The Healing Process

Title: Contagious
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The relationship takes a turn. OOC-ness getting worse.
Authors Notes: Dendey; I never could deny a cry of hunger. How about another helping? Hope this one fills you up. Kitty Devoire; Well, Hank needed to get out his aggression somehow. Gimpy; Yes, I have a soft spot for Logan hurt. A brick wall can only take so much damage before it too, crumbles. EasterofFlesh; I do apologize for my slow updates. My concentration isn't what it used to be.
I couldn't help my impulse to change Hank's and Logan's personalities...don't hate me. *cringes from eventual onslaught* This chapter was written under the influence of drugs and Rammstein's "Nebel"; the last phrase of lyrics from the song appear at the end.

"Look alive people! We're getting killed out here! Logan you need to pick up the pace!"

Hank grunted while dodging rays from another robot and keeping an ear as well as an eye tuned to the aforementioned man currently being read the riot act. Nothing of substantial shocking power in that scenerio. Logan seemed to be all but plagued by verbal barrages left and right from their team leader.

The Wolverine appeared to be just a bit, lackluster, throughout the drill. True, he was slicing and dicing just as voraciously as ever but there seemed to be a slight drag in his feet. Normally Logan would be almost proud of the collateral damage he was capable of but now he just appeared to be going through the motions.

"Alright that's it, computer, end simulation." Scott ordered sharply.

The scene disintegrated around them until the team was once again standing in the middle of the monstrous dome called the danger room. Scott wasted no time in striding directly toward Logan to stand mere inches from his face.

"You wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you?" Summers demanded. "We've run this simulation a million times and yet, you can't seem to keep up."

Logan returned Scott's...glare...with equal fire. "Prob'ly cause we run the simulation a million fuckin' times and I ain't interested." He growled.

About this time Ororo stepped forward and made her presence known. "Perhaps it would be wise to take a break."

Scott whirled on the weather witch and shook his head. "Oh no, no one goes anywhere until we can make it through one program successfully." Off to the side, there was an exaggerated groan from Bobby.

"Aint ya ever heard a pickin' yer battles Slim? We can always do this some other time; not like the danger room's goin' anywhere." Logan grumbled while pulling a cigar almost magically out of thin air and clamped it between his teeth.

A deep frown set itself on Scott's face. "That's exactly what I would expect to hear from you Logan. You have never had any sort of dedication. Hell, you barely feign tolerance for anything that doesn't involve sex, booze and cigars!"

"Scott, that is quite enough!" Hank barked in an uncharacteristic tone. There was a stunned silence from Scott before his face began to color with rage.

"Stop trying to defend him Beast. The guy couldn't care less for anything outside of immediate gratification and he knows it." Cyclops spat.

Hank was moving before he realized it and rather quickly had a hand to Scott's throat and was lifting him into the air. His voice dropped to a dangerous low and he hissed out angrily, "I said that is enough."

McCoy released the team leader after a second and the man crumpled to his knees in a coughing fit. Bobby stared at his friend with a dumbstruck expression while Logan looked curiously intrigued. Not far away, Ororo stood by with an exasperated look before gliding forward to help Scott to his feet. Hank swept a gaze over all of them before giving a snort and turning on his heel toward the exit.
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For once, Hank decided to forego the lab and spend the remainder of the evening inside his room. By some great miracle, even Bobby was smart enough to not come asking questions.

Hank sighed deeply and set aside the book he had been reading. What was going on with him? Hank never behaved so adversely in his life, as far as he was aware. He had always made a conscious effort to stay out of other peoples business and most certainly never resort to any type of physical intervention unless brutally necessary. So, why did he feel it essential to handle Scott so violently?

Perhaps it was Summers' chosen target that had gotten Hank all worked up. Logan couldn't be expected to perform at his utmost best for a fairly routine exercise. Of course, this was Scott after all; the man was prone to be especially excrutiating when he had suffered personal humiliation. It was fairly well-known that their field leader had control issues; ones that would often cause the man to dole out punishment in any way, shape, or form.

Hank groaned and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of thinking too deeply. He sometimes loathed his tendencies to over-analyze a situation and immerse himself in all the different variables. Henry shifted on his bed into another comfortable position and tried to go back to his reading.

He never got much further in his book due to his over-stimulated mind telling him there was something he'd forgotten. He knew it was utterly ridiculous but it was inescapable, at least inside. Maybe some fresh air was in order; Hank really never got as much of that as he probably should. Everything else just seemed to be getting in the way.

Knowing there was really no other alternative, Hank discarded his book and climbed out of bed. A quick glance at the window told him it was just becoming twilight outside, one of McCoy's favorite times of the day. The doctor heaved a quick sigh and strode purposefully from his room for some much needed cleansing courtesy of mother nature herself.
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Once outside, Henry noticed the dusky sky was even more beautiful now that it was being experienced up close. The dusky rose coloring of the fading sun's rays just barely keeping above the treetops while the rest of the sky had darkened to midnight blues and black.

Hank inhaled the smell of nature and felt a curious tingle run through his body. Suddenly, the good doctor was stretching his toes and arching his back then dropping leisurely down into a crouched position. His nostrils flared as he took in the scents hanging in the air surrounding him from various points during the day. This helped to paint a sensory picture of any going ons at any time before he arrived.

Henry could smell the subtle waft of natural vanilla from the direction of the gardens; Ororo had recently been tending to her plants. Another sniff told him that Remy had joined her briefly then moved on. A cold nip that was practically Bobby's calling card had Hank cringing and he gave a sharp snort to clear away the offending burn.
When Hank again inhaled a new scent caught his attention and caused him to snap his head toward the direction it was coming from. The smell was warm, rich and bittersweetly musky, almost similar to Hank's own scent. Then, Hank recognized the aroma to be Logan's trademarked smell: cigars, metal, wood and damp earth; something Henry attributed with what a miner in the depths of the doctor's own beloved heartland would smell of on his arrival home.

A twinge of euphoria, like childhood back on the farm washed over Henry and he crouched back on his haunches before springing on all fours towards the woods. The nostalgic scent drove him far into the forest's core where it mixed with the bold promise of the wild. Hank couldn't remember when the last time was that he had felt this free.

McCoy came to an abrupt halt when the scent trail had begun to thicken into a cloud. He flattened his body against the ground and as quietly the panting wind Hank crept closer to the one creature contributing such a pleasant sensory indulgence.

Logan sat atop a partly fallen tree trunk in the lotus position, his brow furrowed in obvious concentration. He was actually trying to relax but his mind was being stubborn about the whole "Hank" issue.

The frown on Logan's face increased ten fold when the thought of Henry McCoy pushed to the forefront of his mind. It had been almost an entire week and Logan had yet to see the man outside of the occasional training sim. The feral absolutely refused to enter the lab unless deadly necessary which was exactly where the blue scientist had a tendency to disappear to.

Logan let out a frustrated groan and shifted, feeling the harsh scrape of bark through his meditation trousers. With his shoulders set, Logan took a cleansing breath and tried to let the warm darkness overcome him so it could drown out the whisper of heartache he refused to admit was there.

Wolverine had hoped with everything he had that the mutant doctor's curt dismissal of him from the lab all those days ago wasn't a rejection. Then, Henry had conjourned every excuse known to man to remain sealed off underground.

The session today helped prove to Logan that Hank held no interest in him as anything more than a teammate. A burden to handle when Xavier is away from the school, much the same treatment the canadian got from old fearless. This shouldn't have come as such a damn shock but for him, the pain of any loss was a frail-healing wound.

Holding up a lie like the Wolverine's loner persona was getting so unbelievably draining, it took everything the man had to keep from slipping. Logan so desperately needed to feel the strength of pack that he could barely sludge through his day anymore. It was an urge that was slowly tearing away at Logan's sanity and had him whirling in a constant state of loneliness.

Wolverine felt his shoulders slump and abruptly gave up on trying to concentrate on his meditation. He had let his hopes up too high and instead of preparing for the inevitable fall; Logan was actually stupid enough to believe that Hank wanted to have anything to do with him.

A harsh tension hit the feral in the chest until he was slouched over struggling to draw a breath. A steady thrumming rattled his entire head from the inside until everything was awash in a watery red tinge. He seemed to watch from somewhere outside his body as he slowly slid from his perch on the tree and plummeted headfirst for the rocky ground below, and then...a flash of blue blocked his view.
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Henry was aware of nothing as he leapt from his hiding place and flew toward Logan's falling form. Hank crashed heavily into the other man and then twisted his body so he would hit ground first. They were thrown into a bunch of low lying brush; the broken arms of the plant dug shallow scratches into the beast's arms and back as he skittered along the earth.

Finally, they came to a stop in a small clearing not far away with Hank's massive frame almost engulfing the teammate still clutched to his chest. The doctor recognized the awkward position they were now in and somewhat reluctantly, he eased his grip enough to allow Logan to pull free.

For Hank, it was a bit of a shock to feel the canadian draw closer to him when he had opened his arms. A hand grabbed a fistful of McCoy's blue pelt and gently pulled Logan even closer, his breath landing hot on Henry's chest.

The Doctor's eyes went wide when a new, headier smell reached his nostrils and caused the good doctor to instantly and painfully harden. He was barely made aware of the tiniest whimper and tensing of muscles from the man in his arms.

Hank couldn't stop tasting the air, that smell was so addictive. Soon, it made something inside of McCoy burn and started an ache that found him beginning to rut against Logan's hip; his lips pulled back and baring sharp canines.

Logan instantly understood the gesture and squirmed experimentally underneath the larger mutant. His actions were answered with a sharp growl and Hank making a lunge for his throat. In an instant, adrenaline hit and Logan gave the gentle doctor a ruthless shove back and sprung to a crouch.

The Beast tumbled a ways before righting himself and arching his back to expand his already colossal form. Wolverine growled a warning and unsheathed his claws to help drive home his point. Beast replied with a rumble of his own while he advanced slowly toward Wolverine, stirring a few clouds of dirt as he went.

As Beast drew closer the feral had begun to let out a few threatening barks while backing up only slightly. The blue mutant let out a deeper rumble and made a small leap forward, eating up some of the space between them. Wolverine snarled and lashed out with his teeth, catching the other animal in the shoulder and leaving a good sized gash.

Beast struck out with a blow of his own which knocked the canadian sideways and sent him stumbling a few feet. The Wolverine came right back with a flying leap to the blue creature's injured shoulder, embedding his teeth into the thick muscle.

McCoy let out a roar to do his name proud and grabbed the furry mutant by the nape of his neck to wrench him free of his shoulder. From there, it was only too easy to subdue the smaller man by trapping him against an old log while he struggled admirably.

Keeping his one hand to the back of Wolverine's neck, Beast lowered his muzzle to a spot on Logan's lower back and gave a sharp holding bite. The feral's head flew back and he drew a breath, all motion ceasing for the first time. A tight whine shot out and the hulking blue mutant was hit with another barrage of that wonderful scent from the now writhing canadian wild man.

The Beast's teeth gripped the skin between them tighter as his arousal hit the peak. Wolverine could smell the sharp spike in the air and let out another whine, dropping his head to bare his neck and raising his backside.

Blue eyes reflecting yellow in the waning daylight widened and with a hiss McCoy let go of the hold he had on the Wolverine's back to surge forward, draping his body over the other mutant's. Beast growled loudly when he felt his yet clothed member come in contact with the man's thigh, the body beneath him shuddering with the powerful sound.

A surge of energy spurred McCoy into using his free hand to quite literally rip the canadian's pants from his body. The action earned him a breathy moan of appreciation from Wolverine as he craned his neck to watch the Beast remove his own trunks with similar urgency.

A deep sound shook the Wolverine's body when the good doctor's erection finally sprung free and just brushed one side of his bare ass. The feral was forced to bite his lip to dampen a cry when he felt sharp claws pierce the skin on his shoulder and neck.

The man's valiant effort was however wasted when he felt McCoy's enormous cock begin to breech him. A scream was torn forth and the Wolverine's body jerked mightily as it instinctively tried to pull away from the intrusion.

The iron grip at the back of Wolverine's neck only tightened until he was quivering from a desperate combination of pain and need. His fingers pulled up chunks of dirt and moss and he panted in small lungfuls of rotted wood. A dusting of sweat broke across his back and collected together into a single drop which rolled down along the spine with McCoy watching the whole way.

The Beast snorted and deciding that Wolverine had been given enough time he thrust forward, sinking himself into the clenching passage without further pause. A flowering glow spread behind the scientist's slanted eyes and a stuttered howl rang through the darkening forest.

The Wolverine joined in with a call of his own as the other man began a harsh tempo, driving against him while keeping him pinned down against the log. The bark scraped lightly against the feral's own neglected arousal with every motion from the Beast and it started to slowly drive the canadian wild. His body shuddered and he found himself making sounds he thought he would never hear again, sounds from another life.

Pitiful whines and yelps blended in with possessive grunts from the doctor who bent down and replaced the hand at Wolverine's neck with his mouth. A submissive whimper was the only objection uttered when Beast bit into salty sweet skin, his sharp canines immediately drawing blood.

With this coppery taste on his tongue, McCoy felt himself grow more brutal and he was soon pounding unforgivingly into the body beneath him. However, the crueller he became, the more receptive the Wolverine seemed to act and for a reason he couldn't name this only made Beast more uncontrolled.

Soon, Wolverine went rigid and let out a groan that morphed quickly into a yell as he came hard, his body spasming around the other man's shaft. This failed to stall the blue haired X-man's assault on his teammate and instead the pace quickened even further as McCoy strained for release.

Logan turned his head and bit into his own bicep, screaming around torn flesh and blood as Hank continued to rail him relentlessly. It didn't take long for the tingle of a second orgasm to crest in the feral's body and he sobbed as his body became one constant sensation.

Henry listened to the streaming sounds of pleasure, pain and encouragement coming from such a normally stoic man. The Beast felt his body churn in reaction to the noise and was shortly taken aback by the arrival of his own orgasm after Logan broke a second time. He dropped his forehead onto Wolverine's back and roared his completion to the listening foliage.
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Wolverine cried out soundlessly at the feel of McCoy's powerful release inside him. He struggled to concentrate on the sting of his healing wounds and aching ass instead of the warm afterglow brought on by the rush of climax. At least losing the pain was something he could look forward to.

Later, he would deny the presence of tears; for now, he simply kept his head down and waited for Hank to return to his senses. It would all be over soon.

The last kiss was so long ago
the last kiss
he does not remember it anymore