"Where we goin' again, cher?" Remy asked Logan. He eyed the shorter man with suspicion.
Logan gave him a sharp-toothed grin. "Don't worry. You'll enjoy it."
"Somehow, I ain't comforted. We takin' the bikes?"
"I got t' change?" Remy looked down at his torn jeans and old Saints sweatshirt. Logan looked him up and down. There was the usual hint of lustful appraisal and Remy grinned brightly in response.
"Only if yer in the market fer a new frail?"
Remy's smile soured. He was on the outs with Rogue… again. This time he wasn't sure if they'd ever get back together. She'd told him that it was over with a mug pitched at his head. "Non, cher. Don't need one of them. Ain't we on night-shifts?"
"Switched out with Scooter and Jean."
"How much f' that?"
"Bottle of sparkling cider and a promise that I'd be off the grounds until six a.m. Blue's got the midnight to six."
"In that case, let's go, homme."
Logan ignored Jean's telepathic admonishments to be careful. He gunned his bike up to seventy. The Cajun was right on his tail. The sweet pounding of the blood in his veins made him feel alive like very little did in this world. The snow and ice that filled in the surrounding environment reminded him that the young man behind him didn't have a healing factor. He slowed in deference to the icy streets. Remy pulled up next to him at the next stop-sign.
He flipped up his visor. He only wore the helmet for privacy. "What's up, Ole Man? Y' putzin' for a good reason?"
"Just enjoyin' the ride, kiddo."
The Cajun searched his face for a long moment. "Okay," he said, drawing the word out. "Can y' hurry up some? Remy's freezin' his ass off here."
Logan chuckled. "Might try wearin' leathers."
"Ain't my scene."
"That ain't what I hear." Logan took off before the thief could respond.
Remy looked at the bar and shook his head. "T'ought you said a party."
"It's a party like you ain't seen in yer years, Gumbo."
"There gonna be a fight?"
Logan was obviously expected because the bouncer simply opened the door. The man's appraisal of the Cajun was more professional. He was analyzing stance and bulges for weapons. Remy did him the courtesy of returning the regard. That got him a short nod. He followed the Canadian into the crowded bar. He looked around the room, suddenly thinking that body armor might have been a good idea. The crowd was rough and rowdy. The beer was flowing freely. Three kegs had been tapped and were sitting on the bar.
Remy's gaze roamed the crowd, picking out the faces of mercenaries and heroes alike that he'd worked with. He found himself nodding greetings to men and women he hadn't seen in two or three years. He resisted the urge to laugh when he saw Benny Smith gulp and pale at the sight of him. He crooked a finger at the fence and saw him fade back towards the rear exit.
"He owe you money?"
"Yup. About five K. Got his girlfriend's pictures back from her ex. He was t'reatenin' t' post them. I ain't worried 'bout it, but it still scares him. Take it out in trade, me."
"Sure. This be Deadpool's party, oui?"
Logan nodded. "Truce is in effect until midnight tomorrow."
Remy nodded. Logan went in search of beer while Remy sought out a warm corner to watch the room. An overly friendly hand settled on his ass and he looked over his shoulder to see Mystique smiling at him. "Bonjour, Raven."
"Does this mean my daughter is here?"
Remy snorted. "Non, Logan brought me."
"I didn't realize you'd started dating."
He jabbed his elbow back towards her stomach, pulling it before it contacted. She laughed. She kissed him on the cheek. "Has she finally gotten over her crush on you?"
"Crush?" Remy felt a surge of anger course through his body.
Raven looked at him almost fondly. "You may love her, but she doesn't love you. How can she? She's still pining over that idiot Longshot."
The young man blanched at that. There is no way to compete with a dead man's memory. She pinched his ass, then moved away into the crowd. Remy gulped half of the beer that Logan handed him.
"What the bitch want?"
"Warn me off her daughter, I t'ink."
Logan grunted. "Come on."
"Yer drunk, Gumbo," he informed the younger man.
"Oui," Gambit said amiably. He settled a little closer to the Canadian. "And y' point is?"
Logan shook his head. The young man's scent was intoxicating normally, now it was practically overwhelming. He wanted to pin him to the table and eat him alive. Barring that, he wanted to fuck him hard and fast. He needed to possess the owner of that scent.
"Y' waiting until midnight t' kiss me?"
"I know y' want me," Remy whispered right into Logan's ear. His voice was a soft caress. "Y' want t' throw me over the table an' fuck me till I feel it f' a week. Y' want t' set y' teeth in my shoulder and taste m' blood. Y ain't the first. Y' ain't even the only one here. Kiss m', cher. Claim me."
"Yer still pining fer Rogue. I ain't playin' that game."
"Y' a fool then, cher. I'll go find Creed. Least I know he won't turn m' down."
Logan growled. He caught the Cajun's collar. "You ain't going nowhere. Not drunk."
"Then kiss m'."
The Canadian's eyes narrowed. "This ain't my sort of game, Gumbo. You wanna be kissed that bad, you start it."
The younger man licked his lips. His brows pulled together. "You ain't goin' t' hurt po' Remy for kissin' y', oui?"
Logan blinked. He let his stance soften. "Nah. I ain't never killed someone fer kissin' me."
That earned him a bright smile. "Bien." The Cajun kissed like he fought, recklessly. It wasn't sweet in the least. It was a kiss of passion and lust. Sloppy, deep, and tasting of champagne, Logan opened to the assault. He wrapped his fingers into the soft strands of Remy's hair. The Cajun moved to straddle his lap, kneeling on the bench to either side of the stockier man's legs.
The thief's fingers stroked through Logan's hair, petting his sideburns idly for a moment before finding their way to his neck. Logan broke the drowning kiss, pants too tight and lungs burning in a good way. "You sure about this, kid?" he asked, wrapping his fingers around the back of Remy's neck and holding him still.
"The only thing I'm ever sure of, Logan," he said quietly. He looked around, spotting their host. He smirked at the man. "Now, been awhile since I been invited t' one of Deadpool's parties, but I'm guessin' he still has rooms set aside upstairs, non?"
"Oh, come on, Gambit, I forgot to schedule a floorshow," their host said. He glanced at his watch. "By my figures we've got about two hours before the price on your head and the fact that I killed one of your thieves kicks in and our truce is over. Provide a floor-show and I'll extend that until six?"
Remy chewed at his lip. Logan growled low in his throat. "Y' choice." He leaned down to whisper into the Canadian's ear. "Just think about it. All these folks knowin' y' got me tamed tonight. Pissin' off Creed when he can't do anyt'ing about it. Havin' Mystique owe y' for keepin' me away from Rogue. Merde, do me in front of about a hundred folks I done fucked or fucked over in m' career. Besides, t'ink how sweet it'll be t' finally get those pants open. Seems to me they're mighty tight."
Logan's smile grew sharper. "You got lube in that jacket or do I gotta go find something?"
Remy laughed. "Deal, 'Pool. Six AM wake up." With a flourish the Cajun presented Logan with lube. "Now, where were we, cher?"
Logan pulled the younger man into a hard, kiss, pleased by the immediate response. He placed a series of small kisses along one sharp cheekbone, until he could tug on the gold ring Remy wore with his teeth. Then he whispered roughly into that same ear. "Last chance to stop this."
"Why'd Remy do somet'in' that stupid?" Remy nibbled at Logan's throat. "Y' got more control than Creed. Not near as mean, neither."
"Compare me ta that flea-bitten son-of-a-bitch one more time and I'll have to teach ya a lesson." Logan surged up, laying the young man down across the table. He ignored the crash and splash of their glasses hitting the floor. He palmed the young man's crotch, feeling the hardness there. "Get yer jeans off or lose 'em."
Remy moved with more coordination than his inebriation should have allowed for. He pushed his untied boots off and heaped the rest of his things on top of them. He hadn't worn his trench for some unknown reason. Logan almost told him to put the leather jacket back on, but decided he like the idea of seeing skin more. The Cajun wasn't shy in the least. He sprawled across the table, propped up on his elbows. He smirked. "Y' gonna just look at m'?" he taunted. "Like all these folks here are?" His cock was hard and flushed. Logan smirked.
"Bet you could come just from all of us lookin' at ya," he murmured, voice carrying only to his partner for the night and those closest to the table. He saw Creed creeping closer. He growled a warning. The larger man smirked, but held a hand up to indicate that he was just getting a better angle. The thief's body was toned, not bulky. His abs were solid and dusted lightly with the same mahogany that graced the top of his head. The Cajun didn't dispute the statement. Logan slid his hands up the firm thighs and rested for a moment on the younger man's hips. His thumbs stroked softly against the satiny skin. He smiled a toothy grin at the Cajun who arched back like a cat into his touch. He gave the proud cock a little lick of appreciation.
"Dieu, cher." Remy's head fell back, exposing his throat. Logan bared his teeth at the sight. The light created soft shadows to highlight the young man's chest. Logan wanted to bite into those shadows. After only a moment's hesitation, he started to lick, kiss, and bite his way up Remy's ribcage. He pulled the man closer and Remy's legs spread for him. Yeah, he'd get to the actual fuck in a minute. First, he was going to taste. One overly-enthusiastic nip drew blood. Remy shivered in his grip, his legs spreading wider. Logan snorted, of course the kid would get turned on by a little pain; he'd fucked Creed after all. He tasted of spice and iron.
"Just wanna eat ya up."
"Remy's all yours, cher."
Logan had to smile at that. The Cajun was truly beyond drunk. He should stop this, but Hell, he'd never get this chance again. He took his time preparing the tight muscles of Remy's hole. He enjoyed watching the little shivers and twisting motions that ran through the body laid out before him like an offering. Remy was flat on his back now, one hand on his stomach, the other tracing lazily over his cock.
"T'ink I best keep y', cher," the thief drawled. "Didn't know y' trained wit' the whores in Japan too." His hips canted up, offering himself.
Logan chuckled. "You get drunk enough, I'll show ya how to spend an entire night on the edge."
"Merde, ain't even fucked m' and y' plannin' on killin' me." Logan twisted his fingers just so and the Cajun stopped talking. The Canadian considered using the condom that the kid had rubber-banded to the lube. He smirked. He didn't have anything and he couldn't catch anything, so why bother? He greased up his cock, only now realizing how close he was himself. He stopped playing and pressed his cock into the loosened hole. Remy moaned. He pressed down, greedy for more and Logan couldn't help but oblige. He pressed up and in and then his world narrowed to the smell of sweat, and sex and the intense hot pressure of a space that was almost too small for his cock.
He waited, holding himself still in the maelstrom of sensations until the scent of pain faded. He started to move. He caught the fine fingered hand to stop Remy from stroking himself. "Logan."
The Canadian just growled. That got him a low moan. His thrusts grew sharper as the younger man wrapped his long legs around his waist. His fingers flexed hard around Remy's waist and wrist and he was fairly certain that he'd leave bruises there. He just didn't care. The Cajun urged him on wordlessly. Logan shifted his hand from the surprisingly slender wrist to the fingers and guided them back to the hard cock. He controlled their motion and the feel of their shared motion made his hips jerk. The young man came. The sticky fluid splattered Logan's shirt and the toned stomach. He let the convulsing muscles milk his cock. He came with one sharp thrust after that.
He stroked the young man's stomach as they eased apart. He glanced at Deadpool. "Third room on the right, if you think you can get him there."
Logan smirked. "Come on, Gumbo, up and at 'em." He slapped the muscled thigh. Remy stretched languidly.
"Pass me my jeans, cher." The thief smirked at the crowd. "Any of y'all wantin' autographs are gonna have t' wait until morning. Got plans, me." He slithered into his jeans and gathered up the rest of his things. He sauntered towards the stairs. He brushed past Creed. "Bon nuit, Chat." He blew him a kiss over his shoulder. "F' midnight."
Logan chuckled as he passed his sworn rival.
"Hey, runt. Bite him and he'll cave even faster."
The Canadian growled at that, but purposefully didn't speed up. He smirked. He had all night to find that sort of shit out it seemed. Maybe he'd have even longer. It was a new year after all.