Title: At night

Author: Joy

joyiousness@hotmail.com

Archive: you tell me where you take it, I'll call you mad for wanting to take it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any x-men characters, if I would, the storylines would've been very, very different.

Rating: N-17, I suppose, it's got a bit of sex.

Pairing: Remy/Logan

Note from author: I am not to be held responsible for any annoyance due to bad writing…

Feedback: Pretty please. I need feedback like van Gogh needs his ear.



At night
by Joy

Every night is the same. Ever since this stupid mission failed. There were just too many people. I can still hear that scream. That scream. Formed by pure agony and sheer terror. So short, yet so full of fear. He never screamed, he never showed his pain, but that night was just too much to bear. He couldn't handle it.

We were sent here, just the two of us. According to them we were perfect for the mission. We both possessed that natural power of persuasion. Mine, generated by two sets of adamantium claws, his, generated by charm and two demon eyes. It was a more or less routine mission. Formally described an undercover mission to uncloak a gathering of mutant killers. But in reality it always ended up in beating the crap out of mutie hating idiots. Hey, that's what you get when you put me on a mission. People get hurt. Live with it. That's probably why they teamed me up with the kid. No matter how bad his odds look, he'd always choose the path of less blood and more talk. And it usually worked too.

The mission went perfectly fine. We knew all their names, and all their plans. We knew how to unmask them and we knew we didn't need to shed any blood. Too bad if you ask me, I would've loved slicing some of those…

Anyway, we were about to unmask their entire operation. We just needed one little file. Just to make it official. And that's when it went wrong.

We found ourselves surrounded by five very angry men, ready to kill us. My claws were set ready for action. But the kid refused to charge a card, instead took he started talking. I could feel the charm, a mixture of relaxation and warmth, a smell of trust and…lust? No, it had to be something else. The kid charmed people to trust him, to believe him, not to fuck him. Yet, the bulge forming in my trousers proved my nose was right. The kid was broadcasting sex. I looked at the men in front of me. I smelled their arousal, I smelled their surrender. I looked at the kid; he was still talking. I saw the look in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Suddenly a blow came from behind and twenty-five or so people burst into the room. I hadn't smelled it coming. Of course not; the kid had charmed me just as much as the rest of them. He got hit on the head pretty hard, but not hard enough. Three cards appeared in his hand, he charged them and threw them to our opponents.

And so the fight begun, but something was wrong. Usually the kid and me, we fight like madmen. Me, because I get feral, he because it's a tactic, he let's everyone think he's mad, but meanwhile he's thinking out a tactic. And that part was missing. The kid _was_ fighting like a madman. I watched him from the corner of my eye, while taking out some more attackers. He was laughing, but I could smell the pain hidden behind it.

We fought for about twenty minutes. Then something within him snapped within him as he sank to his knees.

That scream. A short scream before fainting. A short scream before seeing his world tumbling down. An overload of emotions hit everyone hard, like a flood, not one of them survived. I woke up after an hour or so still a bit dizzy from the mental blow. I found him sitting in a corner, arms wrapped around his body, rocking himself, crying.

*

He hasn't been the same since. Empathy, he calls it. Says it's like telepathy but with feelings. Won't tell me how strong it really is. Says he had it locked away. Won't tell me who did it. Says that sometimes the emotional overload drives him crazy. Won't tell me how he survived the fight. Says the charm was only part of it. Cries, when he thinks I can't hear him.

He can't stand the crowds, the same crowds that he used to love, the same crowds he used to dance with, drink with and play with. Now he feels everything they feel. He can't push those emotions aside and it is too much to bear. Sometimes he can't even distinguish his own sensations from those of others.

He can't stand being alone. The feeling of nothingness frightens him. It's like a void in his mind. He needs some sort of, any sort of human contact.

That's why he's here, in my bed. He says he likes the way I feel, I can hardly imagine. I suppose he doesn't feel the animal inside of me. Burning, waiting to get out.

*

We were waiting for the x-men to pick us up. They would arrive here in a few days. Originally these few days would be filled with playing pool, drinking beer and bourbon and flirting. Well, he would be flirting. I don't flirt. He told me he didn't feel like that tonight. I could empathize, I mean, I felt that mental blow, it must have worn him out. Though he didn't tell me what had happened, I understood that he probably needed rest. I didn't know.

The first night he crept into my room and lay down on an armchair. He didn't make a sound, but since I never sleep completely, I noticed it anyway.

''What are you doin', kid?'' I asked not even bothering to open my eyes.

''Sorry.'' Was the only thing he said, before tuning back to my door again. That's when I first knew something was wrong. One-word answers were not something the kid knew about. Don't ask me why, but that's when I realized that scream was more than just the loss of control he had so evasively named it.

''What is it?'' I wasn't letting him go that easy.

''Nothin'. Go back t' sleep.''

I sighed and sat up straight. ''Kid, I _know_ something's wrong. Talk to me.'' I patted the empty spot next to me. Now, that's not usually the way I handle things, but sometimes it's the only way to handle things. So that's what I did.

''Don' like bein' alone, dat's all.'' The fragility of that short answer shocked me. This was definitely not the Cajun charmer I knew him to be. This was a scared kid.

''Why?'' I ventured.

I expected a half-true half-evasive answer, like normally. Instead he must have decided to come clean. ''I tried savin' us usin' de charm.'' He took a long pause and for a moment I doubted he would continue. ''Dere were too many o' dem. I pushed it t' de limit.'' He stared- at the wall blankly. ''Must've snapped de constraint.''

''I don't follow ya.'' My voice was harsh, but I _was_ concerned.

''It be back. Full strength.'' He sounded sad.

''What's back?'' I really wanted to beat the answer out of him. But I calmed myself. Only just.

''De empathy.''

This is when he explained to me what it was and why he couldn't stand being alone. He needed the echo of feelings to breathe. But too many feelings could choke him. No wonder the kid wanted the power locked away.

He stood up to leave my room again, but a strong hand kept him in place. My hand.

''You take this side.'' It was a gruff but genuine offer. He accepted it without complaints.

*

I woke the following morning with a warm body snuggled up close to me. It felt good. I yawned. Suddenly I felt the warm body tensing just slightly and I smelled fear coming from the kid. He tried hard to keep his breathing even.

''I know yer awake, kid.'' Quickly as he could he rolled off of me and off the bed.

''Sorry, don' know how I got dere. Won' happen agian.'' With that he left. I found myself strangely not minding that body close to me. Not at all. I must be real tired. This is not like me, the Wolverine does not snuggle.

*

The second night he came to my bed again. He lay down as far away from me as possible. I smiled, but only to myself. It was pretty funny to see that ever self-assured Cajun actually being shy.

*

It's morning and a warm body is again lying next to me. His head is in my neck, his feet are almost out of the bed. He can't be comfortable. His hand is lying on my chest. It feels surprisingly good. I realize my hand is caressing his back. It feels soft, almost like a woman's. He nuzzles his head in my neck still asleep and trails his hand over my chest. My hairy, manly, rough chest. No way on earth does he think he's lying here with a woman. Not even if he _is_ half-asleep still. He must feel that he's lying here with a man, he just doesn't seem to mind. Who would've known? Not me. My hand has begun a life of its own stroking the Cajun's hair. It feels silky, like a woman's. It's a pleasant feeling, me comforting him, bonding. This isn't at all like me. I don't bond with men. Sure, I fucked around, I mean, when you live as long as I have you must have tried everything at least once. But I don't _bond_ with men. I don't fall for men. I don't caress, I take, I don't stroke, I demand. His hand trails down my chest to my navel. A long, slender hand. Like the hand of a woman. Or like the hand of a thief. No, like the hand of a woman. Yes, he feels like a woman. I can bond with women. I close my eyes. His hand trails lower, into my boxers. I want to stop him, but I don't. He's touching me now, softly, lightly, my hard-on is painfully present. His hand is stoking me, softly, slowly, knowingly. He presses himself onto me a bit more. A soft moan slips from his lips just before he kisses me. Soft lips, soft touch, soft tongue, spicy taste; my enhanced senses are working at full speed.

He kisses me again, pressing himself half on top of me, and I can now feel he's just as aroused as I am. That's when I wake up from my fantasy. That creature lying next to me is most definitely a man.

He must have felt my sudden change of mood. Fast as lightning his hand comes out of my boxers. He stares at me with fear in his eyes. Two beautiful eyes. I never noticed just how beautiful they were.

''So sorry. Didn't mean t'…still half-asleep. Sorry.''

I pretend to have been half-asleep myself. ''Don't worry bout it, kid.''

''Won' happen 'gain, I swear.'' A nervous smile spreads on his face. His chiseled face. I never noticed just how beautiful it was. ''Seem t' say dat a lot dese days, non, homme?''

''It's okay.''

''Merci, mon ami.'' He steps up.

''Where are you going?''

''Out o' y'r sight, 'fore y' change y'r mind an' kill me after all.'' His smile seemed more genuine now.

''I won't.'' He considers this for a moment and he lies down, again, as far away from me as possible. I can smell his apprehension. He's scared. I know there is only one thing I can do about it.

''Come here, kid.'' I unfold one arm so he can place himself next to me again. He looks at me with unbelief. ''It's okay, ya need human contact.'' Such a lame excuse.

A small chuckle escapes from his perfectly formed lips. ''Y' beginnin' t' sound like moder hen, now.''

''Don't spread the word. Would ruin my reputation.'' He rolls over and snuggles against me.

*

''No!''

I wake up as a leg kicks me in the nuts. I resist the urge to scream like a girl. ''What is it?'' My voice is hoarse.
He is still in dreams. This is the third night he's in my bed.

''Don' touch m'!'' He sits up against the headboard. His eyes are open, but his mind in not here.

''Wake up!'' I place my hands on his shoulders and try to calm him. He winces.

''Go 'way!'' A blur of emotions washes over me. He's projecting. Fear, despair, hate, disgust, lust, heat... I feel my arousal. What's going on? What a great timing for a hard-on.

''Please m'sieur, don'. I be good.'' He sits there, against the headboard, not moving anymore, his hair covering his eyes.

''Kid? It's a dream. You're safe.'' He shakes his head and slowly wakes up. ''What was that?'' He remains quiet. I guess he doesn't want to talk.

''I was back on de streets.'' Maybe he does.

''Must've been terrible.'' The emotions still wash over me. I can feel the fear of a small kid. The lust of men. The disgust of a child. The arousal. I don't think he knows he's projecting it.

''Not deir fault.'' Maybe he does.

''They took advantage of a child, kid. How is that not their fault?''

''You felt it too, homme, don' lie.'' He sounds angry. Okay, so he noticed my hard-on. Great. ''De heat, de lust. I did dat.''

''What do you mean, kid?''

''M' powers manifested when I was bout seven years old. De empathy, I mean. De kinetic stuff didn' happen 'till I was eleven or so. At first dey want t' beat m' up, cos o' my eyes. Den dey decide I should suck dem. Dat's de charm. When dey done, dey realize what dey done an' dey beat m' up anyway.''

''Fuck.'' Okay, so maybe I could've said something a bit more comforting and a bit less direct, but the lump in my throat made it kinda hard.

He shrugs. ''Didn't happen dat often. Picked deir pockets while dey were busy. Least den it not for nothin', non?'' He smiles and lies down again. So do I, but I can't sleep any more. Neither can he. I think about what he just told me. How can people do that to a kid?

Again I find my hand caressing his back, his hair. Again I feel his hand on my chest, rubbing in small circles. It's so good. He's so good. I know it's probably wrong, after what he just told me, but I can't help but hardening at the soft sighs and purrs emanating from the Cajun. So good. My other hand is moving up and down his arm mindlessly. He snuggles closer to me and pulls one long leg up between my own short hairy ones. He just needs to know I'm not going to push him away. Nothing more. My hand has moved to his ass and is now working on those two cheeks. That's when I notice. He's not wearing any boxers, he's not wearing anything. Faintly I see his shorts lying on the floor, shredded in pieces, in a familiar pattern, generated by three claws. This is not like me.

I feel a chill at my back. I see my shorts lying on the floor as well, clever thief hands, is all I can think of.

He tilts his head and sucks on my earlobe. Slowly I come to understanding. I want him. I want to take him, make him mine, right here, right now. I want to bury myself deep within him.

Still it feels different than the other times I felt that for a man. I also want to protect him, take care of him, shield him from his nightmares. This is not at all like me.

He's lying on top of me now, soft kisses trail down my stomach. Lower, lower, lower. He looks up and smiles. He sticks out his tongue and licks the head of my burning dick. He knows exactly what he's doing. He looks up one last time before swallowing the whole length of my shaft. I start moving my hips, but he holds them still. Usually, I'm much stronger, but I'm in a vulnerable position right now. I see his head throbbing. Heaven.

I come fast and hard and he swallows almost every drop. He comes back up to me and smiles. Before I know it, I'm pressing my lips against his. This is not like me. But I like the taste. Spicy, salty, bitter.

I lay him down next to me on his stomach. His eyes are glowing. I can smell his desire. I can feel it. I want him.

My hand trails down, slowly I push one finger in his opening. He's panting. I push in another finger. He's moaning. I take his legs and put them on my shoulders. This is not like me. I take men on all fours. I don't need to see their eyes, I don't need to see their faces. I take the head of my shaft and position it at the kid's entrance. I want him. He knows it, he feels it.

What am I doing? The kid just told me about a horrid past, and here I am, pressing myself on to him. ''Cher?''

''Are you okay with this? I mean…''

''What happened happened, cher, can' change dat.''

''Yeah, but…''

''Is alright, cher.'' He pushes his hips forward. That's when I lost control.

*

I wake up. I smell the stench of fear. I look at the other side of the bed. He's there, pretending to be asleep.

''Kid? I know yer awake.''

'''M sorry. Needed t' feel...Dat's all. So sorry.''

''What?'' Is that salt I smell? What the fuck?

''Jus' don' kill m'.'' He's scared I might kill him? Why would I do that? He must've sensed the questions. ''I used de empathy. Sorry. Hav' no excuse f'r it. I know it was wrong.''

''Empathy.''

''Oui. What you felt last night, I did dat. Made y' wan' m'.''

I remember last night. It wasn't at all like me. I didn't fuck him, I made love to him. He did that? ''You made me want make love to you?'' I still don't fully understand, but it would explain why I felt so confused yesterday.

'''F dat's de way y' want t' call it, sure.''

''What would you call it?''

''Fuckin'. First I jus' wanted y' t' hold m', so I used de empathy, but den I felt y' got confused, so I kept it comin'. Den I got lost into de sensation m'self…''

I finally understand. ''I was confused, yeah.'' My voice is softer and nicer than it ever was before; I'm starting to scare myself. Still, I continue. ''But not because I wanted to fuck you, I mean, guy as handsome as you, who wouldn't?'' He's surprised at my admission but he smiles. ''I was confused because I feel…'' This is going to be hard, but I have to say it. ''…I want to protect you, take care of you, it's just not a feeling I'm used to have about a man. It wasn't my first time with a man, but it was the first time I made love to a man.''

''Made love?'' I see a sparkle in his eyes.

''Yeah, I know it sounds stupid.''

''Non, I like it. Y' still feel dat way?''

''You're the empath, you tell me.''

''Holdin' back de empathy as much as I can, it's makin' m' head hurt. Don' wan' t' influence y' anymore.''

''Maybe Chuck can help you out in a few days. Get good control over it.''

''Dat be nice.'' He lies back down against me. I sigh in relief. These are my feelings after all. Maybe I _should_ give this a try. I feel my lips have made my decision for me, as I press another kiss on the thief's lips. Maybe this could work. I see him smiling at me, I never noticed how incredibly beautiful he is. Yeah, this should work.


Fin