Pissing Contest
Kate Bolin

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DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe herein are the property of 20th Century Fox and the Marvel Entertainment Group. This piece of fan-written fiction means no infringement upon any legal holdings.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay! Slash! Yay! Tension!

Thanks to everyone in #x-movieficcers for putting up with me tonight. Inspirations: Te, the Spike, Debchan, and Gemma Files for introducing me to the wonders of fabulous sexualized tension in fanfic. God, I love how there doesn't have to be any actual sex and you're still gasping for breath.

It doesn't take a lot to piss Logan off. A single glance (or not-glance, as it were) is enough, making the hackles of his neck rise as his shoulders lower, his arms flexing slightly. His eyes narrow, not too obviously, but enough for the people around to realize that the atmosphere has changed, and it would take just one more thing, the slightest comment or movement, to set off a fist-flyin' brawl that would last for hours. Just one thing. One thin smooth line to cross.

And Scott Summers had been toeing that line for hours. His mirror red glasses show only Logan's reflection, but that smirk, that slow smile of smug superiority, says everything. Everything from his smartass voice saying "Stay away from my girl" to that slick prep-school perfection attitude just coming off of him like cheap cologne, which Logan can smell from a mile away, something like Eternity. For geeks.

But there's something else in the boy's scent, something that Logan vaguely remembers from one too many long nights in one too many edge of the world bars. That faint scent in the restrooms, hiding under the stink of piss and puke -- the scent of pure unmistaken raw lust.

Logan smiles, almost mirroring Scott's prissy little grin, but harsher, rougher, causing the boy to falter slightly, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses as he frowns. "You sure about that?" Logan says, his voice low, barely traveling beyond the room, for sake of Jean's heels clicking on the hallway floor as much as his own. This is a private battle, and he'd be damned if he was interrupted.

Scott takes a step back in surprise, but then takes two steps forward, defiant. "Sure about what?" Scott says, his chin, chiseled perfection, lifting slightly in antagonism.

"Sure it's Jean you want me to stay away from?"

Oh yeah, that got him. Scott visibly pales, making those glasses seem even redder, and his back becomes even straighter, if that was possible. Logan's grin is positively feral now, and he leans in close to Scott, the scent of lust even stronger on the young man's body. "Is that what it is, Scott?" Logan says in a near-whisper. "You scared? Too scared of being called a pansy? Don't want Jean to find out that every time you with her, you're thinking of someone else? I've seen boys like you before, on their knees in public restrooms, waiting for their...." He gets closer to Scott, his mouth right next to the boy's ear, before whispering that final, damning word. "Daddies..."

Scott straightens even tighter, his entire body rigid with humiliation and rage, from his spine to his cock, rock hard with anger. That scent of lust is just reeking off of him in waves, and Logan has a moment's temptation to grab the younger man, pushing him up against the wall to give him rough, angry kisses, giving him exactly what he wants, but it passes.

And Logan walks away from the boy with a dirty laugh, closing his bedroom door in Scott's face.

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