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Relief, just as the black closed in and consciousness faded, Logan felt the grip relax just slightly, heard Victor give a bit of a snort, felt the arm twitch a little. He could feel it then, a sort of rumbling vibration, odd feeling of Victor’s skin twitching against his own, feeling a quivering under his own fingertips. “Huh,” Victor’s only coherent statement, before a bit of a grunt turned into the beginning of a growl, rapidly shifting into rumbling laughter and a full blown howl. His grip promptly slackened, arm trembling and shaking as Logan was released to fall to the floor, just getting a blurred glimpse enough to tell Maverick was right behind Victor, hands on the burly feral man’s sides, hands glowing or so it seemed. Victor himself was howling with laughter, staggering as he tried to maintain his composure, looking about to fall to the floor himself.

“Wasn’t sure it would work, discharging this slowly but looks like it does. That’s what you can feel Victor, concussive energy. Wonder how it feels, rippling through your muscles, bones but so slowly, it must really tickle,” David didn’t sound so much curious as half amused, not that Victor would seem to be giving a coherent answer. Writhing, muscles in spasm, limbs twitching and to Logan’s blurry but clearing vision it looked like Victor was being tickled by hundreds of invisible fingers, finally collapsing onto his knees still howling with laughter as Maverick let the last of the concussive energy slowly discharge itself, having maybe taken Victor down more or less in one go.

Logan was on his knees himself, propping himself up with his hands, gasping a little as he took in gulps of air, still recovering from nearly getting choked out. That would have been embarrassing to go down so easily, almost as embarrassing as it must be for Victor getting brought to his knees if it was with an unexpected but ingenious use of Maverick’s mutant ability. He’d get his strength back, just needed a minute but he was impatient, wanting to take advantage himself and pay Victor back for using the cheap option. Get his fingers properly into those armpits or finish the job of ripping apart those socks and showing you didn’t need fancy use of powers to get some laughter out of Sabretooth, willing or otherwise.

Of course there was a problem, what amount of kinetic energy David had absorbed he’d just depleted, leaving him drained and maybe a little close to Victor. Logan could see it, the spasms subsiding and Victor’s laughter dying to chuckles before he started to recover, small rumble of a growl with his returning strength. You couldn’t let up for a moment with him, not until he went down and stayed down and even then it was best not to turn your back on him. Logan knew that from the friendly brawls and roughhousing, caught the glint in Victor’s eyes, the twitch of his lips in one of those grins. Recovery could be so quick, certainly quicker than Logan had expected and he was still getting his breath back.

“Watch out David,” Logan managed to croak out, still raspy and he wasn’t sure Maverick heard him. Wraith might have intervened but he was still near the door, seemingly caught up in watching and probably still being cautious.

Maverick was nearly as big as Victor, maybe almost as strong even without the boost of his powers but close quarters against the feral the slight edge would be amplified, even an inebriated, playful Sabretooth was  a ferocious opponent. It happened all at once, a twisting motion springing from his knees and up on his feet with a roar of “Nice move bub, now it’s my turn.”

As noted earlier, David was a little underdressed himself and the black tank top provided very little protection, while Victor was going for a combination of grappling and lightly using his claws. Not all that different to shredding flesh or performing an evisceration, disabling a victim by tearing muscles or ligaments, all things coming naturally with predatory instinct. That’s at least how it looked to Logan as he watched for those seconds as he recovered his breath and tried scrambling to his feet. David was counterattacking, grappling and using his fingers but it was a losing battle. Victor was taking full advantage, going for the sides, the armpits and gradually making rents in the tank top, light brushes of his claws not giving any more than a trace amount of kinetic energy to absorb. The laughter was loud, hard and it did seem that David was ticklish, very ticklish in the usual places, the ribs, stomach, under the arms and first falling back, starting to stagger, looking about to fall to his knees himself.

His vision was clearing now, he was no longer gasping and his muscles were starting to work again, so just a few moments and Logan would be back in the fray. By then it would probably be too late for David with the tide having turned so quickly in Victor’s favour, now he’d recovered his strength and discovered his opponent’s weakness. Maverick was tiring rapidly, about to fall and once he was on the ground it would be all over.  Predatory instinct would already be taking over, Victor focused on going for the kill, not relenting until the prey stopped moving or dragging it out as long as he felt like playing. Not literally killing in this case, just wrestling and roughhousing but mercy would not be an option. The good thing for Logan if not North was that Victor would be fully focused, almost forgetting he had another opponent and again leaving himself open.

Now would be a good time for Wraith to come in but a glance over at the teleporter showed John seemed transfixed watching Victor and David’s close quarter battle. Nervous too from the half coherent muttering Logan could hear him doing under his breath and judging from the beads of perspiration glinting on the man’s dark skin. No luck there then, so it was down to Logan himself and as he heard a thud, he turned back to see it was just about over.

Maverick was on his back, still trying to fight back and swatting at Victor as he writhed from side to side, laughing even more loudly if starting to gasp for breath as Victor kept up a relentless assault, concentrating on the numerous tears in the tank top. David was probably absorbing some kinetic energy but nowhere near enough, and with Victor straddling him it would be difficult to throw the large feral off. Victor seemed quite confident, using one hand now to tickle Maverick’s stomach as he reached behind him with his claws to hook the laces of one boot.

“Hey, wonder how it feels bub, just my claws slow, relentless, so sharp and yet so light, and yer getting tired, muscles getting heavy, harder to breathe and it ain’t gonna stop, even if  ya beg,” Victor was practically purring, as his claws tugged the laces, ready to slide off the boot, Maverick’s swats and scrabbling fingers against his torso seemingly ineffectual.

Logan allowed himself a grin though, seeing Victor fully committed and in a rather vulnerable position as he squatted over Maverick with his back to his former quarry, giving Logan a good view of his intended targets. Both of Victor’s large feet were exposed, still clad in his tattered socks, the hole in the left that exposed an expanse of the sole, with the toes now peeking through at the end where his claws had left rents. Now that Victor had his hands full, having successfully stripped off one of Maverick’s boots, Logan would make him regret the lack of his own.

“Grrr..what the fuck?” Logan heard the growled exclamation, grinning wolfishly at catching Victor off guard, the thud of the boot dropping from Victor’s hand mirrored by the thud as he impacted, managing to overbalance the larger feral. Maverick had just enough strength to roll himself out of the way as Victor slumped forward, Logan throwing himself across his legs using an elbow to try and pin down Victor for a few seconds. David wouldn’t be much help, needing some minutes to get his breath and his strength back and once recovered from the initial shock and surprise Victor would be up again and turning the fight around. Logan couldn’t give him that chance even for a second, not wanting to get choked out again or suffering his own relentless assault under the claws.

The left sock more or less came apart as soon as Logan grabbed hold of it, the right slightly less tattered slipped off easily leaving Victor’s large feet entirely bare. Logan heard Victor grunt in surprise, an uncertain growl as the clawed toes twitch. “Fuck it runt, don’t you dare?” Victor snarled, sounding ferocious but just a trace of worry in his scent. “After that cheap stunt you pulled? No way bub,” Logan grinned as he began scratching at the arches, immediately turning an angry growl into a gruff chuckle. Surprisingly soft and large targets, there wasn’t really an inch of Victor’s soles that wouldn’t draw a response, and Victor was writhing and cursing too much to effectively fight back yet so if Logan could just tire him down enough.

Faint pop of air and Wraith it seemed was finally joining the fight, right when it was perhaps safest to do so and certainly not in time to help out his friend. Logan glanced up a little resentfully though nodded his approval as John removed his jacket and draped it over Victor’s head, muffling some of the cursing and laughing, and effectively blindfolding the large feral. John obviously felt safe enough to join in now, bending over Victor and burying his fingers in the hairy armpits, drawing out a muffled roar of laughter from Sabretooth. That would do it, keeping him under control with a double pronged assault just long enough for David to hopefully recover and join in. Logan could hear him grunting a little, still gasping but starting to recover. Victor was unlikely to surrender and would take a while to wear down but they had him, just slowly tickling him into submission via his weakest spots, the armpits and the soles of his feet.

“C’mon kitty, purr fer me. Who’s a tenderfoot, huh?  Wonder how it feels, no claws but just my nails scratching all over yer soles, but if ya want it ta stop, ya can try begging fer mercy,” Logan smirked, hearing a definite growl in the chuckle. Victor was probably going to try gutting him for this but it was definitely worth it.
Never Tickle A Drunken Sabretooth Part 2
Even if he's feeling playful and as close to drunk as it gets with him, Victor Creed can still get a little rough and not afraid to use cheap tactics as Logan found out. Good thing he's got his friends to back him up, if Wraith and Maverick are inclined to get involved and if three on one odds are enough with Sabretooth.

Set in the pre-Weapon X days when Sabretooth and Wolverine were part of Weapon X and both more or less 'friendly'. Ticklefic with m/m tickling and some swearing in this part from Sabretooth, minor violence again since this is Sabretooth.

Sabretooth, Wolverine, Maverick, John Wraith and Weapon X are property of Marvel and Disney.
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Team X, hardened mercenaries with questionable morality and more than a taste for violence,  enough issues to keep a psychotherapist in business for decades and more than a century worth of combat experience and killing between them. Least, that summed it up for the most part and Logan would more than happily agree with the description though knowing of course that wasn’t all that was to it. Fight hard, play hard, or at least drink hard and with enough alcohol even someone like him could get the buzz, feel relaxed and even playful and as close as it got to getting inebriated. Down here in what passed for Team X’s bar he was in the midst of doing just that, and not alone, but with friends as it could be a special day, if he was sure he’d remembered it right. If not, a good excuse to try and get drunk and well he wasn’t alone.  Even the most feral and downright brutal of them all could have his moments.

“Well happy birthday runt, fer however many ya had by now, if ya ain’t lost count yet,” a growling chuckle trailing off into a raspy almost purr as Victor Creed gulped down another straight absinthe and leaned back on his stool, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A relaxed grin on his hairy face, amber eyes watching for a reaction, though more mirth and lazy contentment in his manner than any of the bloodlust or challenge there might have been.  Still Sabretooth had enough alcohol in him now to lay low a rhinoceros, enough to bring out a more playful side, more housecat than feral predator, almost disconcerting to see and he could smell a little uneasiness from John and David, but Logan himself just matched the grin with one of his own.

Dozens of empty bottles littered the floor around the table, along with a carelessly draped trench coat over another stool and a pair of large black boots. The table itself bore a few more bottles but was mostly occupied by Victor’s legs. The man himself, was looking a little dishevelled, scent of alcohol and tobacco clinging to him, some of his shaggy blond hair spilling down, partly obscuring his face, some trickles of vodka having run down his stubbly chin, even soaking his sideburns, and leaving a few stains on a formerly pristine white T-shirt. Not that Victor seemed to really care, more intent on getting himself hammered, at least inebriated enough now to realise it wasn’t the wisest of times to be talking trash. If the vodka hadn’t done the trick, the absinthe certainly would have been enough to overcome even his healing factor.

Being such a tall burly man and having put his feet up, even leaning back on his stool they were near the edge of the table just mere feet from Logan. Victor had taken his boots off earlier, though still wearing his socks they didn’t exactly cover him that well. With such sharp nails they had a tendency to tear holes, and the sole of the white sock bore a large hole, exposing the smooth skin of Victor’s arch, just within reach of Logan’s finger.

“Not as many as you’ve had bub,” Logan grinned as he poked a rough finger at the vulnerable spot, making Victor wriggle his toes, grunting as he suppressed a chuckle and hastily pulled back his foot. It only took a few seconds for the burly feral to recover, baring his canines and glaring at Logan with narrowed eyes. “Quit it, runt,” he snarled, though Logan didn’t stop grinning, since he’d seen Victor’s reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by Maverick or Wraith, not something that would please Victor very much. It wasn’t something that Sabretooth would admit to, and prefer to keep between himself and Logan if it had to be seen at all, made it harder to keep the fear and respect if you showed any weakness.

“Hey Vic, you’re the one whose always saying if you find a weakness, you exploit it ruthlessly. ‘Sides, it ain’t exactly good manners to put yer feet up on the table and maybe ya ought ta wear yer boots if yer such a tenderfoot,” Logan’s grin was wolfish as he purred out the last word, wagging a forefinger as he pointed to Victor’s feet, noting with amusement that the feral man had curled his toes, his claws just doing a little more damage to the frayed ends. Baiting Victor like this could be a dangerous game, but if he was in just the right mood it was fun.

A smirk broke over Victor’s shaggy face, as he swung his legs out, getting to his feet with a little less than his usual grace, all that vodka having a little effect. Still standing a good six and a half feet in his socks, just two hundred and seventy five pounds of meat, he still managed to look imposing if a little less ferocious than usual. Still Victor squared his shoulders, folded his muscular arms across his chest and tilted his chin, eyes smouldering as he swept his gaze from Logan, Wraith to North in turn, showing just a hint of canine as he grinned.

“Talking trash boy, I’m gonna have ta school ya,” Victor wagged a finger of his own tipped with a razor-edged claw, and Logan guessed it wouldn’t involve beating him bloody or giving him some gashes like one of their fistfights or full-fledged brawls, but the roughhousing, the wrestling when it was more playful. If Victor got a pin and couldn’t get a submission, then the claws might come into play, under the arms or over the belly or the soles of the feet until exhaustion or surrender. Sometimes smaller size and agility might take it, and under the ribs could double him up and then the armpits, would coax even Victor into surrendering.

Logan got to his own feet, fairly confident in this if only because he was better attired, flannel shirt over his T-shirt, a good pair of denim jeans and he was still wearing his boots. Even slightly tipsy, Victor looked like he’d be a little off balance, maybe slightly clumsy tilting the agility advantage further in Logan’s favour. Victor’s attire, that T-shirt was thin, no protection at all really, the jeans worn at the knees leaving a nice hole to exploit, and just those slightly tattered socks on his feet. Bringing Victor down wouldn’t be that hard and he owed him a little payback, like the time he’d caught a nap on the sofa and awoke to claws being slowly scraped down the soles of his feet.

As for the room itself, the bar/rec room of the base, the bartop itself, the pool table, numerous tables and chairs, lots of empty bottles scattered around, crowded tactical environment and probably liable to get even more crowded and potentially hazardous, but equally hindering to Victor as himself or David and no hindrance to a skilled teleporter like Wraith. Besides Victor was the only one without any real foot protection so that was a tactical disadvantage to him

“Too much a pussy ta face me boy? Come on, I’ll take on all of ya, no claws even; show ya all if ya ain’t too frightened. How about ya Wraith, gonna ‘port away again? What about you, North, ya too much of a chicken without yer guns,” Victor bristled, flexing his arm muscles, as he growled out his challenge.

Now this was great, he must have wounded Victor’s pride a little, making him feel the need to throw his weight around though from the scent, still no real bloodlust, not even all that much anger. Probably they just needed to back down, acknowledge who was the biggest dog, sorry cat in the room or it would be roughhousing, bruises and scratches, sore heads and lying in groaning heaps on the floor at worse, followed by a good dose of bragging.

Together though if John and David were foolhardy, crazy or just wanted to take Victor down a peg, they might well stand a good chance of victory. Logan had a couple of pleasant images pop into his mind, one being a supine Victor laid out like a bearskin rug as he stood along with David and John lightly resting a foot on Victor’s back. The other was even more amusing, Victor lying on his back roaring with laughter, tears in his eyes as David bent over him, burying his wriggling fingers in those hairy armpits, while he and John each had hold of a large and now entirely bare foot as they ruthlessly tickled the soles.

Victor must have noticed him grinning, glaring back at him with a grin of his own which displayed considerably sharper teeth and he had no doubt he was being assessed. Those claws were lethal weapons, though his flannel shirt would provide a little protection until it got shredded but with multiple adversaries and Logan being the smallest, not to mention having a teleporter distracting him it might not be so easy for Victor to get in close. Maverick might prove the major target, a large man himself only two or three inches shorter and a couple of dozen pounds smaller than Victor and if he got his kinetic absorption in use he could easily boost his strength to match Victor. John Wraith, he’d be teleporting all over the place, hitting Victor from multiple angles at once and helping to wear him down. That was if either or both of them would rise to the challenge. He was sure David would have his back like always but John might be a little more cautious. Then again Victor might not give them that much choice in the matter.

The slight creak of a chair being moved back, as he turned his head to see Wraith had stood up, scent telling Logan the man was sweating slightly even if his expression was hard to read with the Stetson pulled down.  “Guess you’re right Creed, I’m just gonna ‘port away again,” John smiled, but the grin through his beard was a little nervous, especially when Victor grinned right back at him. That would be just like Sabretooth if he’d won to track the teleporter down to wherever he might be hiding and exact a little punishment for cowardice. Still Wraith was cautious, pragmatic and maybe he’d wait for an opening and join in to swing the odds when least expected.  Otherwise if Logan won he might track him down himself and maybe have a little talk about how he’d really like a new Stetson.

“Looks like the two of you are going at it anyway, so if you’re sure about no claws, why the hell not,” Maverick’s rough voice spoke up, the dark haired man having stood up himself and started giving a slow clap. Logan glanced towards him, feeling glad at least David wasn’t quite so cautious and knowing he’d be a good back up with his abilities. The slow clapping wasn’t just sarcastic either, North charging himself up with some kinetic energy boosting his strength so it would probably be a closer match for Victor and ready to discharge a concussive blast if necessary. If Victor was intending a fistfight rather than claws, well Maverick would just get charged even more being more or less immune to punching.

On the other hand, David was a little underdressed like Victor himself, a black tank top might show off the muscles nicely but provided little protection and Victor might still be cunning enough to go for grappling rather than punching. If Victor was still feeling playful and he might even in a brawling mood, he might well bring the claws out but not to puncture or lacerate and absorbing such light amounts of kinetic energy would be little help, if Maverick happened to be ticklish, which the stoic German might not be. At least he had his boots on.

A faint pop of displaced air and Wraith disappeared to reappear nearer the door, evidently deciding to hang back for now. Really though he was the most protected, not just with being a teleporter but even a little overdressed, with waistcoat over his shirt and still in his jacket, though he did seem to be staring down at his boots. Now Logan did know John was a little sensitive, like that time he’d been trying to hone his reflexes and catch him as he teleported, seemed that even just light touches around the ribs got him squirming and laughing. Still trying to catch a teleporter, you went with whatever worked.

“So, it’s gonna be two on one, huh? Good odds, I like ‘em,” Victor chuckled, grinning very broadly, not the feral sort of grin but the other sort that was almost as intimidating. It looked like it was definitely going to be playful roughhousing, though that could still be painful. The glint in his eyes was not so much bloodlust, just battle lust and he seemed to be taking a moment to assess them both. Even the roar was more boisterous and almost playful, as he leapt right for Logan.

For such a tall, burly man Victor was fast, momentum carrying him forward, barely leaving enough time to dodge, Logan managing to duck, resisting the instinct to pop his claws as he brought his hands up. Even an inebriated, playful Sabretooth would switch to full predatory instinct once the claws came out and there would be blood spilt, even guts spilt and while they all had their healing factors, Maverick’s wasn’t nearly so advanced. Still fingers could be just as effective for these purposes, pressing through the thin layer of T-shirt, feeling the hair and skin beneath as he stroked them upwards across Victor’s ribs, attempting to bring them up to the hairy armpits. Growling chuckles told him he was already having an effect, and he could hear Maverick’s booted footsteps as he came up from behind. Still he braced himself for ripping flannel, feeling those sharp claws scraped across his own skin.

A muscular arm came up, most likely Victor trying to guard his sides maybe try and pin Logan’s arm but even an inebriated Victor could pull off an unexpected move. Instead Logan felt the arm wrapping around his throat, pressing against it and cutting off his air. “Say goodnight runt,” Logan heard the rumbled words, as he felt the pressure and if against his carotid artery he probably only had seconds. Healing factor or not he needed to breathe and once unconscious he’d be out, probably for minutes leaving Victor to give his full attention to Maverick and probably defeat him. Unless Wraith pulled off a rescue, he might well awaken to find himself somewhere more private, most likely restrained, probably barefoot and entirely at Victor’s mercy. Feeling himself starting to black out, scrabbling with his fingers for Victor’s armpits but though he heard chuckles he wasn’t getting free.

Maybe this wasn’t one of his better ideas after all.
Never Tickle A Drunken Sabretooth Part 1
Even hardened mercenaries like the Weapon X team like to unwind and if there's enough alcohol, even the likes of Wolverine and Sabretooth can get a little playful. Sometimes that could lead to unwise decisions, like if Victor Creed has his feet up, he's talking trash and there just happens to be a hole in his sock.

Set in the pre-X-Men days when Sabretooth and Wolverine were both part of Weapon X and more or less 'friendly'. Ticklefic, though not too intense yet, a little violence but not too much yet.

Sabretooth, Wolverine, Maverick, John Wraith and Weapon X are property of Marvel and Disney.
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Earth, unimaginatively named and inaccurately too given it was mostly ocean covered, primitive as well and packed to bursting with hairless apes.  It was an insignificant world just like thousands of others if it wasn’t strategically located and if it wasn’t populated by so many super-powered individuals. Over the years the world had seen off invasions by such major powers as the Kree, Skrulls, Dire Wraiths and even turned back the great Devourer of Worlds, Galactus himself. Then there was that bald telepath whom Lilandra had a thing for which in turn meant on more than one occasion the Shi’ar Empire and the Imperial Guard had got mixed up in its affairs. Still at best you could feel ambivalent about the place, find the air stale and too full of pollutants and just a little too moist though the lighter gravity at least put a spring in your step. Some parts were unspoiled, lush and green like the forests would have been back on Lupak in pre-industrial times and some parts it was even cool enough to feel comfortable. It was better at night as well, little quieter, comfortably dark and less monkeys around to stare. You couldn’t really be fond of the planet but you could tolerate it, at least a little.

Another thing he could tolerate for now was dressing to blend though at least without having to use any Shi’ar holographic technology. It was interesting really just how similar species across the galaxy appeared to each other, even if you got the odd race like the Sidri or the Brood that were radically different. Most species were your basic humanoids, just a few differences like skin tones, body coverings, height, shape of the eyes or ears even if of different evolutionary origins. Take the humans, primate rather than lupine in ancestry, taller but weak muscled and practically hairless compared to a Lupak, round-eared and round-eyed, no claws and leaf-eater teeth, almost no sense of smell and sight and hearing barely any better, so it seemed a wonder they’d survived. Still close enough that he only really needed to cover up his ears, wear some shades and gloves and fortunately human males could grow beards so he didn’t need to shave his off.  Logan might even appreciate the inspiration he’d taken from his style, the hat, actually one he’d ‘won’ in that card game the last year, shirt over T-shirt, about as much as was comfortable given the fur, those earth style trousers some heavy fabric called johns or jeans, something like that and the boots, good pair, also won in a card game from some human calling himself Star Lord of all things and luckily they fit him quite nicely. Overall then he would pass, little on the short side, bit hairy and wearing sunglasses at night but just another human nonetheless.

With his shuttle safely cloaked in some nearby wasteland it wasn’t too far to reach the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters and he’d yet to run into any real trouble when reaching there. Odd thing was he’d never even needed to bypass the Shi’ar security, almost as though he was expected though Logan swore that nobody else knew about their annual ‘road trips’. Speaking of which he needed to make his mind up just what they’d be doing this year and whether it would top last year’s excursion into Jotunheim.  One would be a quick trip, hunting excursion into the northern part of the continent, Logan’s homeland in fact and that pleasantly reminded him of areas back home. He’d heard of the Wendigo, and such a hide would make a fine trophy and maybe even some new teeth to decorate his uniform. The other would be a greater endeavour, right out of this universe in fact and into the parallel antimatter reality known as the Negative Zone, to the planet Baluur and tug on the beard of Blastaar himself for a suitably epic brawl. Fang had heard of the Baluurians, towering burly beings combining some of the worst aspects of felines and primates and infamously belligerent. Blastaar the Living Bombburst, Blastaar the Bombast, time to see if he lived up to those titles.

Flexing his fingers, feeling his claws extend and retract as he thought it over, he decided he’d let Logan have the choice, see whether he wanted to take it easy in his old age. After all even with a healing factor it wasn’t as though Logan could get another clone decanted from the gene-vats and have his backed up memories transferred like they did back on Lupak.

Lost in his thoughts it took him a moment to realise he’d arrived, right up to the fence in fact and that made for another choice. Go all the way round to the front gate and see if he could somehow get in that way or go over the top, an easy leap particularly in this gravity. Why sneak around like a Skrull unless you were on the hunt when you could meet obstacles head on, baring your fangs in challenge and ears fully pricked? Easy leap indeed, and landing neatly on his feet.  Now there was another choice to make, to either head over open ground towards the boathouse or head through the wooded area and again it was an easy choice to make. Tall trees that held their branches close to their trunks, not broad and spreading like back home and broad ragged leaves rather than slender needles but they had a beauty of their own and would be pleasant to walk under. Pleasant scent as well, though the breeze was carrying it mostly away from him but the air did at least cool him down a little. So warm, even at night, even this far above the equator, and he fumbled with his shirt, undoing the top couple of buttons, panting a little. Okay, maybe that was one advantage the humans had, that they could sweat...all over and yes, they stank so maybe not so much an advantage after all.

It looked like taking the direct path had been the right choice after all, doing the unexpected by doing the expected so to speak. The more paranoid part of Logan’s mind told him that Kurt might be leaving it to the very last second to strike and he shouldn’t drop his guard just yet but on the other hand he didn’t think Kurt would be quite that patient. Anyway the boathouse was in sight and he couldn’t smell any lingering traces of sulphur so he was most likely safe. Pausing a moment, he sniffed at the air and thought he caught a very faint trace of scent but at this distance, Kurt would have to be back in the woods. Another sniff and he was quite sure now and also sure he’d got a trace of other scent, sort of cinnamon mixed with burnt toast that had to be Lupak, Fang already arrived? Feeling safe enough, Logan loosened his jacket and hurried the rest of the way to the boathouse, confident now he wasn’t going to get ambushed and there would be time for a beer before Fang arrived. Indeed if there happened to be a meeting between alien wolfman and fuzzy elf there would probably be time for an entire six pack or even two.

Gleaming white canines and narrowed yellow eyes were all that was distinguishable of Kurt, as he lay flattened against the branch with his long fingers and toes curled around for purchase, twitching tail tapping against the trunk as he waited for his quarry. Any lingering traces of brimstone smoke had been dispersed by the breeze and he was sure he’d also be downwind of Logan and if he did look up he’d be almost invisible blended into the shadows. It helped he was wearing one of his less commonly worn uniforms, the all-black one with the boots of similar colour rather than his normal red and black costume with the white gloves and boots. Really the most difficult thing was remaining patient while he waited and Logan did seem to be taking his time. He was beginning to wonder if Logan had taken a different route but then a sound alerted him and Kurt grinned more broadly as he’d caught sight of his quarry.

Slightly hunched over and Kurt could swear he heard Logan panting but there was no mistaking the short but burly form of the feral,  though he did look a little shaggier than in the mansion. Maybe he’d been running, hoping to outdistance Kurt and even he could get a little out of breath. Maybe a little overheated as well since it looked like he’d discarded his jacket and yes, a partly undone shirt leaving him open. Odd though, he forgot sometimes just how hairy his friend could be and no, that couldn’t be sunglasses, hard to tell really with the Stetson pulled down like that but that just left Logan’s vision obscured. Anyway no point in waiting any longer but to take advantage of the opportunity and make his move.  He’d got Logan flatfooted, and a quick assault on the armpits and he’d get him squirming and then he’d tell him where he thought he was going and why he’d do so without his best friend. Now, with the timing just right, he dropped down on the still unsuspecting quarry.

“Surprise, Wolvie!” Kurt couldn’t quite resist calling out, maybe sacrificing the element of complete surprise but it hardly mattered since Logan was off-balance with his Stetson having been knocked clean off and almost down on one knee. “You really thought you’d get away from me? You should know better, fuzzball,” he chuckled teasingly, and getting a little daring he reached out to give one of the shaggy sideburns a playful tug, as Logan growled and turned his head. That was a rather deeper growl than normal and the hair beneath Kurt’s fingers felt odd, longer and rough, almost bristly more like animal hair. Yellow eyes widened and beneath his indigo fur, Kurt paled as he got a good look at the face, grip actually tightening a little on the sideburn, no beard or mane but he should probably let go. He was frozen though, grin still present but nervous now as he got a good look at the stranger’s face and he definitely didn’t look friendly.

Long sharply pointed ears flattened back against his head, shaggy almost spiky brown hair bristling straight up rather like an angry cat, narrowed brown eyes with slit pupils, cats eyes, staring balefully beneath heavy brows, broad almost flat nose and a heavy jaw framed by a bristling beard, and lips parted in a mirthless grin displaying a wicked looking set of teeth. Not a friendly face at all, feral looking, feral mutant or even a werewolf maybe? Kurt could feel a rumble in the man’s throat, feel the hair bristle under his fingers and he still couldn’t let go. A long low growl and the man spoke, his voice granite over gravel, rough rasping voice like Piotr with a really sore throat.

“You...know you..Nightcrawler. What the krutack?!”
The Wrong Fuzzball
When Logan goes sneaking off for a private adventure without inviting along his friend, Kurt naturally has to follow and 'persuade' his friend to let him join or at least tell him where he's going. It's just unfortunate that in the dark it's easy to make a case of mistaken identity, even if it's a hirsute alien wolfman.

This is based on the Marvel Wolverines series where it was revealed Wolverine and Fang had a tradition of annual adventures and how easy or difficult it might have been for Logan to keep them secret. Also there is mention of tickling in this part and as with other stories more tickling in later parts so be warned if this isn't your thing.

Wolverine, Fang and Nightcrawler are property of Marvel and Disney.
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When you aged slowly if at all and had lived at least a century it seemed that the years just slipped by and a birthday didn’t really mean so much. Thing was, with how little you really remembered of your past then you couldn’t really be sure which day you were born let alone the year. Of course Sabretooth had his own idea, that day he might have picked at random to hunt you down and beat you bloody just to prove he was still your better. That day didn’t count, so you figure you might as well pick another, a day that was good as any or you went for anniversaries instead. Once a year days, maybe private or that you shared with a friend or two or maybe everyone you called friends. This was a private one, just one other, former enemy, now drinking buddy, sparring partner, fellow adventurer, and with a funny story of how it all started. This was one of those anniversaries.

These days at least the others were used to him taking off on his own for days, maybe weeks at a time and there were fewer questions, not least because he wasn’t always inclined to answer them. He was the Wolverine after all, best there was at what he does and what he does isn’t very nice and all that so it wasn’t as though anyone had to worry about him. Now he wouldn’t have minded company so much these days but things could get a little rough for the likes of Jubilee and the elf, even Piotr for that matter. Thing was that each year they tended to up the stakes, find some new challenge and last time it had been Jotunheim, a half dozen frost giants, an unexpected encounter with Ulik the Rock Troll and a slight misunderstanding over Thor’s hammer. Better to just quietly slip out the mansion without all the bother of dissuading any tagalongs, particularly those it was hard to say no too.

Just before midnight and those not asleep were either out and about themselves or otherwise occupied, though there was a pause at the top of the stairs for a cautious sniff of the air and a moment to listen for any suspicious sounds. Faint sounds of explosions and gunfire and the crunch of popcorn told him movie night was in full swing, so that was Hank, Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee still occupied and faint snoring told him that Scott was sound asleep. A twitch of a smile as he felt a brief pang of pity for Scott but a bigger one for Ororo if she was having to keep the peace between both Jean and Emma, though at least she had Sean and Piotr for backup. Xavier was most likely reading, Remy and Betsy out on the town somewhere and Forge probably tinkering down in the lab somewhere. That really only left the fuzzy elf unaccounted for and there wasn’t the distinctive whiff of brimstone so there was no imminent danger of ambush. He might just make it if he used the stealthy approach though that carried its own risks.

One last look around, checking the shadows and making sure there were no subtle movements, swish of a tail or blink of yellow eyes. Kurt had that knack of blending into the semi-darkness, a deeper shadow amongst the shadows and sometimes he was even patient enough to remain perfectly still.  If he was going to strike it would be at the moment of maximum vulnerability but he wouldn’t let his guard down this time. Flannel shirt over his T-shirt fully buttoned, leather jacket zipped over that, Stetson positioned so it couldn’t be instantly shoved down over his eyes, and his claws ready to be popped. Boots slipped off in one smooth motion, held in his hands as he rose and half turned letting out a held breath in relief. This time he’d got lucky or maybe the fuzzy elf was lurking nearer the door. He wouldn’t let his guard down, not just yet.

Glancing down at his feet, he smiled wryly as he wriggled his toes within his socks and wondered if they’d represent a last ditch line of defence against the fuzzy elf. They’d been a Christmas present from Bobby, a gag gift that hadn’t quite had the desired effect. Yet, a proud full-blooded patriotic Canadian like the Wolverine would be proud to wear such a pair, white with a pattern of maple leafs and comfortable to boot. They might just distract Kurt though, make him pause a moment and let him grab the tail or maybe even get his fingers sliding down the skinny ribs or better yet down the sol e or between the two toes of a long slender foot. He was turning the tables more these days, making it a more even match and he didn’t always lose. Confidence bolstered, he began creeping quietly down the stairs boots held in one hand, the other holding onto the banister.  No ambush on the stairs, so far, so good.

Halfway down he paused, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he glanced around, eyes narrowed and an itch between his knuckles. It could just have been his imagination, that whiff of sulphur and faint popping noise but nothing further came off it and after a few seconds he reluctantly decided he’d been imagining things. With an annoyed grunt he continued down the stairs but not letting his guard drop for a moment. It was still a relief though to get to the bottom of the stairs and with the front door in sight and the deeper carpet, he quickly slipped his boots back on. Now he just had to make it to the rendezvous point, by the boathouse on the corner of Breakstone Lake and hope that nobody had raided his private stash. He could do with a beer though if only to forget his annoyance over his jumpiness.

Beer was good, though there was more potent stuff available not including any exotic beverages might have been brought this time. A drink or two, or a dozen or so until you got that decent buzz for just a few fleeting moments. You needed the right mindset to decide on the adventure without too much reason to cloud your judgment. Probably the first time they’d met would get brought up again, though it really hadn’t been anything personal. Your costume gets burnt off and there’s a guy about your size and build with some decent threads and you’re in an all-out battle. You stab him in the chest and take his costume and he takes it kind of personally, though it wasn’t as though that hadn’t happened before. Seemed like his own costumes were always getting torn up or shredded and it had to happen to members of the Imperial Guard as well. Wasn’t as though Fang didn’t have his fur to cover him either and anyway he’d apologised more or less sincerely. Maybe one day he’d be forgiven.

There, just as he reached the door he heard the faintest of creaks and turned quickly enough to catch a glimpse of yellow eyes.  For a few seconds they locked gazes, neither moving until finally Nightcrawler moved back seeming to literally melt into the shadows. With a slight sardonic smirk he lifted his free hand, popping the middle claw a little in a gesture which Kurt couldn’t quite replicate with his three digit hands, taunting him a little for losing his nerve and warning him not to follow. The adventure to come might be a little too rough for the fuzzy elf and in any case, Fang might not take too kindly to the company. Still it was more than even odds he’d be followed, so he’d have to try and lose his tail as best he could. Donning his boots again, Wolverine hurried his way towards the woods senses alert for any sign of Nightcrawler or indeed an early arriving Lupak.

So close and yet so far, managing to stay patient right until the very last moment but in the end all it took was one incautious step and the slightest of sounds to alert his quarry. The hunt demanded such patience though and it was just so hard to try and repress the urge to just pounce, counting on a quick teleport to catch Logan off guard or just making use of his superb agility to strike from some unexpected angle. In the early days, that was often all it took, even if Logan’s keen senses and predatory instincts could make it a little tricky to pull off. He learnt quickly though, became more cautious and vigilant and it wasn’t so often that he’d be caught just in a T-shirt and jeans with no boots. He was sensitive even through the multiple layers but it slowed down the attack, the tail taking time to slip past the defences and the most vulnerable spots were covered. Worse, he’d learnt from experience the right methods to use in counter attacking and that while he could certainly dish it out, the hunter couldn’t exactly take it in return.

Still Logan was sneaking out again in the middle of the night without telling a single person where he was going and without even saying goodbye to his oldest and closest friend. It might just be that he was heading for a quick drink or that he’d maybe caught the scent of Sabretooth and he’d be back in an hour or two. On the other hand he might be gone for days or even weeks, off on the other side of the ocean and then just showing up again without a word. Thinking about it, about this time each year for the last few years he’d gone and disappeared for a whole day and nobody knew where he went and neither would he say anything about it. For curiosity alone he needed to know the answer and if Logan was getting himself in some kind of trouble he’d need backup, even, especially if he didn’t ask. There was one thing for it, follow after him and catch up and ‘persuade’ him to divulge the information and accept some company by any means necessary. Not right away though, just a couple of minutes so Logan wouldn’t think he’d be followed. It wouldn’t be that difficult to catch up to him, especially for a teleporter.

Tail twitching, his lips curled back in a toothy grin as he quickly formulated his plan of attack, already anticipating the sweet sounds of Logan’s guttural laughter. No doubt his feral friend would be cutting through the woods, which provided plenty of cover particularly at this time of night. It could be risky with his teleporting ideally needing line of sight but he could make it to the edge of the woods and swinging from tree limbs wasn’t that much different from swinging from a trapeze. Death from above then, dropping right down on Logan from a branch and maybe taking him to the ground right away. If he was lucky Logan would have relaxed a little, unzipped his jacket but if not extra layers would only slow him down a little and the armpits and ribs weren’t the only vulnerable spots. These weren’t the uniform boots with all those fiddly buckles and once those were gone the socks would follow and those tender soles and ticklish toes would be at his mercy. Sooner rather than later Logan would tell him where he was going and then the fuzzy elf would be along for the ride.

A quick dash to the nearest window, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure that was indeed heading towards the woods and with a line of sight to the trees beyond he could teleport without risk. A puff of sulphurous smoke and a pop of air and he was gone, certain he was going to get the drop on his hapless hirsute honcho.

Headed towards the woods, Logan paused and scratched his chin, frowning as a thought occurred to him. Kurt knew him better than almost anyone and wouldn’t he expect him to make for the woods and the cover they’d provide? Cover that worked both ways, and the fuzzy elf could be swinging through the trees like a damn monkey and easily get the drop on him. Open ground, at least there was more space to manoeuvre and maybe spot him ahead of time.  So, he turned heading in another direction away from the woods and on a more direct path to the boathouse.

In the quiet of his study, the still open book in his lap, Professor Charles Xavier couldn’t help himself from smiling at the antics of Kurt and Logan and these latest developments in their ongoing ‘war’. A little silly maybe but quite fascinating and given both men’s troubled pasts it was good to see they could have a little laughter in their lives. Now with both of them out of the mansion he could still pick up on their thoughts if only faintly but he didn’t want to pry.  Though just as he was about to get back to his book, Charles placed a hand to his temple, concentrating as he scanned the grounds. If he was right, this particular night there would be another presence and the reason for Logan’s sneaking out. Yes, he could sense the visitor and knowing now that there were no hostile intentions he could allow the mansion’s security to let him through. Doubtless the visitor would be familiar with the Shi’ar derived technology, maybe have his methods to bypass them but all the same wouldn’t have gotten far. Still Charles was content to let Logan believe this rendezvous was his little secret for another year and instead get back to his book.
Difficulties Of Sneaking Out

While he might be part of a team that doesn't mean that Wolverine doesn't like to go for his solo adventures or have parts of his life that he'd prefer to keep to himself. Take for instance an annual adventure with a member of the Shi'ar Imperial Guard. Unfortunately for Logan a certain blue fuzzy elf would like to have been invited and isn't exactly making it easy for Logan to sneak out.


This is based on the Marvel Wolverines series where it was revealed Wolverine and Fang had a tradition of annual adventures and how easy or difficult it might have been for Logan to keep them secret. Also there is mention of tickling in this part and as with other stories more tickling in later parts so be warned if this isn't your thing.

Wolverine and Nightcrawler are property of Marvel and Disney.

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Mark Kitchen
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