What A Long Strange Trip It's Been
by Mo

Pairing: Logan/OC, Logan/Scott (suggested)
Rating: NC/17 for explicit sexual descriptions
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. I've never picked anyone up at a truck stop. St. Olaf College is a real place and it is, indeed, where "smart Norsky kids" go. I don't imagine the college administration would be thrilled about their school being featured in this story. Still, I couldn't very well use Bryn Mawr for this one.
Sequel/Series/Scenario: This is a one-shot, but it fits in with stories I've written in other series. It takes place sometime between the end of Canadian Nights and the end of Night and Day.
At the time of this story Logan is living in rural Saskatchewan, working on building an outpost there, a joint project of the X-Men and Alpha Flight. He and Scott have had an on again/off again sexual relationship for close to two years. They recently had a major falling out over a dispute about Oliver, a student at Xavier's (Full details are available in Canadian Nights, http://www.angelfire.com/comics/mo/canadiannights.htm). Logan has taken to frequenting a truck stop and picking men up there. For those who haven't read Canadian Nights, here's what he says about that:
"In the evenings I'd go out. I found a place around forty miles away - a truck stop. I'd sit there and drink coffee and wait for the right one. Right one for that night, anyway. Someone tall and thin, maybe with long fingers and a wry kind of smile, too. The right smell when he looked at me - fear and sex all mixed together. Meet his gaze, leave with him. Fuck him in his truck and then go back to the house."
In the next series, Night and Day, Scott makes reference to Logan having "moved on" to other men after they broke up. Here's his response:
"I didn't move on. I got hurt, too, Scott. I thought I'd feel better if I did that. I thought sex with some guys I didn't know, didn't care about, would help." He looked away from me. "It didn't help. I'm not doing it any more." He looked back at me again, the sardonic smile back on his face. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not waiting for you to change your mind - not saving myself for you or anything. Just trying to figure out what's going to feel okay. Picking up guys at a truck stop and fucking them wasn't feeling okay. Well, it was feeling good when I was doing it, but afterwards it was just kind of making me think more about what I was missing. It wasn't like being with you."
This story happens sometime in between those two passages.

I noticed him as soon as he walked in. Tall and thin, dark hair and glasses. Looked kind of young, though. Younger than I usually go for, younger than you usually see in that place - maybe early twenties. And looking a little unsure of himself or something. So, I was thinking maybe not. But then he reached to his temple, straightened his glasses. Something about that gesture, something about that hand got my attention. I looked at him and he looked back. Just stared at him for a minute, see if he'd look away. He didn't. I got up to pay my bill, felt his eyes still on me. Turned back and met his gaze again. Jerked my head toward the door. He followed me out.

"Which is your rig?" I asked him. He pointed it out and we walked to it.

"My name's Billy," he said. "I mean Bill," he added, looking away.

"Logan."

"I've never done anything like this," he said as he unlocked the door.

We climbed in. He sat in the driver's seat and turned on the heater. I sat down in the passenger's seat, looked behind at the sleeper. Then I took him by the chin and turned his head toward me. "Never done anything like what?" I asked, sliding my index finger across his lips. He sucked it in, nice tongue work. "Getting picked up in a truck stop?" I asked, taking his hand and putting it to my crotch. He started stroking me through my jeans. "Getting fucked in your truck?" I continued. "Or something else?" I took my finger out of his mouth.

"All of that. Never went off with somebody I don't know, at a truck stop or anywhere else." He paused, looking down. "Never got fucked, either, not just in my truck." He looked up at me, saw me looking at him kind of sidelong. "I've done other stuff, just not that."

"Might as well tell you now - I only top. That okay with you?"

He nodded. "I want you to… do that. I just never did before." He looked at me, kind of a nervous smile on his face, hand still on me. "I'm a little scared."

I unzipped my fly and took my cock out, putting his hand around it. He started to stroke me. "What are you scared of, Bill? I won't hurt you."

"Good. I'm glad." Sort of a shy smile with that. "Mostly I'm scared I'll do something wrong, I guess."

"Just do what I tell you to and we'll get along fine." I pushed his head down. "Suck me." He got started. He was good, knew what he was doing, alright. Licking up and down real slow before he took it in. Then moving up and down, hot wet mouth all over my dick, tongue stroking. Making good sounds, too. I relaxed into it, leaned back against the seat. He shifted position, got off of the seat. Kneeling on the floor now, sucking hard. Stroking himself while he's doing me. I held onto his head, wrapping his hair round my fingers.

I was getting close to coming; I could feel it. He could, too, and started to pull back. "No," I told him, pushing his head down. "Swallow it." He did and I came, shooting deep in his throat. He kind of sputtered a bit as I finished and pulled out.

I told him to take off his clothes and get into the sleeper compartment in back. I watched while he undressed. Nice body - long and lean. All contrasts - pale, pale skin and dark hair and eyes. Eyes kind of magnified through the thick lenses of his glasses. He kept them on.

I pulled off my clothes, too, and got on the bed with him. His cock was long and hard and I held and rubbed it a little. He reached for mine, saying, "I didn't think you'd be ready for more so quickly."

"I'm always ready for more, Bill. Turn over."

So, he's all stretched out on his bed, face down, legs spread a little. One hand under him, lovely ass moving slowly in time to what he was doing with his hand on his cock. I put some lube on my fingers and pushed one into him, lying next to him on my side. He pushed back to meet my hand, kept moving in that kind of slow, undulating way. "That's good," I told him. "Keep going. Real slow." Two fingers now, and twisting. Finding a spot he liked, opening him up for me. One more finger and then he's going a little faster, hand under him rubbing hard. Took my fingers out and slicked my cock, too. Then I got on top of him and started pushing it in.

A little hard to get in at first. He stopped moving, tightened up a bit. I reached under him and moved his hand away, held onto his dick. He relaxed as I stroked him. He moved into it a little and I pushed in all the way. He kind of gasped and I leaned down next to his ear and said, "You okay?" He nodded and I started moving. Up and down, in and out of that tight, hot ass. I felt like talking to him. Don't know why, but I did. "You like my big dick moving in you, Billy? You glad you let me take your cherry?" He kept nodding and I kept fucking him and talking to him. Going faster now and sort of losing some of my control. Still talking but I'm not even sure of everything I said. Faster and harder and rubbing him hard with my hand, too.

I was so into what I was doing that I didn't even notice he was ready to come. Surprised when it spurted all over my hand. I kept fucking him hard, taking my hand out from under him and telling him to suck the cum off my fingers. That did it for me - guess he sucked me off again, in a way. Yelling while I let go deep in his ass, while he sucked on my fingers. Didn't even stop to think if anyone could hear us until I was done. Then I pulled out and looked around, saw there didn't seem to be anybody close by.

"You okay?" I asked again and he nodded once more. I just lay there a few minutes. "You seem pretty young to have a big rig like this, Bill," I said after a while.

"It's my father's, really. He's sick - he can't work. I'm the eldest."

"So, you stepped in? Supporting the family?"

"Not at first. I was in college. I offered to come home but my mom said she could handle it, she knows how to drive it. And she didn't want me to give up on school. But it just didn't work out. Dad's real sick and she needed to be home with him a lot of the time. Plus, when she was gone the other kids went kind of wild. My brother Steve was supposed to be in charge - he's the oldest after me - but he's the wildest one of the bunch. So finally she asked me to come home and take over."

"Where's home? North Dakota?"

"Yeah. I guess you saw the license plate."

"Uh huh. Where were you going to school?"

"St. Olaf College. You probably never heard of it, right? It's in Minnesota. It's where you're supposed to go if you're a smart Norsky kid, but nobody else knows anything about it."

"Norsky?"

"Norwegian. Sorry. "

I looked at him a little skeptically, touched his hair. "You don't have what I think of as Scandinavian looks."

"You probably think we're all blond and blue-eyed, right? My brothers and sisters would all look Scandinavian to you then. Dad, too. But my mom is black, like me."

"Black?"

"Black Norwegian. This kind of look," gesturing to himself. "Dark hair and eyes. That's what it's called. There are Black Swedes, too."

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. He broke the silence. "Do I look like Scott?" he asked.

"Who?" Looking him in the eye, not wanting to seem like I know what he meant.

"You said his name before." Looking right back at me.

I chuckled. "Nah, Bill, you must have heard me wrong. I probably said 'God'. I'm not a religious man but it's sort of traditional to say that. And it being your first time and all, I figured you should get the whole treatment." Trying for an amused smile.

He shrugged. "Whatever you say." Looked away. And then, after a minute, "I know there's somebody named Scott. I do look a little like him, don't I?" I didn't say anything. He still had his glasses on and he touched them now. "He wears glasses, doesn't he? And he's really dependent on them, like me. Can't hardly see without them, right?"

I nodded real slow. "I didn't say his name, did I?" He shook his head. "So, how do you know about him?"

He shrugged again. "Sometimes I know things I shouldn't. I don't know how."

"What do you know about Scott, besides the glasses?"

"I know he's tall and thin. I know you worked with him or something. Maybe he was your boss? No, not that. But he's in charge of something, some group of people. And you're connected to them somehow. I don't know - that's not clear." He hesitated, then continued. "I know you wish you were with him instead of me."

I didn't say anything for a few minutes. Then I asked him, "Who knows about you knowing things like this, Bill?"

"Nobody. I never told anyone."

"Why are you telling me then?"

"I don't know."

I asked him for a pen and paper and he went and got it from the glove compartment. I wrote down a name and number for him. "If you're ever out east, anywhere near New York City, call this number. Ask for Professor Xavier. Tell him I sent you."

"What's your whole name?"

"Logan's enough. He'll know who you mean. Tell him about knowing things you shouldn't. He might be able to help you understand what's happening to you, help you use what you know."

He looked at the paper. "That's where Scott is, too, isn't it?" I didn't answer. "I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

I shook my head. "That's pretty much the way it goes. Picking up a guy in a truck stop is definitely a one-shot." I started to get dressed. "I hope your dad gets better soon."

"He won't. He's dying. Slow but sure."

"Sorry to hear that." After a while I asked, "Will you get to go back to school?"

"Probably not. Dying costs a lot of money. Well, in the States, anyway."

I finished dressing. I held him by the chin again. "Don't do this no more, okay?" I said.

"Do what? Have sex with men? It's the only kind I want."

"That's not what I meant. I mean doing it with somebody you don't know. And doing it without a condom." He looked scared. "I'm clean; don't worry. But the next guy might not be. You shouldn't be doing that, Bill. Dying costs a lot of money, remember?"

He kind of smiled at that. "Okay," he said.

I looked at him hard. "And Bill," I told him, "the professor might be able to help you with school, too. There are other places that 'smart Norsky kids' could learn, I'm sure. I've got a feeling St. Olaf isn't a great place for a guy who only wants sex with men. Am I right?"

He nodded. "Northfield, Minnesota isn't exactly a gay mecca. And a Lutheran college isn't the best place to be if you're into guys. Maybe I'll talk to your professor." I was about to leave, but he took my arm. "What about you?" he said.

"What about me?"

"Are you going to keep doing this?"

I waited a long time before answering. "I don't think I'm going to be coming here again," I said. Then I left.

The End