#dusktrip

Scott fantasizes far more often than he cares to admit. He never cares to admit, but he's put on the spot in this stupid Game. He can't recall whose idea it had been, but Scott wanted to be supportive, open. Honest. He thought the questions would be more about his fears or what his opinion was on the Star Wars versus Star Trek argument.

Not about Logan.

His silence is answer enough, but he finally inhales and slowly exhales. "Who hasn't, really? Logan has. A charm. He has walls ten miles high and thirty miles thick. I think it's admirable to want to see them come down, even if it's only when someone's eight inches deep in him."

Scott feels the flush of his cheeks threaten to show and he hurries to even his breathing. "Or vice versa, but I don't see him having that sort of control. He's desperate for someone to order him around. He's a soldier, not a leader. It shows in all aspects."

How was Scott going to explain that he's thought about finding Logan post battle and shoving him against the wall and kissing him until Scott forgets where he ends and Logan begins? How was he going to admit to the dozen times he's sat in the captains chair of the jet and wondered what it would feel like to have Logan in his lap while Scott fucks him to the edge of relief?

He wasn't.

Caught in the act, hand pauses mid-reach, a flawless freeze-frame of a person, until he opened his mouth. "Mon dieu, Logan. Do you ever knock?" He does not need the aid of enhanced senses to tell who's about to put an end to his latest act of mischief. The stench alone is enough, as is the uncomfortable tingle of flesh along the back of his shoulders, the reactions of a higher mind seeking to purg--

A whirl of coattails sees the notorious thief face his old, cantankerous friend, right hand seizing the opposite forearm with an almost bruising grip as he fends off loathsome compulsions. Ever the showman, his momentary turmoil is papered over with the usual coating of charm and panache, redirecting attention away from what troubled him, to what didn't; being discovered.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 / Accepting!

Foot taps against the floor, erratic in its rhythm, it's all he can do to stay sat in his chair, pulling on a lock of hair that hung in front of his eyes, was beginning to second guess his own judgment.

How did he talk Logan tell him into this? What does he even know about cutting hair?? Losing his patience, or perhaps his nerves Banner looks over the back of his chair, calling out from the porch.

For @dusktrip - Vampi

[ ✉️ ] so, who are you fucking these days?

unprompted asks | always accepting

[Akikiro]:: many [Akihiro]:: no one [Akihiro]:: it's a mistery actually

Kurt is alone.

But that's not new.

He is always alone, he could have five people in his bed, he could be at the biggest party ever enjoying drinks with 'friends', having 'fun', laughing but... He will always be alone.

And he will never get used to.

He drops his phone to the cushion and leans against the window wall. And, as he wraps his arms around his legs, he stares at the breathtaking sight of the sea and the moon light, waves crashing against the cliff insistently...

Those beautiful scenarios somehow comforting him.

As he thinks on better -old- days.

"You should really wash up before I do you any courtesy like what you desire." Wolvy's stench never rubbed him an attractive musk. Somehow a common thought others took on the cheek about him. When there wasn't someone else's blood from him tearing them apart, or being thrown in garbage he was treated like, Logan would hit the senses a pleasant aroma of pine, and even just a hint of Bourbon.