YOU WIN, ELF (Revised Story List) free porn video

Translation of German words or phrases at the end. However, I have tried to make the meaning fairly clear in context.



YOU WIN, ELF




It is evening in late July. I am watching television in the common room along with several of the older students at the School. The movie is “Water for Elephants”, which takes place in a circus during the Great Depression. I am totally engrossed in the action, fascinated by this view of what an American circus was like in those days.

“Elf?”

At first, I pay no attention to the interruption. Then I realize whose voice it is that I just heard. “Logan?” My eyes fly to the doorway. “Logan!!! Mein Gott, it is you!!”

“In the flesh, darlin’.”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before I am off the sofa and in his arms. His hands grip my buttocks and he lifts me off the ground, as my legs wrap themselves around his hips. He spreads his legs and bends them slightly, ready to support my weight as my tail curls between his legs, then up and around both our waists, pulling us tightly together. The zipper of his motorcycle jacket is cold and rough against my thin t-shirt, but none of that is important. He is alive and well, and he is here with me again, after almost four months that felt like an eternity.

We clutch desperately at each other, mouths seeking, colliding, kissing, our hard cocks pressing and rocking against the taut denim of his jeans.

It is over almost before it has begun. My cum pumps out against him, soaking the front of my shorts. I can tell from his motions and the look on his face that he too has climaxed. We both laugh.

And then we realize we are standing there entwined in front of Kitty, Bobby, Rogue, and Peter.

“Aw, shit,” is all Logan has a chance to say before Rogue claps her hands delightedly and the others all join in, applauding us and cheering for the show we have just put on. I have the foolish urge to untangle myself from Logan and take a bow, but have the sense to teleport us up to our room instead.

At the very moment that we reappear in some desperately needed privacy, a terrible thought occurs to me. What if this is not Logan, but Mystique fooling me again? My blood runs cold. No! Not again!

Still clinging to him like a demented tick, I straighten my arms and push back a little, scrutinizing his face for anything that might betray an imposter.

“Elf? Why are you lookin’ at me like that? I thought you’d be overjoyed to see me again.”

“I am. But you must answer two questions before I vill believe it is really you.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I vill explain later. For now, just tell me vhat is the meaning of the scar on my penis.”

“Uh – three letters, standing for murder, sexual pleasure, and despair. Your reaction to killing Herr Grüber.”

“Ja, that is it.” I incline my head a little, so that my forehead is directly level with his eyes and point to the center of the design that is carved there, touching the part that has the general appearance of a spike. “And this one?”

“You never told me about that one, so how do ya expect me to know the meaning?”

I start to breathe again, as I pull myself up against him once again for a quick kiss.

“I assume that was the answer you wanted, huh?”

I nod, letting him loose and jumping down out of his arms.

“Ack, Elf, you’ve made a mess of my pants,” he scolds, looking down at the damp spot on the front of his crotch.

“And you have made a worse mess of your pants from the inside. Do not blame me for that.”

“Why not? It’s your fault for jumping on me. You damn near knocked me over, ya know.”

“Hmph!” I retort. “The day I can knock you down that easily it vill be time for you to retire from the super-hero business.”

It appears that we will have to go through a certain amount of our usual pleasantries before we can get comfortable enough with each other to be able to discuss more serious things. That is all right with me. The delay will allow for my adrenaline to subside a little.

He grins. “C’mon. Let’s go get cleaned up and try that again, shall we?”

“Ve shall.”

As I open our bathroom door, I tell him proudly, “I have something to show you. Look.”

His eyebrows go up in surprise at the new bathtub in the corner of the room where our shower stall used to be. He glances at me. “You the one responsible for that?”

“Ja. I had it installed last month, hoping it vould be here vhen you returned.”

A shadow passed over his face. “You were that sure I would come back?”

I nodded, wishing it were entirely true. Even between lovers, there are always doubts.

“I vanted a large old-fashioned kind of thing, vith the funny claw feet. Vhen I vas a child, one of my rich customers had such a tub in his estate house. Ve took a bubble bath every time I vent to stay overnight vith him.” There. I can now speak of my childhood casually and without pain. “So do you like it?”

“Darlin’, I love it! I can’t wait to try it out.” Suiting his actions to his words, he takes off his jacket and tosses it into the corner, then starts on his boots.

Being much less heavily dressed, I have a head start, so I turn on the water and fuss with getting it just right, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he continues to pull off his clothes. I have always loved looking at his body, although no one would consider my Wolverine the classic image of male beauty. He is not taller than I am, rather stocky, much too hairy, his face too battered-looking, his dark hair too wild, and he always badly needs a shave. But he is the man I love, so what does that matter? His soul is much like his body in many ways, but it shines with love and compassion, and a kind of heroic glory that is seldom seen in seriously handsome men. I know it, for I know what he is inside. Or at least, I think I know.

The tub is almost full now, so I pull off my shirt and shorts and step into the water, sitting down and turning off the faucets. In order to give him room to get in, I bend my knees and hold them close against my chest, still at the foot of the tub.

“I get the comfortable end, huh?”

“Of course. I have had plenty of time to enjoy it all by myself.”

He steps over the high edge then sinks down heavily into the water, leaning back against the long slanted foot of the tub opposite the faucets. A look of pure bliss spreads over his face. I breathe a sigh of relief. It had occurred to me to worry that our lovely tub might remind him of the tank into which he had been submerged for the procedure that would bind the adamantium to his bones, but apparently that is the furthest thing from his mind, judging by his relaxed smile. Good. The last thing we need right now is for such evil memories to surface.

“You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve been able to relax like this.”

“Yes, I have. One hundred eighteen days, 9 hours, and 53 minutes.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

This time I nod, ducking my head and glancing down into the water between my knees, then looking up again from beneath my eyelashes with a small smile on my face. Yes, I suppose it is a rather feminine gesture, but Logan finds it appealing, so I do it. Super Macho Man I am not. I will leave that to him.

Finally, I laugh and admit, “Ja. I am shitting you. The days are correct, but I have made up the rest of it.”

During all this time, I have been painfully aware that the mere fact that he is here does not guarantee that it is permanent. When he left, he promised to return in order to let me know of his decision. So far, neither of us has touched upon that subject. Sooner or later, it must come up. But not just yet.

Sliding down so his body is fully submerged, he leans back far enough to duck his head under the water to get his hair wet, then surfaces again, scrubbing the water out of his eyes and pushing his hair back so that it lies plastered down to his head, which makes him look most unusual. He leans back once again. The tub is long enough that his legs can stretch almost straight out along the bottom, one on either side of where I still sit scrunched together. I am content simply to watch him, enjoying his naked body. I want to take hold of that tempting cock and --

“You don’t look real comfy down there, darlin’. Let’s see if we can’t find a better way to arrange ourselves. Here, try putting your back against me and lying sort of on top of me.”

“Vhat?” I ask playfully. “You are really asking me to be on top?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Carefully, I turn and slide up between his legs, then lie back as he suggested, trying not to let my weight rest on his genitals. I have to bend my knees up and out of the water in order to fit, not to mention maneuvering my tail down between my legs
then curling the end at the foot of the tub. The end result is that I am resting essentially on the base of my tail, but the water buoys me up so much that it is not uncomfortable for either of us. Logan, of course, is so weighted down by the adamantium in his bones that he does not float at all, while the water level is much higher than in modern-style bathtubs, so I am not left high and dry by being on top of him.

“You figured that out ahead of time, didn’t ya?”

“Ja. As I told you, I have had plenty of time to lie around in this tub figuring out such things.”

“And I suppose that’s all ya did while you were in here?”

“Vell, not exactly.”

He gives a short laugh. “I can imagine.” Then his voice changes. “Uh – Elf, what’s this new design on the back of your neck?”

“I decided to cover the scar left from William Stryker’s drug with something better.”

“It’s not another sin, is it?”

“No. That’s a Moravian Star. It stands for hope and love and promises that have been fulfilled. Storm vas kind enough to do it for me, since it is in a place that vould be difficult for me to reach.”

“Storm, huh? OK. Speaking of scars, why the questions you asked me earlier on?”

“Not too long ago, Mystique came here impersonating you. It – uh – took me a vhile before I realized it vas her.”

“Oh. Oh!” The light dawns. “And you reacted the same way you did when you first saw me?”

“Ja. Pretty much.” I avert my eyes, but he lifts my chin.

“Darlin’, don’t worry about it. That bitch can fool damn near anyone. Did I ever tell ya about how she snuck into my tent pretending to be Jean, at Alkali Lake?”

I shook my head. “Vhat happened?”

“Well, let’s just say she didn’t get what she came for.”

“I am afraid that she did get vhat she came for from me. But that vas my choice. I vill tell you the whole story later on.”

“How’d you figure out it wasn’t me? Oh wait. Those questions you asked me about the scars. She didn’t know the answers, right?”

“Ja. Right.”

He laughs.

“So why was she here, other than to screw you over?”

“She vanted to tell me that I am her son, but she is not my mother. She is my father.”

He takes a moment to think that over. “You’re sayin’ she had shifted into a male body and fathered a child with a woman, who became your mother?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll be damned! I knew she could appear to be a man, but I didn’t think the appearance was that – uh – complete.”

“Vell, assuming she vas not lying to me, I am living proof that she can.”

“You OK with that?”

“For now, I vill accept it as possibly true.”

He says nothing. I am not sure if it is because he has nothing more to say about Mystique, or if he could say more but does not want to. The silence lengthens. I wonder which of us will speak first. I decide to put off satisfying my curiosity about how well Mystique seemed to know him. Now is not the time for that, and besides, I do not really care even if they have been lovers at some time in his past. That is not important.

The water holds us both in its sensuous arms, and I feel more relaxed than I might otherwise have been. I hope he does also.

“You been takin’ care of yourself while I’ve been gone?”

“Oh, ja. I am fine.”

His hand circles my cock, moving slowly, beginning to arouse me. “I meant takin’ care of yourself in other ways, darlin’. Like this.”

“Of course.”

“And were you imaginin’ it was me while you were doin’ it?”

“Vell, a few times I vas, ja.”

“Only a few?!”

“All right,” I admit. “More than a few. I – uh – also had a little help from my friends.” I am not sure how he will react to this.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Lemme guess: Storm, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Hey, you figure I’m deaf and blind? I’ve seen how she looks at you sometimes, and the tenderness in her voice. Not to mention the way her scent changes when you’re around. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Vell, to tell you the truth –“

“Ah, Elf, you can be awful naïve. I guess you’d like me to blame it on your not having my excellent sense of smell, huh?”

“Ja. That vould be kind of you.”

He chuckles softly. “Ya gonna tell me about it?”

“Some day maybe,” I reply coyly, knowing perfectly well that I will, glad it is not going to be a problem between us. Yes, I know we have an open relationship, but such a thing can be difficult to maintain in the real world.

“I bet ya did it plenty of times here in this tub, huh?”

“Do you mean vith Storm, or vithout her?” I ask archly.

“Well, I meant without her, but it really doesn’t matter.” He continues to languidly work his hand up and down on my cock, which is beginning to react to his ministrations. I can feel his own erection poking against my back. I do not wish to try to figure out the logistics of sex in the tub just now, although I know we will try it eventually, probably when we are in the mood for something slow and peaceful. It would be all too easy to create a flood of water all over the floor if we were not careful, and careful is not a good description of what happens when the two of us get enthusiastic about what we are doing.

“Genug!” I say. “Enough of this. Let us get out of the tub before ve dissolve, ja?”

“Ja, darlin’. Definitely ja. I’m feelin’ pretty waterlogged myself. But this was great.”

We wash and rinse off quickly with the hand-held shower attachment as the water runs noisily down the drain. While we are at it, I point out how the attachment can be hooked up to a bracket on the wall and show him the shower curtain that can be pulled out and around the tub if we wish only to take a shower, rather than a bath.

Even as I dry myself off, I cannot take my eyes off of him. The water has flattened and darkened the hair on his body, so it lies against his skin in long streaks. His muscles move smoothly beneath that skin as he rubs himself vigorously with a towel.

“Sure do need a shave,” he remarks to himself, examining his face close up in the mirror above our sink.

“Not now,” I blurt out.

He turns to see me staring at him intently, my penis jutting out from my groin. He smiles.

“What’cha lookin’ at, Elf?”

“You. In case you had not noticed.”

“I noticed, darlin’. I noticed.”

The towel drops to the floor. In less than a moment, his arms are wrapped around me from behind, one hand over my breast with his calloused palm rubbing the tip of my hard nipple while the other hand is at my crotch.

I find myself pressed face first up against the wall next to the sink. It is so good to have his hand massaging my cock and balls, instead of my own hand.

“I know we’ve got stuff we have to talk about, darlin’, but right now, all I want is my cock up that lovely blue ass of yours. And I’m willing to bet a case of beer that you want it too.”

“No bet, mein Schatz. I vould lose.” His cock is already probing for my ass and I ache to have him inside me, but I block his access by covering my entrance with my tail. “Vait a second.”

“What for? Oh, yeah. Lube.”

I am already fumbling around in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and before he can finish speaking, I have the tube of antibiotic ointment in my hand and have opened the cap with my teeth, as my other hand is pressed flat against the wall.

“Give it here,” he says.

Since it is essentially nothing but Vaseline with an antibiotic mixed in, it will work fine. As soon as he has applied it to his cock and my ass, he tosses the tube in the general direction of the sink and goes back to what he was doing. By now, my tail is no longer in his way, since it is securely wrapped around my right thigh.

I bend my knees just a bit and tip my pelvis to make my opening more accessible to the hard cock already probing in between my buttocks, guided by the hand that had been fondling me.

Ah! Ja – just there! I shift slightly to put him right on target, offering him what we both so badly want. His swollen organ presses into me and I accept it joyously. It is so good to feel him inside me again. I cannot help a trembling sigh of relief as I feel him push in deeper.

I do not think I have ever been fucked while up against a wall like this. It is strange to be standing here, with my arms folded at the elbow, forearms flat against the cool damp surface. My face is turned to the right, while the underside of my cock rubs against the smoothness of the wall. Logan’s hands are to either side of me, fingers splayed, while his body is tight against my back. It is somehow cozy, to be pinned like this. I am happily trapped, safe in his grasp, my ass skewered by his cock. I can feel his breath against my ear, his gasps, his moans of pleasure. The very strangeness of our position only increases my desire, as the sweet and powerful spasms grow stronger inside me. So good. So impossibly good. I have missed this so much. Ah, Gott! If it could only last forever!

“Elf, I can’t hold off for long,” he warns me. “Not this time.”

“You vill not have to.” I barely get the words out of my mouth before they turn into the incoherent sounds I make when I come. I can feel my semen spurting out against the wall, as Logan fills me with his own.

As if reluctant for it to be over so soon, we remain in this same position for a few minutes longer. I can feel his penis soften inside me, and soon I will not be able to keep it where it is any longer. But for now, I am content to catch my breath and stay right as I am.

Logan’s lips caress the tip of my ear, then he whispers, “You win, Elf. I’m back if you still want me.”

I start to reply, but he cuts me off. “No, don’t say anything yet. Not until after I tell you about what happened while I was away. Then you can decide.”

I nod my reluctant agreement. Oh dear God, let him not have done something horrible again!

After that, he leans away. As I too step back from the wall, I can see the deep gouges my fingernails have made in the sheetrock. Logan notices what I am looking at and laughs. Then he runs a finger through the splotch of sticky cum down below the gouges and rubs it on the tip of my nose.

“I take it you enjoy fucking walls, darlin’,” he informs me, barely stifling more laughter.

“Zum Teufel, Logan!” I exclaim, wiping my nose with a piece of toilet paper from the roll. But I cannot sustain my false anger any longer and end up laughing myself.

“Don’t forget to clean the rest of it off the wall, Elf,” he says as his parting shot as he strides out the bathroom door.


By the time I leave the bathroom, he is no longer in our bedroom. “Logan?” I query.

“In here.” The voice comes from the open door next to the bathroom, which leads to his study, just as the door on the opposite wall leads to mine.

I pick up the light fleece blanket that lies on top of the chest under our bedroom window, wrapping it around my shoulders to ward off the chill from the air-conditioning as I go into the other room. Logan is standing there wearing nothing but the white boxers covered with red maple leaves that I gave him as a joke gift on his last birthday. It looks rather ridiculous, but I decide we have done enough laughing for now, so I do not comment.

Logan is in the process of looking around his room, seeming a bit puzzled. “Elf, did ya clean up in here while I was away or somethin’?”

“Uh – vell, I might have. Just a little bit. I could not stand to see the beer cans lying around, and I just had to empty the trash, and throw out anything in your little fridge that was spoiled or rotten. I may have dusted a few places. But I did not touch anything else, like your swords or your pictures. Oh, and I did do the laundry, but that is all folded and on top of your dresser.”

He really is not that much of a slob, but his room is usually somewhat messier and far less organized than my own. The sofa is old and rather beaten up, but there is nothing I can do about that. I did wipe the scuffmarks from his boots off of the coffee table, which he often uses as a footstool, but I think I will not mention that. I also will not mention that I emptied and washed his ashtrays, then sprayed the room with air freshener until I could barely smell the tobacco smoke anymore. Oh, and then I washed the window curtains, to get rid of more of it. This is the only room in the Mansion where Logan is permitted to smoke, so I know I can never make the smell go away for good. Fortunately, he mostly goes outside to enjoy his foul cigars.

Giving the room another quick glance, he settles himself on the couch, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table I have just mentioned. He reaches for the box where he keeps his cigars, then remembers I am here and closes the lid. “Don’t say it, Elf. I’m not gonna, even though I am technically in my own room.”

“Danke.”

Patting the cushion next to him, he says, “C’mon over and sit down.”

I do so, tucking my fleece blanket around me and snuggling against him.

“Cozy?”

“Ja.”

“OK, here goes. I spent the first weeks just doing what I usually do in the wilderness: enjoyin’ the solitude, hunting game, running and climbing and just generally wearin’ myself out physically, then sleepin’ like a log. Somehow, I don’t seem to have nightmares when I’m out there. I can rest better. My head feels clearer and my senses sharper. I’m just more alive.

“After that, I settled down some. I’d sit by a pretty little waterfall and stare at it for hours, just thinkin’. Or I’d watch a sunset until the stars came out, then watch the stars wheel around through the sky. It was late spring and headin’ for summer, so the weather was mild, considerin’. Not the frigid peace of winter, but the pale green of new life just starting its cycle once again. At length, it dawned on me that this could be a time of change, or new beginnings. That things were never over and done, but only circles, going round and round in an endless wheel of life. Maybe it was time for me to move on also. But where? Which way should I go? What should I keep and what should I discard?

“The restlessness grew in me, as each day gave way to the next and I watched nature renew itself around me. Paths seemed to lead away from this moment in all directions, but which one did I want to choose?

“One such path led to S.H.I.E.L.D. But I had walked in that direction already, and I felt a distinct aversion to what I had found.

“Another led back to the X-Men. I liked the scenery there much better, but there were memories of sorrow and pain, of loss and death. And you.

“Yet another path could have me as leader of the X-Men, but I led them to viciousness, corruption, and dissolution. I explored other paths where I led them to victory and peace. But those peaceful paths were too narrow, too tight, too high for me to scale. And if I were to fail, those paths would lead to their destruction. Charlie’s dreams and ideals would come to nothing.

“No, not that way, I decided. The path of a leader was not for me. But you were on that path also.

“I traced paths away from all that had gone before. One of an ordinary human life, where I did not have to be always a hero, strong and resourceful, courageous and bold. Paths where I stayed as I was now, isolated from people, free from civilization, wild and unrestrained.

“Still uncertain, I returned to the small town where I had stored my bike, in order to call Nick Fury and tell him I was through with S.H.I.E.L.D, through with assassination and torture and secret missions. I won’t say such things may not be necessary at certain times and under certain circumstances, but I cannot contemplate doing it anymore without revulsion.


“You made me see that, Elf. Not with words, but with actions. And with love.

“That takes me as far as, let’s see now, mid-June? Yes. And I was going to head back here then, but something happened.”

He stops short, staring out the window and into the distance. I lift my head from his shoulder and kiss his cheek. “Logan?”

“Oh! Sorry, darlin’. I was – thinking. Rare for me, huh?” he jokes.

“Vhat stopped you from coming back?”

“I ran into someone I never expected to see and he told me a lot about my past. I don’t wanna talk about all that now. I’m still tryin’ ta get it straight in my head. Like you with Mystique, I’m not sure how much of it I can trust.”

“I can vait. Vhen you are ready to tell me, I vill be ready to listen.”

“Ya ain’t gonna like it, darlin’. While we were together up there, I did some things –“

I interrupt him before he can say anymore. “Did you harm anyone?”

“No. Unless you want to count myself.”

“Umm. Vell then, it does not matter, since you are here, sane and in one piece.”

He says nothing to that.

“Shall I tell you now vhether I vant you back?” I ask hopefully.

“Not yet.” He turns towards me, the arm around my shoulders becoming more tense. “Let’s not fool ourselves, darlin’. You’re lettin’ yourself in for trouble by being my lover. Make no mistake, Elf: you are playing with your own death here.”

I look at him, meeting his eyes directly. “You warned me about that back when we first got together. I have been doing it for several years already. Vhy should I stop now?”

“Because it’s just gotten much more dangerous to be someone very close to me.” But he does not tell me why that should be so. Perhaps that person from his past? Or perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D is after him for quitting and I could end up as collateral damage?

“Considering your track record vith vimmen, mein Freund, it has alvays been very dangerous to be your lover. There has never been a time vhen I have not known that to be true.”

He seems almost to flinch when I tell him that, but I am not sure why. Suddenly, he changes the subject.

“Remember that last night I was here, when you took the sleeping pills and said not to wake you up when I left?”

“Ja, natürlich. How could I forget?”

“Well, I laid there awake holding you in my arms for a very long time, thinking about how we’d just had sex, knowing how hard it must have been for you to let me go, and all that kind of stuff. Months later, while I was still trying to figure out what I should do, where I wanted to go with my life, curled up in my sleeping bag in the middle of nowhere next to a dying fire, that night came back into my mind. And I felt how very empty my arms were without you in them. I knew then that I just had to come back to you, because I couldn’t do this all by myself. Sure, I could quit working with S.H.I.E.L.D. I could even quit being an X-Man, if I had to. But I couldn’t spend the rest of my life without you beside me, unless that was how you wanted it to be. It was at that moment that I made up my mind. So what’s it to be, Kurt? It’s your call.”

“I vill give you an answer that you vill understand perhaps better than mere vords.” I get up from the couch. “Come. It vill be better if ve go into the bedroom for this.”

He remains sitting. “Elf, I don’t want sex to be the answer to that question. I need to know something more conclusive.”

I take his hands and pull him to his feet. “It vill not be sex, I promise you.”

He nods and follows me into the other room.

I grab an old towel from the bathroom, then turn on the reading light clipped to the headboard of our bed, tipping it so that it casts a bright light onto the bed. I lie down on my stomach with my back in the puddle of light.

“You vill notice that there are no scars on my back, other than the one on my neck that we talked about earlier.”

“So what’s that got to do with anything?” he demands impatiently. “I figured you just ran out of sins.”

“Mein Schatz, it may turn out that you are my greatest sin. But that’s not for me to decide.” I lay my forehead on my crossed arms. “Make me yours. Mark me. Show the vorld that I belong to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Must I spell it out for you? Use your blades to carve your mark into my flesh.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Vhy not, if I vish it?”

“It will hurt.”

“And you think I do not realize that?” I ask archly.

“I’ve already hurt you enough.”

“Trust me, this is a different kind of hurt. Like you and your extending blades, I am used to feeling it.”

“Uh – you real sure?”

“If I vere not, vould I be lying here like this?”

I feel him shift his weight on the bed and I know he is considering the logistics of vhat I have asked.

“How long can you hold your breath, darlin’?”

When I hear that, I know I have won. “A minute and a half, at least. Is that enough?”

“More than enough.” I feel him kneel next to me and hear the snikt of his claws extending. But it is a very soft sound, as if they are not out very far. Makes sense. He is too close to me to extend them fully and still have room between us. “Take a couple of deep breaths first, then hold it when I tell you to. The center line will be down your spine, and the skin is thin above the vertebrae. If you move at the wrong time –“

“I vill not move. Do it.”

He does. I feel the familiar pain rake slowly and carefully down my back in three long lines from shoulder to just above my tail. It seems to take forever, but I know that is not the truth. I react just as I have always reacted to the feel of a knife on my flesh: the pain combines with that thrill of pleasure deep inside, and I must suppress the urge to catch my breath and arch my back in automatic reaction. This time it is better than ever before, because it is his hand that does this to me, not my own. It is my Wolverine who cuts his symbol into my body. This is not the reminder of a sin. It is a reminder of his love for me, and mine for him, and that cuts more deeply than any words. I will never be able to see this scar directly, but only in a mirror, just as I know that I will very seldom hear his love for me in words, but only see it in his actions. But he will see this mark every night when he holds me in his arms. He will see it, and he will know, and he will know that I know.

Then the cutting stops, and it is safe for me to breathe again. Logan remains crouched above me, frozen. I have not heard anything. Perhaps he is a bit shocked over what he has done.

”Mein Schatz,” I whisper carefully. “Retract your claws.”

“Huh?” Dazed. “Oh. Yeah.”

The claws disappear, but still he remains where he is. I can feel the tickle of blood oozing from the slashes and down the sides of my back onto the towel. I am about to say something when his tongue begins to lick the tickle away. At last, I relax. I am almost asleep when he starts spraying the cuts with antiseptic.

“Ow!” I protest.

“Oh, so now you’re gonna complain, huh? Hold still, so I can get this spray stuff where it belongs and not all over the sheets.”

“Sorry. You startled me.”

“You gonna be able to sleep OK?”

“Ja. I vas almost asleep a minute ago.”

“You’re in the middle of the bed, darlin’. Move over a little.”

A reasonable request, under the circumstances. I scrunch over gingerly toward my side, facing the window. I arrange myself so that I am lying facedown, with my right elbow bent and hanging almost over the edge of the bed, while that hand is snugly tucked under my pillow.

Under ordinary circumstances, we would both be lying on our sides, my back to his chest, with his arm draped across my waist and one of his thighs between mine. But these are not ordinary circumstances, so I can only make myself comfortable as best I can without touching him.



Later on that night, I am awakened when the bed shifts suddenly. It is probably only Logan, getting up to visit the bathroom or go smoke one of his cigars. Without moving, I crack one eye open a little to look around, just to be sure. Moonlight is shining into the room, falling across my face and upper body. There is a figure silhouetted against the window, but it is hard to make out in detail against the brightness of the moon. I have barely begun to get alarmed when I realize it is only Logan, awake and standing at one side of the window, looking outside. He is turned somewhat sideways, so as my eyes adapt to the moonlight, I can make out some of the side of his face and his upper arm, while the rest is hidden in the shadows.

I smile slightly at the sight of him there, but I also wonder why he is not still lying beside me. I close my eyes, ready to succumb to sleep once again. But sleep does not come easily. It is still too new to me that he is here again, safe and willing to stay with me. I savor the joy I am feeling at his presence. I even savor the soreness of my back, because it represents his commitment to being my partner.

Fifteen minutes later, he is still standing there and I am still happily awake, sneaking a quick glance at him every now and again.

At last, he makes a very soft satisfied sound and comes back to bed. As the mattress shifts to hold his weight, he says softly, “You can stop faking now, Elf. I know you’re awake. I could hear it when your breathing changed.”

I should have known that. Oh well.

“What’s the matter? Your back bothering you?”

“Nein. Something voke me. You seemed so intent on gazing out the vindow that I did not vant to disturb you. That is all.”

“Thought I heard a noise outside, so I was just checkin’ it out.”

“For that long?”

“Hey, ya never know. Sometimes it pays to make sure. You go on back to sleep, darlin’. It was nothin’.”

The bed shifts again as he gets comfortable. I miss being in our usual position, but it will not be long before my back heals enough for us to do that again. As it is, his hand cannot help searching for my tail and holding it gently, as if even now he wishes to assure himself that I am there, safe and sound.

At first, that makes me feel good, but then I start to wonder what dangers he fears will come after us, that he is so much on guard and so alert that a slight unfamiliar noise can bring him to our window. He tried to warn me of this earlier, but I would not listen.

As his breath slows and evens out and I feel his body relax into sleep, I am now the one who is wide awake and staring suspiciously at the darkness. I guess I am going to have to get used to this feeling.


When I awaken the following morning, I find Logan sitting cross-legged on the bed. He has pulled the covers entirely down and is just staring at my naked body, almost as if he is in a trance. I am not at all sure what to make of this, so I lie there for a while. The cuts on my back have stiffened and I know it will hurt when I begin to move. For the next week or so, I will be reminded, not of a sin, but of the fact that pain is often an integral part of love. And I will rejoice in it, each twinge telling me once again that I am his. I lie there peacefully, luxuriating in this thought.

He blinks his eyes, once, twice. A look of attention returns to his face, as if he is coming back from some other place.

“Elf, darlin’, fist-fuck me.”

This is nothing like what I might have expected as a morning greeting. “Vas?”

“You heard me. I told you someday, and someday is here. Make me yours, as I have made you mine.”

Mein Gott, he means it! He seriously wants my hand up his ass. All of a sudden, I am nervous about this.

“My fingers – the nails – I could do damage –“

“You won’t, darlin’. But if you do, I’ll heal, as always. I’m takin’ much less of a chance with you than you took letting me inside you.” He smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk you through it, if you’ve never done it before.”

“Vell, as a young boy, Herr Grüber had me do it to my customers a few times. But vhen I got older, no one vanted my hand inside them anymore.” I spread my fingers as far apart as they can go, displaying my thick fingernails.

“I guess they didn’t! But I can survive a lot more damage than your customers could. I cleaned myself out real good, so you should be able to get your hand pretty far in.” I must still look as surprised as I feel, as he has to encourage me even further. “C’mon, Elf. It was you that asked if you could fist me, remember?”

His words are confident and sure, but the tone of his voice does not quite back them up.

“Vhen did you decide you vanted this?”

“A little while ago, while I was sitting here watching you.”

“Vhy?”

“I was watching you because you’re beautiful, darlin’, and I like looking at you. In case you haven’t noticed, it turns me on.”

“I have noticed. But that vas not my question. Vhy do you suddenly vant me to do this? There is more to it than you have said, nicht wahr?”

“I’m – well, I’m really not sure exactly.”

I sit up and stroke the side of his face with my hand. He is more upset than he is letting show. “Mein Schatz, are you certain you are ready for this?”

“Yeah. But I can tell you right now that I ain’t gonna like it.”

“Then vhy should ve do this?”

“Because I need to.”

His words make me realize that I need to also, but I am afraid I will not be able to do it well enough. Perhaps he feels the same way.

“All right, you have talked me into it.”

Logan reaches into the bottom drawer of his nightstand and comes up with a green nitrile glove like the one he used when fisting me. “Here. This will provide some protection for my delicate ass. If you can figure out how to get it on your hand, that is.”

I just smile. Opening my own nightstand, I take a pair of larger and heavier gloves out of the bottom drawer. They are meant for dishwashing, not medical procedures like the one Logan is offering me, but the sections for the fingers are much larger. It is also bright neon yellow. I have already tucked the third and fifth finger sections of the glove inside out, so I slide my own fingers into the remaining three sections fairly easily. I hold my hand up to show Logan, wiggling my fingers. “See? The color even goes vell vith my skin.”

“Why do I get the feelin’ that you’ve given this some thought already, darlin’, and you’re not nearly as reluctant as you sound?”

I duck my head and look at him from underneath my eyelashes. “Vell, I may have done that,” I reply coyly.

“Damn, Elf,” he says, laughing. “Sometimes I wonder who really is the top around here after all.”

I teleport directly into his lap with my legs wrapped around his waist and my ass pressing down on his erection. Before he can react, my arms are around his neck and my tongue deep into his mouth, taking advantage of his gasp of surprise. Then I pull away, grab a handful of his unruly hair, and jerk his head back.

“Lie down and spread your legs, mein Schatz, and I vill show you.” I am not quite so confident as I am pretending to be, but I do not want him to think he must tell me how to do this. As I discovered for myself when Logan did it to me, a big part of fisting depends on the bottom being able to have enough trust in his partner that he can let himself go and really get into what is happening. If he has to concern himself with what I am doing, it will not be as good. And I want so much for him to allow me to give him this pleasure, as he once did for me. I am not sure of how I myself will react, but I know how I want him to react: I want him to feel the same sort of absolute surrender that I felt.

He lets me push him back on the bed, where I prop him up on some pillows so I can more easily reach his anus. He looks at me with that shit-eating grin on his face that I love so much and says, “Have at it, Elf.”

His penis is already rigid and quivering, without any further touch from me but just because of his own anticipation. I must not disappoint him. I have already gotten the Crisco out of the box on my nightstand. As I slather the soft white goo generously onto my hand and his ass, I talk to him.

“Unlike that time you fisted me, I have not been taken by surprise. In addition to raking back through my memories of fisting adults in my childhood, I have also looked up information about it, both online and from books, because I knew this day vould come, sooner or later, and I vanted to be ready. I know I can not harm you no matter vhat I do, but that does not mean I vish to be careless and cause you pain.” I begin massaging his anus, while my other hand simply holds his hard cock lightly. “I vant to make you feel as intensely as you made me feel. I vant to touch your soul, as you touched mine. That is not something that can be done in ignorance.”

I insert a finger into him, confident that the glove safely blunts my nails. He opens easily to that, as I expect, but I push far in regardless, then withdraw and add my second finger. This is also not difficult for him to accommodate, but I work them around inside him, twisting and spreading my fingers. I add my thumb, sliding it right down the groove formed by my other two fingers, pushing my hand in deeper and stretching him more widely. My knuckles press against his sphincter now, but I encounter no real resistance. He is breathing deeply and regularly, eyes closed, mouth opening slightly as he inhales, head tilted back, looking both concentrated and relaxed, both at the same time.

I slide in easily, and am left with the ring of muscle gripping only my wrist. I am almost surprised to find my hand inside his body, it has happened so suddenly. I stare at the strange sight, trying to comprehend what I have done. It is so incredible and yet also entirely ridiculous. I feel as if I should laugh, but do not.

I am in him, not with my cock, which is accustomed to being enclosed in that way and is something intended for such a purpose, but with my hand, which is meant to touch and feel, explore and use. This is definitely more intimate, an act of conscious deliberation, not an instinctive reaction to sexual desire. I am almost afraid that I have dared to do such a thing. My hand is actually inside my lover.

But I must not let him think I am being hesitant. “Good. Very good,” I say, as if it happened just as I had expected it to. I clench my hand into a fist and hear him draw in a breath. I wiggle my fingers and he moans.

I push forward gently, in time with the pull of his body. My fingers seem enclosed in a living tunnel of flesh. I stroke the soft inside of that tunnel with the knuckle of my thumb and it yields. I feel the power of what I have done, as the slightest movement of my hand causes him to gasp. If I were to spread my fingers and force them into him, I could perforate the thin and relatively fragile walls of his rectum far easier than I could a woman’s vagina. It occurs to me that I could kill an ordinary man like that. A shiver of horror runs through me. It would not be an easy way to die.

“Elf? You okay?”

I open my eyes, startled to realize that I have closed them. Logan is looking at me.

“Uh – ja. I should be the one asking you that,” I admit, ashamed of my lapse in concentration.

“You’re doin’ fine. Go deeper, darlin’. I want it and I can take it, don’t worry.”

I nod. “If that is vhat you vant, that is vhat I vill give you. Now be quiet. I vill talk to you. You vill not talk to me. Verstehst du?”

“Jawohl, mein Herr,” he replies softly, with just a touch of amusement in his voice. “I understand.”

I push carefully, watching my wrist disappear even further, the distances now measured more in millimeters than centimeters. It seems too easy. Even through the glove, I feel the heat of his body. There is little resistance as I push further into that slippery tunnel, but I am aware of a ring of growing tightness where my forearm begins to widen. I stop for a time, opening and closing my fingers, watching his face for any sign of pain as I do so. There is only a sort of slack-jawed look, a slight parting of his lips.

“Ah, you like that, do you? Do you also like this?”

I clench my fist tightly, causing the muscles in my arm to tighten and bunch up. He sucks a shaky breath through his mouth, and murmurs something incoherent.

I relax my arm and slide in a little more. A sharp intake of breath as I reach his prostate with the base of my thumb. I angle my hand so that I can press harder and am rewarded with a louder moan of pleasure. His face now wears that intensely concentrated expression that means incipient orgasm. I do not even have time to touch his cock before he comes hard, his seed splattering over his own chest. “Yes,” I encourage him. “That is vhat I vant to see. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

Watching him, I have time to realize that my penis is throbbing with desire, leaking pre-cum, but I do not wish to go there now. I remember what it was like when Logan fisted me, the almost trance-like state I went into, where pleasure was a constant and only the intensity varied from time to time. I want him to feel that, as I did, so I will ignore my desire and concentrate only on his.

I again push further into him as his body relaxes after orgasm. I am not sure how deeply he has been opened before, but he shows no sign of discomfort, so I cannot be hurting him.

But now I encounter a slightly different feeling, as if that soft tunnel has developed a curve. Experimenting with my first finger, I extend it carefully around that turn. I wiggle it gently, then follow the first finger with the second one, moving forward only very slowly so that the curve allows itself to straighten out and slide over my knuckles. If I am remembering correctly the anatomy images I have studied, this should be the beginning of his sigmoid colon. There will be more curves beyond this one, and each must be entered and gently persuaded to straighten out or I will get no further.

This takes time and patience, but as I continue to succeed in my efforts, I begin to become accustomed to the sensation. I wish I did not need the gloves, so that my fingertips could make a more intimate contact. My eyes are closed now, all my concentration on the tiny increments of progress as I make them. I am almost oblivious to what exactly it is that I am doing, so focused am I on working my hand deeper into his gut.

My cock twitches with pleasure, and I feel that lovely sensation deep inside my own body, throbbing, pulling, clenching, wanting, growing stronger until I realize I am moaning softly with the intensity of my own building desire. But I cannot seem to make him share that incredible feeling.

I open my eyes, and see that my elbow isn’t far from following where my hand has led the way. No, I really have no business doing that. I do not have the experience to risk pushing into him much deeper. But there is one more curve at my fingertips. I seem to feel his heartbeat, perhaps from the proximity of my hand to his aorta. I cannot resist the attempt to go this last bit of distance.

This curve is sharper, more upwards, with the entrance feeling slightly smaller. There is less flexibility here. One finger massages the walls, coaxing, seeking to persuade his body to allow me in deeper. I want so much to draw from him the response that can easily be triggered in me: a gently repeated clenching of my pelvic muscles, not so intense and sustained as the hard spasms of orgasm, but intensely pleasurable nonetheless. Perhaps this final barrier will be the key to making him feel it.

My probing finger slides around that curve, but the following finger cannot quite make it. I settle for using that first finger to tickle and tease the space immediately beyond the curve.

With a half-gargled “Guhh!”, his fists clench into the bedcovers and his claws extend. His body arches upwards and he ejaculates again. This time it is too much. Watching him pushes me so close to the edge that I cannot help but use my free hand to gain my own release as Logan collapses, panting and retracting his claws. I pull my mind away from my fading orgasm and attempt to appraise the situation.

My arm is now inside him up to my elbow, with his sphincter stretched tightly around the widest part of my forearm.

“I can feel your heartbeat, mein Schatz,” I tell him. “I now know vhat it means to feel someone from the inside. Es ist wunderbar, aber auch erschreckend.”

Yes, it may be wonderful and also terrifying, but this is not yet where I want him to be. It is not I who must feel the wonder and the terror, if I vish to have his trust as he had mine. It is him.

Although some part of me would like to jam my arm into him as far as my shoulder, I know I am not experienced enough at this to dare to do that. Slowly, I begin to back my hand out.

I have another idea, something I did only once as a child. Of course, my hands were much smaller then, but that is what brought the idea into my head. I have felt that “too easy” entrance before, and I recall what Herr Grüber told me to do in order to satisfy my customer.

I see the slight frown on his face as he realizes what I am doing. Before he can protest, I say quickly, “Do not think I am finished vith you. I have not yet gotten from you vhat I vant. It is not over. In a vay, it is just beginning.”

His eyes open and he is staring at me with something akin to fear mixed in with his surprise.

“I did not say that you could open your eyes.” Reacting to my tone of command, he swiftly closes them again. Good. I am making progress. It is hard for me to be this overbearing. It is simply not my accustomed style.

My fingers retreat as I continue to pull my arm back. I am suddenly aware that I have gone beyond the edge of my glove without even noticing and my heart skips a beat. I calm myself. Even that should be no problem. If nothing else, I can hold the glove tightly with my fingers as I withdraw my hand.

In another minute, I have pulled my hand free, the glove giving me no problem at all, as I had hoped.

Quickly, I wipe most of the lube off my gloved hand, then use it to hold the other glove, so I can get it onto my left hand. Not as easy as it sounds, and I fumble around a bit.

“Kurt? What are you doing?”

“You vill find out soon enough.” Ah! The glove is on. I reach for the Crisco again, rubbing a generous amount onto my hands and smearing a fresh coating on his anus. “Think back to vhat you told me shortly before you fisted me, Logan.”

“Give me a break, darlin’. I told you a lot of things before I fisted you.”

“I’m thinking of one thing in particular. One very important thing.”

He turns his eyes away from me when he answers. “Uh – I can’t remember in detail. Did it have to do with trust?”

“Ja. You said, ‘I know what you’re afraid of. Trust me. It ain’t gonna happen’.”

“Your memory is better than mine.”

“Stop trying to distract me.” I keep quiet and very still for a moment, to let that sink in. “Now you must trust me. But you must not only trust me vith your body, as I did you vith mine. That vould be too easy, since I cannot truly harm you the way you can harm me. You must trust me also vith your heart. And you cannot do that unless you vill surrender to me. Stop trying to show me how easily you can allow me the use of your body. Stop trying to show me anything at all. Leave all this to me. I vant you to turn all control over to me, and trust me to use it visely. I vant you to do this out of your love for me, trusting in my love for you. I cannot force this from you; you must give it freely.”

“I know.” He sounds chastened now, not very much like the usual Wolverine. Let us see if I can keep him that way.

All the while I have been speaking to him, I have been slowly working my right hand back into his anus. My knuckles slide in now, much more easily than before, if such a thing is possible. Now comes the difficult part, for me as well as for him.

“Close your eyes, and keep them closed,” I order him sternly.

“Elf? Why can’t I look? What are you doing?” For the first time, he sounds uncertain. Good!

“I vant no more of your vords. Now you vill listen to me. It is time for you to give me the same trust that I once gave you, for I vant to give you the same exquisite experience that you once gave me.”

Wrapping my opposite thumb and third finger around my right wrist, I start very slowly pushing the middle finger into him, keeping it tucked tightly into the groove formed by my right palm.

“The ecstasy of sex is not a shameful thing. It is holy,” I tell him, hoping to distract him from what I am doing and at the same time make it very clear why I am so set on doing this. “Vhy do you think that mystics down through the ages have often described union vith God in terms that verge on the sexual? They vere not unavare of vhat they vere saying. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

He opens his mouth, as if he is getting ready to argue with me, but all he does is inhale sharply. He should be able to feel the stretching now, as the finger is almost in and the rest of my left hand is pressing against his anus.

“Unh! Ahh! Jesus Fucking Christ, Elf! What the fuck are ya doin’? Ohh!”

“Shh. You vill find out soon enough. Do not open your eyes. Pay attention to vhat I am telling you.” I resume my lecture. “Sex at its best is surrender and victory, both at once. It is a longing to make love to all of creation, to open yourself to the holiness of the vorld. It is that vhich can never truly be described, but only felt; something that cannot be told to others but can only be experienced.”

He grunts, letting his head fall back and breathing once again in through his nose and out through his mouth. His breath slows as he tries to accommodate my third finger.

“But it is also more fragile than the finest porcelain,” I continue, “and as fleeting as the snowflake that melts in your hand, for it can be broken by the tiniest of things and defiled beyond measure or comprehension.”

“Elf, you’re scarin’ me. Stop, please.”

There is real fear in his voice, but I do not intend to stop now.

“There is nothing terrible happening. I am not going to hurt you. I could not if I tried. I know how difficult this is for you, but difficult does not mean impossible.” I finish my plea in an intense whisper. “Bitte, du musst mir vertrauen.”

“Mmhhmm,” he moans in tortured agreement. My finger slips inside and I begin to work my thumb gently against his sphincter.

“Gut. Ganz gut,” I reassure him. “This is the experience I vish to offer to you, mein Schatz, for you have seen and known far too much of the defilement and debasement of desire, and far too little of the incredible holiness of sex.”

My thumb pushes through and my fingers interlace inside him.
“On a certain level, it can become the highest form of communion vith God.”

Even as I say this, I realize that my hands are now clasped together just as they would be if I were praying, with my fingers alternately entwined.

Meanwhile, he appears almost out of it, eyelids fluttering, mouth open slightly, and a strange look on his face.

“Logan?” I say softly. “You can open your eyes now, if you vish.”

“Uuhh,” is the only response I get.

“Logan? You still vith me?”

“Yeesss. I – think so.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I don’t need ta open my eyes. You’ve got both hands in me, haven’t ya?”

“Ja. Is it all right?”

“Ganz gut, mein Herr.”

Good. He still has a sense of humor, if he can answer me like that. He is totally OK with what I have done. Addressing me with the equivalent of “Sir” is not truly necessary, and is very likely an attempt at mild sarcasm, but it does sound nice coming from him, considering.

“Mein Schatz, I do not intend to force my hands in any deeper, as I do not believe I have the experience necessary for that. But I do vant to be sure you enjoy this, so I vill try a few things vhile I am here.”

Keeping my hands clasped, I wiggle the tips of my fingers a bit, just enough that I think he will feel it.

He does. His body arches as his muscles clench around my hands. “Oh god!” he gasps.

I do it a few more times, moving a bit more each time.

“Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, that feels terrific, Elf! More than terrific!”

“Bitte, no more blasphemy, ja?” I request.

He gives a little chuckle. “Oh gosh, darlin’, that feels wonderful.”

Now he is clearly teasing me. No matter. At least he is reacting to what I am doing.

I want to be able to reach his genitals, to arouse him further, but both of my hands are unavailable for this purpose. Ah, but my tail is free! How could I have forgotten that?

Carefully, I bring it around in front of me, just allowing the flat surface of the end to graze his balls. He starts, then realizes what it is. “Oh yeah,” he gasps. “Oh yeah.”

Just before the arrow-shaped end, my tail is very narrow and also extremely flexible. I coil it into several loops around the shaft of his penis, which has drooped slightly. This immediately recalls his cock to life. It stiffens and begins thrusting forward within the broad circlet formed by my tail.

My tail moves with him, but gently, softly, slowing him down so he has time to feel and appreciate each slight bit of these delicious sensations. The motion of his pelvis also causes my hands to move inside him. I accentuate that friction, delicately stroking with a varying combination of fingers.

I feel that faint quiver of his insides that I am so used to feeling in myself, that sense of drawing in a desired intruder, that exquisite yearning, the need to surrender and yield your body to another.

I have at last made him feel that internal spasming. My hands are being squeezed regularly now, and I can see the slight twitch and release of the muscles in his lower abdomen that accompanies it. Each time, he makes a soft sound, as I do when I feel it happening within me.

“Elf, what the --?”

“Shh, shh. This is all right. This is good. This is vhat I have been trying to do to you. Calm yourself. Vhat do you feel?”

“It’s – it’s like an invisible finger has reached inside me and is stirring something around just below my bladder, making everything twitch. Aahh!”

Verdammt! He has just described it better than I have ever been able to.

“Ja, that is it. Do not fight it. Accept it. A sort of steady-state sense of continuing pleasure, not entirely voluntary, but not completely involuntary either. It is happening inside me even now, just from feeling it within you.”

“I never imagined –“

I cut him off. “Shh. Too many vords. Just feel. Just be.”