"For the last time, Gambit, I am not attracted to Logan."
"Den explain de white an' red t' m'."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"When y' look at him y' turn white an' red. When y' dink 'bout him y' turn white an' red. When y' talk 'bout de homme, y' turn white an' red. When y' two are in de same room it flares out like a supernova. Y' love him. Hell, Paul saw it de day he met y'!"
Scott took a breath. I will not lash out, he told himself. "Explain."
"White be love. It's what was 'tween y' an' Jeannie. White an' red. Red is lust."
"It think you're confused. I can't see Wolverine without thinking of Jean. That's all it is."
"Bullshit, Cyke." Gambit kicked the door closed in Rachel's face. "Y' been looking dis way at de boy since Gambit got here. Dis ain' some fantasy dat come from Skippy bein' hitched t' Logan. Haven' y' even dought about it? Why do y' let him get away wit' touchin' y'? He's de only homme in de place y' let touch y'."
"That's not true."
"Hank don' count. He be y' docteur. Dat's like sayin' M. Essex be m' lover." Remy dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "An' de Danger Room don' count neither. Logan can touch y' when he just be talkin' wit' y'. Y' ain' so rich dat y' can just let love pass y' by."
"You touch me too. It's just a game. He doesn't mean anything by it. And would you please stop charging the rug."
"Non. Ain' no one gettin' outta dis room 'til y' stop denyin' de trut'."
"Gambit," Scott began. He sighed and let the rest of the statement die. He thought for a moment. "Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable?"
"Non. We ain' movin', Cyke. Tell m' 'bout Logan. Describe him t' m'. Pretend I ain' never seen him. Never met him an' I need t' find him in de middle of de City."
Scott sighed again. "I'm sitting down. Stand all night if you really want to." He suited actions to words and took a seat on the parlor's antique loveseat. Gambit diffused the charge from the fringe of the rug. He stood, waiting, hands behind his back and eyes focussed on Scott's face. The older man looked back blandly for almost two minutes before asking, "Why is this so damn important to you?"
"Because Remy made a promise a long time ago t' de saints. An' he promised Jeannie when dey be on assignment t'gether. So talk."
"Fine. Logan. He's short. He's broad. He's furry. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Three, foot long claws that pop from the back of his hands and a nasty attitude."
"Don' be stubborn. Dat ain' a fuckin' description. Dat's somet'in' Baby Ray tell m'."
"Stay away from my daughter, Montgomery."
"Listen. Remington Montgomery be de only reason y' got a bebe. Talk. Describe de homme."
"Okay. Okay. He's shorter than five feet, but not by much. His hair is brown and sort of wiry, more like fur than hair. It grows over the back of his hands. He's got sideburns and is almost always clean shaven. His eyes are blue like Jubilee's."
"Who?"
Scott snorted.
"Fine. They're pure blue with no flecks of other colors. They're sort of sad usually. He's stocky. Broad, but it's pure muscle. He smokes cigars. He drinks beer. He's got adamantium on his bones and claws that can extend from the back of his hands. What else do you need?"
Gambit thought. "Tell m' more 'bout his eyes."
"Christ," Scott muttered. "Okay. They're sort of sky blue. Like you'd see on a summer day in the country. You know what I mean?" Remy nodded.
"Go on."
"They're topped by bushy eyebrows."
"Y' said dey be sad. What y' mean by dat?"
"Sometimes, when you look at his eyes, it's like he's seeing something besides you. They seem old. Sort of like the twinkle they have when he's laughing has been drowned by salt water. It just catches you in the gut and he seems old and lonely, separate, but not remote. He lives too much in the past and it shows in his eyes." Scott shrugged as the words failed.
"Tell me 'bout his hands."
"They're rough and calloused. Strong. The fingers are blunt and sort of squared. There's hair on the back of them. It's short and curly, the same color as his sideburns."
"He clumsy den?"
"No, not clumsy at all. He's very precise and delicate. He never drops anything or uses too much force unless he means to."
"Ain' he strong?"
"He's strong. He can carry Jubilee, his teenage daughter, on his back like she's still a little girl. He's gentle too. He's very aware of his strength and makes sure he doesn't hurt anyone he cares about. He'll go after his enemy with the ferocity of the Wolverine he was named for."
"Tell me more about how he fights." Gambit settled on the floor in front of Scott. The older man was getting into the exercise. He hadn't done an exercise like this since before Logan had joined the team. It was fun.
He considered the question. "It depends on how angry he is."
"He gets sloppy?"
"No. He gets more perfect when he goes feral. He is controlled and deadly when he's thinking, but he's effortless when he's feral. The lion doesn't think when she makes a kill. She knows exactly how to do it. Every part works in concert. That's what happens when he forgets to think. But even in his darkest moments he still can tell his enemy from his friend. He's a perfect predator. But he's a trained warrior who believes in honor and justice. He won't attack an innocent, only someone deserving.
"His enemies make him violent and the blood can fly everywhere. I think he fears his own ferocity and he refuses to let loose in a practice session. He's afraid of hurting the wrong person. But to watch him in the field is like watching the most deadly dance. He isn't afraid of dying and that gives him an advantage. I wish sometimes I could rile him up enough to make him really fight with me." Scott shook his head. "It's like I'm just a kid or something. He fights with Jubilee more violently than he will with me. It's frustrating. He's started holding back when we spar. I don't remember him doing that in all the years I've known him."
"Why y' dink he's doin' it?"
"Because suddenly, I'm not Slim anymore, I'm some fucking punk he doesn't trust to take care of himself in a fight."
"Trust? From who?" Scott stared. "Maybe he don' trust himself, henh? Dat don' matter now dough. Tell me more 'bout dis Logan y' want me t' find."
"What else is there to tell?"
"What be de man's favorite food? His favorite club? Where does he shop? What sorta dings does he like t' do?"
"He's Canadian. He likes hockey. But he only watches it on tv. That's the only reason he likes having cable." Scott ran a hand through his hair, not used to the longer length. He really needed to get it cut, but he just seemed to forget it all the time. Maybe it was because he'd seen pictures of Skippy with his old haircut and he didn't want Logan to get the wrong impression. "He smokes cigars. No particular brand. I don't see how someone with a heightened sense of smell can stand to do it, but that's just me."
"Heightened sense of smell?"
"Yeah. He can track a smell in the middle of a city." Scott considered. "You might have to be careful of that. He doesn't like being stalked. Anyway, he drinks beer and just about anything else. He'll eat almost anything except vegetarian food. He'll eat sushi if it's done properly. He's a stickler for proper Japanese cuisine. He spent a lot of time in the country. He's more Samurai than he'll admit to. He believes in honor and all that shit. He shops wherever he needs to. I don't think he has a specific place he likes. He's not cheap really, but he doesn't attach meaning to things for the most part which makes it damn hard to get him a present, you know? Where was I? Oh yeah, babbling like Jubilee about shopping. He does not do the food shopping. He can't choose an edible piece of meat to save his life. If it was up to him we'd eat squirrels and rabbits from the back yard and fish from the pond. But 'Ro, one of our housemates, threatened to fry him if he did that.
"He likes to get into bar fights and drink and watch hockey. So, of course, he hangs out in dingy sports bars and picks fights. He plays pool, though not as well as he thinks he does. He spends a lot of time in the woods. If it were someone else I'd call it camping, but for him, I think it's more than that. I think he's more at home out there than in the house. I think he'd live out in the woods, getting his water from the lake and a fire from the dead wood he collects during the summer to warm him in the winter. He'd love it. On the other hand, he writes poetry and tends bonsai trees. He likes the spare lines of Japanese art and will spend hours meditating on the calligraphy pieces in his room. He might actually go to the museum if he's with Jubilee. He likes to educate her about history that way." Scott smiled fondly. It was fascinating to listen to Logan talk about Japan. It was the only time he let down his guard. It was the only memory he was sure was real. That sparked something else.
"He has nightmares. And if it's been a bad night you can see it in his face. He has a healing factor so he'll never get really old, but after a hard night his face looks worn. His eyes are ringed with black and he looks fatigued. He doesn't move more slowly when fighting, but his shoulders slump a bit and he seems distracted. Not that you could sneak up on him, mind you, but he's just a little less focussed than usual. And it's different than his feral state. He's very focused when he stops thinking. When he can't stop thinking, he gets scattered, diffuse. He's more dangerous then, because he'll go off in an instant and he'll react without realizing where he is or who you are. And when you look into his eyes you don't even see the malice of a wolf, all you see is death. There's nothing in there. No pain, just a complete numbness that can chill you."
Scott was quiet for a moment. "He's an incurable romantic under a Hell's Angels exterior. He loved Jean enough to die for her at a moment's notice. He would have done anything for her including cutting off his own hand. But he never made a move on her once she was married. He believes in vows. It's a part of his belief in honor. He would rather let himself bleed and tear himself to shreds than to hurt someone he loves. He would kill anyone who hurt what was his. It wouldn't matter if he died in the attempt either because it would be the honor in the trying that would avenge the memory. He was Jean's guardian angel in the field. He would have done anything, faced anything, if it would have saved her. Damn, that must have hurt him bad, for Jeannie to be killed by something he couldn't hunt down and kill."
"It did," Remy said softly. "Go on," he urged. He fought down the headache that using his empathy for anything that didn't invoke all pleasant feelings always brought. This was important. And besides, they'll both be happy in the end. A little pain will be worth it.
"I don't know how he managed not to go crazy. Strange, I don't think I loved Jean that deeply. I don't think I could have. I don't have the ability to fall head over heels in love like Logan did. It took a long time for me to understand that I loved her, that I needed her, that she completed part of me. I feel like half of me is missing. We spent twelve years together in the future and by the time we got back we'd gotten over the passionate part of love. I could just lean against her sometimes. A violent temper she had though. I think I spent more time sleeping alone when we got back to the mansion than I did before the wedding. I never understood what she saw in Logan, but it wasn't something I ever wanted to know. And now it's too late to ask. That's going to take some getting used to." Scott lapsed into silence again. "Logan was completely committed to all the women he's loved over the years. Mariko. Silver Fox. Jean. He would have died for any one of them. He lost them all. But he's got a reserve of strength that is admirable although I don't envy him any. I don't think I could let myself love if I thought I was going to live forever. Although, with the way Logan picks fights I don't think he'll live forever. I don't think he can kill himself though. I don't think he could shut off his survival instincts that completely. He's not suicidal. He never has been. He refuses to let himself stop fighting. He will never surrender, not to anything or anyone. He will submit to a collar before he will die." Remy bit his tongue, hard. "I think that's why I trust him. I know he'll survive first, even if he does believe in self-sacrifice. He's stubborn as anything."
"Tell m' what he's like wit' his daughter."
"He's a softy. He will do anything for her. He'll put up with anything. He'll listen attentively to hour long discourses on the proper way to put on nailpolish and actually face the mall with a shopaholic. And then, there's his other kid. Kitty. She's a computer geek. She talks his ear off whenever she's in town about the latest gadget on the market. Logan's more likely to put his claws through the monitor than to program something. Sometimes I have to wonder if he even knows what she's saying or if he just knows when to nod his head like he's been listening to what she's been saying. And then, there's Baby Ray. She has him wrapped around her finger. She pulls on his sideburns and drools on his shoulder and he loves every second of it. He even manages to change her diapers without gagging." Scott's grin was affectionate although he didn't even recognize that fact. "And then, he'll sleep with her on his chest in front of the television set. I don't know if her growing up on a steady diet of televised hockey and cursing is a good thing, but she's a telepath and damned if she won't start picking up words she shouldn't anyway."
"What's it like sparrin' wit' him?" Remy asked softly. He shifted until he was leaning against the coffeetable.
"Like trying to fight a force of nature. I've done that too, but she's easier to catch out in hand to hand. Logan's like quicksilver when he fights. He can drop you if you let your guard down for even a minute. He'll just sweep a leg under you and you're down. Or he'll do a flying tackle just when you think you have him down. It's fun," Scott shrugged. "He doesn't do any harm and he never loses control enough to do real damage when he's sparring. It's a good way to get out your aggression. That healing factor comes in handy. You can knock him down or forget to pull a punch and he doesn't have a problem with it. It not that he doesn't feel the pain, but he ignores it and fights through it."
"What's it like when he pounce on y'?"
Scott snickered. "That's an image." He shook his head to clear it of Logan playing with a ball of string. It was just too disturbing because he could come up with uses for the yarn. "It's sort of like having a truck on your chest. The bastard's heavy. It's the metal on his bones. He can pin you more easily because he's just heavier than he should be."
"Do y' mind dat?"
"No." Scott shook his head. "I like to know I have him covering my back."
"Y' like him protectin' y'?" Scott's grin was rueful.
"Yeah, I guess I do. There's no one else I'd like to have behind me, actually, I'd rather he were in front of me," Scott laughed. "Then I don't have to work as hard. The new leather is a hell of a lot kinder to him than that damn yellow and brown spandex shit was."
"Yellow spandex?"
"Yeah. Well, during all the fighting we don't really like to be recognized." Scott had to admit that Gambit played dumb really well as he nodded with eager interest. "He used to wear this yellow spandex thing. It was skin tight. And I suppose it served its purpose of distraction, but I don't think it hid anything. Especially things I really didn't want to know about him."
"Like what?"
"Oh come off it, you aren't that innocent." The red eyes managed to look hurt at that and Scott relented. It was in the unspoken rules of the game. "I'm sorry. Like what exactly his package looks like. Contrary to popular belief in this house I don't care. Anything else?"
"Sometimes, if'n y' want t' find someone, y' can' always use y' eyes. Specially, not in de full sun f' moi. Dings look really washed out. An' sometimes y' got t' follow round corners an' in de shadows. Tell me what he sound like, what he smell like, all de dings I could use t' follow him wit'out havin' t' see him." Scott took his time formulating his answer. He chewed on his lip and closed his eyes behind his glasses.
"You won't hear him coming unless he wants you to know he's there. He moves like wind. Even moving fast, he's silent. He's got an innate sense of his movements. You will hear his claws. They make a sound like metal against metal."
"Clangin'?"
"No. It's a soft sound, like drawing a knife across a whetstone almost. It sort of slithers up your back when you can't see where it's coming from. Sometimes it’s the only thing you'll hear right before you feel the metal against your skin."
"Like a knife?"
"No," Scott found himself trying to explain things more clearly. "They're warm. His claws are warm when they touch you. And if he cuts you, sometimes it takes a moment before you realize you've been hit. They're sharp. Very sharp. They slice like a razor and don't leave a scar. Knives leave scars. His claws don't, unless he tears you up and then you won't survive him. If he cuts you, you bleed before you know it. But the metal isn't cold, it doesn't make you jump. It's almost hotter than skin temperature when they touch you. I don't know how the metal manages to keep its edge. It's like they sharpen every time he pops them out or pulls them back in. He's got perfect control over them too. It's not an all or nothing sort of thing. He can extend them very slowly. That sounds like a long drawn out hiss and if you know what it means you know you're dead. It can freeze your blood in the dark. The fast pops can almost sing like a sword. Like the katana he keeps in his room.
"He growls too when he's got you where he wants you. You can tell how angry he is, how feral he is by that growl. It rumbles out of his chest and across the room. And you can't run away from it. Even if you manage to get away from the claws when you hear that growl you know you are going to die. It grabs you at a base level that isn't human. It's the part of your brain that makes you realize that you're soft and chewy and the favorite meal of some long dead animal. It's the part of your brain that makes you his prey. If you're his equal you get used to the sound most of the time. Unless you hear the anger. Then you just want to stay out of the way. Or you're so damn glad he's there that you want to cheer him on. It can activate all my hunting instincts. Every part of me that's ever watched a hockey fight just to see if there's blood on the guy's face when they break it up. The part of me that wants to watch my enemies torn to pieces. It can bring that up. That anger. That force of hate and rage and you can almost taste the sound on your own lips.
"Or when you hear his voice and it's cold and rough and hard and the threat is given out in cold hard tones that shouldn't be able to come out of the same throat that can coo a lullabye to the baby or talk to Jubilee about her wedding plans. He shouldn't be able to laugh with that full blooded joy and freedom when the next minute he can be growling and threatening. He changes moods like a whirlwind. You can't really be sure when you crossed the line or what sets him off. One minute he'll be laughing, the next he's gone off to stalk something because he needs to kill something. To triumph over something." Scott took a breath. "He's only half-tamed. He can rocket off the edge of an emotion with no thought. He's exciting to be around because you never know if today will be the day he forgets who you are and those claws rip through you." Gambit cocked his head to the side, but said nothing. This was starting to take on a life of its own, just as he had hoped.
"And then, when he's talking to someone he cares about it's this pleasant rumble and a gentle accent. It's warm. It can warm up a room. It's like he feels one thing at a time and he can't help but let everyone know what he's feeling. When he talked to Jean it was like she was the most precious thing in the world. You'd have to be blind not to know he loved her. And stone cold deaf too. Maybe just willful. You can't mistake that kind of love."
"Can't y'?" Remy asked softly. "What do y' dink Jeannie heard?"
"Happiness. Passion."
"A joke?"
"What do you mean? She would never think of him as a joking with her."
"She was married in her heart, non? An' she know Logan believe in vows. She believe he love her? Or believe dat he's tryin' t' get t' y'?"
"I don't get jealous."
"Pull de ot'er one, homme."
"Fine, so I get a little jealous from time to time. But there is no way that Jean could think it was a joke."
"Why not?"
"Because he didn't speak to anyone else in the place that way. Not even Jubilee. The only person he ever treated with that same manner was Mariko."
"So, she be a substitution for his wife."
"No! That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you can't mistake how he feels."
"So how does he feel 'bout you."
"I'm his friend."
"Liar."
"Fine. He loves me. But I'm not something you keep wrapped in silk and stuck away in the house for safety."
"De homme ever treat y' dat way? Like durin' sparrin' maybe." Scott started to answer than stopped.
"He doesn't love me like he loved Jean. He's just confused."
"When did his voice change when he started talkin' t' y'?"
"During that whole Phoenix fiasco. He was the only one I could talk to during the funeral."
"An' what y' do when y' dought Jeannie was dead?"
"I went on the road. Couldn't stop rescuing damsels in distress though and ended up coming back here."
"An' what was dat like?"
"Like coming home. I never thought I'd see Logan smile like that at me, but like I said he feels one thing at a time. He was happy."
"Why was he happy t' see y'?"
"Because we're friends." Scott crossed his arms. "Even if he does love me, I'm not in love with him."
"Y' best friends, non?"
"Yeah, definitely that. He's the first and only person I'd talk to if something really got to me. It's not like the professor's ever really been that big of a help. And Jean never let me get the words out of my head when I was upset. That's always frustrated me about living with telepaths. You never get to let anything out. You have to keep it bottled up inside where it can drive you crazy."
"Why y' like Logan so much?"
"He's free," Scott said candidly. "He doesn't treat me like I'm an idiot. He didn't have to overcome the memory of me as a rebellious brat. He accepted me as a man and as a leader. He'll follow me without complaining. In battle, when he looks to me, it doesn't matter how old I am, or when we met or any of that bullshit stuff. I'm the boss. He'll follow my orders. Oh, in the control room he'll hem and haw and bitch but out there he never questions. And he only breaks formation in dire need. It's refreshing. I can count on him. No matter what I know I can count on him. His loyalty isn't to the professor. Hell, he thinks of the professor as a child having a temper tantrum half the time. That's the only up side to this damn link that got established."
"What's de link like?"
"I get the benefit of sarcasm and age old wit and so does he and no one else gets to hear it. It… it gives me something to hang onto when this place gets so strange that I can hardly recognize it. And when it hurts to miss Jean, like I've got a hole where my heart used to be, he can pull me back. It doesn't hurt as badly when he's there. And it's almost scary to think there might be a time when he isn't right there to reach out to. I'm so used to having Jean there. I never had to say anything to her when I needed her. I had 12 years of her in my head and now she's gone and the silence was killing me. I was locked in stasis. I drifted in a dark, bad place for a long time. And then I came back here and it wasn't the same place I left and my wife was gone. That leaning post I relied on to keep me sane was gone. And Logan's here, but he doesn't know what to say or do around me anymore. And that hurts like hell. My best friend can barely stand to be in the same room with me, even though he's in my head all the time. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?"
"Tell him."
"Tell him what? That I love him. I don't. He's just a friend."
"And y' can't love a friend?"
"Not like he wants me to love him."
"Never said y' tell him dat. But y' tell him y' do give a damn an' stop treatin' him like he got de plague, non?"
"No."
"Why not? Y' explain dis."
"Because it's all or nothing."
"Why?"
"Because it is. If I tell him I love him, it's not going to be another 'let's be friends' talk. I can't do that to him again."
"Sounds like y' care, cher."
"I do care. He's my best friend."
"An' Jeannie weren't?"
"She was. I've never thought of Logan like that."
"Bullshit, Cyke. Y' just repressin' it."
"I do not think about Logan sexually."
"Close y' eyes."
"What?"
"Close 'em an' listen t' Remy. Y' tell him if it sound familiar or not."
"Fine. They're closed."
"Lean y' head back an' relax. Remy gonna tell y' some dings. Some dings y' told him a long time ago. Weren't Skippy. Just Scott. A lil' drunk, oui, but Scott."
"Okay. Okay. Just get on with it."
Gambit took the opportunity to rub his temples and concentrate on his accent for a moment. They were getting into much more familiar territory. "He ain't that scary, you know. He tries to play tough, but he's not. He's like a crunchy outside over a marshmallow inside. He likes to sneak up on me when I'm getting firewood. He'll stalk me through the woods when I'm looking for deadwood. I try to make it hard for him. I know he wants a challenge. It's a game. A lot more fun than poker or pool." Scott was getting used to the soft drawl as opposed to the thick accent Gambit usually sported.
"He tends to come up on me from behind. He'll pounce on me. He always makes sure I can't get more than a couple of bruises from it. And he'll hold me down until I stop struggling. He counts coup on me with a kiss. It's the most natural thing in the world when there's no one around to see. And sometimes, sometimes I'm sure he holds on for a little longer than he needs to to make his point. He always checks to make sure I'm okay before he'll let me up again. That's the nicest part. To know that somebody cares enough to check without asking. That he knows I trust him. That I can trust him. And the one thing you can't ever tell him is that I like it. I like knowing he's there holding me onto the world. I like knowing that he can take anything I dish out and that he can contain all the rage and anger and hate I don't let anyone ever see. He lets me be me, not Cyclops. He lets me be Scott. Not even Jean lets me do that. She doesn't like Scott, he's not predictable enough. She loves Cyclops though and that's who I can be for her. That sound familiar?"
"Yeah," Scott whispered. His arms were folded over his stomach.
"What's that sound like to you?"
"I love him, don't I?"
"What do you think?"
"I do. Oh, shit."
"Remy dinks it's high time y'all had a nice long talk. Take some food. Go out t' de boathouse. Don' come back 'til y' laid Jeannie t' rest an' told de homme de trut'." Scott bit his lip and nodded.
"Good idea." There was something fragile inside that felt like it was caught in a malestrom. Scott choked away his tears. He wasn't going to give the Cajun any more advantages. "Tell Logan to meet me out at the lake in an hour." Gambit nodded. He left Scott alone, closing the door softly behind himself. "Holy shit, I love the runt. What the hell am I going to do now?"
*****
"What the fuck did ya do ta him, Cajun?" Logan's claws were out and Gambit noted that Scott was right about the sound they made. He'd have to talk to Henry about how the claws came out. Oh, damn it all, he was spending way too much time as Montgomery. He was starting to think like a scientist.
"Not'in', homme."
"He cut off the link!"
"He want t' meet wit' y' by de lake in an hour." Logan nodded.
"Right."
"An' Logan?"
"What?"
"Take de brandy and de lube." Gambit grinned. "He gonna need de help."
"Yer a sick man, Gumbo."
"Hey, best someone in de house get some, non?"
"If ya'd let Paul set ya up like he's been threatenin' ta do…"
"Remy end up in de bottom of a jail cell somewhere." Logan smirked. Remy waved him away. Logan went to his room. There was something he needed to get. Remy decided to go in search of a nice, soft, dark room, with a nice bed to make his headache go away. Rachel Summers followed him. He groaned. "What y' want, 'tite?"
"To talk."
"Y' as frustratin' as y' mot'er."
"That's what I want to talk to you about."
"Merde."
"Can I come in?"
"Oui, fine. Jus' don' let Cyke find out."
*****
Scott settled on the ground and watched the sun play on the ripples from the fish in the water. It was so nice out here. He patted the basket. It was over-full and there were two six-packs of beer cooling in the lake. He'd grabbed them from the mud room on his way out as a last minute thought. It wasn't much of a seduction scene, he thought to himself. Damn that Cajun brat, I'm thinking sex now when all I was thinking was a nice declaration of love.
Logan settled down next to Scott with a backpack. "What's in the bag?" Scott asked, laying back in the grass.
"Somethin' fer after dinner. I'm guessin' that's why I'm smellin' fried chicken and chips?"
"Yes."
"Softenin' me up fer a blow?"
"Logan, give me some credit. I would never soften a blow to you."
"So what's so important that you dragged me out here?"
"Dragged? I don't remember any resistance. Chicken? Beer?" Scott opened the basket and went to fish the beer out of the lake. Logan unpacked the food onto the faded old red and white tablecloth.
"What sent ya runnin' fer the boathouse?"
"Too much thinking. I decided it's time for some action instead." Logan tore at the meat, white teeth flashing in the early spring sun. The air was still chilly and Logan worried that Scott would get cold, but he seemed perfectly content. Scott opened a beer for the older man, then popped one for himself. "Sorry it's American. Bobby did the shopping."
"I wondered why Auntie Gumbo was lookin' so tense."
"Does Mattie let you get away with calling her that?"
"Not to her face. Wouldn't want her to slip somethin' into my food."
"Good point." They talked about motorcycles and a sidecar for Baby Ray. They talked about everything from Bobby and Hank's upcoming ceremony to LaRoche's suitability for Rachel the elder. Eventually, they were savoring the last of the leftover chocolate cake. Logan licked his fingers clean.
"Not that I ain't enjoyin' myself, but what's the real reason ya wanted to meet me?" Scott brushed the crumbs from his fingers and considered.
"I talked some things out with Gambit. Not like I was given the choice, of course."
"Ya got Cajuned?"
"You could say that. I came to some… disturbing conclusions. I think I love you, Logan."
"There ain't nothin' ta be afraid of, Sweetheart." Logan reached out and laid a hand on Scott's knee.
"This is completely fucking with my head. Damn it!"
"What's up?" Scott sighed and brushed his fingers through the newly grown grass. He didn't object to the hand on his knee. It helped him focus.
"You don't fall in love with men."
"Yer wrong, Slim."
"You fuck men. You suck men. You let them pay for dinner, but you don't love them!"
"It don't have to be either-or. Ya can have sex and love."
"None of the men I've known get both from another guy. It doesn't happen that way."
"Why not? Ya had both with Jeannie. Why not both with me? I ain't other guys and neither are you. Don't make that mistake." Logan put a finger over Scott's lips. "Let me finish. Ya ain't bein' unfaithful ta Jeannie. Jeannie died thinkin' of us as a trio. She didn't know ya weren't there. 'Sides, I got the will upstairs. She gave ya ta me."
"You'll have to show me that someday. Does Gumbo have security cameras in the boathouse too?"
"Of course. Don't worry. We'll bribe him ta keep quiet. Gettin' cold?"
"Sun's going down. I figure we'll move this little meeting indoors."
"Good idea. Let's go." Logan repacked the dishes into the basket, snagged the last of the beer and his backpack. The inside of the boathouse still felt like Jean. Scott flipped on the light and looked around. Logan gently prodded him out of the way with the tip of his finger.
"Sorry."
"This is yer first time back ain't it?"
"I haven't been able to face it."
"As bad as ya thought it would be?"
"No."
"Good. Ya want me ta start a fire?"
"No. It's not that cold out. We do have central heat."
"Don't feel like cuddlin'?" Logan cooed with a false batting of his eyelashes. Scott made a face. "But, Honeybear…"
"Don't start," Scott said, fighting the laughter. He lost the fight. "Bastard."
"Brat." Logan couldn't help but feel happy. He was on cloud nine. Slim had actually admitted to loving him. "What's up with the hair?" Scott shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe I want to be a thief when I grow up. Oh, sorry, been there, done that. Just haven't gotten up the energy to do anything about it."
"Don't bother. I like it. Might need a trim, but I can do that." Scott was startled. Logan shrugged. "Makes it easier to remember yer you again."
"Tell me about it. There are so many pictures of _him_ around this place that it's hard to remember which parts are me and which are him."
"That I can tell ya when ya get lost."
"You're always there when I get lost. Why?"
"I love ya, stupid. Get used to it." Scott snorted.
"So answer me, what's up with the new uniforms?"
"Gumbo and Bets saw Skippy in the leather pants I got him. They convinced the professor to buy leather uniforms."
"Pure sex in other words."
"Pretty much."
"Thought so." Scott realized that Logan was waiting patiently for him to move into the living room or dining room or anything instead of just standing by the door. Scott didn't know what to do. This house didn't feel like home anymore. It was more like a memorial to Jean.
"Ya gotta let her go, Slim. Remember her, don't cling to her. She ain't comin' back this time." It was harsher than Scott had ever heard Logan talk about her. He stared. Logan gave him a half smile. "Someone needs to break real around here. I figger it may as well be me. Come here, kid. I been through this before. Never thought I'd have ta do it again." He took Scott's hand and pulled him across the room to the mantel. "Stay. I'm gonna put the leftovers in the fridge. You look at the pics." Scott nodded and stared, almost in shock at the photos on the mantel. He remembered all of them. These were the good times. This was before Skippy. Damn there were a lot of pictures of the three of them. And the rest of the team too. He ran his finger along the picture of Jean's face. He panicked.
"Logan?" he called out in a choked voice. "I can remember what she smelled like anymore." He felt a wave of compassion through the link and opened to it.
//It's okay, Slim. It's been over two years since ya seen her. Since ya touched her. Things like that'll start ta fade.//
//I don't forget that sort of thing! I didn't last time she died.//
//There weren't enough time last time, Scott.//
//Do you remember?//
//Not that I can pull up.// Regret filled the link. //I would if I could, boss, ya know that.//
//I know. How can I forget her? How can I forget someone I curled up next to for so many years?//
//Because if ya don't ferget a little, ya can't live. It'll still cut ya too bad ta remember. So ya ferget. Ya move on. Ya live again, cuz ya know she'd want ya to. Ya have to let her go. Let her rest. It's been a long hard fight and ya both lived a lot more than yer supposed ta in a short time. Rest.//
//I think I've forgotten how to do that too.//
//I'll remind ya. Come here. I've got a treat.// Scott looked up and saw Logan on the couch. He had two brandy snifters on the table. //It's the good stuff. Honest.//
//Somehow I think you're trying to get me drunk.//
//Always new ya were smart. Sit down. Ya need ta relax. Ya need ta come ta terms with some things.// Scott shook his head, then sat down. He let Logan settle an arm around his shoulders and slumped down with the brandy. //Can ya let me show ya that there's more to this than lust?//
//You can try,// Scott challenged. //But, part of me will never believe that.//
//I overcame that part once. I can do it again, ya stubborn asshole.//
//You say such sweet things.//
//I try. Shut up and drink yer brandy.//
//But it's not warm.//
//I ain't got my lighter with me.// Scott snickered and took a sip. He settled closer to Logan. It felt right.
//Well, here's to stubborn brats.//
//I'll drink ta that.// They clinked glasses lightly.
//So what are you gonna show me that I ain't seen before?//
//Hank's right. Yer grammar gets worse when ya hang out with me.//
//You can't take credit for that all alone. So?//
//I'm gonna show ya there's a difference between fuckin' and lovin'. And yer gonna understand it don't have ta be just sex. I ain't yer fuckbuddy. Never meant ta be that sorta lover. I'm gonna love ya. Nice an' slow an' gentle an' affectionate.//
//I'm not Jean.//
//Never said ya were. I told ya. Ya can have love and sex with a guy.//
//Right.//
//Now, first I'm gonna ask some questions.//
//Why?//
//Ta make sure we're on the same page.//
//Let's see, turn ons… well, it looks like short, hairy guys and tall, stacked red-heads. Turn offs…//
//Shut up, Cyke.// Scott grinned. He shifted, leaning into Logan's gentle stroking of his hair. That was a definite positive to having it long. Storm had started…erm… petting his hair too. It felt better when Logan did it though. Logan was gathering his thoughts. Scott settled in closer. The brandy was working, it seemed. Logan breathed a quick kiss on the top of Scott's head. //Ya never had a boyfriend?//
//Hate to point this out, but I'm straight. Uh, was straight. My only experience with men is in a business capacity.//
//I knew it. I told Jeannie, but she wouldn't listen ta me.//
//That I was a whore?//
//That yer a very talented whore.//
//Should I resent that?//
//Naw. This is just me. I appreciate good talent. 'Sides, this ain't yer show tonight.//
//Yes, sir, Mr. Logan, sir.//
//Respect. I like that.//
//Don't get used to it, Runt.//
//Ya gonna let me have my way with ya?//
//I haven't run yet.//
//You practice bein' this reassurin'?//
//In front of the mirror.//
//Knew ya were vain.//
//Um. What exactly is your hand doing there?//
//Gettin' ready ta hold ya down fer a kiss.// Logan's fingers tightened on the back of Scott's neck and he leaned in for a kiss. He gently explored Scott's mouth for the first time in months. He figured that he might never get a second chance. He memorized the flavor of his mouth. The taste was one he recognized, the unique flavor of Scott under the sweetness of the brandy. Scott's eyes closed of their own volition and he couldn't help but melt into the kiss. It was more gentle than he'd ever thought Logan would be. His mind stuttered to a stop. That meant he'd actually been thinking about this before. The next second, his mind went blank, filled with the taste of Logan. It was new. It was exciting. He tasted like the outdoors and Scott wanted more of that. He couldn't move his head in Logan's grip though, but even so, when Logan gently pulled back Scott tried to follow. Logan licked his lips to catch the last of the flavor of the kiss. //Like that?// Scott just nodded. The hand massaged gently where it had been gripping. Scott decided he wouldn't mind a couple of bruises in the pursuit of happiness.
Some how, some way, all of his apprehensions had disappeared. It had to have been the kiss. You don't kiss someone you're just fucking for the hell of it. Not like that. Not like it's the be all and end all of your life. Like it's the first and last chance to hold on to something precious that could be lost or broken forever.
Scott felt the tear slip down his cheek. "Shit," he muttered, swiping angrily at it. Logan took the glass from his hand and just pulled him close so he could settle onto the older man's shoulder. He cried. And each tear took Jean's death farther away from him. Logan murmured something in Japanese as he rocked his lover gently. The tears eventually ran dry and Scott gave a shaky laugh. "Not my usual response to a kiss," he whispered.
"Don't matter. Feel better now, Darlin'?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Logan's voice was rough and gentle at the same time. Scott craved hearing more of that tone. It was the tone of voice he talked to Jean in. Logan wiped at the tear streaks on his lover's cheeks. His fingertips were rough from work, but they were warm and comforting. Scott turned into the gentle touch along his cheekbone. Logan cupped his face. He kissed Scott gently once more, eliciting a smile this time. Logan inhale the familiar and beloved scent of his remaining mate.
"Never thought of you as a cuddler." Scott ran his fingers through Logan's hair. He was surprised at how soft it was. Logan stayed still and let him pet as he would. He ran gentle fingers down the sideburns, and across the wide lips, then, down the shorter man's throat. He noted the steady, strong pulse beneath his fingertips.
The touch was butterfly light to Logan's senses. But it wasn't hesitant. That was a good sign. The light brush of Scott's lips across his brow drew him out of the touch and back to the face in front of him. "It's not my first time," Scott told him with a half smile.
"It's yer first time with me. That's enough." Logan captured his lover's mouth once more. It wasn't a tender kiss. Scott's pulse sped beneath the assault. Almost unconsciously, Scott moved closer until he was in Logan's lap, straddling his legs. The kiss deepened. Logan's hand settled in the small of Scott's back, stroking in feathery circles until Scott squirmed. One hand held Scott's head to the kiss. Scott broke free from it.
"If you don't stop that, this will be quick."
"That's my lookout," Logan told him. Scott's hands rested on Logan's shoulders.
"Logan," Scott started.
"Shhh. Darlin'. My lookout. Don't hold back. I wanna see ya happy fer once." Scott bit his lip as the blunt fingers found their way to skin. He settled closer, biting Logan's shoulder lightly. His cock was hard, but he didn't want this to be one-sided. Logan's hands whispered up his spine and back down. "Been a long time to go without, Slim."
"Oh God, Logan." Scott's eyes closed.
"This ain't yer favorite shirt?"
"Nope." A snikt of metal on metal and the shirt was gone. Scott shivered at the sudden air on his skin.
"Let's head upstairs."
"You're insane," Scott muttered. "Fine, carry me, Honeybear." Logan snickered.
"Think I won't?" Scott let out a rather undignified yelp as Logan stood, lifting him up easily. "Relax. I've gotcha." Scott got his feet under himself. Logan grabbed the backpack in one hand and took Scott's hand in the other. It would have been a faster trip if Logan hadn't stopped halfway up the stairs to pull Scott into a warm kiss that left them both breathless.
Scott started to untie his sneakers only to have Logan's hands settle over his. "No, let me." Logan's gaze seemed to penetrate the mirrored quartz. The actual locking of gaze disconcerted Scott and he complied. Logan kissed the palm of each hand before taking off the shoes. He ran his fingers up the seams of Cyke's jeans, the same jeans his own fingers had repaired. "These're my favorite jeans." Scott blushed to be caught out in pre-planning.
"So I've been told."
Logan grinned and carefully undid the fly. "Like what's underneath a pretty well too." Scott bit back a whimper. He didn't trust his voice and turned to the link.
//But what about you?//
//Shit, Cyke, all ya gotta do is smile and I'm ready. Right now I could devour ya. This's gotta be fer ya first cuz I don't know as I'll be this calm later.// Scott blushed bright red as Logan engulfed him.
//God.//
//Not really, but thanks anyway.//
//- - -// Scott's thought were obliterated as Logan's mouth began to move. Moments later, he felt Logan come as he burst into the hot, willing mouth. For the first time, he truly understood the power of the link. He curled over Logan, stroking his hair. He didn't even realize he wanted to be kissed until he tasted himself on Logan's lips.
"Like that, kid?"
//Like I'm coherent?//
"I know ya can talk, I wanna hear ya." Logan crawled up onto the bed, pushing Scott back into the clean sheets. The both stopped. The sheets should have been dusty. Suddenly, that was intensely funny. Scott snickered and swiped ineffectively at the laughing Wolverine's hands which had settled firmly on his ribs.
//Cajun?//
"Yep. Talk."
"Why?"
"I love the sound of yer voice."
"My voice? It's nothing special. My reciting is pathetic."
"But it's yers."
"You're wearing too much," Scott said, suddenly irritated by that. He was supposed to be in control of this little session. He was always in control of things.
"I'll take care of it. And ya gotta give up. Let me show ya how good it can be."
"You don't have to prove anything to me," Scott said, voice dropping to a gentle whisper. "Nothing at all." Logan shook his head. He laid a gentle kiss right below Scott's ear. He traveled down the side of his neck.
"Yer too tense. Roll over. Ya need to unwind," Logan told him as he pushed off from the bed to remove his shirt and pants.
"That would entail moving," Scott stated.
"Yeah, I think it does."
"Damn."
"I'll help ya in a second. Gettin' old, kid?"
"Feels like it." Scott snickered. "You the best at this too?"
"Always."
"Might have to test that. I could swear I remember hearing Gambit…"
"No G-words in this room," Logan growled, with mock sternness. Scott couldn't keep from grinning. Great, time for head games. Years of practice with keeping secrets around Jean allowed him to keep the thought out of the link. Logan looked at him suspiciously. "What are ya thinkin' over there?"
"Nothing," Scott said innocently.
"Brat."
"I do my best." Logan clucked. Scott did a double take when Logan pulled some of the things out of the backpack in an attempt to find the lube. "What exactly is that?"
"Yer collar."
"I don't think so, Logan. Not happening. A blindfold? What the… is that the sash from Jeannie's Miss Marvel costume?"
"Yes."
"No way."
"I've got the tapes."
"Man. You have no idea what it was like living with her in that damned skirt."
"I'd say it was probably pretty hard. Here." Scott looked at the collar in his hand.
"Property of Logan."
"Yep."
"Not happening. No way. No how."
"We'll see."
"No. It's a short little word. Even Jubilee knows that word."
Logan just grinned.
"Rope? What the fuck is going on it your mind, Runt?"
"That I'll be gettin' my own way soon."
"No way. Never. Not happening. What the fuck is that?"
"Didn't think ya were that innocent."
"Body paint?"
"Yer doin' a pretty good impression of Storm."
"I did not need to know that. Bad enough trying to imagine Bishop having sex."
"It ain't pretty." Scott turned the leather over in his hands. It was soft. The silver was sterling he supposed, but couldn't muster the energy to check. "Do ya trust me, Slim?" Scott looked up.
"Of course."
"Prove it." Scott gaped.
"You don’t seriously mean…"
"Come on. It won't hurt." Logan had settled on the bed again. He had massage oil in one hand and he set it on the nightstand. "Trust me. Let go." Scott considered. He looked up at Logan. It was a strange sensation, being lower than the runt. That never happened, even when they were sitting. Logan was trying not to play through memories. The last thing he needed was for there to be leakage into the link. That would send Cyke running faster than anything. He stroked the silky hair, gentling him. He felt the decision before Scott could even from the words. In fact, he never did form the words, just pressed the leather into Logan's hand and bared his throat. The collar fit perfectly, as Logan knew it would, with the silver glinting in the light. Scott still seemed a little worried. Logan prodded him until he turned over. "Damn yer tense."
"I've got a lot to deal with. That feels good." Logan's hands were large and deft. He seemed to know just where to press to loosen the tight muscles. Scott relaxed. He closed his eyes and took off his glasses so he could lay his face on his arms. Logan moved them to the nightstand and Scott tensed up again, feeling vulnerable.
"Stop that," Logan ordered, smacking the younger man's hip gently. "Worryin' is what makes ya tense up. I ain't gonna let anyone hurt ya. 'Sides, this place has the best security available. Trust me."
"I do. I just…"
"Trust me ta protect ya fer once. Stop fightin' me." Scott sighed and the hands went back to their task of loosening his muscles.
"We're going to hire you out." Scott flinched as Logan found a particularly tight knot.
"What caused this one?" Logan wondered idly.
"You. I've been worrying over you." Logan chuckled. "Oh, that feels nice. You've got maybe three hours to stop."
"How's yer head?"
"Fine. Normal." Logan rolled his eyes. He ran his fingers up the back of his lover's neck and into his hair to massage the scalp. Scott arched back into the contact.
"Like that, eh?"
"Yeah. You're good."
"I'm the best." Scott shook his head. Logan tugged on his hair. "No moving."
"You are evil."
"Sure am. I'm gonna move. Don't go ruinin' all my work." Scott heard Logan rustling through the bag. He rolled onto his side. It may have been a while but he still know how to show off. "Thought I… damn." Scott felt Logan's mind blank out. He was sent an image of himself. His jeans were hanging low on his hips, open to reveal his cock. His hair fell over the hand he'd propped his head on, wet with oil. The collar emphasized the pulse in his throat. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat and oil. His abs were defined by the careless drape of his arm over his middle. A smile curved up the edges of his mouth. Combined with his closed eyes, he looked to be in the middle of a favorite fantasy. Wolverine's growl tingled down Scott's spine. //Can I?//
//All yours, Logan. Ain't that what this says?// He touched the silver, feeling the etching beneath his fingers. He knew exactly what that change in position did to the image.
//Stop… aw hell, go ahead.// Logan was hard. The healing factor had some nice side-effects, as Scott would soon discover. Cyke didn't hear Logan move, but he felt a gentle hand on his hip. "Take 'em off." The jeans hit the ground and Logan pounced. His fingers traced random patterns over the soft flesh. He rarely touched the same place twice.
Scott's fingers creeped up Logan's thighs. He noted the distance under the "lover" file in his mind and fondled the heavy balls. "Shit, Slim," Logan groaned and moved into the touch. He reveled in the familiar look of concentration. Gently, he removed the fingers that were working filigree traceries over his hard length. "I wanna be inside ya, Babe."
"All yours. I told you." Logan kissed him. Scott felt Logan's tears fall against his cheek. He touched them gently and Logan's mouth transferred to his fingers, teasing the pads gently. Scott couldn't make himself form the words to ask what was wrong.
"I ain't never lettin' go. This is the last time I'll be able to let ya walk away."
"I'm not going anywhere. Don't push me away, Old Man. It took me a long time to get here, but I'm not leaving."
"Welcome home, Babe." Logan fastened his mouth to the place where the neck met the shoulder. He sucked and bit gently.
"Logan, please, don't tease." Hard cock brushed against hard cock more deliberately. Logan swallowed the whimper in his kiss. Scott's fingers stroked the arms that braced Logan's body above him. The muscles were corded and taut. The hair was smooth and ripe to be ruffled the wrong way.
Logan moved, suddenly sitting up. Scott groaned at the loss of contact. Logan's thick fingers were back soon enough, stroking cool lube into the tiny opening. The preparations were gentle, and in Scott's opinion, too long. But soon enough Logan was inching his way inside. Scott did all he could to assist, but Logan would slow down until Scott stilled again. //Tease!// Scott accused.
//Learned from the best.// Logan paused to give his lover a minute to adjust.
//Move. Damn you!//
//Soon, Babe. Soon.// Logan soothed.
//There is a time and place for self-control. This ain't one of them!//
//You'll thank me later.//
//Damn it! Fuck me!// And Logan gave in, but slowly, giving them both the opportunity to appreciate the friction. Logan unsheathed his claws and laid them against the sweat soaked skin, forcing Scott to be still. Long fingers traced up the metal claws carefully, to caress the knuckles between them. They brushed away the trace of blood they found there. Then, the fingers wrapped around Logan's wrists to pull the blades further up. That drove the contact deeper until Logan growled almost constantly.
Deeper contact forced Logan to pull in his claws. He didn't want to cause unintentional harm. Scott's momentary pout was swiftly replaced by the little frown Logan had been waiting for. Logan took down the barrier to the link he'd had up to keep control of himself. Scott was beyond caring about control or safety. The flood of sensation bled back and forth until there was not way to separate the one side from the other. Just as Scott could see himself, he was slammed back into his own mind, then back into Logan's mind. Half of the time he couldn't be sure if he was Logan or Scott. The dual sensations spiraled up, until, by no conscious decision they broke free at the same time in a golden flash pleasure.
*****
Scott couldn't figure out why he couldn't move. Eventually, he traced the cause to the fact that every synapse in his muscles was spent. There was also the gravely voice that was pouring a constant stream of words into his ear and stroking his chest and teasing his nipples, encouraging him to stay still. He forced his mind to process the words he was hearing. "What do you say, Slim? Nipple rings or tattoo?"
"Not in this lifetime, Runt," he croaked out. "Where're my glasses?"
"Very romantic."
"But I want to be able to see you, Wolvie."
"No, not the pout. Anything but the pout." Scott knew that picture too and chewed his bottom lip. Jean always caved when faced with it. Hell, the professor caved on the rare occasions he chose to employ it with the older man. "Fine. Here." Logan reached over him and pressed the shades into Cyke's hand.
Scott put them on and studied Logan's body. He traced down the furred chest and touched the pink nubs that peeked from it. They hardened under his caress. He looked lower and stroked the once again hard cock. "Jesus," he said in awe. "How long can you go?"
"My personal record is twelve, but my lover passed out and I was still able so…"
"Wow." Scott settled his head on Logan's chest, just under his chin. He stroked the cock gently, enjoying the gasped breath the action evoked.
"Havin' fun?' Logan growled. Scott nodded, his hair creating an odd sensation on his lover's chest. Logan settled his left hand on the exposed neck. He stroked along the edge of the collar. "Careful, Darlin'," he warned, then pulled gently on the collar. The response was an answering squeeze to his cock. Logan tugged on the collar again. Scott tugged at the engorged cock. Logan closed his eyes and snorted his amusement. Scott was in a playful mood now, completely relaxed. That spelled trouble.
"Wanna beat your record?" There was the trouble.
"Sweet Jesus, Slim."
"What? Too much to handle, Old Man?" Scott challenged, never moving form his spot. He rippled his fingers of the cock and Logan groaned. "So?"
"Yes. Sure. If ya think yer up to the challenge."
"I can take it," Scott assured. "By my count that's two." Scott moved his hand again. "You sure you're up to it? I mean it is a lot for one night."
"Shut up and get to work."
"If you insist." Scott took his time, determining what each type of stroke would do. Logan just groaned or whimpered or begged. His hand remained possessively on Scott's neck. His other hand was fisted into the sheet. The head began to leak pre-cum and Scott rubbed a finger across the slit. Logan jerked into the touch. Scott heard the pounding heartbeat rattling against Logan's ribs. He felt the muscles ripple as they tensed. Then, Logan exploded onto his stomach.
Scott lifted a taste of the semen to his mouth. Salty, slightly sweet and acidic at the same time.
*****
"I hate to say it, but I told you he'd wear it," Gambit said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
LaRoche sighed and passed his mug over. "Fine. You win. I admit it. Did you show him the tapes?"
"Non. He doesn’t even know they exist yet. This was all his own choice."
"Merde. Bloody hell."
"Dat was a weird combo."
"Sorry. I'm starting to meld languages. It comes from talking to you. So tell me, why won't you let me set you up?"
"I don' trust y', cher."
"I thought your accent was getting better."
"Only when it needs t'." They turned back to the monitors.
"This is better than the pay-per-view back at the hotel," Paul commented.
"When y' gonna move in? Y' spend more time here den de hotel."
"When I leave Interpol. If I leave Interpol. If Rachel and I decide to continue our relationship."
"Y' will."
"Don't be so sure. Anything can happen in this bizzare realm of superheroes you've chosen to inhabit."
"Dis ain't bizzare. Remy lived in Nawlins remember?"
"Stop that."
"What?"
"The third person bullshit. This is me, not one of them."
"Fine. Fearless ain't gonna be able t' walk t'morrow dey actually go fer all twelve."
"Good. Then I can draft you to look over a crime scene with me."
"You didn't." Remy's eyes widened with horror.
"Volunteer you as an expert in security? Of course I did. I need to ruin your rep. Besides, I thought you could bring Firecracker along."
"To see the investigation? Good idea."
*****
Scott was beginning to wonder if he'd made a mistake with this particular challenge. Logan was holding him still, though he desperately wanted to move. "Please," he whispered. Logan just laughed.
"That ain't gonna do ya any good, Slim. Yer in fer the ride of yer life."
"I didn't think… oh…" Scott strained against the restraint of Logan's arms to gain more contact. He bit at Logan's shoulder. "Damn your bones." Scott snapped.
"Too heavy, kid?" Logan laughed. "Too bad." The nice thing about the link was that things never went too far. For all his teasing, Logan would never hurt his lover, and Scott knew it.
Logan bent to darken the mark at "his" spot. Scott whimpered in the back of his throat. "Logan? Tell me what you want," Scott pleaded. Logan kissed him firmly.
"Stop thinking. Give up control. Let me direct you." Scott squirmed a little.
"Don't have much choice at the moment."
"Nope. Just give in."
"Okay. Okay. Just do something. You're killing me here."
"Still givin' orders, kid."
"Logan?" Scott did his best to make it soft and undemanding, but he wasn't used to it. He always ordered Logan around, or insulted him, or did something to make the intensity die down. His new knowledge made everything else that went before different somehow. He thought he should be guilty for not remembering more about Jean. But Logan's mouth was on his again and there was no time for idle thoughts like that again.
"Close yer eyes."
//I want to be able to see you, Lover.//
//Later. Right now, trust me. Close yer eyes.// Scott closed his eyes and gave a small nod. Logan released his arms and gently removed the glasses. //Ya look so young, Cyke.// Logan's fingers traced over his face. He placed a series of gentle kisses, following the path of his fingers. Scott turned to follow the touch. There was a soft click as Logan set the glasses out of the way. Scott could hear the rasp of Logan's breath as Logan's mouth explored his face. The warm breaths tickled into his hair. The brush of a sideburn against his cheek made him catch his breath. "Breath," Logan whispered into the shell of the younger man's ear. Scott drew a deep breath. He raised a hand to touch the furry chest that was in front of him. Logan caught his hand. He kissed the back of it and set it down on the mattress. "Still." Scott chewed on his lip. Logan's fingers pulled it gently from between his teeth. "Ya picked that up from Jeannie. Ain't good fer ya."
Scott remembered at the last moment not to open his eyes. He hated being blind at moments like this. He wanted to see the look on Logan's face. He reached for his glasses, but Logan carefully caught his hand again. "Trust me," he said. "Ya ain't got any idea what ya do to me do ya kid." He shook his head and held the hand close to his heart. And bent for another kiss. His hard length pressed against Scott's thigh. The deepening of the kiss was inevitable. Scott's hands stroked through Logan's hair and down his throat and back up. Logan tasted blood and realized that his teeth had nicked Scott's tongue. He savored the flavor and the fact that Scott didn't give a damn about the cut. Logan sighed mentally. He'd have to check on that.
//Forget it, Runt. It's not a problem. Come on. Jean's done worse when she's in a bad mood. It's nothing. It'll be healed by tomorrow. Just don't stop.// Logan pressed the advantage that Scott's momentary lapse in concentration had given him. He stroked down the muscled thighs.
//Damn I'm glad ya grew up.// Scott smirked as Logan pulled back for a long look. Logan wasn't sure what he wanted to do next. His only real thought was where to start?
Scott licked his lips.
Bingo. We have a winner. Scott smirked. There didn't have to be words, he knew exactly what Logan wanted. He parted his lips, slightly. Logan shivered as Scott's fingers traced over the hard cock and drew him closer to that far too talented mouth. //This would be better if you'd let me sit up.//
//No way, kid.//
//What do I have to do…// He surrounded the head of Logan's cock with his mouth //to prove…// He gave it one strong lap with his tongue. //that I'm not a kid?// He took Logan's cock fully into his mouth. Logan pushed him back down.
//Ya ain't the one in control of tonight.// Scott squeezed the balls that he'd reached up to fondle.
//You sure?// he asked as Logan's breath hissed in.
//Damn straight. Yer mine.// Logan's blunt fingers very carefully wrapped around Scott's wrist. He pressed just enough to make his fingers loosen. //Mine.// Scott swallowed. He licked his lips. He felt warm. He realized he was blushing. Blushing like some fucking innocent. Logan's mouth pressed gently to his forehead. //Open up.// Scott relaxed and let Logan set the pace. Idly, he wondered if he'd even be able to move in the morning. //Probably, not. I'll have Hank on standby.//
//Great.// Logan moved slowly, embedding himself deeply in that familiar moist warmth. Scott moved his hands towards Logan's cock to help things along. Logan carefully pinned those questing hands under his knees and he pushed in. Scott's tongue swept up the underside of the wide, firm flesh. The salt of Logan's sweat was tinged with the sweetness of the brandy he'd drunk before. The tang of pre-cum tingled along Scott's tongue and he shivered. He started a hard suction and Logan groaned above him. His hips started thrusting harder, just on the edge of making Scott choke. Logan's scent filled Scott's nose. The warm leather moved in time with his pulse which was speeding up with the recklessness of a runaway train. He could feel the pulse of Logan's blood against the roof of his mouth. Scott moaned, the vibrations working their way up and around Logan's cock until Logan could stand it no longer. His cock swelled, feeling Scott's teeth biting lightly into the skin of it. His semen pulsed out in a long stream. Scott's throat convulsed attempting to take in the sweet-tart liquid that filled his mouth. Logan softened and pulled out. A small trickle of semen ran out over Scott's lips. Logan scooped it up with a finger and pressed it to Scott's lips for cleaning. Scott's tongue swirled around the pad of Logan's finger.
TBC