Chapter Text
The bar window broke, exposing the combatants and the establishment's fleeing patrons to the cold night air. Logan barely noticed; one didn't survive in the Canadian wilderness for as long as he had without developing some resistance to the cold.
Unfortunately, his assailant was similarly protected against the elements by experience. Victor Creed stepped over the window, not even sparing a glance for the shards of broken glass that sliced through fur coat and skin. The cuts healed over almost as soon as they formed, and Logan grimaced in disappointment. One fuckin' infection, maybe a nice shot a'hypothermia. That too much ta ask?
Sabretooth grinned predatorily, his fang-like canines glistening with saliva. "Make a wish, birthday boy," he snarled, grabbing his crotch lewdly. "Time t'blow out yer candle."
"Any candle you put near my goddamn mouth, ya fuckin' pervert, is gonna be drawn back a bloody stump!" the smaller man spat back. With a snikt and the glitter of metal in the wintry moonlight, he leapt backwards into the darkened alleyways, away from any innocent bystanders who could be caught in the crossfire of their skirmish. fully expecting Sabretooth to follow him, hoping that he didn't decide to grab a bystander and play the hostage game...
CLANG! The sound echoed in Logan's ears like a church bell, evoking feelings of salvation no religion had ever stirred within him. He watched Sabretooth reel backward, blink dazedly for a few moments, then collapse hard onto the ground as something sailed through the air, having ricocheted off his thick, but decidedly non-adamantium-plated, skull.
Captain America caught his shield with the barest hint of effort, and stepped into the streetlights, looking around anxiously. "Logan?"
Logan stumbled out of the shadows, wiping the blood from the battle off his face as best he could. His healing factor was doing its job, but it was always rougher after a bout with Creed. "Thanks fer the backup, Rogers," he said, managing a smirk. "Think I chipped a nail back there."
If the soldier noticed the sarcasm in his friend's voice, he let it slide. The feral man was swaying, almost as if he were drunk, and in other crcumstances Steve would have believed it. But aside from not smelling the alcohol on his breath, Steve knew there were two days out of the year Logan abstained, one out of respect for someone long gone, and one because he needed as much of an edge as he could get against an annual tradition.
"How'd ya know where ta find me?" Logan finally asked, leaning heavily on Cap's shoulder for support. Steve put an arm around his shoulder and braced the other against his expansive barrel chest, trying to ignore the crinkling of the coarse dark hair, the warmth of the firm muscles underneath.
This is the part where you say something, Rogers. "You...you have a history. Every year, same day. There's a fight between the two of you. I might not be an ace detective or a whiz with numbers like Tony or Richards, but the pattern isn't hard to put together."
Wolverine snorted weakly. "So ya figured me out. Congrats."
"Mostly," Steve interjected. "What I don't know is, why today?"
"Now that..." Logan began, holding up a hand, but before he could finish his sentence, the X-Man pitched forward, and only Steve's augmented reflexes and strength kept his face from a nasty meeting with the pavement.
He's exhausted. Healing factor's taking its toll, and I'd lay odds that he hasn't slept much in the last 24 hours either.Only one thing to do, the Captain thought. Half-supporting, half-dragging the insensible mutant along with him, he started the long and arduous process of trying to hail a cab in New York City.
~*~
Logan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee being brewed, the feel of crisp, freshly-laundered linen sheets. When he opened his eyes, his first thought regarding his location was swanky hotel room, but then he saw a wall full of old, framed World War 2 news clippings and team photos of the Avengers, and despite the unnatural tidiness of the place, he figured out exactly where he was.
Rogers' place. He blinked in confusion as his head cleared. Wait, Rogers has a place? Captain A-fuckin'-merica, poster boy fer the Avengers, don't shack up at the tower with Stark an' the bunch?
"It turns out, some investments I made in the 40s panned out while I was in the ice," Steve said as he came in, bringing Logan what looked like breakfast in bed. The smells of sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast seeped into his keen mutant nostrils, and his mutant stomach gave a very loud mutant growl. The Captain chuckled at the sound. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Logan sat up, the sheet falling off his bare chest, and only then realized he was completely naked. "Rogers...did you...?"
Steve shrugged. "Everything you had was a litle...rank. And bloody. And torn. Fortunately, my mother taught me how to do all the basic domestic chores when I was a boy, and Tony gave me a machine last Christmas that practically does all the laundry itself."
Logan didn't have the heart to tell Steve that a washing machine wasn't exactly cutting-edge, but then Steve sat in the chair beside him while he ate, and Logan had ample opportunity to take in the tightness of the man's crisp white undershirt, the bulge of his pectoral muscles beneath, and the shape his matching white boxer-briefs took as they hugged ever curve and plane of his buttocks and bulge. He found himself licking his lips automatically, his dark brown eyes fixated on the sight of Captain America in his underwear.
Steve blushed when he caught where Logan was looking. "You know...Sabretooth attacked you around midnight. It's about 1 in the afternoon now. So by all accounts, it's still your birthday."
Logan was brought back down to earth by that comment and he shrugged. "When you've had as many of 'em as me, ya sorta forget ta give a shit. I don't even know how old I am anymore. Only thing this day means ta me is more hassles from Creed."
"What if..." Steve started, then cleared his throat. "What if it didn't have to be that way?"
Logan looked up and cocked his head. "Whaddaya mean?" His senses were giving him a very clear message as to what the Captain meant. His hormones were soaking the air as if he'd been running a marathon with a hard-on, and his underwear wasn't even tented yet. Smells like that serum did more than the docs were willin' ta let out.
Steve set Logan's tray aside, and crawled onto the bed with him, pushing the sheets off his nude body. "Amazing..." he murmured. "All those bruises, the cuts and scrapes...they're all gone." He leaned down and kissed the cleft of the hairier man's pectoral muscles, his tongue running along the full length of it.
Logan found himself responding in kind, a hand running through Steve's fine blond hair as he hardened under the handsome Captain's ministrations. "Fuck...I oughta get my ass rescued more often." He hissed a sharp intake of breath through his teeth as Steve's tongue found a nipple, and his meaty fingers hooked around the waistband of Steve's underwear and yanked, hard, exposing the taller man's red, thick cock and low-hanging balls, covered in so fine a coat of hair it almost looked like they'd been shaved.
"So what do you want for your birthday, big guy?" Steve asked with a lopsided grin. Logan pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing their erections together as his sex brain took over.
"I want," he growled, his voice low and intense, "ta see you rub up against me. Ta watch you fuckin' grind yer cock against mine till we both spurt all over ourselves. I wanna memorize every fuckin' detail of yer face when yer cummin', so I can jack off to it for-fuckin'-ever. I wanna kiss ya right when ya cum,swallow yer scream when ya blow yer load all over me." His hips were already starting to move as he spoke, hands clutching Steve's perfectly shaped ass as both men's eyes took on the same deep, primal hunger.
"It'd be an honor, a privilege..." Steve let out a moan of sudden, desperate need. "...and a goddamn pleasure."
Logan chuckled. "Well, how 'bout that," he murmured, his balls beginning to churn in their sac, "I got Steve Rogers ta cuss."
"You'll...oh Christ!...get me to do more than that if you keep this up," the soldier panted.
"That's the plan, stud."
The two men, one completely naked, the other wearing only the tightest of white T-Shirts, writhed and ground against each other for what felt like an eternity. Steve's shirt became soaked with sweat and precum as Logan ran his hands up and down his back, ass, and thighs, occasionally diving in between the perfect half-mounds to tease the cleft and pucker he found there. Steve kept licking and sucking at Logan's flesh, sometimes along his neck and shoulders, sometimes diving back into his deep, hairy chest. One particularly delectable thrust of the wild man's hips made the Captain bite down hard on his collarbone, leaving bright red marks that, strangely, didn't fade the minute his teeth left them. Rather than pain, the bite elicited a deep moan of ecstatic pleasure from Logan, and a few more perfectly aimed thrusts of the two men against each other made Steve do it again, and again.
It went on forever, both men thrusting and rutting, neither having to hold back. They were caught up in the perfect, intoxicating sensuality of the moment, and in their long-held lust for each other.
Logan was surprised when he felt the buildup in his balls first, the explosion of energy from his hips and belly all the way down his cock that was followed with a gush of his male essence all over Steve's shirt, and the underside of his chiseled chin. The force of his orgasm tore a roaring scream of ecstasy from his throat, which was quickly swallowed by the taller man's mouth as he kissed him frenetically, passionately, holding on to his hairy, compact body for dear life as he bucked his hips wildly, drenched with sweat and gasping for breath, until finally he too let out a wailing moan of completion and spent himself all over Logan's torso, his seed glittering pearlescence in Logan's jet-black body fur.
The two men collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap, chests heaving, faces flushed. As he caught his breath, Logan found himself doing something he thought he'd forgotten how to do for a long time: He was laughing.
"I take it," Steve managed as he raised his head with a grin, "you'll have better reasons to remember this birthday than Creed now?"
Still laughing, Logan looked out the window to where the sun was just starting to sink below the horizon. "It's a start," he managed at last. "We still got a few hours left till midnight. Wanna help me make it more memorable?" To emphasize his point, he spread his legs beneath Steve, and reached down to grasp the base of his swiftly re-hardening cock.
Steve's grin shone with elation and warmth. "Soldier, I thought you'd never ask."
End Day 1
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