title: epiphany 1/1
pairing: cyclops/wolverine
rating: R
WARNING: angst, fluff, x2 movieverse
disclaimer: still not mine. no harm intended. no profit made. for entertainment
purposes only.
feedback: yes, hit me! harder!
archive: tddm, my lj, poisonsdarkfics, skyehawke
beta: Frogg and Shel, thank you so much *hugs*
summary: while dealing with their break-up, scott has an epiphany.
notes: written while listening to Journey's 'separate ways'
~o0o~
It's not my fault that I still love him. Nor is it his fault. It doesn't matter anymore. He's gone. Again. He left the mansion last night, probably to be as far away from me as possible. I can't really blame him. I never have.
Still, I'm sitting here in my room - in *our* room, the blanket tightly wrapped around my body, inhaling his lingering scent deeply. So many memories have been created in this room, in this bed, and I can't let go of them. I'll probably never be able to.
Logan isn't like any other man I've ever met before. So gruff and hard on the surface, protecting what lay inside. A heart of gold, unconditionally loyal to those he calls family. I was a part of his family once. Now, I'm nothing.
I still haven't figured out how I can go on without him. If I can go on without him. I thought losing Jean would break me, leaving my pieces scattered in all directions. He's always been there for me, picking me up from the bottom of a seemingly endless pit. I can't even remember when we finally became lovers, but I know it was neither unwanted nor unwelcome.
Ashes in the wind. I don't know what finally set it off. Maybe because he hasn't said 'I love you' once since we became lovers. Or ever. Maybe because I pressured him yet again to promise me he would stay. I don't know. All I know is that he told me he's had enough. Enough of me, enough of my demands, enough of everything. And that he thought it's best if we went our separate ways.
I couldn't stop him. Who am I kidding? Even if I had tried, I wouldn't have been able to stop Wolverine. And he was angry enough to use his claws against me if I had tried.
It really shouldn't surprise me that I haven't been able to keep him at my side. Warren had left me; Jean had too. Who on Earth am I to think I can entice someone like Logan to stay with me?
I hate it when I cry. Usually, my optic blasts would vaporise my tears before they can leak out of my eyes. But they just keep coming, running down my unprotected face. I hate them. Almost as much as I hate myself right now, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing.
I curl up in a ball on the bed. I'm quite sure I won't be able to sleep here, but I just can't leave. My mind and my heart are constantly clashing against each other, telling me completely different things. I know I have class tomorrow morning and that I should sleep. My mind knows that it's over between Logan and me, but my heart refuses to acknowledge the fact. It's hammering in my chest, causing my guts to clench around that dreaded feeling of emptiness. I pull Logan's pillow to me, snuggling into it and hoping against all hope that he might come back.
I don't know when I fell asleep. A gentle hand on my face brings me back from dreams of terror and loneliness. I feel around for my shades and gasp as they are slid carefully onto my face. I blink, sleep still trying to pull me back into its sweet land. "Logan?"
"Yeah, it's me."
My heart jumps into my throat, and I scramble to sit up. He's come back! Almost instantly, I regret the small flicker of hope his presence has given me. He might be back, but that doesn't mean he's back for me. "But-- you never wanted to come back again--" I search for the right words to say, for anything to say, only to find that words have deserted me in his presence yet again.
"I got as far as the hill over the mansion. I-- I just couldn't leave."
"Why?" I hate the desperation in my voice, the hope that I'm not allowed to have. I'm not even sure I deserve an explanation from my ex-lover. But I want to know.
Logan smiles softly, brushing a stray strand out of my face. "Because I love you, Scott. And I could slap myself for not realising it until I lost you."
"You haven't lost me, Logan," I say, and it's the truth. "You've just found me. Again." He chuckles, and I know that we will be okay eventually. For now, I scoot over on our bed and hold up the sheets. "Join me? I have class in the morning and I can't sleep without you."
"You were asleep when I came in," he points out, but starts to get out of his clothes.
I feel myself blushing. "I--I cried myself to sleep," I admit. If he can admit that he loves me... I freeze. Only now his words fully settle in. He said that he loves me. For the first time he tells me he loves me and it didn't even register. "Logan?"
"Yeah?" He slips next to me under the sheets, pulling me close.
"If I ever act like a dickhead again, slap me, will you?"
The rumble in his chest tells me that he's laughing. "Sure you want to run around with a bruised face all the time?"
I can't help it and start crying again at his indirect hit against what had made him leave in the first place. I thought I was a good listener. And at least with the kids, that might even be true. But I haven't been listening to Logan, to the subtle hints he's been giving me every now and then.
"I'm sorry, Logan," I sniffle, embarrassed that I lost it like that in front of him. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be in control. I'm supposed to lead.
"Don't mention it, Slim." His voice is gruff, yet gentle, as he draws calming circles on my back.
"I love you, too." I needed to say it. I needed him to know that I heard him earlier.
"I know. That's why I came back in the first place. I don't love easily, and I'd be a fool if I let you off the hook so easily."
He presses closer and I can feel his hard prick poking into my hip. But he isn't rubbing against me. "I want to give you something," I whisper, making up my mind.
"What?" I can hear the desire in his voice. It drips over me like a shower in the summer, coating me until I can only smell and feel him.
"Head?" It sounds so wrong for something so intimate and beautiful. But I know that Logan would be seriously turned off if I started to describe a blowjob in a way I would teach my English classes. Fact is that I have never done this to him before. I touch him, yes. I let him make love to me. But I have never put my mouth on his cock before, afraid that if we get rough, my shades would slip off.
"You-- you don't need to--"
I put a finger over his lips. "I know, but I want to."
"I trust you, Slim." I know what he means, what he tries to convey through his simple words. I feel his fingers on my face, and I close my eyes as he removes my shades. I feel naked without them, insecure even. But another touch to my face tells me that Logan trusts me to not fry him. Just as much as I trust him not to spear me with his claws.
He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him. I search blindly for his lips, moaning as my mouth finally finds them. The kiss is different from every kiss we shared before. It's a kiss full of promises and commitment, slow and languid. I have to break the contact before I drown in Logan, drown in this one perfect kiss.
I leave a trail of open mouthed kisses on his skin, slowly making my way down his body. He arches into my touch, releases a shuddering breath when I lick tentatively at his glans. His seed is bitter, and I am addicted. I dip my tongue into the slit and I'm rewarded with more of the pearly fluid.
"Scott-- Scott, please..."
His plea shoots like a fix through my veins and I slip my mouth over his cockhead. He moans, urging me to take him in deeper, and I do. He feels hot and heavy on my tongue, pulsing against the back of my throat. I swallow and almost gag when Logan bucks under me, shoving his prick down my throat. I search for his hands and encounter his claws instead. I cover them with my fingers, trusting him not to cut my hands off, if even just accidentally, and start to move my mouth and throat over his cock. I listen to his reactions, filing away every little moan and sigh he's uttering. I theoretically know how to touch him to bring him the most pleasure possible, but my fingers are different from my tongue and it takes me more than one brush over his shaft to re-learn what makes him come.
He starts to meet my mouth with minuscule thrusts of his own. I can feel his balls tighten under my chin and I don't even have to think twice if I would swallow his come. He arches into my mouth one last time before his spunk pours over my tongue and down my throat in long gushes.
As I swallow, realisation hits me. While I was accusing Logan of being afraid to commit himself to me, it was me all along who was afraid of binding myself to him, and as the full implication of the epiphany hits me, I start to cry again.
~o0o~
the end.