Title: On Beauty

Author: Trah (just_trah@yahoo.com)

Website

Rating: R

Pairing/main characters: Nightcrawler/Wolverine

Series/Sequel: complete

Summary: Slash. In the aftermath of Colossus's death and Kitty's departure, Wolverine is heading for the hills but wants to say goodbye first (ack, I suck at summaries).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't even pretend to own anything. The characters, settings and even the poem don't belong to me. Marvel and William Blake should be given credit for those. If you sue me I'll cry.

Date: March 2001

Archive/distribution: Oy... Lots of places... If you wanna archive it, email me first.

Warning: Slash and one bad word...

Notes: The poem is by William Blake. Yup. Oh, and flames are... Well, I've never actually gotten flamed. Seems people are far more open-minded than they used to be. In that spirit, I'm not even going to make any mean remarks about flames! ^_^ Huzzah!

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On Beauty

By Trah

 

'Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.'

 

Standing in the doorway of the dark room, Logan shuffled his feet and looked from the empty corridor to the small window inside, as if deciding whether to come in or keep on walking. Only a thin beam of moonlight illuminated the room, giving things a misleading quality, one that Logan learned to ignore since he could see better than most in the dark. On the bed right across from the doorframe lay sleeping the figure of a young man, his friend for many years and the last person standing between him and the mansion's crafted wooden door. If it had been anyone but Logan they surely would not have noticed in the dark that the man was colored a strange shade of blue, covered in short blue fur to be more exact. Minutes passed and the man in the doorway found himself crouching by his friend's bed, watching him sleep to the rhythmic tapping of a budding rainstorm. He couldn't remember whether he walked in by himself but that was most likely the case since he stopped believing in otherworldly forces long ago and under harsher circumstances than these.
"Nothing more tragic than a faith lost," Kurt would say. Sometimes Logan would agree but not tonight. No, tonight there was nothing more tragic than a friend lost, than a beauty wasted and although he couldn't help the first, he wasn't going to let the latter occur. The soft blue fur that covered the young man's body shone in the pale light and the gleaming streaks, seen through the Wolverine's keen eyes, danced on the fine strands as he breathed. Slowly, peacefully, silently. But Logan could still hear him sleep and after a while he found himself listening to the steady heartbeat and watching the body shift in the throws of a dream. It was only now, at night, that Logan saw again what was missing in the way his friend carried himself. His sensual side, the animal in him, was sacrificed for self-serving piety but despite the denial Kurt placed his senses in the side that Logan admired was still there, painfully evident in the young man's sleeping form.
Thinking for a moment, Logan finally made up his mind and rested the tips of four calloused fingers on the soft fur of the man's arm, feeling the warmth of his body and the silkiness of the fur. It was so strangely beautiful, so unlike the familiar softness of skin that Logan longed for yet much better. With barely the lightest touch, the crouching man brushed the blue demon's arm, savoring the tingling sensation in his fingertips. With the other hand, he brushed a strand of coarse blue hair from the young man's face and lightly traced the outline of his jaw, still marveling at the distinct lines in the lean face. His eyes wandered away from Kurt's jaw to his lips and after lingering for just a fraction of a second his gaze continued down his entire body, taking in the acrobatic limbs that were covered by a thin white blanket. Beauty was in the very way he walked with not one movement wasted. After a lifetime of uncertain hell, days filled with pain spent in a dirty cesspool of a world, Logan could appreciate what slivers of beauty he was lucky enough to stumble upon. If he found it in his friend, so be it, but he sure wasn't going to let it slip away before he had a chance to fully appreciate what was in front of him all along.
Unfortunately, the moonlight can be misleading and as Logan's eyes found their way back to the Nightcrawler's supposedly slumberous face, his fingers still lightly stroking the exquisite fur, he found two bright yellow eyes staring at him with surprise. He quickly drew his hands back and got to his feet, looking down at the man on the bed as he sat up, revealing a naked torso.
"Logan..." the younger man cleared his throat just to buy himself some time to think, "You know that I am studying to become a priest, and even if I wasn't, I'm not..."
"Me neither, elf." Logan chuckled, surprised at his friend's direct approach. Go for the throat. That was good advice, even rhetorically speaking.
"Then why were you...?"
"Hey, I wasn't gonna fuck you or anything." Logan growled and then caught the shocked expression on Kurt's face and corrected himself in an apologetic tone, "I just came by to say goodbye and you were sleeping. Then I remembered that I didn't even know what that infamous fur of yours feels like. Figured it was a waste to pass up the opportunity but I didn't know you'd object so strongly." The two men met each other's gaze in the dark until Kurt reached for the switch on his lamp and the room was flooded with soft light, casting strange shadows in every corner of the small room.
"You're leaving?" Kurt demanded, his fingertips subconsciously resting on his arm, where Logan's fingers touched him so intimately just seconds ago.
"Yeah, going back to Madripoor t'get my head in order, think things over."
"What do you mean?" Gathering his legs closer to his body, feeling very self-conscious under Logan's gaze, Kurt looked up at the man with confusion and then averted his eyes, "It's because of Piotr, isn't it? We all miss him..."
"It's not just that." Logan began to pace. "Did you know Xavier got a letter from Kitty?"
"What?" Kurt jumped up and stood in front of Logan, blocking his way to prevent any more pacing. It was unnerving.
"Nice shorts..." the rough man noted and chuckled at the fabric, scattered with the smiling faces of the legendary smurfs.
"They were a gift," Kurt sneered and then remembered the previous topic. "There was a letter from Kitty?"
"Yeah, I could smell it as soon as I opened the mailbox. I asked the prof about it but all he said was that she's fine and doesn't want to be found. I tried calling up her files on cerebro but it looks like they've all been deleted."
Kurt sighed, half in relief and half in disappointment. He thought she might be coming back. God, how he missed his Kätzchen... With that, Kurt flopped back on the bed, stretching himself out on the crumpled sheets while trying his hardest not to show how upset he was, unaware of Logan's eyes traveling up and down his tense body and finally coming to a stop on his face. Logan remembered suddenly what was the purpose of his late night visit and took a step back from the bed where his friend lay with a pensive look on his face, tail wrapped tightly about his right leg. Kurt shot a look at the man moving away from him but never caught the guilt written on his face.
"So you are leaving because Peter's dead and Kitty is not coming back?" Kurt sat up again, channeling his own anger, pain and disappointment into accusation. "What about the X-Men? Are you giving up on Xavier's dream as well? On your family?" At this point he was damn near screaming, his voice echoing down the empty halls and creeping behind locked doors to rooms darker than his own.
"Listen Kurt, you were always there for everyone to help 'em when they felt like quitting." He took a deep breath. "It won't work this time. The team, the 'family', is gone...Ororo left to try and track down those journals, Pete's dead, Kitty's not coming back, Scott's lost somewhere in big ol' world with Jean chasing after him. Only you an' me left, elf." Sure, there was Gambit, there was Beast and Cecilia but they were not reason enough for the Wolverine to stay. Not even Charles Xavier himself could offer any words to fill the void. How utterly stupid he behaved, letting these people into his life and then not being able to let go, to do his job with them gone.
"The X-Men aren't gone, Logan," Kurt noted, as if reading the sad eyes and shot the short man a sympathetic look. "Times have changed, is all..."
"Changed too much." Logan walked over to Kurt's desk, noticing an old picture of the 'New X-Men', the group of mutants that was assembled to rescue the X-Men from the living island Krakoa. Him, Kurt, Ororo, Colossus, Thunderbird, Sunfire...all dead or gone. Even Nightcrawler. Life became too hard, too testing for his faith and what little hope he held on to so the man retreated to bask in God's warm glow. Logan most certainly did not understand how but he knew that his friend had changed. It wasn't his place to judge whether it was for better or for worse, though, so he didn't. "This isn't what I signed up for," he finally growled.
"Do you think they would want you to give up?" Kurt asked, wanting to get up and put his arm around his friend but not daring to do so after all that has happened that night. What Logan did, the way he looked at him...it was downright confusing.
"I don't care."
"That's a lie if I ever heard one."
"They wouldn't want me to fight for the sake of fighting, I know that much." Logan turned around to face the surprised Kurt. "We ain't fighting for mutant rights anymore, we ain't fighting for peace... It seems like we go from one battle to the next with half-assed psychos like The Neo, losing people along the way."
"They were heroes, Logan." Kurt finally stood up and put his hand on Logan's shoulder, putting his discomfort aside. "Their sacrifice was not in vain. After all, we found the cure for the legacy virus, saving millions of dying souls."
"Heroes, martyrs, sacrifices..." Jerking his shoulder slightly to let the warm hand fall away, Logan stared the young man square in the face. "It don't make me feel any better. They're dead or gone so there's nothing left for me here. No cause and no family."
"How about a friend?" Nightcralwler's arm dropped to his side and his tail, untangled from his leg, was swishing about almost undetectably. Logan studied the hurt face, the delightful pointy ears, the soft blue lips, the indigo hair and then the awkward stance and three-fingered hands.
"I'm going to miss you, Kurt." He sighed and continued before the man could complain that he didn't answer his question. "But I don't want to see you die. Don't want to see you suffer. It's always been a part of being an X-man and it always will be, only now it seems pointless."
"You can't live life being obsessed with death," Kurt offered, a bit relieved that Logan only talked of friendship and nothing else. They'd been friends for years and Kurt did not even wish to imagine what such foolish notions, as the ones Logan evidently fostered about the two of them, would do to their friendship. Perhaps he wouldn't leave. Perhaps he would not desert him with the small group of mutants fighting for what they believe is right only to keep their past and terror from catching up with them. For some, the race was already lost. Perhaps Logan would stay and keep what little sense of belonging Kurt cherished intact. What little love he had left...
"Far from it, elf." Logan chuckled, jarring Kurt back to reality. "Death is the last thing I'm afraid of." He was about to continue when he saw Kurt's eyes race from one corner of the room to the next, his brow wrinkled with thought. What was he thinking about? What worried him?
"Then stay and deal with it!" Kurt managed to utter while trying to suppress what he was feeling, the pain that already crept into his consciousness at not having Logan with him. The pain that was merely a fraction of what he would feel upon losing his best friend, the man who was the last reliable person in his life yet the same man who confused him so thoroughly. He thought he came to term with his sexuality years ago, thought he dismissed the questions he had in his youth and forgot all about the feelings he once had. Not so. A shudder ran through Kurt. He was afraid.
"I can't." Logan lowered his eyes like a beaten animal, waiting for a reply but none came although he could feel Kurt's eyes on him. Pity he couldn't tell that they were not filled with anger but with adoration and a hint of realization mixed with slight fear, maybe not of the exact thing he hoped for but it was a start.
The Nightcrawler took a step back and thought for a minute before sighing deeply.
"So you really are going to leave..."
"Yup."
"Are you coming back?"
Don't think so." Logan then offered what he knew the young man would turn down: "You could come with me. There's plenty 'a churches in Madripoor."
"It's all wrong, Logan. If I come with you my own dream is as good as dead." He looked at Logan, regretting for a minute that hasty decision. After all, what he was doing at the moment, inflicting pain on his fellow men simply because their opinions differed, wasn't what he'd call right either. Perhaps all the disasters the team encountered lately were a sign or a warning...nonetheless, Kurt forced himself to move away just a little more and cross his arms over his naked chest. It was cold. The hard wooden floor was swept by a cool breeze that was coming, no doubt, from one of the many windows in the mansion someone neglected to close. A window in an empty room.
"It's your choice, elf," Logan offered, as though Kurt would ever forget. Maybe he has.
"What now?" The young man relaxed his arms and his tail swished violently from one side to the other only once.
"Give me a nice exit line an' I'll be on my way." Logan smiled despite the nagging feeling that he had somehow failed as a friend. Kurt lowered his head and thought for a minute, the pain of losing such a friend as Logan clearly evident.
"Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Logan..." Kurt said softly, still refusing to believe that Logan would go and stretched out his hand, holding the pose and waiting for the other to shake his hand and leave, hoping desperately he would not.
"You're beautiful, Kurt." Logan chuckled and took the outstretched hand in his but instead of returning the handshake, he tightened his grip and pulled the younger man in close until he could feel the furry body touch his own. This was his last chance. Kurt did not even have an opportunity to object, much less wrangle free or teleport since that required some logical thought and right now his mind was a jumble of thoughts, feelings and sensations. The now passionate body against him warmed his blood and the grip his friend had on him made his head spin. So this was what Logan wanted, this was what he came for. Needless to say, Kurt was feeling ashamed for not reading his friend correctly and believing when he assured him of innocent intentions but more than anything else, under Logan's hungry gaze, he felt ashamed for wanting what was to come. Despite the need and curiosity that begged to be satisfied Kurt knew he couldn't go through with anything of the kind. He turned Cerise down and he could do the same with Logan. He was his friend, perhaps the best he ever had and it should not be overly hard to convince him to back off.
"Logan..." was all Kurt could whisper before the man holding him placed an arm behind his neck and pulled his face so close to his own that every breath or slight movement was almost erotic. Without hesitation, Logan's mouth closed on Kurt's, tasting his friend's lips but not daring to go any further. He knew Kurt would object, maybe launch into a speech about him being a priest-in-study so he made it quick and took him by surprise. When seconds passed and the younger man made no attempt to break the kiss Logan gently pushed his tongue between the moist blue lips. The bright eyes he was staring into so intently just second ago slowly closed and he could feel Kurt's body relax although his pulse still raced. Still holding him close, Logan placed his free hand on the man's waist and could feel the muscles under his palm tighten. For a second Kurt stopped breathing. Logan slinked his arm to Kurt's back, sliding it across the soft fur and lightly tracing the curves of the long flexible body.
It was funny, really. Logan was the one called an animal while Kurt was the one who resembled something not quite human the most. Maybe it was the tail. With that thought Logan's hand moved lower, searching for the base of the tail, almost making the blue man gasp with surprise. Logan then dipped his tongue into the sweet mouth one last time, savoring the taste of the rough tongue and fangs, so much like his own. The older man's kisses gradually left the now wanting lips and moved down to the side of the sculpted jaw to the warm neck, where he could feel the blood pumping faster and faster, sparking a kind of wild desire in him. Kurt tilted his head back, opening his eyes and hearing the sound of his own quick breaths thunder in his ears. What was he doing? With an awkward motion to prevent himself from falling back unto the bed where Logan seemed to direct him, Kurt knocked over the small lamp from his nightstand. The antique brass made a heavy sound as hit the floor and rolled away. At that, the shadows flickered and changed as though they were imbued with sudden life, dancing across the wall in a frenzy, chasing after one another yet never quite reaching so far. Logan's hand went lower still, now sliding down the back of a thigh while his mouth began softly kissing the base of the Nightcrawler's neck. He tasted sensationally good, the soft scent of soap and the incredible warmth of the fine fur overloaded his senses.
Despite his best efforts to maintain control Kurt was beginning to give in, his body no longer able to resist something that felt so incredibly good. 'So incredibly ... wrong.' He reminded himself but the warning was discarded before he even finished the thought and a soft moan spoke truer than any words he might have uttered. The Nightcrawler's decree of pleasure signaled the end of the embrace for Logan. He had gotten what he wanted - a beauty tasted and the pleasure of his friend. It was almost a pity since Kurt's scent changed slightly, now sporting a subtle undertone of sex. Not wanting to take the young man too far, Logan pulled away and was met with a pair of newly-opened eyes staring at him with shock and wanting, a look he had seen only a few times in his life.
"Auf Wiedersehen t'you too, Kurt," Logan muttered and walked out of the room looking back only for a second to see the blue demon rubbing what would become a bruised neck while slowly licking his lips with a contemplative look on his face. Logan smiled weakly, his own lips delightfully warm and wet.
Logan left and now it was cold again but this time only on the outside. On the inside, Kurt's blood was coursing through his veins hot and fast. Seconds passed and he realized that his whole body was throbbing for satisfaction and a release that he hasn't experienced in too long a while. Despite the guilt, confusion and regret that were poisoning his soul at the moment, Kurt could not help but feel a desperate need to hold Logan again. In a matter of short minutes he caught his breath and despite his best efforts, fear crept into his heart again. This time is was fear of being alone. Thinking for but a moment, he quickly donned a random pair of pants and already began to picture the garage, his teleporting destination, when his eyes fell on the open bible on his desk. It mocked him. Yes, a book mocked him. He gave in to carnal desire. Carnal. That was the perfect word to describe Logan. Everything that was chaste and pure in the young man, everything that he pretended to be for so long was destroyed. What was left? The truth. That and a friend who meant more to him than anyone left in that eerily empty mansion. Tell me Kurt, was it worth it? He didn't know how to answer that. What was he losing? What did he gain? Faith, love, shame? He looked out the window and saw the garage door slide open, a jeep rolling out into the stormy night, and sat down on the chair at his table, still staring out the window with the raindrop rolling off the smooth glass without lingering a second longer than they needed. He had to decide.
Logan rounded the corner and was almost out the gate when he noticed a flash of light right before him and brought the jeep to a screeching halt at the sight of a lone figure caught in the bright glare of the headlights. Seconds passed and the man before him stood unmoving in the downpour, the water soaking him to the bone, until he began trembling from the merciless bite of the wet cold and finally made his way to the passenger door, opening it and sliding inside the warm car.
"Good timing, elf. I was thinking I'd have to leave without ya." Logan reached into the back seat and fished a dry shirt. "Here, wear this." Kurt was quick to accept the shirt and threw it on. Despite all that happened that night he still wasn't completely comfortable with the much older man's expectation. His friend. Now what was he?
"Danke." Kurt produced something from his pocket, a smaller version of the book that lay open on his desk, and shoved it hastily in the glove compartment hoping that Logan wouldn't notice.
"Ya didn't have to bring that," Logan sighed. "I told you there are churches in Madripoor."
"I know," Kurt replied, looking out the window at the dark rain pouring on the black asphalt road and shivered.

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
'Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.'

 

END