Wolverine: Balls-Out in Birnan Zana [pt. l]

Soft chocolate-brown cheeks rocked back into Logan with every thrust, spreading around the hard jut of his hips before flattening against him with a wet, meaty slap. She was thick through the backside, enough flesh there that every impact sent a ripple running outward across her rump and down the backs of her thighs. Between those cheeks, the pale base of Logan's cock disappeared into her, the contrast almost ridiculous: coarse black hair above it, white skin flushed pink with exertion, then the rich brown of the woman taking him. Whenever he pulled back, her pussy clung stubbornly to his shaft. Swollen brown lips followed him outward for an inch or two, glossy with everything they'd worked up together, before slipping back toward her body as he drove himself in again.

Logan watched it happen for several strokes. Couldn't help himself.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he muttered, tightening the hand wrapped around her hip. “Yer really tryin’ to keep it.”

The woman looked back over her shoulder, breathless and grinning. Logan answered by pulling nearly all the way out, watching her cunt stretch around the broad head, then burying himself to the root in one hard shove. Her arms buckled. Her ass pancaked against his pelvis. The little crowd gathered along the sidewalk was making plenty of noise as they chatted and cheered.

Logan could smell the whole damn scene.

Hot stone beneath his feet. Sweat drying in the afternoon sun. Flowers spilling purple over the wall beside them. Fried spices drifting out of a restaurant. Her excitement, sharp and musky between her thighs. His own sweat sunk into the thick hair covering his chest and stomach.

And another woman pressed against his back.

She'd stripped off her top before squeezing through the spectators and her bare breasts squashed warmly into the muscles on either side of Logan's spine as she stretched up behind him, slowly kissing the sweat from one broad shoulder. Her fingers combed through the hair on his chest, scratching lightly beneath it before wandering down the hard slabs of his stomach.

Logan turned his head enough to catch her scent. Healthy. Excited. No fear in it. That mattered to him more than all the cheering bullshit around them.

“You planning on ridin’ back there all afternoon?” he growled.

She kissed the side of his neck.

“If you permit it.”

“Christ.”

He drove forward harder, earning a cry from the woman beneath him and another cheer from somebody in the crowd.

The kid had built an entire country full of women who could say shit like that with a straight face.

And Logan hated how much he was starting to enjoy it.

Mark's order had been bouncing around in his skull for the better part of an hour now. Fuck every adult woman who throws herself at you until the party tonight. Dumbest assignment an X-Man had ever been given, and Logan had once spent three days fighting leprechauns. Except the longer he was out here, the harder it became to argue with the practical side of it. Nobody wanted saving. Nobody was running from him. Half these women had apparently seen enough palace broadcasts to know exactly who Wolverine was, and the other half seemed willing to learn. He'd already been dragged through a market, stopped beside a fountain, intercepted outside a transit platform, and damn near caused a traffic problem when three women battled atop him to get at his swinging cod.

And there hadn't even been a smoke break.

Logan grunted and looked past the woman clinging to his back toward the spectators. His eyes immediately found the next few possibilities because apparently this was his life now. One woman near the front had already stripped down to a little scrap of underwear and was waiting with her arms folded beneath her breasts, trying very hard to look patient. Another was talking rapidly to a friend while pointing at Logan's balls. A third had the calculating expression of somebody trying to work out whether cutting the line would get her stabbed by the other women.

His mouth twitched. “Don't start fightin'. There's enough Wolverine to go around.”

That earned laughter.

The woman underneath him made a breathless sound that pulled his attention back down. Logan felt her tightening around him, smelled the change in her before her body even gave it away, and the animal part of his brain immediately sharpened. That part of him had always been there. Mark hadn't invented it. The kid had just torn up the rulebook that told Logan he was supposed to keep it chained.

He felt the familiar pressure building low in his body, his balls swelling heavier as his healing factor replenished what he'd already spent across Birnin Zana.

He tightened his grip on the woman's hips.

“C'mon, darlin'. You wanted mutant seed.”

His grin showed teeth.

“Earn it.”

She did.

Her whole body tightened beneath him, thighs shaking as her ass shoved desperately backward into his final few strokes. Logan's breath came out through his teeth. His balls contracted hard, as he buried himself as deep as he could get and held her there while his cock kicked inside her and his sack pulsed against her in heavy contractions, pumping thick ropes of cum through his shaft.

“Fuck.”

The first pulse hit hard enough to make his hips jerk.

Then another.

And another.

He could feel each heavy spurt leave him, his cock throbbing inside the woman while she pushed back against him as though determined not to waste a drop. The woman draped over his back laughed against his shoulder. Somebody in the crowd shouted something triumphant, and suddenly half the damn sidewalk was cheering like Logan had just won a cage match instead of emptied his balls into a stranger beside a flower bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan growled, still catching his breath.

He pulled out at last, gave the woman below a rough pat on one bouncing ass cheek, and immediately had three sets of hands reaching for him from the crowd as well as Ms. Backpack trying to swing quickly around.

Some time later, Wolverine walked naked through the heart of Birnin Zana with his hands hanging loose at his sides and absolutely no idea how many women he'd fucked.

More than thirty. Less than fifty. Probably.

Numbers had never been his thing.

The sun had shifted noticeably westward, laying longer shadows beneath the trees and turning the polished faces of the towers above him gold. Logan padded barefoot through the pedestrian traffic without a scrap of clothing on him, broad chest hairy and damp, thighs still streaked here and there with sweat and somebody else's body oil. His cock hung heavy and half-hard between his legs.

People stared.

That wasn't new.

The part that was new was how many of them smiled.

Men nodded to him. Women looked him up and down without bothering to disguise it. One grandmotherly woman sitting outside a cafe raised her cup in salute. A pair of younger women walking the other direction passed him, made it six steps, then dissolved into whispered argument behind him about whether they had time.

Logan kept walking.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

Birnin Zana smelled different once he'd gotten away from the crowd. Coffee. Grilled meat. Warm stone after a day in the sun. Engine ozone from something humming overhead. Perfume drifting from open storefronts. Flowers everywhere. And beneath it all, the endless human scent of a city that thought a naked Wolverine strolling down the avenue with dried sweat on his balls was just another Tuesday.

He scratched his jaw. He needed a cigar. And a beer.

And, according to the royal pain in his ass twelve stories above the city, he apparently needed to keep fucking until dinner.

That thought should have pissed him off more than it did.

Logan slowed beneath the shade of one of the enormous trees lining the avenue and took stock of himself. Old habit. After Weapon X, telepaths, false memories, possession, and every other bastard who had gotten inside his skull over the years, he had learned to check the wiring whenever his own thoughts started surprising him.

Markanda still made sense. That was the part he kept circling.

He remembered hating what Mark had done. Remembered wanting to gut the kid and drag Jean, Ororo, Kurt, and the rest home. He could still understand exactly why that Logan had felt that way. The memories weren't gone and neither was his ability to disagree with Mark when the kid acted like an idiot.

But the conclusion had changed.

Logan looked around Birnin Zana as he walked. Mutants weren't tolerated here. They weren't politely accommodated while everybody waited for the next Sentinel program. They were wanted. Protected. Celebrated. He had buried too many mutant kids and crawled out of too many government labs to pretend that didn't matter.

Then there was the breeding.

He'd had plenty of sex over the years, but Wolverine had generally been smart about where he left his cum. Rubber when he had one. Pull out when he didn't. The last thing he needed was a trail of tykes scattered across the planet because their old man couldn't keep his head when a pretty woman wrapped her legs around him.

That caution had been gone for weeks.

Back upstairs, with Rogue and the others, every time he finished deep inside a woman there had been that same overwhelming satisfaction afterward. It went beyond getting his rocks off. His body seemed to settle into itself with a heavy, almost narcotic contentment, as though some ancient part of him had looked at what he'd done and decided everything was exactly where it belonged.

By now Logan knew the feeling well.

Today he'd simply been indulging it on an industrial scale.

Every wet and willing woman who got his cock was getting him raw, and when he came, he stayed buried and gave her everything. No hesitation. No old reflex telling him to pull out at the last second. Quite the opposite. The deeper he was when his balls emptied, the better it felt afterward.

And he was proud of it.

That was worth admitting.

Logan had spent most of his life leaving blood behind him. His own, his enemies, too often his friends. He'd never thought of himself as somebody who built much of anything.

Now Markanda expected him to leave children.

Strong mutant children. Enough of them that someday there could be Wolverines running around this country who knew him as something besides the angry bastard in an old X-Men photograph.

The idea should have sounded ridiculous.

Instead it sat surprisingly well.

He was still Wolverine. Mark hadn't taken the claws out of him or turned him into some smiling palace lapdog. He could still fight, hunt, protect people, tell the king when he was full of shit, and put adamantium through anything stupid enough to threaten mutantkind.

Different country. Same damn job.

Just with a lot more kids attached to the retirement plan.

Logan snorted to himself.

“Royal breeding stud. Jesus Christ.”

Stupid title.

Didn't mean he wasn't starting to take some pride in earning it.

Then the smell of cold beer, grilled meat, and tobacco drifted from an open doorway ahead.

Logan changed course.

Logan leaned against the blackwood bar as if he had been there all afternoon. One elbow rested on the polished counter, a cold bottle of beer hung loosely from his hand, and a thick cigar smoldered between his teeth. He was completely naked, broad shoulders relaxed and hairy legs spread while a dozen grown Markandan women crowded around him in various stages of undress.

Their discarded clothes covered the nearest tables. One woman still wore a gold necklace and nothing else. Another had retained her open vest, although her breasts hung freely between its embroidered sides. They touched Logan wherever they could reach, rubbing his chest, stroking his arms, and passing admiring hands over the heavy balls swinging beneath the woman riding him.

She faced away from him with both hands planted on her knees. Sweat shone across her dark back and gathered between her shoulder blades while she twerked furiously upon Wolverine’s cock. Her round ass bounced against his pelvis, swallowing his thick white shaft whenever she dropped and exposing most of its wet length whenever she rose.

Logan barely moved. He drank his beer, smoked his cigar, and let her work for it.

The woman had begun with careful rolls of her hips, trying to savor every inch. That restraint had not lasted. Now she was panting and jerking her ass with frantic determination, milking Logan’s cock with her pussy while the other women encouraged her.

“All the way down, Zawadi!”

“Make him feel it!”

“Don't waste Wolverine’s seed!”

Zawadi cried out and forced herself lower. Logan’s balls struck beneath her with a heavy slap. The contact made her shudder, but she immediately lifted and dropped again, grinding her ass against his hips until his entire cock disappeared inside her.

Logan removed the cigar from his mouth and released a slow stream of smoke. His free hand settled on Zawadi’s hip, thick fingers sinking into the flesh as he finally began helping her. Each pull brought her down harder, forcing his cock into the deepest part of her while beer remained steady in his other hand.

For Zawadi, the room had narrowed to the brutal fullness between her thighs. She had dreamed throughout her adult life of being chosen by a mutant, of feeling a superior male empty his seed into her and trusting her womb to turn that gift into new life. Now she had Wolverine leaning calmly behind her, his cock buried to the root and his enormous balls slapping against her while half the tavern watched.

Logan’s expression tightened. He set the beer on the bar without looking and bit down on the cigar.

Zawadi felt his fingers clamp harder around her hip.

“Easy, darlin’,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re about to get your load.”

Her eyes flashed wide.

“Mine,” she gasped. “Oh, Bast, Wolverine’s load is mine!”

Logan pulled her down and held her ass flat against his pelvis. His cock swelled inside her, then erupted. The first heavy pulse struck deep enough to make Zawadi shriek. She threw herself backward, settling all her weight on his hips as another jet flooded her. His balls drew tight beneath her, emptying pulse after pulse while she ground herself against him, determined to keep every drop as close to her womb as her body could take it.

She came around him with a scream, pussy clenching and milking his shaft through the remainder of the release. Her lifelong dream had become hot weight inside her, Wolverine’s seed filling her so heavily that she could feel it pushing back around his buried cock.

When Logan’s grip loosened, Zawadi stayed seated for one reverent moment. Then the women around her reminded her that she had enjoyed her turn.

“Up, sister.”

“Don't be greedy.”

“Some of us have waited longer than you.”

Laughing breathlessly, Zawadi lifted herself from Logan’s lap. His wet cock slid out with a thick sound, and white semen immediately spilled between her swollen lips. Two women caught her beneath the arms before her shaking legs failed. She cupped her pussy with one hand to hold in Logan’s load while they carried her toward a padded bench.

The next woman was already stepping between Wolverine’s legs.

She was tall, bare except for silver beads around her waist, and grinning as she gathered her braids over one shoulder. Logan retrieved his beer and took another drink while she turned around, bent forward, and spread her ass for him.

His cock had barely softened.

“Your turn,” Logan said.

The woman lowered herself onto him while the others cheered.