Work Text:
Nightcrawler liked doing things for people. He made a large pot of coffee in the mansion every morning, so that the smells wafted appealingly through the hallways. He almost always went straight for the weakest victims at a scene, freeing them, helping them to safety, or shielding them with his body as needed. He also went out of his way during sex to ensure that his lover’s needs were met long before his own.
It made for some particularly good sex, Wolverine thought. He loved having Kurt service him whenever he was in the mood, those mischievous dark eyes flashing affectionately at him all the while. But it was also a bit frustrating. Logan preferred to be in charge in a fight. He especially loved to be in charge in the bedroom—or under the island in the kitchen or on the sofa in the living room or in the corner of the garage or wherever else he happened to find himself when the mood struck. And sometimes being in charge meant making his lover come first. But he never got the chance to do that with Nightcrawler.
At least, not until tonight.
Naked, Nightcrawler lay on his back, spread eagle on the bed. Scarves bound his wrists to opposite ends of the headboard and scarves around his ankles tied those to the posts at the bottom corners of the bed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t wriggle free. Wolverine finished tying them and grinned down at the fuzzy blue elf. This was going to be good. “There,” he said, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Now you’re mine, ‘Crawler.”
Wolverine sat between the elf’s legs, lazily stroking a furry cock and balls, thinking. Now that he could do anything, he had so many choices laid before him. He leaned forward, palms digging into the sheets under his weight. His mouth found Nightcrawler’s mouth, lapping, enveloping, kissing messily. Nightcrawler kissed back, just as eagerly though slightly more reservedly, and it was only when Wolverine was just about lost in the sensation, his cock hardening against the man’s soft, comforting fur, that he realized something else was moving beneath him.
He sat up, glancing behind him at the restraints and then in front of him. Tingles of pleasure shot through his crotch. Wolverine looked down to see Kurt’s tail wrapped like a corkscrew around his cock. The tail. He’d forgotten about the tail. The tail that encompassed his cock in tight warmth. The tail that, very slowly, pulled back, sliding up and then down his shaft. The spade tip caressed his balls so magnificently. Wolverine groaned in pleasure.
And then, suddenly, the sensation was gone. And a second later, Nightcrawler was sitting up, arms wrapped around Wolverine, holding him close, just the way he liked—no, craved. Kurt nuzzled and kissed his neck, the soft warmth and hot, wet tongue combining to make Wolverine groan again. “’Crawler… you were…” The telltale smell of sulfur struck his nose.
“Did you really zink zat vould hold me?” Nightcrawler’s tail moved around and slid down between Wolverine’s ass cheeks, forcing him even closer against Nightcrawler’s body.
Somewhere, deep down, Wolverine felt like he should be annoyed at the man. But right now he didn’t care. His hard, leaking cock thrust against the soft fur until he came with such intense pleasure he was sure everyone from there to the end of the hallway could hear his moan.
He was vaguely aware of Kurt coming as well, cradling Wolverine in his arms and kissing him as he did so. He was fairly certain Kurt grinned through the whole thing, even as he cleaned them both up. And he was absolutely certain that, when it was over, he ‘ported right back into place on the bed, hands and ankles in the makeshift albeit useless restraints.
Exhausted, Wolverine could only chuckle and lie down at his side, cheek on the man’s furry chest.