The lab was quiet and dark when Hank entered through the cold steel doors, just as he expected it to be. He stopped right across the threshold, letting the doors close behind him. The low purrs of magnetic stirrers and the whirring of his coolers, keeping experiments dormant until further work could be completed. And, like a sub-tone forming a base for all the other sounds was…

A deep breathing.

He frowned. Who could possibly be in his lab at this hour, and more so during vacation where the majority of the students were either accommodated at home, at friends, or in some cases out on training in various other states. There were very few who could possibly want anything from Hank at this particular time, and fewer still who would approach him in his lab. Mostly it was the staff, fellow teachers. Ororo, Jean and Scott were all out of town, and the Professor was out on business. That left only-

"Logan." Hank spoke with some surprise, mostly because the clawed man very rarely spoke to him, let alone actively searched him out. "I didn't expect to see you here." There was no reply, save a slight throaty hum. Hank sighed, knowing that he would have to cut to the case with this man. Logan was not the most talkative of people. "How may I help you?" To be honest, Hank hadn't a clue. This was definitely a first. The other man didn't immediately respond. He merely stepped away from the table against which he had been leaning nonchalantly, and looked at Hank with, if the blue man's eyes did not betray him, uncertainty in his eyes. It would seem that not even Logan knew what he wanted. Or, perhaps, he knew what he wanted, but dared not admit it, even to himself.

"Logan?" Hank tried several times to catch the other man's gaze, but Logan avoided his searching yellow eyes. Well, that certainly wasn't normal behavior. Hank listened carefully in the awkward silence following his question – Logan's breathing was also irregular. Was he ill?

No. That couldn't be – his healing factor was too powerful for that, and too swift. If Logan wasn't ill, what might it be? Breathing in deeply, Hank suddenly noticed a scent underlining all the other scents in the room, even the strong, sharp smell of disinfectant. It was a musky, yet sweet scent, and it certainly didn't come from him. Logan was the only possible source. Hank knew this scent – it came with being surrounded by adolescents who were more or less sexually experimental, but certainly often active. It couldn't possibly mean what he had so far understood it to, though, now that it was coming from Logan, and here, with him of all people. Or could it?

There were only two hypotheses, and he, as a scientist, knew how to falsify or verify them. Continuing to breathe deeply, almost tasting the air, Hank slowly walked closer to Logan. Sure enough, the scent grew in intensity in a way that was not linearly proportional with the decreasing of distance.

"I, er…" Logan began rather sheepishly once Hank was mere steps from him, scrutinizing him over the rim of his glasses. Being sheepish certainly didn't become the gruff man very well, Hank decided, and he suddenly couldn't help himself. It was because of the empirical evidence, he tried to convince himself as his lips gently met Logan's, catching the man utterly by surprise. For a moment, he was unresponsive, but then he grasped Hank by his collar and pulled him closer, securing dominance over the kiss. Logan backed Hank against the nearest surface that wasn't littered with beakers and whatnot, and his tongue ran over the other man's lower lip, asking for entry which was immediately granted. Acting purely on instinct, Hank wrapped his arms around Logan's waist, pulling them flush against each other. It was then that he discovered that the Wolverine was as much in heat as he was himself.

Almost without thinking, the two men began to grind their erections together, gaining much-needed friction. Both men were exchanging low groans and animalistic growls instead of words, and by shared instinct, they knew what the other wanted. Soon enough, Hank was lying on the floor, Logan hovering above him, nibbling, kissing, touching everywhere he could get to. Within mere moments, first the lab coat, then Hank's waistcoat was gone, and Logan was halfway done unbuttoning his shirt, while his mouth lavished first his neck, then his clavicle, then-

"A-ah!" Hank was unable to hold back a moan as Logan's tongue encircled his left nipple. The scientist bit his lower lip as the man above him, further egged on by his reaction, continued to lavish his attention to the two perky blue nipples and muscular chest while continuing to undress him. Somewhere amongst the gasps and hitched breaths, Hank had the sense to remove his glasses, pushing them far enough away that they would not be shattered by the inevitable outcome of this endeavor.

He barely sensed when he was stripped of his shirt, and didn't notice Logan's rough hands undoing his belt before one of them had sneaked into his trousers and grasped his rapidly hardening member, eliciting another delicious moan from Hank's lips. It was clear, at least to the blue-furred mutant, that Logan did not want to relinquish control, he wanted to be dominant, and seeing Hank writhe beneath him was more enticing and arousing to him that any caress or touch could ever be.

Hank didn't mind. He lay still, submissive, as Logan pulled off his trousers, and then deftly stripped himself fully, before removing Hank's final piece of clothing. Suddenly, they lay naked on the floor, and he was surprised to find how perfectly Logan fit between his thighs, how easily he slipped in a saliva-coated finger, gently feeling how far he could go, gradually preparing Hank for the intrusion that would come. A second finger joined the first, and although there was pain, it was more of a sting, a slight burning sensation, than what Hank had anticipated. The gentle fingering went on for a few long moments, until Logan found what he had been searching for.

Hank jerked, his nails digging into Logan's shoulders as he gripped them hard. The grizzled male had found his prostate, and it was a sensation he had never experienced before, a sharp spike of pleasure shooting up through his body. This continued, three, four, five strokes, until Hank was a panting, growling, needy mess beneath Logan. Then, accompanied with a mewl of disappointment at the loss of touch, he withdrew his fingers, and spat in his hand, coating his erection with saliva. Briefly, the scientist in Hank thought about contamination and the spreading of diseases through sexual conduct like this, but the animal silenced the scientist very quickly, and he growled, moaned and outright purred when Logan entered him, inch by inch, owning him just as they both wanted.

They found a rhythm almost immediately, but Logan didn't want to go slow and gentle, and the pace gradually turned faster and rougher. Hank didn't mind, on the contrary he relished the light sting of pain that accompanied the roughness and spiced the pleasure. His nails continued to dig into Logan's skin, first his shoulders, later his arms and upper back. He knew he'd drawn blood, but the other man didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, judging by the sounds he made, he enjoyed it. Logan grasped Hank's shoulders, lowering himself to lie completely on top of him, shivering with pleasure at the feeling of soft fur against his own skin. Hank closed his eyes and let himself sink into the ecstasy of all the stimuli he was experiencing. Logan's erection pumping in and out of him at an ever-increasing pace, stroking his prostate with every thrust. Logan's chest heaving in time with his own, his body all muscle and no softness. The flexing of muscles beneath his palms as Logan thrusted harder and harder, rougher and rougher.

Hank felt it come, the brink of ecstasy, the climax. He felt it slowly come nearer with every stroke of Logan's need against his prostate, with every throaty growl that came from his throat, every surprisingly gentle lovebite. He knew that his own sounds, his growls, his purrs, grew increasingly needy, and he knew that Logan could hear how close he was.

A rough hand wrapped around Hank's neglected erection, and it was all he could do to hold on just a moment longer. Then the whisper came, the permission he had instinctively been waiting for.

"Come for me."

And he did. For several glorious moments, Hank came, pleasure rushing through his veins, accompanied, he knew, by large quantities of oxytocin and endorphins… after that thought, his mind was silenced by blinding white static noise as he reached the peak and came crashing down, barely registering the warmth that spread in his loins as Logan came within him.

Both men were silent as they climaxed, their faces contorted with immense pleasure, Hank's mouth open as if to scream without sound. And then, Logan collapsed on top of his mate, and they lay limp, a mess of entangled limbs, for several minutes, panting and recovering their senses.

Logan was the first to move, slipping out of Hank and looking around for something to clean them up with, which he found in the form of Hank's ever-handy supply of tissues, recovered from a drawer. After all, you never knew when you needed a tissue in a lab handling mostly liquids.

It wasn't long before they were both cleaned and getting dressed, and still not a word had been spoken. It wasn't until they were fully clothed that Hank asked the inevitable question.

"Logan… What does this mean for our relationship?" Awfully cliché, he knew that. But he needed clearance.

"Whaddya mean?" Logan asked. Needless to say, that was not the answer Hank wanted. Luckily for him, it wasn't the final say. "Don't get all emotional on me, furball. Wouldn't mind the occasional tussle. No strings though, mind ya."

"No strings." Hank agreed. And that was that. It was cleared.

They were friends with benefits.

Or. Not exactly friends. Just… Just benefits.

Oh stars and garters, Hank wished he could avoid the emotions. He'd just have to work his way around them. After all, he and Logan couldn't afford being in love, not with danger ever-present. He'd simply have to distance himself.

It wouldn't be easy, he realized with a heavy sigh as he watched Logan leave through the steel doors, a slight swagger to his gait.