Russian Proxemics

BY : Blu
Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male > Logan/Piotr
Dragon prints: 3342
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.


3654 words

Part Two of 'Learning the Language'.

Characters copyright and property of Marvel Comics Group. Story and plot copyright 2002 Blu Fiction and property of Atomic Fantasy all rights reserved. Please contact the author for archive permission and feedback.


Piotr got up and stood nervously in front of the small class of students. He had been working hard for this and he wanted it to go right, but he was afraid he might mess up. Logan had coached him on how to speak slowly, how to stay clam and not think about the eyes looking at him, but it seemed to have all flown out the window as soon as he left his seat. The paper in his hands shook so badly that he thought everyone must notice it, and that only made him more self-conscious. He knew everyone in the room, but it didn't make a difference. These might be his teammates when they faught Morlocks, but just now they all seemed like vultures waiting for him to talk so they could laugh.

He gulped down some air, and began talking. The words came slow at first. He stumbled a little bit here and there. His face grew hot, but he forced it out of his mind and plowed on. After awhile, though, he forgot his nerves and fell into a rhythm. He started remembering the things Logan had told him when they had studied the night before, and he felt more comfortable. Before he knew it, his ten minutes was up and the class was clapping for him as he took his seat again.

"Very good, Piotr," the Professor said. "That was a very informative and well spoken speech about your homeland."

Piotr felt himself grin broadly. He couldn't help butl a l a little proud of himself for getting through it.


"I knew ya would - you knew ya would, fer that matter," Logan said. He gave Pete a smile and clapped him on the back as they walked down the hall after class. "After all, who's been teachin' ya!?" He put two thumbs behind his belt and strutted with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, but Piotr knew he was joking.

"Thanks, Logan," he replied.

"No problem." They walked in silence for a few moments and then Logan said: "Hey - since it's Friday an' all, I thought maybe ya might wanna do somethin'."

Piotr regarded his friend with a casual interest. "What?"

Logan shrugged. "I dunno. Any ideas? Whaddoya think you'd like?"

Piotr knew very well what he would like to do with his friend but he left that thought unsaid and instead smiled cordially. "You are the American, Logan. I don't know what people do for fun, here."

Logan gave him an eye and another smirk. "Well, gee, Petey - I don't think it'd be all THAT different from what the boys back home do, do you?"

Piotr shook his head with a grin, but in the back of his mind he wondered what kinds of boys Logan was referring to. In some cases it might be very different indeed. He bit back a chuckle and worked to keep his face from getting red at the tantalizing thoughts. "So - beer?" he asked, turning to Logan with a mischievous smile.

Logan returned it with a grunted laugh. "Yer underage. Who's gonna get it?"

"You?" Piotr asked tentatively.

Logan stroked his dark stubble with a thumb and index finger. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Piotr asked. This kind of almost-but-not-quite flirting had been going on between them for several weeks now. Since they had kissed that one night - and then not talked about it again - there had been this weird sort of play going on between them. Piotr thought it was fun and he was pretty sure Logan did, too.

"Yeah," the other man answered. They got to Piotr's door. "What'll ya give me for it?"

Piotr let out a laugh. "I see, Logan - some friend you are. Yes. Pick on poor Russian man and get what wantwant." He turned, not knowing what he should answer at Logan's request - knowing very much how badly he'd like to answer just one thing, but couldn't. Logan followed him in and sat down on his bed, making himself comfortable. The man stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and put his arms behind his head. He was dressed in his usual flannel and jeans outfit, snugly fit to his frame and outlining the musculature well. So well that Piotr had to quickly avert his eyes for fear he might accidentally 'fall' onto the man. "I have to get changed," he said to him matter of factly.

"So? Ain't like I never seen ya naked."

That was very true, and Piotr didn't have any reply to it - even though this situation was quickly becoming very different from a shower after training, and they both knew it - so he simply remained silent and began undoing his shirt. He slipped it over his head and Logan gave a whistle.

"Lookit that sexy man!" he said. He wore a sarcastic grin on his face and Piotr felt himself grow red despite his best efforts to hide it. Even at its highest, Logan's voice was still a gruff and low sort of smolder.

"You wish you could have this," he joked back, smacking his hand to his backside. Logan didn't say anything, just kept smiling with that smirk he wore so often, like he knew every thought in Piotr's head. Piotr undressed in front of the man and pulled on some more comfortable clothes than he had worn for his presentation. He could feel Logan's eyes on his back as he dressed. He liked the idea, he had to admit, but the thought scared him a little bit, too. He turned back around. "Was this enough?"


"Payment. For beer."

Logan scratched an index finger idly along his chin. "Hmmm. Maybe. I guess I'll let ya slide - for now."


"So - how much can ya drink, big man?" Logan said challengingly. He gave him a dark eye from under the brim of his beat up black hat, the one he always wore. They were sitting in a bar not far from campus, on wooden stools that felt a little too small for Piotr's comfort, but the atmosphere was nice. Dark and not too noisy nor too quiet, it reminded Piotr of the small pub his father had taken him to when he was a boy. Logan wasn't his father, though.

"A lot," he said with a grin. "More than you."

Logan guffawed. "That'll be the day, tin man. That'll be the day!"

"Want to see?"

Logan eyed him seriously. "You can't beat me. I got this ol' healin' factor, don't forget. Ain't never been drank under the table - haven't ever been beat at any games, either." He held up a shot glass, his third of the last 20 minutes, and gulped it down. Bourbon, straight up. Piotr preferred vodka, of course. He held up his own glass, with a smile, and gulped it down. Logan gave him that infamous wicked grin that Piotr had gotten so used to over the past several weeks. "Alright then. Bring it on."


By the time they left the bar - it didn't look so small to Piotr. In fact, it didn't look much of anything except a blur of orange and brown lights mixed with the occassional face in front of him as he stumbled alongside Logan. The man was as normal as he ever was, or so it seemed to Piotr, although it did occur to him that mjaybe it was just that he was drunk and didn't notice Logan being drunk. Occassionally, on the way back to the motorcycle, he would stumble and Logan would catch him and pull him up, and he would mumble something to him and Logan would grunt.

"Told ya not ta try," he said after Piotr had nearly fallen to the ground for the third time in 10 steps.

"I know. But." He sturggled for the words and then broke into a string of Russian before remembering to speak English again.

"What the hell ya just say?"

"Sorry. Forgot. You. Thanks for helping me."

"Don't mention it. Used ta helpin' out drunks." Logan grinned at him. "One of the advatages to bein' a man with no age. ya don't think this is the first time I've snuck one o' ya kids inta threre do ya?" He laughed.

"No," Piotr said, "I mean - thanks for ... for ... the lessons. Teaching me. Helping me learn ... language." He felt like an idiot - he certainly couldn't speak it very well at the moment! "Thanks," he said again, just to make sure Logan knew.

The other man glanced at him but didn't say anything. He put an arm around Piotr's back and then put a strong hand around his wrist, supporting him. He grunted once but otherwise didn't complain about the weight. They finally got to the motorcycle, a walk which had seemed like it had taken forever, to Piotr's mind. Logan leaned him over the big leather seat.

"Can ya climb on?" he asked. Logan still had his hand on Piotr's back. It was rubbing in small circles at the base of his spine. Piotr could feel the fingers through the layer of flannel and the undershirt he was wearing. He realized he had his eyes closed and hadn't answered. He pulled himself up.

"Ya," he answered. He somehow managed to get a leg over the seat and slide the rest of himself onto it. Logan climbed on in front of him.

"Put your arms around me - tight. I don't want ya fallin' off. I'd have a harder time explainin' that ta Charlie. 'By the way Chuck, last night I took Petey to a bar and got 'im smashed, and then he fell off my bike on the way home.'" He turned around and gave Piotr a smirk. "So do what I tell ya and hold on tight." Piotr felt the man put his hand on his own, and pull it around his waist.

"Don't worry. I hold. Tight."

He did hold on tight. The whole way back he held on. His head kept drooping forward no matter how hard he tried to keep it held up, so he finally just let it go and rested it on the back of Logan's shoulders. Logan was warm against him. He let his fingers find their way inside the partly opened leather jacket the man had on, and it was even warmer. He let one finger snake its way in between the buttons and touch Logan's skin, not really aware of what he was doing. When he realized it, he pulled his hand back and hoped the man hadn't felt it.


They got back without saying any more to eachother. Piotr wasn't feeling as drunk as he had felt, but he was tired. Logan helped him up the stairs to his third-floor room despite his protests.

"Shut it," he growled. "Ya need someone ta help ya an' right now I'm the only one available. Sides - I ain't about ta wake up anyone havin' you make noise and get us both busted."

"Thank you, my friend," Piotr said to him again.

When they got to his room, Logan helped him through the door. The room was dark, the curtains blowing open in a late-night breeze and a faint light coming through the window. His bed was on the far side of the room. They made their way over to it, only a walk of about 10 feet but by the time they reached it Piotr collapsed onto the soft mattress with a groan.

"Pete," Logan said. "Pete." A hand came down and shook him gently. "Ya gotta get undressed."

Piotr sighed, not opening his eyes. "I can sleep. In clothes."

"No," Logan said, more insistently, "you won't be comfortable. Sides. It's not good for ya."

Piotr popped an eye open. "Ok," he said. He struggled to sit up, but managed it, and then reached down for his foot. And lost his balance, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a thud. Logan was standing over him and laughing - not meanly, just laughing. He reached down and helped Piotr back up to the bed.

"You ok?" he asked through chuckles.

Piotr gave him a big smile in return. "Ja, comrade."

"Here. Lemme help ya. Lay back down. You might hurt yerself again." Still chuckling, Logan removed Piotr's shoes. The man's strong hands felt good as they brushed over each foot when the shoe was pulled off of it. The Logan was leaning over him. Piotr could still smell the alcohol on his breath even though Logan didn't even seem drunk in the least. Fingers undid the buttons on his shirt, and then an arm scooped around his back and lifted him off the bed slightly, slipping off first one sleeve, then the other until the whole shirt was gone. And then Logan climbed partly onto the bed, putting his knee right between Piotr's thighs - it reminded him of the day they had been out in the garage. Logan slipped off the white undershirt. "Damn, Ruskie."

"What?" Piotr was startled.

"Just big is all."

"Oh. Glad you like."

Logan was quiet. "I gotta get yer pants off." He said it so seriously that for a moment Piotr wasn't sure how he meant it. No. It wasn't that. He was drunk. He just was imagining things he wanted to imagine. Logan would never ... would he? Suddenly, despite the alcohol and his foggy mind - Piotr was consciously aware of the growing tightness of his jeans, and he felt embarrassed.

"No - Logan you do not-"

Logan put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down to the bed, looking at him seriously. His voice was gruff. "Yes. I do. Somethin's been goin' on between us since day one - you know it an' I know it. I don't wanna play anymore. An' if my nose isn't messed up from all the alcohol in the air ... I ain't wrong."

Piotr didn't know what he should say. He didn't know what was going on. It was a little frightening and a little exciting, and it was making him feel good. Maybe that was just the alcohol. He looked at Logan again. The man wasn't smiling - he wasn't kidding, Piotr realized. He lowered himself back to the bed on his elbows, and then laid down flat. "Ok," he said. He shut his eyes. He remembered the first night they had studied together.


Logan trailed fingers down his chest. Piotr was smooth - he kept himself shaved nearly all over. The skin was pale; white and silk and soft. He let his hand trace the outlines of the hard muscles. Let one finger hand a second on a small dark nipple, felt it get hard at the touch. Piotr's eyes were shut, his hands were at his sides. Logan brushed his fingertips to the forearm at his right, then set his whole hand down on the heavy muscle, and stroked up the arm to the bicep, and then around the shoulder. He touched the man's neck lightly, cupped his chin in his hand, brushing the stubble with his thumb and index finger.

Logan stood up. He took off his jacket, slipped off his boots, undid his shirt and took that off, too. He remembered the way Piotr's fingers had slipped inside it when they had been riding back - and how badly he'd wanted to take the man's hand in his own and let it explore him.

He undid his zipper and pushed his jeans down, stepping out of them. He was hard. It stood straight in the dark, silhoutted by the faint light from the outside lamp, diffused by the curtains. He climbed back onto the bed, next to the man who was so much bigger than him - and uch uch more innocent than him. He straddled the man, pulling off his jeans in a qucik motion and then climbing atop him. He could feel how hard Piotr was, could feel the heat underneath him.

He leaned down. His heart was racing. He smiled to himself. It was good to know that even after all the forgotten memories he could still remember this. He touched his rough lips to Piotr's soft one's - touched his bearded stubble to Piotr's nearly smooth face. They kissed lightly at first - nibbling on lips and feeling one another, tentatively pressing in and then retreating. Piotr put his arms around Logan's body and let out a very faint noise that Logan's ears could clearly hear. He let one arm supprt himself while he put the other hand to Piotr's side, stroking up and down the oblique muscle, feeling it ripple and tense. Piotr laughed and Logan thought that, at that moment, it was the best sound he'd ever heard.

He kissed the man harder, then, and Piotr let him in. He let his weight fall down on the man more fully, felt their erections press together, warm and hard and thick. He moved his mouth from Piotr's and ran his tongue down the man's chest, stopping at each nipple and running it around in a circle before lightly biting the small, hard flesh with his teeth. Piotr shifted underneath him and Logan pressed to him even harder, in response. Piotr let out a soft groan in deep tones. Logan pulled back and looked at him.

"Is this alright?" he asked quietly. Piotr opened his eyes.

"It's good, Logan." They kissed again. Logan took Piotr in his hand and stroked him gently, rubbing his thumb to the tip and getting it wet, feeling the slickness on his skin. He moved down and took him in his mouth. The head was warm and firm. Piotr groaned louder when Logan pushed down on it. He carefully moved down, conscious of his sharp incisors. He felt it slide to the back of his throat, could taste the sweet liquid in his mouth. It was like a drug - intoxicating. His heightened senses picked up everything. The texture of Piotr's skin, the taste of him in his mouth, the heat from him, the scent of his soap from that morning. His chin pressed to a soft, smooth scrotum. Piotr said something in Russian, Logan guess he was swearing - it was a short word, sharp and quick and filled with emotion - the man thrusted his hips slightly, and Logan pressed his chin into the smooth pair again. He put one hand around them, cupping them. They were surprisingly cool. Piotr had his hands around Logan, was urging him forward, back up. "Not yet," the Russian said. "I want to show you ..."

The rest of the words were lost as Piotr slid down under him and put two muscled arms around Logan, one on his lower back and the other crossing over his backside, both bringing him down, pushing him in. He felt the warmth like a wave washing over him. He tried to go slow at first, but Piotr was pushing him down, guiding him in the rhythm, and it felt so good. Logan could ffel his own balls lightly dragging against the man's chin - and that felt good. He could feel Piotr's thick arms, like steel, around him, hot and strong - and that felt good.

"Hold on," he grunted out - he was surprised at how lost his own voice sounded. He bent down, kissed Piotr hard, again. "I want ta make you cum, Petey," he said. he looked into the other man's eyes, questioning. Piotr nodded.


Logan's cock in his mouth felt good. God it felt good. Piotr couldn't even comprehend all the things going through his head - it was all just one big mess and one big jumble of crazy need and desire and longing. Logan was turned the other way, sucking on him. He was getting close. Piotr could feel himself getting tense, could feel the muscles in his arms getting tighter, his thighs straining. His toes stretching. He gripped Logan's ass with his hands and let his forearms rest on the man's legs.


Almost there. Almost. There. It exploded without any kind of warning. He felt the hot rush and the tingle race through him, felt his body stiffen, shudder hard. His senses were overwhelmed. His hearing went crazy. He could hear the buzzthe the light outside, the sound of the breeze, the flap of the curtains, the traffic 3 miles away on some back road. Piotr cock in his mouth was so hard. Harder than he thought anything could be. He tasted the man on his tongue, the thick fluid filling his mouth even as he knew Piotr was tasting him. Piotr's arms were holding him, locking his hips to Piotr's face - not letting go.


Logan tasted good. It wasn't like he thought it would be. He didn't feel sick. He didn't want to gag. He didn't hate himself. All he wanted moremore. He didn't want to let the man go. He smelled so good. Felt so good. He was warm. Like that first night they had touched. Warm like that.


Logan watched Piotr finally drift off to sleep. He watched the man's face change, from smiling to peaceful to snoring.

"Sweet dreams, Ruskie," he said. He looked at him for a long time more, until he himself grew tired. He thought he should go. Piotr's arms were wrapped around him, one resting across his furry stomach and the other up at his neck.

He put his hand around the large man's back, cradling him against his chest. He could feel his breath. He chuckled to himself, getting an idea of how to explain the concept of proxemics to Piotr.


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