The surrender of giving up his body to be used by the two men who surround him, heart and soul, is not an unfamiliar feeling for Kurt. In the circus he was an instrument of entertainment and joy, risking himself freely as he moved through the smoky atmosphere of the big top. With the X-Men, it had cost him in more than just bruises, but it was a cause he dedicated himself to nonetheless, and he was glad to be the sword that caught the edge of a stronger blade. Now, in the storm-lit room, his audience is smaller, but no less important to him.
His gaze is soft and dark, his eyes lit through smoked glass, as he moves easily, obediently, from the bed into Logan's lap. A loop of his tail and long nights of familiarity with Logan's body make it easy; he moans, a small helpless noise of pleasure and release, as Logan pushes up into him again. He crooks his feet around the backs of Logan's calves, letting the man underneath him spread his thighs as he settles back, hips already moving even as Logan's hand finds him.
Wrench's skin has lost some of that sun-touched glow in the flat white brilliance of the lightning flashes, but it still feels warm under Kurt's palm as he settles his hand first on his shoulder, then sliding up to the back of his neck as the man explores the space between them. Kurt lets his head loll back against Logan's shoulder, his breath catching at the feel of the Wolverine's teeth against his throat, then again as Wrench takes him into his mouth. He buries his fingers in Wrench's hair and his tail grips Logan's ankle and lets it all roll him under.
For a time he's able to stay there, rocking between heat and pressure, letting the tension build on waves of sensation, each one rising higher than the last before falling again. But he's been on edge for too long and it's too much, almost, of what he wants.
The movements of his hips, riding the swell of Logan's thrusts, become steadily more erratic. His hold on Wrench is an anchor against the tide, but it's clear he's heading towards a foregone conclusion.
He arches his back against Logan's chest, reaching up blindly, seeking the curve of Logan's bowed head, flattening his palm against the nape of his neck.
"Logan.. I, ah, I need.. bitte Liebe, can I.."
Permission granted or denied, it doesn't matter, he's lost to it anyway. With a hoarse cry and a shudder that runs the length of his body, he comes hard enough that for a moment the world is lost in a sea of shadows and thunder.
cw: nsfw
His gaze is soft and dark, his eyes lit through smoked glass, as he moves easily, obediently, from the bed into Logan's lap. A loop of his tail and long nights of familiarity with Logan's body make it easy; he moans, a small helpless noise of pleasure and release, as Logan pushes up into him again. He crooks his feet around the backs of Logan's calves, letting the man underneath him spread his thighs as he settles back, hips already moving even as Logan's hand finds him.
Wrench's skin has lost some of that sun-touched glow in the flat white brilliance of the lightning flashes, but it still feels warm under Kurt's palm as he settles his hand first on his shoulder, then sliding up to the back of his neck as the man explores the space between them. Kurt lets his head loll back against Logan's shoulder, his breath catching at the feel of the Wolverine's teeth against his throat, then again as Wrench takes him into his mouth. He buries his fingers in Wrench's hair and his tail grips Logan's ankle and lets it all roll him under.
For a time he's able to stay there, rocking between heat and pressure, letting the tension build on waves of sensation, each one rising higher than the last before falling again. But he's been on edge for too long and it's too much, almost, of what he wants.
The movements of his hips, riding the swell of Logan's thrusts, become steadily more erratic. His hold on Wrench is an anchor against the tide, but it's clear he's heading towards a foregone conclusion.
He arches his back against Logan's chest, reaching up blindly, seeking the curve of Logan's bowed head, flattening his palm against the nape of his neck.
"Logan.. I, ah, I need.. bitte Liebe, can I.."
Permission granted or denied, it doesn't matter, he's lost to it anyway. With a hoarse cry and a shudder that runs the length of his body, he comes hard enough that for a moment the world is lost in a sea of shadows and thunder.