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I Might Like You

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Fight clubs are pretty much alike the world over, legal or not, and Logan has been to enough of them to know. He shouldn’t be here right now, he knows that, knows the Professor would be mad at him, knows Oro would give him that look. But he’s had a damned hard week and it’s all he can do not to put his money in and jump in the ring. Instead he gets a beer and sticks to the shadows, breathing in the stench of blood and testosterone and finally relaxing.

There’s a kid in the ring, whaling on some poor sap who was stupid enough to climb in there all bravado and no skill. The kid, he’s got skill. He’s moving with control and accuracy; his eyes are trained on the other man’s chest, gauging movement. This guy is damned good. The other sap is down and out and the kid is taking his winnings, but it’s clear in his body language that he’s nowhere near done, plenty more to work out. There is a lotta rage boilin in that kid. The kinda rage that could get someone killed pretty damned easy.

The kid went back to the locker rooms where the fighters could get cleaned up or warmed up or fucked up, and Logan followed.

“Nice moves out there, kid,” he said without taking the cigar from his teeth.

The kid kept walking.

Logan cursed himself a fool, but the scent of the kid was on the air and it’s the kind of scent he can’t let go and so he followed back to the locker room. He tossed the butt of his cigar when he spoted the kid just standing in the middle of the shower room. “Most work out the aggression in the ring. You’re still full of it.”

“Fuck off,” the kid said softly, pushing his long hair out of the way. “Got nothing to do with you.”

“Could have.”

The kid gave a quick laugh, more of an amused exhale, “Sorry buddy, I’m not lookin for what you’re offerin.”

“You don’t know what I’m offerin yet. Could be I’m back here to pick a fight.”

“Not smellin like that you’re not.”

“True enough,” Logan admitted. “Had one hell of a day, good fuck would work the knots out. But a fight with someone who can keep up… wouldn’t turn that down either.”

A grin spread slowly across the kid’s face. “I think I might like you.”

Wolverine stepped right into the shower room, it was now the confines of their own ring. And the kid’s fist flashed out neat and quick and sharp and Logan let it land in his ribs just for the feel, just for that first touch.

The game was on. A dangerous game of deadly play between two skilled and seasoned fighters, they moved and counter-moved and spun and kicked and punched and landed some and glanced some off.

And then the kid got serious, finally letting loose the demons he’d held back out in the official ring, and Logan could have cried from the beauty of it. He did get hard really fast from the promise of it.

Then the kid landed a kick to the back of his head and he went down to all fours, only to have the kid follow through with a hard toe to the ribs. He rolled with it and landed on his back on the tile.

The kid was on him then, straddling him at the hip, heedless of the hardness there as he pounded Logan’s face in a way that would reduce anyone else to nothing so much as a pile of meat. He felt the skin on his cheek tear, saw the quick confusion in the kid’s eyes.

He took the opportunity to roll them, to land on top of the kid, nestled up against his dick; and no matter what the kid had said, he was just as hard as Logan. He felt his cheek knit itself back together and leaned in really close, pinned the kid’s hands above his head. “Who the hell told you to stop?”

Strong legs were suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him in.

“Seems I might have changed my mind.”

“How do you want it?” Logan’s lips were just barely touching the kid’s, the challenge was clear and the scent was heady and raw and fantastic.

“Hard and fast, is there any other way?”

“Not that I know of.” Logan leaned in and finally claimed that mouth, forcing his tongue in deep and truly tasting. He let out a small, involuntary growl. He let his hands wander over that tight, powerful body, felt the edge of nails digging into his back, his hair fisted his mouth plundered right back even as he pulled the kids pants off of him in a savage yank, only just managing not to cut them off.

He reached up to where he’d seen a bottle of conditioner, couldn’t reach, pulled out a single claw and stabbed the plastic to retrieve what he needed.

“The fuck is that?” the kid asked, barely pulling away from Logan’s mouth.

“Latest trend,” Logan said flippantly as he moved down to taste the skin of that stubbled neck in front of him, loving the way his own beard caught.

The kid grabbed his hand, “Bring it back,” he demanded.

Logan did as he was asked, extended his middle claw again, unsheathing it from his flesh slowly, so as not to scare the kid off. To his everlasting amusement, he felt the kid’s cock twitch against him. “You like that?”

The kid didn’t say anything, but his pheromones and his pupils were screaming at Logan’s senses. Then he took hold of Logan’s hand and licked the exposed blade.

“Careful, kid, that’s live as it gets.”

The kid gave a small smile, glint of something dangerous in his eyes, and showed his tongue and the small line of fresh blood popping out along its length. And then he was kissing Logan again and the taste was more than he could take.

Logan reached down and quickly slathered himself in the stolen conditioner, lined up and pushed in without so much as a finger for prep.

The air was filled with a primal, feral, passionate cry. The kid was gripping Logan tightly, kissing him harder with his bloody tongue, demanding even more.

Logan let himself loose into pounding into the kid, not caring that they sounded like a couple of wild animals, actually more than a little turned on by that. It was just what the kid had asked for, hard and fast; all teeth and nails and heat.

The kid smelled like sin, sunk his teeth into Logan’s shoulder hard enough that he smelled his own blood, and came hard, pulling his whole body taught and forcing Logan’s orgasm out of him from the feel and smell of it.

They pulled apart, rolled away and caught their breath, not bothering to so much as right their pants.

“I think I might like you a lot,” the kid said.

Logan smiled and felt like laughing for the first time in a long time. “Call me Logan.”

“Eliot.”