soggy and grubby uniform.

When I knocked on the door to Logan’s room, I wasn’t very sure what sort of a reception I would get. It opened almost as soon as my hand hit the surface.  He stood there in nothing but his briefs, rubbing a towel over his unruly hair. 

“Uh, sorry,” I blurted out.  “Vould you rather I come back later?”

“Naw, it’s OK.  C’mon in.”

Still uncomfortable, I took a few steps into the room, glancing around curiously as I did so.  Except for the litter of beer bottles on one of the shelves, it didn’t look the way I thought it would.  The bear rug on the floor alongside his simple bed was more along the lines of what I had pictured, but the small metal chimes hanging in front of another shelf were decidedly not. 

Then there was that bookcase along the near wall, filled with books.  This Logan was apparently an avid reader, but what sort of books would someone like him read?  Westerns, war stories, other similarly macho stuff?  I wished I had a chance to look over the titles, but now wasn’t the time for that.

I guess I didn’t say anything fast enough for him, as he asked impatiently, “So, is there something I can do for you?”

“Ja.  May I use your shower?  Mine is out of order just now.”

His nose wrinkled slightly.  “Sure.  I’m all done, and you could certainly use a good wash.  You smell rather like a wet dog.”

How did he --?  Oh, he’s got that enhanced sense of smell.  Maybe it isn’t really much of a gift at times.

He grinned as my cheeks blushed purplish.  Waving one hand toward the door down a little further along the wall to my left, he went back to toweling his hair.

I hurried into his bathroom, skinned out of my uniform, turned on the shower and stepped gratefully under the steaming hot water.  It felt terrific.



I continued to dry my hair as Kurt’s look-alike showered in my bathroom, wondering if there could be more to his appearance at my door than just the need for getting cleaned up.  I was pretty sure he wasn’t lying about his hot water being repaired, if for no other reason than that it would be far too easy for me to check it out.

Nah, he wouldn’t lie just to get in my door.  After all, Darkholme hadn’t shown any real interest in me thus far, so why would now be any different?

Tossing my towel into the laundry basket in my closet, I stretched out on the bed.  No use putting on more clothes just yet.  Being as hairy as I am, I dry much faster if I leave them off for a while. 

I picked up my book and started to read, but had trouble keeping my thoughts on the text.  They kept wandering off to memories of Kurt, and what we would probably be doing right now if he were still around.  It’s no secret that the exhilaration of battle often leaves a man wanting sex, and that had certainly been true of the two of us.  I wondered idly whether it was true of Darkholme also.

He’s a whole lot harder than my Kurt, and I’m not talking about his cock.  My Kurt was an idealist at heart and basically a very gentle soul.  As a result, we didn’t always see eye to eye on things.  I lost most of my ideals a long time ago, and gentleness is a thing I can only afford to practice with those who’ve given me reason to do so.  I’m not necessarily proud of this, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s what I have to do in order to survive and stay sane.

I get the feeling that Darkholme shares my attitude in that respect, but he may not have learned to live with it as well as I have.  In fact, it would be surprising if he had, since he’s still fairly young.  I figure he’s maybe in his late 30’s at most.  To me, that’s just a kid.  So he may think he’s pretty tough, but as far as I’m concerned, he hardly knows the meaning of the word.

I heard the water stop running.  Maybe I’d better get back to my reading, instead of thinking about the man who would now be standing stark naked in my bathroom.  But first I’d light up the half-smoked cigar in the ashtray.

If I couldn’t have sex, I could at least have a good smoke.



As the hot water ran over me, my thoughts went back to that lovely lady who had kissed me in the shape of a man, then turned into a woman in my arms.  I can recall no one in my world like her, but perhaps we have simply never met.  It had felt so good to hold her.  For the first time, I was almost grateful to my doppelgänger for having inspired the affection she had obviously felt for him.  Too bad about that Captain Britain fellow who would appear to have a claim on her.  Stealing another man’s woman is a dangerous thing.  If I had any sense, I wouldn’t even be thinking of her this way.

That was when I realized my cock was beginning to show an interest in her also.  Picking up a long-handled brush, I started scrubbing my back, at the same time switching tracks mentally.  This was neither the time nor the place for such a thing.

Logan.  I’d think about him, and the strange way he acted towards me.  I knew he understood that I wasn’t a copy of his best friend, except maybe on the physical level.  And yet, he seemed to see something in me that I had always believed wasn’t there.  Or at least I believed that I had pushed it down inside my heart so far that it could never again emerge to hurt me, layering it over and smothering it with anger until I was sure it had died of neglect. 

But sometimes, when he stares at me a certain way, I am no longer sure.  There’s something about him that makes me want to look at him.  The impressive muscles, the hair, even the perpetually-angry expression on his face, that breaks into something else subtly different on rare occasion.  The confidence in the way he holds himself.  The sheer power when he attacks an enemy, so different from my fighting style, which depends more on agility, deadly grace, and speed.  As if he throws his body into everything he does, without regard for the consequences.

I rolled my shoulders beneath the pouring water, still feeling the ache where Angel’s feathers had torn up my back, thinking wryly that, of course, Logan doesn’t need to fear the consequences, since he heals so quickly.  But it must still hurt.  He has never said he was immune to pain.

And those claws, unseen but always there, maybe not always entirely under his control, just as my tail betrays me at times.  In fact, it was betraying me right now, swishing sinuously from one side to the other.

I realized I was no longer scrubbing my back.  The brush hung limply in one hand, while the other hand was around my cock, stroking it gently.  Scheisse!  Now the thought of Logan is turning me on?!  I don’t need this.

I rinsed off quickly and got out of the shower.  It wasn’t until I started drying myself off that I realized I hadn’t brought any clean clothes with me.  At least I had my towel.  That would have to do. 

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I gathered up my dirty uniform in one hand and opened the bathroom door, holding the uniform in front of me so that the slight bulge in my crotch wasn’t visible.

Logan was lying propped up against the metal headboard of his bed, a very thick book in his hands and a cigar in his mouth.  Fortunately, the ventilation in the X-Cavern is extremely efficient, so I could barely smell the smoke.

He glanced up at me, appearing a bit surprised at my semi-nakedness, even though he had nothing more on than he had before.

“Sorry,” I explained, somewhat embarrassed.  “I was in such a hurry that I forgot to bring clean clothes.”

“You can borrow some of mine,” he offered, closing the book but keeping one finger on his place.  Somewhat to my surprise, he was almost at the end of the book.

I shrugged.  “Thanks, but I’m all right this way.”

“Suit yourself.”

Now what, I asked myself again, would this man read?  As I walked past him, I couldn’t resist glancing down at the title.  And stopped short.

Logan must have followed my gaze, as he raised one eyebrow and asked challengingly,  “What?”

“You’re reading Charles Darvin’s ORIGIN OF SPECIES and DESCENT OF MAN?”

“Um-hmm.  That a problem?”

“Nein, of course not.   I just – uh – vondered vhy you’d be interested in something like that.”

He gave me a crooked smile.  “Whatsamatter, ya think a guy like me ain’t smart enough to understand it?”

“Nein!  Uh – vell – ”  My voice trailed off lamely, since that was exactly what I had been thinking.

He gave a short laugh, as if he knew that, but wasn’t particularly angry about it.  “Never judge a book by its cover,” he said archly.

“It’s also not a good idea to judge a book in this dimension in the same vay you might judge it in my vorld.”

He narrowed his eyes a bit, as he took in the underlying implications of my remark.  “Point taken, Elf.”

“Damn it, don’t call me that!”

“I’m sorry, Darkholme.  It’s just that everyone used to call you that –“

“Nein!  Not me!”

“Aw shit! I know you ain’t him.  What with that red lightning bolt across your eye, it would be impossible to get you mixed up with him even if I wanted to.  I keep tryin’ to remember not to call you Elf, but it was such a habit.”

“Vhat is it vith this stupid name, anyvay?   Do I look like an elf to you?”  I’m afraid I sounded rather exasperated.  “Elves are little, cute, silly things.”

“Not the ones in ‘Lord of the Rings’.  They’re tall, handsome, and very good warriors.”

“Vhat is this ‘Lord of the Rings’?”

“You know.  Those books by J.R.R. Tolkien?”  Having never heard of a writer by that name, I just gave him a confused look.  “No.  I guess you don’t know, do you?  Forget it then.  I’ll try harder to remember.  But don’t expect other people to realize how much you hate it unless you tell them.  Kurt was Elf to us for a lotta years.  Kitty Pryde, that little brown-haired girl you rebuffed so rudely not long ago, even used to call you Fuzzy Elf.”

I made a face that displayed my feelings about that nickname very clearly.

“Well, you are kind of fuzzy, you know.” 

I could tell he was teasing me now, so I just shook my head in an effort to convey long-suffering disdain.

“Got any problem with me calling you ‘buddy’ now and again?”

I considered it for a minute.  “Vell, I suppose that vould be OK.”

“Good.  That’s settled.  Now, ya really wanna know why I’m readin’ this book?”

“Ja.  Please.”

He leaned over the far side of the bed and knocked the ash off his cigar into an ashtray on the floor.  Turning back to me, he inhaled another mouthful of smoke before beginning his explanation.  “While Jeannie was here, she told me a lot about what went on in your world, and how the original Apocalypse kept talkin’ about survival of the fittest and that sorta stuff, so I figured I’d read up on it, see what Mr. Darwin here actually said.”  He tapped a finger on his book, then shook his head.  “Seems to me that Apocalypse didn’t get it quite right.  Maybe he never bothered to read the original.”

“Huh?  Vhat do you mean?”  Interested now, I sat down on the very edge of his bed, keeping my dirty uniform in my lap and leaving as much distance between us as I could.

“He didn’t understand that strength and ruthlessness are not necessarily the same thing as fitness to survive.”

“I’m still not sure I follow you.”

“Think about it.  What is it that allowed human beings to evolve into the top species on earth?  Not our strength, that’s for sure.  Not even just our intelligent brains.  We learned to cooperate, to work together, to share our knowledge and transmit it in writing to future humans.  That’s what put us on top of the food chain.  We were more fit to survive than the huge mastodons, the fierce sabretooth tigers, the dangerous grizzly bears, and just about any other beastie that outweighs us and outfights us with fearsome teeth or claws or anything else.  We cooperated.  We were a team.”

He looked at me triumphantly.

 Ashamed, I realized that this man wasn’t as dumb as I had assumed.  There was a brain every bit as good as mine inside that hard adamantium-laced skull of his

“So,” I began, “you figure if that’s vhat made the human race fit to survive, that’s vhat made us fit enough to defeat Apocalypse.  Ve von by the cooperative effort of a group, including humans and mutants, dedicated to something more than just their own individual survival.”

He took the cigar out of his mouth and gave me a sort of a salute with it.  “You got it, buddy.”

“But Apocalypse also interpreted it in a vider sense,” I pointed out, “in that ve mutants vere the ones destined to take over the vorld, because we vere superior to ordinary humans.”

“Are we, now?” he replied, raising one eyebrow.  “I’ve run across one helluva lot of pretty pathetic mutants, and I’m sure you have too.  Some of these mutations may turn out to be useful in the long run, while a good number of others are nothing but a curse to those who have them.  The really bad off ones aren’t even viable.  Who says change, in and of itself, has to be a good thing?  We may just as easily turn out to be dead ends, evolutionarily speaking.”

“Do you really think so?”

He shrugged.  “Sometimes I do, other times I don’t.  Take me, for instance.  My body can heal almost anything that happens to it.  Sounds good, right?”

I nodded.  “Ja.  Very good.”

“And I’m not the only mutant who has this particular talent.  But what if everyone gets this way?  I’ve already lived a long time, and it’s likely I’ll live a lot longer still.  If lots of folks don’t die, what happens to the population of the world?”

As he waited for me to come up with a response, his eyes trailed briefly down over my body.  I was immediately reminded of how nearly naked we both were.  Not to be outdone by him, I allowed my eyes to do the same thing to him.  The heavy book lay over his groin, but just the sight of the rest of him still caused a twinge deep inside me.

“Vell, how about my teleportation?” I answered.  “Surely, that could be considered a useful talent for a lot of people to have, no?”

“Perhaps,” he said, nodding slightly.  But there was a strange look in his eyes. “If ya want the entire world to smell like brimstone.”

I winced.  He was teasing me, and I had walked right into it.  I wondered if he had done the same thing to his Kurt, and if he had fallen for it so easily.  I couldn’t help myself.  I grinned.  “Point taken, mein Freund.”

His grin dissolved abruptly.  He almost seemed to wince at my last words.  He turned his head away.

“Logan?  Vhat have I said?”

“Nothin’.  It’s not you.  It’s just that Kurt used to call us that.”

“Called you vhat?  Mein Freund?  All it means is my friend.”

“I know.  I just haven’t heard it since –” He waved one hand dismissively, turning back to me and trying to smile.  “Don’t worry about it, buddy.  Ain’t your fault.”  He shook his head and took another puff on his cigar.  “Kurt’s been dead for more than a year.  You’d think I’d have gotten over it by now, wouldn’t ya?”

He’s that torn up by a simple reminder of a friend?  That was when it struck me that there might be more to it than just friendship.

“You vere – very close?”

“Yeah.  And for a very long time.”  He exhaled smoke, happily not in my direction. “It’s really kinda strange.  I mean, we were so different in a lot of ways, but sometimes it seemed more like he was the other half of me.”  He gave a forced laugh, sat up straighter and swung his legs over the other side of the bed, turning away from me.  “Probably the better half,” he said bleakly to the far wall.



I’d been trying not to look at him ever since he’d walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.  I could all but feel his damp fur beneath my hands, could imagine how it would be to touch him, to run my fingers over that too-familiar body. 

I wanted –

I wanted what I can no longer have.  This is not my Kurt. 

In an effort to hide the unaccustomed watery feeling in my eyes, I turned away, leaning over the far side of my bed to stub out my cigar in the ashtray on the floor.  I was in no hurry to look back at Darkholme, so I took my time doing it, staring blankly at the dark circle of window on the wall.  I could see a few stars, but that was about all.

 I had not cried for Kurt, after he died.  I was only angry, hideously angry.  I tried very hard not to feel anything else.  Mostly, I succeeded.  So how could I feel it so deeply now, with this man that I barely know?  I’m the ultimate tough guy.  I’m not supposed to feel.  Hell, I can’t afford to feel!  It would tear me apart.  Yet I feel the emptiness beside me where he used to be.  I hear the silence where his voice used to be.  Men don’t cry.  Or at least not this easily and not just because of a casual glance.

“Logan?  Vhat is it?  Was ist los?” came that too-familiar voice and accent from behind me. 

“Nothing, buddy.  Just thinkin’.  I’m fine.”  But I wasn’t.  I had almost gotten myself under control when he laid his hand on my bare shoulder, asking,  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I pulled away from him, simultaneously slashing backwards to knock his hand off my shoulder.  I hadn’t planned to extend my claws, but I did.  Luckily, he had already ‘ported himself across the room.  He stood there in a crouch, ready to defend himself.

“Damnit, Darkholme, don’t do that!” I snapped.

“Vhat did I do?” was the guarded reply.

“Look, I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to –” I shrugged and pulled in the claws.  What could I say that he wouldn’t take the wrong way?  “You startled me, that’s all.  I’m wound up pretty tight just now, and an unexpected touch is all it takes.”

His head turned slightly to one side as he gave me a skeptical look.  “Is that all?  Are you sure?”

The voice, the body, the scent – it was all his.  But those red eyes should have been gold, and that stylized lightning bolt, which never ceased to remind me of the double lightning symbol of the Nazi SS, shouldn’t be there.

“No, damnit, I’m not sure!” I burst out without thinking, getting to my feet.  “I’m not fucking sure of anything anymore!  Get away from me!  Get out of here, before I –”

“Before you vhat?” he demanded, his strange red eyes gleaming fiercely.  “Before you rape me?”

I realized I was now standing facing him and my underwear was doing nothing whatsoever to disguise the very visible bulge in my crotch.  “Aw, shit!”

Much to my surprise, he just laughed.  “Do not vorry.  I’m very hard to rape.  Someone tried it once.  I grabbed his penis and ‘ported avay, taking it vith me.”

“You got to be kidding!”

“I assure you, I am not.”

I smiled, despite my embarrassment.  “I’ll – uh – keep that in mind.”

“Good.”  He took a few steps closer, but I noticed that he kept the bed between us, stopping just short of a claw-swipe away from me.  I became aware of a faint overlay to his scent that I knew too well.  He hadn’t dropped the clothes when he ‘ported, but they were no longer entirely covering his crotch.



I didn’t think I’d have this opportunity again, so I decided to take a chance.  All he could do was laugh, or maybe take another more serious swipe at me.

“I’ll go now, if you vish.  But not before you answer a question.  I think you owe me that.”

“Depends on the question, buddy.”

“It’s really more of an assumption that I vould like verified.”


“You and the other Kurt.  You vere lovers, nicht wahr?”

“Now, why on earth would you think that?”

“People usually cringe avay from being touched by me, Logan, and for good reason.  The one thing they do not do is find it sexually arousing.  Unless, of course, it is something they desire greatly.  Vhich, in your case, probably means that it’s something you’ve felt before and enjoyed very much.”

“Damn you!  You have no right –”

I cut him off.  “This thought has only crossed my mind recently, but the first time you looked at me, I could see something strange in your eyes.  Hurt, perhaps.  Or sorrow.  Only later on, vhen I learned that your vorld’s Nightcrawler vas dead, did that make any sense to me.  And just now, it made even more sense.”

His hands clenched into fists, but the claws remained retracted.  I stepped closer to him.

“Somevhere inside, vhere you may not even be conscious of it, you vant to fuck me.”

“Why would I want to do that?  I hardly know you,” he objected, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“I think you knew your Kurt very vell, perhaps even in the biblical sense of the vord.”

He finally gave up.  “Fuckin’ shit, buddy!  Is it really that obvious?”

“No.  Not to anyone other than me, it’s not.”

For a long moment, we stood there staring uncomfortably at each other, with me still keeping a wary distance between us.

“You ever had sex with a man, Darkholme?”  He said it as if he were throwing down some kind of a challenge.

“No,” I admitted.  “But there vas a time I vas tempted, years ago, vhen my Logan vas still on our side.  Perhaps –” I shrugged and shook my head.  “It vould have been a losing battle anyvay, since he has alvays loved Jean.”

“Sex and love ain’t always the same thing.”

I had to stifle a laugh.  “Don’t vorry, I know that all too vell.  I’ve vorked hard at keeping them apart.  As I am sure you know very vell, it hurts too much to have to vatch someone you love die.”  I met his eyes squarely.  “But a man still has needs.”

He almost winced at my words.

“I am not your Kurt,” I said, walking over towards him as I dropped my dirty uniform on the floor, along with the towel, to fully reveal my own erection.  “And I cannot claim to love you.  But I could perhaps be persuaded to share your bed now and then.”



“You serious, Darkholme?” I asked, looking him up and down and liking what I saw.

He nodded gravely.  Slowly, cautiously, two fingers and a thumb reached out towards me.

That was all the invitation I needed.  I jumped over the bed between us and had my arms around him in an instant, pulling the entire length of his body against me and crushing his mouth to mine.  I felt his tail coil around my buttocks, forcing my groin into his, while his fangs drew a trickle of blood from my lips as he returned my kiss with equal enthusiasm.

There was no longer any question in my mind that he wanted me.  I could smell it in his scent.  Most folks don’t realize just how much I can tell about them just from the way they smell, and I usually don’t tell them, since it embarrasses the hell outta them.  My Kurt knew about that, but I doubted this man did.

Still plastered against each other, I pulled him down onto my bed.  I was on top of him in no time, forgetting he was a stranger, expecting him to act the way Kurt would have in this situation and eagerly offer his body to me.  Imagine my surprise when he shoved me roughly away, glaring at me through eyes that gleamed much brighter red than usual and announcing sternly, “Nein!  If ve are to do this, I vill fuck you.”


I watched Logan blink a few times, clearly trying to adjust to my demand.  By now, I wanted him badly, but I was determined it would be on my terms, not his.  That other Kurt may well have been accustomed to being on the bottom, but I was not.  I had been trying all along to prove to this man that I was not a weakling.  Did he dare to assume that I would now roll over and present him with my ass?  If so, he had, as Americans so quaintly say, another think coming.

For a brief moment, we stared at each other.  Then Logan’s expression changed.  With a sardonic quirk of his lips, he inclined his head to me in a slight nod, pulled off his underwear, and got onto his hands and knees, arching his back and sticking his hairy ass almost into my face.  “Have at it, buddy,” he said casually, as if daring me to follow through.

I wasted no time crouching behind him in the wide-kneed stance that is so natural to me. Although I had never had sex with a man before, I’ve had some experience having anal intercourse with women.  But this was not a woman and I felt no inclination to be gentle.  I drove my hard cock into him, with nothing but a little spit to ease its entry.  

He exhaled in surprise, then braced himself against my vicious thrusts, letting me tear into him as fast and hard as I could.

It was not the same as it had been with women, not at all.  This was Logan, Weapon X, the Wolverine, in many ways the epitome of strength, will, ferocity, and manhood, in both of our universes.  And he had let me do this.  Not only let me, but wanted me to.  This was not just lust, but power.  Oh, it felt so good to be able to fuck someone without any consideration of whether I was hurting him or not!  There was a viciousness to this that I had never felt before.  Love?  No!  Taking, using, dominating. I wanted to make him feel my strength, wanted him to submit to me, to admit I was at least his equal, if not his superior. 

I wanted to make him come, but, even more, I wanted to make him hurt, as I had so often been hurt in many ways.  My fingers dug so deeply into his sides that I felt blood flow around them.  My tail lashed uncontrollably behind me with the intensity of what I felt.  As is usual for me when I get angry or excited, I lost my English.  German curses poured from my lips as I thrust in and out of his bleeding asshole.  I called him, or maybe the world, more vicious and evil things than I had ever heard myself say before.  I hated what I was doing, and yet I loved it.  I went even further, viciously cursing the God I had once thought I might worship, even though I had long ago lost any faith in Him.  Finally, surprising even myself, I cursed this Logan for not being my Logan.

I came hard, still cursing, deep inside him, that vicious ecstasy only driving me to further exertion.  I raked my sharp fingernails all the way down the sides of his back, wanting to hear him scream, but he remained silent.  I was not finished reaming him out.  I wanted more.  I wanted to tear him open with my hand, if my penis would no longer obey my desires.

But now I was gasping for breath, my chest heaving, my muscles quivering with exhaustion.  I collapsed forward onto his back, gasped out a few more curses, and then was silent.

Finally, he said softly, “Are ya done?”

“Ja,” I replied, my breath almost under control again, but my emotions still cycling wildly between my erstwhile ferocity and a sour mix of guilt and shame.  As I pushed myself up and off of him, I saw the blood running down his inner thigh and the sides of his pelvis.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “O mein Gott!  Was hab' ich getan!?”

Logan moved out from under me and rolled over onto his side, looking at me quizzically.

“Tut mir so leid, Logan!”  I added, totally unaware that I was still speaking in my native German.

“Du musst dich nicht entschuldigen,” he replied.  “Mir geht's gut.”

That’s when it finally occurred to me that we were not speaking English.  If he had understood my apologies, he might also have understood the rest of what I had said earlier, even the curses.  “You – ” I hesitated, trying to swallow my surprise – “You know German?”

“Yeah, some.  I have a knack for languages.  I picked up a lot from Kurt, plus I spent some time during World War II as a soldier in Germany.”  He smiled.  “Learned a lotta cuss words that way.”

“Scheisse!  Now I’m really ashamed.”  I threw myself facedown on the bed, hiding my face in my hands, too totally embarrassed to even look at him.  I was about to teleport directly to my room when his hand touched my shoulder.

“It’s all right, buddy.  I know where you’re comin’ from, believe me, I do.  Sex can bring out strange things in folks.” 

His hand moved over to the back of my neck, and he scratched lightly with his fingertips just above the place where my fur turned into hair.  Then he started massaging the muscles underneath.  It felt so good.



I went on from there, rubbing gently down and around in large slow circles over his upper back, sometimes with and sometimes against the direction of his fur.  On my palm, the hardness of his muscles made a sharp contrast to the velvet of his fur, so familiar that it brought a fresh ache to my heart.  I had always loved touching Kurt, stroking him like a cat until he writhed with pleasure, just to feel those muscles move beneath his skin.  But the man next to me held himself taut and tense, unlike my Kurt, who could be fluidity in motion when he was aroused.

I kept on drawing lazy circles on his back, hoping I could get him to relax a bit.  On either side of his spine, not far down from his shoulders, I could make out the healing scars underneath that short fur, where Angel’s feathers had stabbed into him.  Every time my fingers reached that area, I lessened the pressure, traveling over them only very lightly.  I felt him flinch even so.  Clearly, he was still hurting.  And things probably hadn’t improved after he’d been zapped by that Goat Monk on our latest mission.

“I don’t suppose ya noticed it, but I came twice while you were fuckin’ me,” I told him.  “It’s my turn now, but I’m gonna have to give it a few minutes before I’ll be ready again, so just relax.”

I kept going down that muscular back as it narrowed toward his buttocks and tail, which he had pressed down tightly between his legs.  The Kurt I knew would have trusted me to work on his ass and even his sensitive tail, but I couldn’t assume the same would be true of his doppelgänger.

I stroked my fingers lightly across his buttocks, first one side, then the other.  He shivered, the tip of his tail twitching slightly.  Was it from anticipation, or fear of what was to come?

I couldn’t help but remember how good it had felt when Kurt gave me a massage.  The feeling of his strong fingers digging into the sore muscles of my back and arms, or sometimes just a gentle rubbing motion over some part of me that hadn’t quite finished healing from a really nasty injury.  There were times when my whole body just ached bone-deep, from overuse or serious abuse. There was no one now who would dare do that for me.  Hell, most folks are scared shitless just to touch me!  Well, except maybe Jeannie, but she’s gone now, as surely as my Kurt is.

I forced my mind back to what I was doing, and went down the backs of his thighs, a hand on each leg, kneading until they relaxed, then giving them each a few more gentle strokes with my palms.  I did the same to his calves.  His breathing was slower now, more regular.

Someone else might have hesitated when they got to his feet, but those odd feet weren’t strange to me.  Lifting his right one slightly, I dug both thumbs into the sole, carefully flexing his ankle at the same time.  The two long bones that ran to his toes were larger and heavier than those in a normal human foot.  As always, I could feel them distinctly beneath his skin.  I kneaded and bent his prehensile toes slowly back and forth, one with either hand.  Then I tugged gently, stretching the joints.

Finished with that foot, I laid it down on the bed and went on to do the same with the other.  By the time I was done, the scent of nervous apprehension coming from him had mostly dissipated.

I looked at the tail that still rested in a straight line down between his slightly spread legs.  In many ways, it was the most alien thing about him, more so than the color, the fur, the eyes, or anything else.  In motion, it could be threatening or vaguely disturbing.  It could also be seen as a phallic symbol, and he had to be aware of that.  Did I dare to touch it?   



As Logan worked his way down my back, I had gradually felt my tension beginning to dissolve under his hands.  By the time he had finished rubbing my feet, an unaccustomed sense of peace had fallen over me. 

And then he touched my tail, his hand resting just where it connected to my body.

Instinctively, I tensed to fight off that threatening touch.  An enemy could too easily grasp my tail from behind, making it hard to defend myself.  I must try to get free, before it’s too late!  Yet I knew this man was not a threat.  I would wait and see what he intended before I reacted.  But it was difficult.  Everything inside me cried out to flee.

For a short while, he did nothing more.  Probably as leery of me as I was of him, I figured.  He’d have realized my likely reaction, since he clearly knew his own Kurt very well.

I waited, breathing slowly, trying to suppress that sudden spike of fear, which he could doubtlessly smell.

He didn’t do anything until I had been able to relax a bit, then his fingers slid slowly around my tail.  Grasping it loosely, he ran his hand down the length of it, nudging my legs slightly apart as he did so.  There was no roughness in his touch.  I no longer felt the need to stop him, even as his fingers traveled down my caudal spine, over the fine muscles and delicate bones that formed the flat surfaces of the end of my tail.  As he came to the end, the fingers of his other hand reached to the underside, gently manipulating and massaging on both sides. 

No one ever touches my tail, even during sex.  I think it is just too alien, too animal-like, too different to be easily accepted as a part of me.  But Logan had, and I was enjoying it immensely.

I allowed myself to bask in those wonderful sensations.

His hand still held my tail as he asked, “You’ve never been fucked by a man before, have you?”

“Nein,” I admitted.  That would make it all the worse for me, I knew.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hurt ya any.”

Yeah, sure, I thought to myself.  Even if you do, I will not give you the pleasure of knowing it.

Simultaneously flicking my tail free from his grip and gathering my legs beneath me, I raised my ass in invitation as I demanded, “Fuck me.  Let’s get this over vith.”



 His sudden movement took me by surprise.  This wasn’t what I wanted from him.  “Take it easy, buddy.  I’m gonna get you ready first and do it real slow and careful.”

“You don’t have to –” he protested.

“Shh.  I know I don’t.  I just want to.  Hurtin’ someone I care about ain’t my thing.  Now, turn over onto your back.” 

“Nein,” he said, his face still in the bedcovers.

“Ja, darlin’.”  Oops, shouldn’t call him that!  Oh well, maybe he didn’t notice, since he said nothing.  I took hold of his hips and rolled him over toward me.  “I want to see your face while I do this.”



 I almost protested against that rather smarmy remark, not to mention the “darling”, but then I recalled the famous quote from “Hamlet” about the lady who protested too much and decided to keep silent.  Our eyes met as I landed on my back.  His widened in surprise.

“Your eyes are glowing gold, not red,” he said, a sort of wonder in his voice.

“They get that vay sometimes.”  When I’m aroused or feel something very strongly.  But I didn’t want to tell him that.

If his hand stroking my back had felt good, that same hand stroking down my chest and abdomen felt marvelous.  If I were a cat, I would have purred and squirmed around in ecstasy.  As it was, I may have moaned a little.  

I knew full well that relaxation and arousal were important for anal penetration from the times I’d done it to women.  Part of me wanted to stop him, but after how I’d treated him, I could hardly do that without showing myself to be a coward.  Another part of me wanted him to just get on with it.  And yet another part positively ached to feel his cock inside me.  Did that mean I really was attracted to men, or was I just somehow in competition with his Kurt, who clearly accepted this quite frequently?  I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. 

“Open your legs as wide as you can, then pull them up towards your head,” he said.

I obeyed, putting my elbows in front of my knees and using them to prop my legs back, which meant it was almost possible for me to get my own penis into my mouth.  I was fully capable of crossing my feet behind my head, if I wanted to.

“Um-hm,” he pronounced slowly, as if he had expected that sort of flexibility.  Well, probably he did, since his Kurt and I had both come from the same genetic background.

He grabbed my hips.  “I’m gonna slide you over to the side of the bed, so I can stand on the floor and lean forward over you.” 

I had no objection to that.  Whatever works.  There would be less pressure on the base of my tail if his weight were not to be pressed directly down on top of me.  When he had gotten me into position, I let my tail hang down over the edge, curling the end underneath the bed and hoping it would stay out of the way.  If I wasn’t paying attention to the damn thing, it would often get itself into trouble.



I reached over and grabbed the tube of Vaseline that I keep in my nightstand, mostly for my own use these days.

Rubbing some around and against his anus, I could feel how tight his opening was.  Did he think I was going to tear into him the way he had done to me?  If so, he was in for a pleasant surprise.  More than anything else, I wanted to make him enjoy this, and I’d do whatever I had to in order to make sure that happened.

Carefully, I worked in one finger, then another.  He may never have done this before, but he knew what I was doing.  I could feel him trying to cooperate, breathing deeply then exhaling as he convinced his sphincter to relax.  It wasn’t long before I had three fingers inside him, spreading them apart a bit and massaging his insides.

Despite this, I could tell from his scent that he was not quite ready.  His cock wasn’t all that hard.  Something was interfering.  Maybe he didn’t believe that I really wasn’t interested in hurting him, and if that were the case, all the talking in the world wouldn’t help.  So what would? 

Then I remembered the sensitive spot just beneath the base of my Kurt’s tail.  Maybe it was the same for him.

I moved a finger up, searching for that special place, pressing gently, slowly, in case he wanted to pull away.

He didn’t.  Instead, I heard a quiet sigh.  Yeah, he liked it.  I’d have gladly kissed him and licked him just there, but I feared it would be too much, too soon, too intimate.  Hands are more neutral than lips.



When he touched me there, I just had time to think,  “How could he know – oh, of course!  His Kurt,” before my back arched and my head fell backwards, as I gasped at the exquisite sensation.

I don’t know for sure why it feels so good to be stroked there, but I think it could have something to do with the nerves that run from my spine down my tail, some of which may also be responsible for my genitals.  Be that as it may, it wasn’t long before my cock was almost painfully hard, my foreskin entirely retracted and the now reddish-purple glans leaking pre-cum.

When I glanced at Logan, he smiled down at me with what I think would be called in this country a shit-eating grin.  He wiped a finger across the tip of my cock, collecting the fluid there and adding it to the lube on his own.

“You’re as ready as you’re gonna be, buddy,” he said smugly as he smeared another glob of slimy stuff on my opening and began pushing his cockhead against my sphincter.

 My instinctive reaction was to tighten up and stop him, but I quashed that immediately, trying to convince my body that it wanted this penetration, even if it hurt.  I was prepared for pain, steeling myself to endure it in silence.

But there was no pain, and no hurried thrusting.  He only moved slowly against me, while the fingers of his other hand explored the base of my cock then traveled up towards the head, with teasingly light touches that almost tickled.  Meanwhile, his own penis kept up that gentle probing of my sphincter.

“Much as I’d like to, I can’t go on like this forever,” he said, his voice low and rough with more than just lust.   

A shiver went through me again at the sound of his voice.  What was it about this man that his words could make my insides quiver?

“Do it now,” I gasped.

His cock pressed harder, demanding but still controlled.  The stretch was somewhat uncomfortable as the broadest part of his cockhead went in, but it got better after that.  Even so, he moved only slowly, deepening his penetration just a bit with each stroke. 

My mind tried to wrap itself around the strange sensation of having something actually inside me, working its way further into my body.  It was pleasant, and somehow satisfying.  And –

And then he touched something deep inside and I nearly screamed with the feeling that shot through me.  “Oh ja, ja, ja!” I heard myself whisper over and over, as he thrust harder and faster.  Each stroke was ecstasy, and it only built higher and higher.  Just when I thought it could get no better, fireworks exploded inside me.  I felt my cum pump out against my belly just as he shot his load into my spasming tunnel.

A strange and almost frightening sound burst from his mouth as he came, much like what I had several times heard him make when he was skewering an enemy with his claws.  

Then a very strange thing happened.  He was still inside me, the last quivers of his orgasm fading away, when I distinctly felt a thumb and two fingers close gently on my shoulder, and a voice that sounded all too much like mine whispered, “Kümmere dich um ihn, bitte.”

No, that was impossible!  It couldn’t be that other Kurt asking me to please take care of Logan.  I slitted my eyes open, but by then his fingers were gone.

I was still telling myself it hadn’t happened when Logan pulled out of me.  I felt his weight shift on the bed, and then something warm was licking my belly.  His tongue.  Lapping up my semen.  Next thing I knew, he was on top of me, our bodies pressed together even though he had to be supporting most of his considerable weight on his hands. 

His lips touched mine.  When I opened my mouth to receive him, I tasted cigars -- and me.  Something inside my mind switched gears.  I grabbed him around his torso, my tail snaking around his thighs, my legs wrapping around his.  I sucked his tongue as far into my mouth as I could.  I crushed myself against him, greedy to feel every part of his body touching mine.  I clung to him like a drowning man clings to his rescuer.

He rolled over, putting me on top.  His arms crossed over my back, not squeezing me as hard as I knew he could have, but hard enough for me to feel my own desperate need reflected in his embrace.

Something about the feeling of being held like this, the way he was clutching me as if he’d never let go, touched me in a way I had never been touched before. 

The gentle way those strong hands had worked to arouse me, his words about not hurting someone he cared about, the tenderness with which he took me, the need so clear in his present embrace, as if he were holding the greatest treasure on earth and feared to let it go lest it disappear.

All this, after I had virtually raped him and screamed hateful things while doing it.  

Like an internal earthquake, the walls I had built so carefully over the years to contain my hopes and loves and feelings began to crack.  Through those cracks, a flood of emotions threatened to burst forth.  The sharp sting of tears gathered beneath my eyelids. I did my best to contain them, but a few seeped like molten lead from my tight-closed eyes.  Squirming out of his grip, I turned away from him and curled up on my side, fighting down the sudden urge to cry. 

No!  I will not give way to this sort of weakness just because someone is treating me kindly!  I will not allow myself to break down in front of this man.  I want too much to have his respect.   I will remain calm.  I will not react like this.


When I pulled out of him, he seemed dazed somehow, almost shell-shocked.  At first, he’d welcomed my embrace, but then he turned away and curled up into a ball.

Well, I was a bit spaced out myself, considering what had just happened.  I wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, but I wasn’t sure how to do that.  The last thing I wanted was to scare him into teleporting away.

I had a rough idea of what was happening to him, and why.  I’d seen other X-Men break down now and then under the stress of the lives we had to live.  Hell, I’d done it myself!  He seemed to be trying to hang on, to keep himself together by sheer force of will.  How could I help him?  There had to be something I could do.  But what?  

I asked myself, if it were my Kurt lying there, what would I do then?  The answer was simple: I’d hold him.  But would that work for Darkholme, with all his prickly pride?

I shrugged.  Only one way to find out. 

I stretched out on my side behind him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him against me, his back to my chest.  My Kurt would have turned over at that point and snuggled up against me, but this was someone else.  Forcing this man to face me would not be a good idea.  He needed privacy, but he also needed comfort.  So I just bent forward enough that my forehead rested against his upper back and laid there, still and silent, waiting for him to regain his composure.

At least he didn’t pull away from me.  When a man reacts like this, there’s usually a very good reason.  I thought about what had happened between us tonight.  I was pretty sure that I had somehow triggered some very deeply buried things in his mind, but exactly what those things were, I wasn’t sure.  I had a lot of guesses, of course, but no certainties. 

It took a while, but eventually he seemed to calm down.  I felt him move, reaching for the edge of the sheet to wipe his face and blow his nose.

I let go of him then, but otherwise remained just as I was.  He rolled back against me and sighed deeply.  His breath evened out and his body went limp.  I knew he had fallen asleep.

 Just as I dozed off, it occurred to me to wonder which of the many things that haunted my brain would have precipitated that sort of a reaction in me.  I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.  



I woke up to the faint smell of cigar smoke.  Groggily, I wondered why such a scent would be in my room.  Prying one eye open, I saw Logan sitting stark naked and cross-legged on the bear rug next to the bed, that same nasty cigar clamped in the side of his mouth.  Clearly, he had been watching me while I slept.

“Guten Morgen, mein Freund,” he said.

“Guten Morgen,” I replied, still half asleep.

By now I had begun to realize where I was, and what had happened.  Had I really slept all night in his arms?!  I sat up in sudden alarm.

“I – I’m sorry about last night, Logan.  I’m so ashamed.  I don’t know vhy that happened.  I never –”

He raised one hand to stop me.  “Not a problem, buddy,” he said, shifting his cigar to the other side of his mouth.  “The same thing happened to me the first time someone treated me with kindness and caring, after a long time of hurt.”


He looked so damn good sitting there on the bed in nothing but his fur.  I was in no hurry to have him leave, so I decided to take this opportunity to get him to talk to me.  “You asked me a question last night.  Fair enough if I ask you something now?”

“Vell, ja, depending on vhat it is,” he replied warily.

  “Nothing so terribly difficult,” I assured him, taking the cigar out of my mouth and putting it down in the ashtray.  “You said you were here to get revenge, right?”

“Ja.  And I think it might be about time I got some help in that regard from X-Force.”

“I guess we do owe you one by now, don’t we?” I said, giving him a brief nod.  “But is that all you want?  Truly?”

“Vhy not?”  He hesitated, maybe due to the unsettled look I gave him.  “Your Kurt vouldn’t have approved of that, vould he?”

“I know for damn sure he wouldn’t.  He was more into understanding and forgiveness.”

“In that case, he vould not have lasted long in my vorld.”

“He didn’t last all that long in my world either.  At least it didn’t seem that way to me.”   

“Vhat happened to him?”

“You mean how did he die?”


“He sacrificed his life to save a young woman that he believed would mean a lot to the future of mutants.”

“You don’t sound too sure of that part about the future.”

I shook my head.  “I’m not.  He’s gone.  The world hasn’t changed much.”

“Vould you give me the details of his death, or vould that be asking too much?”

“Ya really wanna know?”

“Ja.  Bitte.”

So I told him, all the way from the beginning, when we realized no new mutants were being born, up to that last message he’d sent me via Hope.*

An uncomfortable silence seemed to hang between us as I finished.  I knew how I wanted to break that silence, but I wasn’t sure how Darkholme would take it.  Well, let him take it as he would.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Can I ask ya somethin’ more, something that’s been bothering me ever since then?  Something very important to me?”

“Ja. Go ahead.”

“I can’t help but wonder if Kurt didn’t have to die the way he did, since he could have gotten Hope out of danger just as well by ‘porting her from behind, instead of getting between her and Bastion.”  I stared down at the ashtray in front of me, watching a thin line of smoke rise from the almost-dead cigar, steeling myself to go on.  “I think – I hope -- he knew full well what he was doing, and that there wasn’t any other way.  After all, he’s the one who knows best about what he can or can’t do with his teleporting ability.  He wouldn’t have done what he did if he thought he could have saved her any other way.” 

I stopped, took a deep breath, then forced myself to continue.  “But sometimes I think he really did it because he wanted to die.  So who better to ask than someone with the same ability?”  I had to stop again, as I tried to get my thoughts in order.  Did I really want to know this, or would I be better off not knowing?

“Could it have been something I did that drove him to it?  The way I killed that captive when it wasn’t necessary, and Scott backed me up about making us into killers?”  Would Darkholme be able to understand how I felt about that?  No use guessing, got to tell him.  “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but X-23 had just killed the other captive, and I sorta felt I had to back her up, if that makes any sense to you.”  I thought I saw him nod very slightly.  It gave me the courage to go on.  “Killing like that is against my own code of conduct.  What can I say to justify it?  Nothing.  I don’t know if there’s a heaven, but I’ve seen Hell and I know I deserve no better.  I’d take Laura’s share of the guilt on myself if I could, but that’s impossible.”

I hung my head, to hide the grief on my face.

“Logan,” he asked tentatively, “vhat is your code of conduct?”

That was easy.  “It’s pretty simple, really.  Kurt knew what it was.  If a man comes at me with harsh words, I’ll meet him with words.  If he comes at me with fists, I’ll meet him with fists.  But if he pulls a gun, or threatens people I’m protectin’, I’ll meet him with my claws.”

“Sounds like justified self-defense to me.”

“Kurt said it was reasonable, logical, and justifiable.  But he also asked if that makes it right.”  I shrugged.  “I’ve never been able to answer that, but I’ve always tried to live up to what I said as best I could.  Until that time.”

I looked up at the one man I figured would know the answer to the question that haunted me, forcing myself to meet his strange red-glowing eyes.  “He loved me, Darkholme, and I let him down.  Did that disillusion him about me, and about life as an X-Man? What do you think? Was it my fault?  Did he do it deliberately?  Did he die hating me?”


 I had never expected to see such a look of desolate intensity on Logan’s face.  His voice was actually shaking as he asked me that last question.

I thought back over the story he’d told me of his Kurt’s manner of death.  If it had been me, with only an instant to make my decision, what would I have done?  I wasn’t sure, but there was one thing I was sure about.

“Nein, he did not hate you.  Remember vhat you told me of his last vords, about his love for you never dying?  If he hated you, vould he have said such a thing?”*

“Uh, no, I guess not.  But did he have to die?”

“I cannot answer that for certain.  Who can truly know the mind of another, after all?  There is much about my own teleportation that I cannot analyze rationally, much less speculate about someone else’s.  My experience and expertise may very vell not be the same as his.  Besides, only he could have known how much strength remained to him at that moment, much less precisely vhat he could or could not have done. The timing for such a thing can be incredibly close.  You may be right to think it vas the only vay he could have saved Hope.”

“You’re not just sayin’ that to make me feel better, are ya?”

I shook my head gravely.  “Do I seem like the kind of man who vould distort the truth just to spare someone else’s feelings?”

“No, I guess not.  My Kurt might have, but not you.”  He knocked the ash off the end of his cigar and took in a deep lungful of smoke, looking at me quizzically.  Then he exhaled slowly.  “There’s more to it than just what I’ve told you.  Since Kurt died, I’ve – seen him a couple of times, inside my head.”

I was about to assure him that such a thing happens, after the death of someone close to you, when he continued.

“Sometimes, I’ve seen him outside my head also.  Am I crazy?  No, of course I’m crazy.  How could I not be, with all the shit that’s happened to my mind?  But am I crazier than usual?  Maybe I only imagined it.  You know, stress, wishful thinking? Or did I really see him?”

There was only one honest answer I could give him.  “You are – not crazy.  Or if you are, I am too.  I have encountered him also.  Last night.”

His entire body jerked in surprise.  “What did you see?  No, wait, let me tell you what I saw.  Just after I came inside you, I opened my eyes a little, meaning to look at your face, and I caught a glimpse of Kurt standing by the bed, smiling, with one hand on your shoulder.”

I nodded.  “He vas there.  I felt his hand and heard his voice.” 

“You’re shittin’ me!”

“I do not shit people.”

He turned white as the sheet on his bed.  I almost thought he was going to faint, when he asked barely audibly, “What did he say?”

I shook my head.  “That is betveen him and me.  But be assured he does not hate you.”

He seemed disappointed, but I didn’t feel I could share the words that I had heard.

“OK, I understand,” he replied at last.  “It’s enough that you told me he was there.  At least I know I’m not imagining all this.”  He gave me a crooked grin.  “I was seriously beginning to doubt my already dubious sanity.”

Remembering the rage that had overwhelmed me as I fucked him and the reaction I had had after he treated me so gently later on, I could only smile as I told him,  “So vas I, mein Freund.  So vas I.”


We were staring at each other in mutual understanding when the overhead alarm went off.  It startled me so badly that I ended up clinging to the ceiling in the far corner of the room. 

Logan looked at me and laughed.  I leapt down to the floor and did the same.  He picked up my towel and dirty uniform and held it out to me.  “Hope you got a clean one in your room, buddy. Duty calls, and you’re gonna look awful silly wearing nothing but that damn towel.”


*If you haven’t already read it, see my story, HOPE, for an explanation.



 Was ist los?                  What’s wrong?

O mein Gott!  Was hab' ich getan!?               Oh God!  What have I done!?

Tut mir so leid, Logan!                   I’m so sorry, Logan!

Du musst dich nicht entschuldigen.                 You don't need to apologize.

Mir geht's gut.                   I’m OK.

Scheisse!             Shit!

Kümmere dich an ihn, bitte.          Take care of him, please

Guten Morgen, mein Freund.                 Good morning, my friend.



Comicverse – Single stories


The Monster



Story Arc based on Uncanny X-Force

 Der Doppelgänger


 Of Angry Elves and Mouthy Mercenaries


 Hinter Meine Masken (Behind My Masks)


 Vengeance Is Mine


 STORY ARC -- Movieverse

Morning Devotions

Something a Little Different

As the Twig is Bent

Pray for Us Sinners

With Nothing on My Tongue

You Win, Elf

Hell Hath No Fury

Let's Pretend








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