Title: GAMES

Author/pseudonym: Cheyenne Dancer

Fandom: Xmen

Paring: Gambit/Wolverine

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete (posted to ComicSlash)

Archive: Yes

Series/Sequel: Yes. Games is the first in an ongoing series.

Disclaimers: Gambit, Wolverine and any other X-man, who may show up in my fiction from time to time, do not belong to me. I only wish they did. I'd have a lot more fun with them than Marvel. . No copyright infringement is intended. I'm broke, so don't sue... I promise to return them to Marvel only semi-dented and ill-used.

Personal Disclaimers: This is my world folks, and in a perfect world (meglomania suits me, y'think?) there are no stds, so no condom use in this. I did some research into the BDSM scene and tried to steer clear of any glaring errors, but I'm new at this, feel free to correct me.

Notes: Thanks belongs to "T" without whom I'd never gotten past Chapter 1, because she told me she hated G/W stories and then wrote back and asked for more. . Also I'd like to thank CruellySensual for giving me the courage to continue in this genre.

Special thanks to Kit for all her wonderful encouragement and for being there for me through the rough bits and to Ushbeti, who gave me the idea for Nick and a twist or two along the way.

I did make several changes after beta-ing, so any errors are mine. Working with betas was a new experience for me, and I would highly recommend it to any new writer. Of course, I lucked out in getting such a great group of people. ^_^

Feedback is welcome, critiques will be valued and flames will be used to toast marshmallows and laughed about with friends.

Summary: Gambit meets up with Wolverine at an underground BDSM club and may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Warnings: First Times, BDSM, *quasi-nonconsensual situations*, *dubious consent*, m/m sex.

(Many thanks to my lovely betas, Ushbeti, Kit, CruellySensual and "T", without whom this story would never have been finished. Kind words, gentle encouragement and the occasional promise of a cattle prod kept me on task).

Remy scowled as he slammed about his bedroom, pulling out clothes and discarding items. He swiped his arm across the top of his dresser, ignoring the fluttering whirlwind of white scraps as mail, papers and odds and ends tumbled to the floor.

It hurt. It hurt that the others avoided him. How could they think he didn't notice? He was a trained thief! He was tired of feeling impotent, powerless to change the course of his destiny. Tired of the openly hostile looks, the veiled insults. It hurt that Rogue treated him as less than the dirt beneath her shoe... mon dieu, she would probably treat Sinister with more kindness and consideration!

He had to get OUT! He needed to leave, he needed a break. A break? Non! He needed a complete change! He needed to GET OUT! Away from everyone. He did not need them. He was a master of his art. He didn't need anyone! His thoughts a miasma of anger, pain and sorrow, he leafed through a deck of cards one-handed as he stared at his half-packed bag.

Where? Where could he go where he would not stand out? Mutant? Outcast? Despised? Did he want to go to New Orleans? Non. Too easy to trace. Paris was out, too. Everything would have to change. Everything. He would need to leave old haunts and old friends behind. He snorted at that thought. *What kinda frien' is dere fer an ol' t'ief like me,hen?*

If nothing else, Antarctica should have taught him there was no one. No one to trust. No one to call friend. *Dat's alright, Remy don' need nobody. Been on my own most my life.* With a muttered curse he tossed a card toward his dresser, and watched as the wood and clothes exploded outward.

"Fils de la putain" he cursed softly to himself, listening intently to the deafening silence in the once great mansion. With crossed fingers he hoped the noise would not bring any curious X-men to investigate... but, then, why would they? To investigate might mean they were concerned about him... prince of betrayers... Judas to the X-men.

Hot moisture stung behind tightly closed lids. He blinked rapidly, and refused to succumb to the melancholy that clung to him more tightly than his trench. He would head out of town. Out west, mebbe, surely no one... if anyone would bother... would search for him there. And it would be nice to be someplace warm. Palm trees. Warm beaches, quiet ocean front... hiking trails not too far off... San Diego? Non... p'etetre San Francisco.

Then his gaze fell on the flyer that he had tossed on the floor when he first came into the room; a wry smile twisted his lips as his red eyes glowed thoughtfully in the semi darkness.

NEW NEW NEW NEW NEW NEW
PRIAPUS at SATURNALIA
EXOTIC CLUB FOR EXOTIC TASTES
MUST BE 18 or Over to ENTER
BY INVITATION ONLY
THIS MAY BE YOUR ONLY CHANCE
CURIOUS?

A soft mocking chuckle: "Perhaps it is time I tried the autre side o' de fence, non? My luck has not been so good with da femmes of late..." *I cannot believe that I am talking to mon self maintenant, non? All dis Cajun needs is for de X-men t'come an' hear and dey be puttin' ol' Remy in a l'il white coat an' givin' room an' board in Bedlam, non?*

He slumped bonelessly on the corner of the bed, staring at the bit of paper. 'Well? And why not? A little fun for dis one before he leaves, n'est-ce pas?'

Finally, decisions made, he grabbed up his backpack, snatched his keys from the battered old dresser and without a backward glance strolled jauntily down the hall, almost tripping over Wolverine in his hurry to leave behind this place twisted with dark memories of failure.

Wolverine grasped his slender wrists, up righting him. "Whoa there, Gumbo, who lit a fire under yer ass?"

"Out my way, Logan, 'dis don' concern you"

Wolverine's brows rose beneath his shaggy sable bangs. "Running away again, Cajun? Dat ain't gonna solve nuthin'."

Remy jerked from the other X-man's grasp, eased the weight of his pack evenly across his shoulders with a shrug, and silently wished that all burdens were so easily distributed. "Dis don' concern you. Dis don' concern none o' de X-men. I ain't an X-man. Dat's been made real clear. An' I got ot'er t'ings t'do dan worry 'bout da X-men."

He pushed past Wolverine and slipped down the stairs and out the door, feeling Logan's eyes burning into his back.

"G'wan an run, boy. Yer just foolin' yerself," he heard the other man snarl after him as the door slammed shut.

********************************

Wolverine strode angrily into Gambit's room. Old room now. He had a feeling that Gambit didn't plan on coming back. He didn't pause to consider why he was so angry with Remy, nor did he wonder why it should matter that the boy had decided to run. All he knew was that he couldn't let go. And he wouldn't, not even if he had to drag him back by the scruff of his neck.

Laser gaze snagged on the scrap of paper lying on the bed. He started to crumple it, then spread it slowly, not sure exactly what had caught his eye. It was good that the boy wasn't here to see him now. A strange gleam brightened his eyes and his lips twisted in a wicked smile. "Well... well... well... who woulda thunk it? Looks like I got me some plannin' t'do."

********************************

It hadn't taken long for him to find a hotel in town. Just for the night. He had showered and then slid into his best 'party' clothes. He had heard a lot of things about the Priapus club and he was feeling just reckless enough and desperate enough to give it a try.

He had slid a pair of sunglasses on, covering the strange red glow of his eyes; he had no wish to be singled out as different.

A loose black silk shirt open to the waist thus exposing pale white flesh was tucked carelessly into tight black leather pants smoothed over slim hips and curved like a caress around tight round buttocks. He complemented the darkness of the outfit with bits of silver: a slim necklace gracing the length of his neck, his flame colored hair falling in loose waves passed his shoulders; a loose chain worn low about his hips, drawing the eye to the flex and curve of long-limbed grace.

When he had arrived at the club, he stared in open-mouthed disbelief, still straddling his bike while he studied the club and its surroundings.

The club stood apart from its surroundings on a generous portion of landscaped land amid what would have been an industrial area. A two story building fashioned like a fairytale castle, complete with turrets at the four corners and black and blue flags snapping in the light breeze. The arch shaped windows to either side of the portcullis shaped door had been whited out, although planters were filled with brightly colored flowers that bobbed as if in time to the music that could be dimly heard reverberating in the night air.

He had been amazed by a line that swung nearly around the block. And the people standing in line had been varied. His lips quirked in an anticipatory smirk. He bumped elbows with yuppies dressed in silk and leather, rougher-looking men in chaps and harness, women in bustiers and collars and boots up to their sweet pousses. He slithered through the line with an application of natural and not so natural charm, a bright smile here and a sweet word there. He suffered a few teasing pats to his ass and a pinch or two, but found himself a short distance from the entrance.

It felt good to flirt again. It had always been second nature to him. An invitation to appreciate and be appreciated. Here, he sensed that it was taken in the spirit intended, no fear of anger striking out at an innocuous invitation to dinner. Making a connection, however brief for the mutual communion of lonely souls. Remy chuckled quietly at the sentimental turn of thoughts, while waiting patiently for the couple before him to get through the doorman. They seemed to be arguing quietly.

He was still smiling somewhat mischievously when the couple ahead of him was turned away quietly but firmly. A tasteful sign above the door announced that this was 'a members only club and to have your I.D. and invitations ready.'

The doorman looked like he could double for the bouncer and half the defense line for the Miami Dolphins. He stood easily a head and a half taller than Remy, dark hair caught at his nape by a pewter Celtic-style clasp and he wore a casually elegant gray Armani suit with flawless ease. Remy's eye lighted on the diamond pin sparkling at the base of his charcoal collarless shirt. He carried his bulk with an easy grace that spoke of training of some kind, most likely martial arts, though Remy had to bite down the impulse to ask him if he had taken ballet, coughing to hide a rather suspicious giggle.

Remy reached into the back pocket of his trousers with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, and raised his sunglass covered eyes to meet the amused hazel gaze raking over him. "Baises!" he murmured under his breath as he remembered that he had left the crumpled paper back at the mansion. He hesitated, wondering if he could bribe the man, or possibly flirt his way inside. "I left my invitation..."

With a smoldering glance, the bouncer waved him on in, obviously amused. "Don't worry about it, sweetcheeks. I'm sure that there's someone in there just waiting for you."

Grinning, Remy slid past, pausing as he felt the doorman slide his hand lightly along his shoulder and down to rest familiarly on his waist. The man bent closer and whispered loud enough to be heard over the strains of music drifting through the partially open door, "And if not, I'm off in two hours. You still here... I'll show you around."

"Why, merci, mon ami. I jes' might take y'all up on dat." Winking, Remy swaggered through the door, with a carefully designed hip wriggle that both enticed and allowed him to elude the swat aimed at his ass.

********************************

Music pulsing in wild staccato rhythm reverberating through the walls, the floors, the bodies gyrating on the dance floor, pounding through his blood. A wistful smile curled Remy's lips as he watched the mostly male clientele prowl about the outside of the dance floor.

He stirred his drink with his index finger, glancing about the dim lit club through lowered lids. Sweat matted curling tendrils about his face; since he had arrived he had had the pick of a never-ending line of men and no few women who wanted to dance, touch, suggest. The women had been a surprise, very different from the femmes he usually picked up for a light l'affaire d'couer. Aggressive, confident.... hmmm, mebbe *not* so different... he forcibly dragged his thoughts from Rogue. Of course, they were *much* freer with their hands. He smirked.

And then the men. He squirmed slightly, the tight leather cupping and caressing his semi-aroused genitals. They had been quite free with their hands, exploring, touching, cupping, pushing against him. No few had suggested that he wear their collar, which he politely refused... not being so naïve as to be totally ignorant of the implications.

Many had offered to take him 'on tour' of the 'members only' areas. And, although his curiosity was rampant; he had thus far refrained from succumbing to any of his would-be seducers. Perhaps this was not such a bad idea. He felt intensely desirable--something that he had not felt since Antarctica.

Still, he was nervous. He had flirted with men before, but had never really followed through. Had never really been in the situation where he *might* conceivably *have* to. Most of the men he had chosen for his light flirtations were so straight that the merest suggestion from him had been enough to either send them raging or blushing from the room.

This club was different from any that he normally favored. He kept his eyes veiled, not meeting anyone's gaze. To dance was one thing; he was unsure if he wanted to pursue any of the various offers. He couldn't keep from watching the room, though.

The constant flux and flow as singles became pairs or trios, eventually wandering through a curtained off door carefully guarded by another huge throwback to pre-civilized man. Every now and then his gaze would be riveted by a couple.

No one seemed to find it odd when a young man would kneel and nuzzle someone's crotch. Or when a woman was led by a leash inside the building. He remembered meeting her eyes, his own wide as a voyeur's caught in the act.

She had walked with pride and grace, eyes demurely downcast and knelt at the man's feet while he was served. She had delicately licked from his glass, a cat with cream, her pink tongue lapping about her reddened lips, then lay her head in his lap, his fingers tangling and gently stroking through her hair. They had only remained for twenty or so minutes before he had led her into the curtained hallway to whatever pleasures lay hidden.

A thrill of the forbidden chilled his spine, making him shiver as he considered the number of self-styled Doms who had offered to tame him. To train him, take him to secret places of pleasure. It was a good place to be for a last fling in the city before disappearing. If anyone looked, they would *always* look in the cities... New York, Paris, New Orleans... not one of them would expect him to go hide in the woods like a wounded animal waiting to heal.

He swallowed a mouthful of his whiskey, swirling the liquor across his tongue and tilting his head back in pleasure as he allowed the liquid to burn its way to his stomach, holding the chilled glass against his throat and sliding it slowly down to ease the almost overbearing heat. His eyes closed half-way in sybaritic pleasure.

Lost in his thoughts, he blinked, surprised when his vision was blocked. The man was tall and broad. Easily taller than Remy. His hair was shorn short; piercing blue eyes raked over him and lingered on his crotch, then sweeping back up to look in his eyes. "Seems a shame for you to be on your own. You come here to drink? Or to dance?"

The man's voice was deep and Remy felt his heartbeat pick up until it was doing double-time. Remy licked his lips, unaware of the sensual feast he presented. "Name of Remy, mon ami. I a'ready dance. T'ought I might enjoy a little drink, non? Mebbe dance some more later." He gestured towards the dance floor lazily with his glass. "I ne'er been in here before."

Deep chuckle. "Remy... French is it?" He reached out and grasped Remy's hand, pulling the Cajun up from his seat, close into the heat of his body. "Dance with me, boy."

The excitement of new and possibly dangerous pleasures pulsed through him in time to the music; he grinned as he allowed his body to lean for a split-second against the strength and subtle menace of the other man, "Sure, why not?" He spun and moved in a graceful slide out to the dance floor, tossing the length of his hair back over his shoulder as he glanced at the powerful man striding out to meet him.

"Name's Nick Laslo. I own this club." He pulled Remy's slim body tight against him.

"Am ah supposed t'be impressed, cher?" Remy glanced up at him, reflections of the strobe glittered in the dark lenses of his glasses as he gently undulated against the massive chest, hips sliding suggestively across Nick's in time with the driving beat. Nick's obvious arousal, held back by tight black jeans, startled him so that he moved back somewhat. "Just dancin' cher... nothin' more, n'est-ce pas?"

Fingers tangled in his long hair, pulling his head back, arching his back so groin met groin. "Little boys shouldn't play games they're not willing to finish." The deep voice growled as he lowered his lips to capture Remy's. He thrust his tongue into the Cajun's mouth, demanding his submission.

Remy pulled his mouth away, head swimming as he drew in a deep shaky breath, *Mebbe dis club no' such a good ideah*, wondering if he wore a sign that said 'sub looking to be terrorized' on his brow. He knew he would have to be careful, didn't want to bring too much of the wrong attention to himself in someplace as populated as this club. Much as he would like to have denied it, the mistakes of his past, as well as the lectures of Professor X, had had *some* impact. Then, too, if he drew notice to himself at this club, the other X-men would be able to trace him that much easier. 'If anyone really cared' a small voice whispered, which he ruthlessly squelched. "Remy plays no games wid you, Nick." His voice sounded thready in his own head.

"Well, boy..." he slid one muscled thigh between Remy's, placing a possessive hand on his ass, fingers trailing lightly along the seam of trousers. "I think you found what you were looking for." Nick grinned, pulling Remy tighter against his body, guiding them with unfaltering steps towards the curtained area.

Remy wriggled, testing Nick's hold on him, a creeping unease fingering along his spine as Nick tightened his grip, grinding against him. A small warning bell sounded in the back of Remy's brain. "Non. You are certainly full o' yo'self!" Remy placed his hands on that strong chest and pushed, eyes blazing angrily. Briefly he wondered if this was what Rogue felt like -- some possession to be desired and not a person in her own right -- the adrenaline edge of fear drying his throat. He knew he could take out this Goliath, if he had to, but he'd rather not draw that kind of attention to himself. Perhaps this had not been such a good way to spend his last night.

Nick laughed, maintaining his hold on the lightly struggling young man. "Well, I know one thing, boy. Something as pretty as you needs someone to look after him in a place like this. You're like a lamb with the wolves all over you." He bent his head to nuzzle at the pale neck so delightfully displayed, nipping lightly at one be-ringed ear as he whispered darkly, "I could keep you safe, boy. Owned, possessed, cared for. If you were mine, I certainly wouldn't leave you loose."

"Ah c'n take care o' mysel'!" Gambit did not know whether to laugh at the man's temerity or quail at his own foolishness. There did not look to be anyway to get out of this situation gracefully as he felt himself propelled towards the back. He made a grab for a table, Nick's arms came around in an unyielding grip pinning his arms to his sides and lifted him bodily from the floor, a malicious laugh ringing quietly in his ear.

"Now, cher... you do not want t'do dis! I... " He was never sure what else he might have said, as he suddenly felt the man's grip loosen and he tumbled towards the floor, righting himself with catlike grace. A low snarling voice plucked at his nerves.

"The boy ain't goin' nowhere with th' likes o' you.

Remy spun about, his eyes widened behind their protective shades as he saw Logan confronting his would-be owner of the night.

Nick glared at Logan; "You are interrupting. This boy has been playing fast and loose all night. I think it's about time he got what he came looking for.. And I don't think you want to interfere. I've claimed him and I am his master."

Logan snorted in disgust. "I think you got it all wrong, bub. Yer not his master. Ya couldn't be. An' I don't share."

Remy didn't know who was more startled by this declaration, himself, Nick or Logan. He resisted the desire to giggle, wondering when exactly he had fallen down the rabbit hole and exactly when d'tea party might be.

Logan grabbed him by the elbow and yanked, nearly pulling him off his feet. "Shut yer yap, Remy. Y'look like yer catchin' flies."

Gambit blinked slowly; a dim realization spun through his fog wrapped mind that his jaw was open and he closed it with a snap.

Nick's eyes narrowed. "He didn't say that he already had a master."

"Yeah? Well, that's somethin' I'll be takin' up with my boy, here. Now piss off, creep." Logan seemed to swell, exuding an ominous air.

Nick backed off slightly, frowning. "I'm here for fun and games, man. Not a brawl. Brawling will get you blacklisted. Your boy didn't say he was owned. I think that makes him up for grabs. He doesn't have any marks of ownership... "

Logan grinned savagely at Nick, baring his teeth. "I don't like repeatin' myself. I got some business to settle wi' my boy. So's ya don't mind. Shove off."

Remy stared at Logan and jumped when he felt a delicate touch against his head. "C'mon kid, let's go find us a seat and have us a chat."

Remy followed Logan in a haze of confusion back towards the table where he had been sitting. His drink still sat undisturbed. Logan settled into a chair, sprawling legs widespread, eyes glittering coldly. Remy felt rather than saw Nick still watching them.

"Logan... don' y't'ink it might be better fo us t'go ahead an' leave? Anyt'ing ya wan' t'say to me c'n be said somewhere else, non?" He shifted uncomfortably under Wolverine's continued scrutiny...not quite able to read the bland features.

"I think ya better give credence t'my statements, kid. Or yer gonna be fresh meat fer anyone o' these guys who don't take 'no'." Wolverine smirked.

Remy looked around surreptitiously and could see several of the Doms staring at them. Probably waiting for Remy to kick in Logan's teeth. Like it or not, this just might be a way to get away from Nick and divert the attentions of some of the more threatening men. He could worry about why Logan had shown up here, tonight, later... after he had given him the slip. Remy felt the heat traveling up his face, started to say something and then changed his mind. He could play Logan's game. It might even be fun. He was sure the X-man was all bluff. And bluffing was Gambit's game.

With an inner sigh, he gracefully sank to his knees in front of Wolverine, and leaned his head against the older man's thigh, keeping his eyes demurely downcast. "I t'ink you crazy, mon ami. I t'ink it would be better t'leave."

Wolverine tangled his hand in the auburn waves, grinning maliciously. "Naw. I think we should go ahead an' have some fun. After all, that is why you came here. Now... about th' little problem of marking. Don't y'know that an obvious sub like you should never go somewhere unclaimed? Just askin' for trouble you are. But you, my young friend, are in luck".

Gambit frowned up at him, brows flying upward at what Wolverine dug up from a battered-looking satchel that had been sitting unnoticed near his chair. Logan dangled a black leather collar with the words "My Toy" engraved in silver in front of his face. He hissed, "Non. Where did y'get dat? I don't t'ink so!"

"Yeah? Well, my guess is yer just curious enough 'bout what's goin' on in th' other rooms that you might wanna go see. An you ain't getting' in there unclaimed, kid. An' ain't no one gonna buy you as a Dom".

Remy bristled. "An' why not??"

Logan snorted. "Who's on his knees, huh?"

"Gimme dat..."

Logan lifted it up out of his reach... "Ah...ah...ah... pet. I think I get to put this on you. Yer mine for tonight. Ain't that right, Remy?"

He licked his lips and tried to ignore the frisson of fear that warred with his curiosity. Just how serious was Logan? And why was he here? "Uhm."

"Call it or pay up, baby."

"Fine! Oui. Let's play."

"Say it, then. Tell me."

He felt as if the words were dragged out of him, yet he couldn't stop them. He had to call Logan's bluff. "I b'long t'you for de night. But... " He stopped when Logan placed one thick finger against his lips.

"No conditions. An' I think I want y'silent unless I ask you somethin'." Logan stroked the soft flesh of his throat gently before fastening the collar against his neck.

Remy swallowed convulsively, wondering exactly what he had agreed to. He could feel his pulse beating strongly against the flesh-warmed leather at his throat. *Wonder where he got dat dis time o' night*. "Logan... I don' t'ink dis mebbe such a good idea... "

His head rocked back, his eyes widened in surprise as he felt the sting of Wolverine's hand as he slapped him.

"I tol' ya no talkin', Cajun. I reckon y'need a little lesson in discipline."

He opened his mouth to protest, only to have Logan push a ball between his lips stretching his mouth wide; he reached up to push the X-man's hands away, furiously. Logan grabbed both his wrists in one strong hand.

"No. Sit still or we call this quits now and ya can take yer chances getting' out th' door with that virgin ass o' yers intact."

Remy glared at him, wishing for a moment that he had Cyclops' optic ray. Then he slumped back to his knees. He did want to see the other rooms, and he didn't want to have to resort to his powers to get out. He relaxed and gave Logan a curt nod, shaking his hair back out of his face.

Wolverine grinned ferally. "Now that's better." His fingers were unexpectedly gentle as he carefully moved the thick mane of hair so he wouldn't snag it as he finished buckling the gag.

Remy startled as he felt Logan affectionately trace his jaw line. He lifted his head, almost pressing into the caress, needing the tenderness he had felt all too rarely; he tried to swallow around the ball in his mouth, his nostrils flaring to drag air in. *What d'hell? Da man collars an' gags me an' sudden'y ol' Remy is willin' t'be his pup? I don' t'ink so!* He stiffened, pulling away from his own needs as much as from the gentle touch.

Instead of getting angry at Remy's passive resistance, Logan chuckled and, in one smooth motion, pulled him up and into his lap. He let his fingers slide through the cool silk tresses, as he watched the contradictory emotions flash across Remy's face.

"Anyone ever tell ya yer a beautiful man, Remy?"

He ran a thick finger around the sensuous lips stretched wide across the black rubber ball; Logan's eyes gleamed with some undefined emotion. "I think I'm gonna have quite a bit o' fun here."

Remy's mouth was dry. He wondered just how far Logan would go before he would announce it had all been just a put-on. He wanted to protest when he saw Logan pull out a pair of dark cuffs, and made a muffled complaint.

"It seems a real shame to hide that bit o'silver at yer wrists. Makes 'em look nice 'n slender, y'know? I guess we'll just haveta fix 'em up so's they're useful fer fun 'n' games next time, heh?"

*Nex' time? What you talkin' 'bout Wolverine? Dey ain' gon' *be* no nex' time. Is dere?* "Mmfxt mfph nfh" He squirmed in Logan's lap, twisting his hands in his grip, feeling the small bones of his wrist move against each other. His breath caught in his throat as he felt something unexpected --a hard pulsing throb against his ass, Logan lifting his hips slightly to grind against him. He almost shot from Logan's lap in alarm, only the wide hand pressing square against his cheat kept him seated. "Mmmg! Mtmtk...zht...MMMMFFF!" *Damn mutant bastard is *horny*!*

Logan's raspy laugh rolled over him like a physical touch. He shivered, gaining a deeper appreciation for the other man's strength, velvet on steel. He knew he could stop this. Anytime. All he had to do was charge anything with kinetic energy and let the resultant explosion take care of any problem... but so far, aside from taking him on a major emotional roller coaster ride, Logan hadn't really done anything except stop a possible rape attempt.

"Hold out yer wrists, boy. I want yer cooperation in this."

Remy rolled his eyes, looking at the man exasperatedly. *Oh oui, mon ami. Maintenant, you want Remy's cooperation.* His fists clenched and unclenched. He attempted to regulate his suddenly erratic breathing.

He searched Logan's face, trust and he not usually on a first-name basis. He was unsettled by both the humor and the possessive glitter deep in the Canadian's unwavering blue gaze. Yet, still, he found the need to rise to the challenge he saw thrown at him; growling low behind the gag, he relaxed into Logan's grip, holding his hands before him and watching warily as Logan's capable hands, snapped the black circlets about each wrist, clipping the d-rings together with the ease of long practice.

*Long Practice!?* Apprehension skittered through him on spider's legs; he stared up at Logan, thinking furiously. *Non... Old Wolverine, he jes' wan' t'scare me is all.* He ignored the thought that insisted he was doing a damn fine job of it.

Logan grinned, his teeth flashing whitely in the darkened room. He ran one hand firmly from wrist to shoulder, causing Remy to shiver. His voice was a raspy purr next to Remy's ear, sending a puff of warm breath tingling against his cheek. "So easy ta get ya goin' ain't it, kid?" A deep chuckle answered his expressive scowl and muffled phrase. "Alright, ya wanted t'see what this club's all about... I think it time we took a little walk."

He stood suddenly, all but dumping Gambit to the floor. Agile fingers plucked the sunglasses from the tip of Remy's nose. "Ya won't be needin' these, pet. I like ta watch d'em demon's eyes o' yers. An' I want ever' man here ta see what a gorgeous creature I got."

Remy glared daggers as he struggled to his feet, Wolverine gripping him under his elbow to hall him up. *You wait, Wolverine, Gambit gon' make sure dat smirk disappears right off y'face.*

*Aw mon dieu!* He was unable to stop an instinctive flinch when Logan snapped a leash... *a leash*... at the front of his collar with a decisive snick. *Jes' what all y'been hidin' Logan? Y'some kind o' twisted Mary Poppins wid dat bag o' yours.* He dragged in a deep breath. *Vraiment, I c'n do dis. I c'n!* His thoughts were a fierce whirl as he trailed behind Logan. Still, some irrepressible imp of humor quirked his lips as he couldn't refute the excitement flooding through him as they passed into the couple's only area. He gave a garbled yelp when the Neanderthal at the door pinched his butt hard.

Logan gave the bouncer at the door a brief nod and actually sauntered through the curtained off doorway. He pulled Remy along the dim lit corridor as if he had been here before. That gave Gambit pause as he followed seemingly compliant down the long hall toward a staircase that disappeared in an elegant spiral in both directions.

Logan stopped at the staircase, one foot resting on the upper step, his blue gaze dancing over his captive, the maddening smirk ever present. "So, shall I take ya upstairs and show ya what ya been missin' boy?"

Gambit stared back at him wide-eyed, breathing deeply through his nose, trying to swallow around his full mouth. *I ain't been missin' nuttin'* "Mmmmf!"

Logan laughed. "Hmm. Guess yer right. Ever' newbie should have a chance ta see th' dungeons, heh? Well, c'mon then, pet." He spun lightly on the balls of his feet and took the down staircase, tugging on Remy's leash as a not so subtle reminder that for right now, Remy was dependent on one surly X-man. Logan's voice drifted back to him, dark amusement prickling a warning in gooseflesh across his heated skin. "An' behave yerself, Remy. I'd hate ta haveta punish ya fer an infraction o' th' club rules."

*RULES? PUNISHMENT?!* A light trickle of sweat caused him to shiver as he scurried to keep up with Logan, lest his 'master' decide to send him tumbling down the steps. *Would be jes' dat connard's warped sense o'humor send Remy tumblin' down in front o' god knows how many down dere. Bet he jes' love t'see Remy crawlin' on de floor at his feet.*

Remy stumbled to a stop behind Logan, pressed all along his back. He felt Logan's laughter as it rumbled through his body.

"Patience, kid. You'll get yers soon enough."

Gambit snorted his derision. *Oh, oui, if dis was April Fools Day, we bot' be laughin' our asses off.* He knew Logan. There was nothing to worry about. He would go along with it until Logan would have to agree that Remy had called his bluff.

It was darker down here, as befitted a dungeon, although the dimness didn't bother his eyes, nor, he knew, would it affect Wolverine. The crack of a whip sounded loud against tender flesh, a cry echoing eerily through the room. Remy circled around Logan to stare about the room in dumbfounded amazement. *P'etetre Remy mo' naïve dan I t'ought* he allowed to himself as he took in a scene that had only been hinted at in a very few of the movies he had seen.

There were, perhaps, twenty people in this central area, all men. A half dozen lounged lazily in armchairs scattered about the room, each attended by a collared slave. He gulped as he noted that none of the 'slaves' were clothed in anything more than a collar and a few strategically placed chains and bits of leather. He swiveled his head to study Logan intently, aiming his thoughts at Wolverine as if he was Psylocke. *Dis is a no y'hairy encule du mere! Remy not getting' nekkid fer any reason heah!*

One master was sprawled with his legs widespread, his cock pulled from the confines of his jeans by an eager slave who was nibbling and licking around the head in obvious enjoyment. As the slave gobbled his master's cock, his hips pumped against thin air, his cock bobbing and leaking pre-cum. Remy's gaze was riveted to the tableau, focussing on the tight bit of leather and metal wrapped in concentric circles around the slave's angry red cock.

His own cock leapt in the confinement of his trousers in sympathy. *Merde, dat look like it hurt.* He gulped air, nostrils spread wide dragging in the thick scent of musk and semen. He wondered how Logan could handle the heavy aromas and shivered when he saw that startling blue gaze piercing him. He was surprised, horrified to realize that he was more than half-aroused. And he knew that Logan knew it too, the blue gaze dropping down his body and then lifting to stare knowingly at him. He shook his head only to be answered by that cockeyed grin.

He knew that if he didn't have the gag, he would probably call off the bet, or whatever it was he had given himself over to right now. He averted his eyes first, admitting to himself that if this was a game, then Logan had won this round. *An' mebbe two ot'ers so far. Y'sure y'wan' play dis game wi' him? He seem t'know more 'bout dis dan I t'ought. Don' t'ink it matter what I wan' now. Too late t'back out, ain't it Remy?* Chills raced through him as he studied the room determinedly avoiding looking at Wolverine.

He shifted uncomfortably, everywhere he looked other slaves were equally engaged with their masters, either draped across their laps and being stroked, or kneeling. In spite of all the ongoing activity, attention seemed to be mostly on the center of the room where there was a raised stage. On the dais was a circular frame within a frame, it almost resembled a gyroscope. There were padded leather bands spaced about the twin spheres in what at first appeared a haphazard manner.

A man hung suspended from this framework, arms and legs spread-eagled. He wore a thick leather blindfold and his tits were peaked and clamped. His cock was thick and long, a leather strap tight about its base and another strap pulling his balls down and away from his body. He was moaning softly and whimpering. Red stripes crisscrossed his shoulders, back and thighs.

It was soon apparent that the spheres allowed the two men currently standing on the stage, to position the bound man in any of a variety of ways, leaving him exposed and vulnerable for whatever they had planned. He was currently bent at the waist, ass presented towards a short, wiry-muscled blond, golden curls falling loose about tanned shoulders, the other man attending the captive stood at least 6'4", his ebon skin shone in the dim lighting, dark eyes electric as he stood by the prisoner's head, whispering softly in his ear, stroking his short cropped head with the fondness of a master for his pet.

The blond held a small many thonged whip, with an expert flick of his wrist he sent it whistling through the air to snap across the captive's already flaming buttocks.

Another cry rent the air, and the slave relaxed into his bonds, turning his head to suckle on the fingers of the man stroking his face tenderly.

Remy swallowed hard, wondering what in hell had gotten into him. A picture of himself spread up there for viewing crept behind his closed eyes and he could see Logan touching his face in tender encouragement, running his fingers over his lips and bidding him make them wet with his spit. He groaned. His own cock throbbed in time with the crack of the whip and he squirmed uncomfortably, wishing that maybe he had chosen a pair of trousers that weren't *quite* so skin tight.

He wondered briefly where the women went, if there were separate rooms and dungeons for whatever combination one desired, before Logan dragged his attention back to the room by jerking at his leash, hauling him along behind him until he settled in one of the heavy armchairs. "Sit."

Remy scowled. His eyes saying it all for him. *I t'ink I just about had enough o' dis. Sit. What he t'ink I his l'il chien now? I don' t'ink so!* Just as he decided to dig his heels in and rebel, Logan yanked hard on the leash causing him to tumble face forward into the X-man's lap. Logan's scent was sharp with arousal and he could feel the thick pulse of his restrained cock against his cheek.

*Merde**Shit**Putain!* Muffled curses and his panicked struggle to pull himself out of Logan's lap only netted him a round of laughter from the men watching Wolverine control his recalcitrant pet.

"Hey, man," One of the men shouted gleefully, "you can't keep him under control, I'd be more than happy to take him off your hands for you."

"Yeh? Well, I just might take ya up on that. Kid's a bit high spirited, tho'. Sure yer heart could take it?"

Wolverine tipped the Cajun's face up to him. "How 'bout it Remy? Ya want yer first time out t'be on display?" Wolverine let his voice drop in timbre, "I could do that. Put y' up there. Spread you tight, expose that virgin hole as I finger ya an' make ya ready t'receive me."

Several eyes focussed on them and Remy felt his face heat. *Shit, Logan. Why don' y'jes' take out an' ad? Mebbe invite de res' o' de X-men... mebbe even Professor X. Cul.*

A couple of the masters moved unobtrusively toward them, and Remy could feel them staring at him. Logan locked gazes with him. "Me only, Remy. Watch *me*". Remy trembled, but kept looking at Logan, even when he felt other hands sliding down his back, a booted foot pressing between his legs, other hands in his hair.

He heard a voice low over his head, "I think you might be right. This one is worth training. Really unfair to keep him all to yourself. He looks too pretty to be kept hidden. If you don't plan on sharing, Logan, the least you could do is have him on display."

*Dat voice sounded familiar.* Remy moved restlessly, starting as the whipping resumed. His gaze pulled around as the last stroke came down across the top of the man's thighs. The wielder taking the whip and running it between the wide spread legs. The other man took the slave's face between his palms and kissed him deeply and with obvious pride, then turned and gave him a bottle of water, letting him sip the cool liquid through a straw.

He wondered what was next when the whip was dropped to the floor, half expecting them to release the exhausted man and let him rest. But the dark-haired man exchanged places with the blond, picked up a tube and squeezed a glistening gel onto his fingers, stroking the reddened flanks, he slid one finger around and over the exposed anus.

Logan turned Remy physically so that he was staring directly at the exhibition, his square hands hot and heavy on his thin shoulders. Remy felt Logan's foot insinuate itself between his legs and jostle against his balls. *Merde!* He let his head fall backwards, liquid heat sizzling, pooling in his groin. Logan's foot slid back and forth lightly in time with the scene on stage, each time the blond-haired man would thrust a finger in, twisting and stretching the tight pucker, Logan would stroke his hair and caress his throbbing cock through the leather of his pants. Logan nibbled at his ear, his breath hot, lips warm and soft, setting up an aching vibration in his body. He was driving Remy crazy. Remy pushed into the touch, arching into the pressure with the narcissistic pleasure of a cat.

He was panting hard, moaning around the gag. He no longer cared that there were others in the room... or what they were doing, he reached his hands down to stroke himself only to hear Logan's deep rumble in his ear..."Ah...ah...boy. That's fer me. Y'touch it an' I'll turn ya over ta Simon up there."

*Simon?* He gathered his muddled senses about him, shaking his head like a sleeper coming from a deep dream. His heart did a strange thump and roll, and he shook his head rapidly. Logan stilled his protest with a light touch to his cheek. His voice thick with lust as he whispered gruffly, "watch."

Remy looked back up at the dais, and if his mouth had not been muzzled, knew his jaw would have hit the ground. The dark-haired man, non, Simon had worked up to four fingers now and was pumping roughly into the captive, who was pushing back as much as his bonds allowed, a soft keening could be heard over the murmuring of the group.

The man stepped back for a moment, perspiration glistening along his bare back. He picked up the tube of gel again, adding more to his hand and begin rubbing it up along his arm to his elbow, coating the entire area thickly. He then went back to the shivering figure within the twin spheres and added more gel to the distended opening. Simon folded his thumb tight across his palm and re-inserted his fingers and began to push slowly, inexorably inward. His slave grunted and moaned his back rippling with effort as the entire hand slowly disappeared inside his body.

*Who is Simon? And how do you know dese men Logan?* Remy couldn't breathe. He could feel his chest heaving, eyes wide as saucers.

He gave a frightened squeak when Logan pulled him up. *Oh non! Non! Mon Dieu! Logan! Dis gon' far enough! I can't!*

"Shhhhh, kid. Don't worry. I don' expect nuthin' like that tonight. It'll be alright Remy. Maybe too much information, huh kid?" He held Remy's trembling body close, his hands soothing down his back, nuzzling his neck, his words thick and warm. "C'mon, I think it's time we blow this joint."

Remy stumbled after Logan in a daze. *Not tonight?! What he mean by dat?* His entire body seemed to be on fire, his cock throbbed behind the tight leather of his pants, insistent in a demand for freedom, the leather about his throat felt like a brand burning into his soul. He couldn't want this. Didn't want this. Could he? Yet, there was something wonderful in knowing that it wasn't his decision. He had turned over control to Logan. *And what were y'tinkin' den?* The question echoed through the thudding of his heart, the rapid lub-dub of his blood flashing like winter's flood waters through his veins sending icy chills splintering through him to be replaced by waves of heat.

Too soon, it seemed to the dazed and confused thief, they were upstairs and Logan was ushering him through another door. He stopped just across the threshold sinking into thick carpeting, panicked gaze sweeping through the room There was an ornate chest against one wall, another door across the way leading to what was most likely the bathroom and a huge four poster bed taking up the rest of the room. Logan guided him further into the room, keeping up soothing noises, leading him towards the bed. His eyes took in what looked like hooks and clips set about the bed in random patterns.

He spun around, panic once again singing through him, and ran into the wall of Logan's square sturdy frame. "Mxmfys! Muwfwn! Msktaop!" *Okay Logan! You win!*

Logan just smiled, looking at him with a tenderness that would have taken his breath away if he could have pulled any air into his starving lungs. "No Remy. I told you, it'll be okay." He threaded his thick fingers through Remy's hair and pulled him closer.

Logan's breath wisped against his cheek and Wolverine kissed him softly on his forehead, each eyelid, the tip of his nose, his fingers tracing a line of fire down Gambit's back, hand settling in the small of his back just holding him gently against Logan's broad frame while Logan continued to explore Remy's face with lips and tongue.

Remy found himself slowly calming, his body responding to the tenderness, the closeness. He took a deep shuddering breath and bent to snuffle through the dark wiry strands of Wolverine's hair, surprised to find it soft to the touch. Logan smelt of cloves and musk, spice and deep woods and Remy relaxed against him, chiding himself for panicking. This was Wolverine, an X-man, he wouldn't hurt him. He *knew* that.

Powerful arms surrounded him, and he was pulled into a hug. *Dieu, how long since someone, anyone, had just held him?* It felt nice and he slit his eyes, allowing the sensations to roll through him in long lazy waves. His cock throbbed back to life and pushed insistently against the too tight material of his pants. He found himself blushing furiously, unable to stop himself from pushing into Logan's strong grip as his hand slid between their bodies.

Wolverine pushed him down carefully so that he was sitting on the large canopied bed. He blinked up at his friend, a strange word for the confusing welter of emotions that swarmed through him whenever he thought of Logan.

Even stranger in this place of dark desires. He wanted to lick his lips, he wanted to swallow, he wanted to take one full complete breath without his mouth being filled and his nostrils flaring just to drag in the air in breaths so shallow it made his head swim. He desperately wanted to cum. A groan rumbled through his chest, worked its way up his throat and around the object filling his mouth, his eyes locked with Logan's.

Logan was smirking again. That infuriating grin made him want to hit him, to knock him senseless or grab him and kiss him breathless. He fought a sudden urge to roll over on his belly and present his ass to Logan and beg to be fucked.

Almost as if he could read his mind, Logan reached out and cupped his face, thumb running tenderly around wide-stretched lips. He bent his head to lick a searing path along his lips and Remy shivered, groaning again, his eyes half-shuttered as he raised his bound hands to press against his tormentor's chest. Whether to push him away or encourage his attentions, even Remy was not sure.

Logan nuzzled his neck, rubbing his rough-whiskered face against the soft skin just above the collar. "Nuthin ta worry 'bout, Cajun... I'm gonna make ya fly." And then his eyes were covered by a soft bit of cloth... enough to dim and hide, to shadow his world, yet not so dark as the leather blindfolds he had seen some of the men wearing down in the dungeon.

His world suddenly reduced to smell, sound and sensation, Remy shuddered. Thoughts of denial scudded through his brain, betrayed by the eager leap of his cock as he was gently pushed backwards, his arms raised above his head. He heard another snick reflexively tugging, feeling the comforting bands of warm leather pull against his wrists. *T'ink a petite bit o'telepathy would be nice here.*

"Yer incredible stretched like that, kid. All long lean lines an' angles. I betcha have no idea how beautiful ya look, laid out fer whatever I want ta do with ya." Logan's voice poured over him like warmed whiskey, husky and laden with sex.

He felt the bed dip, and then the heat of Logan's thighs as he straddled his chest. He turned his head slightly, a picture of submission, flame hair fanned across the dark silk covers. Sure hands moved down his up-stretched arms, sweeping down to the opening of his shirt.

Remy 's breath rasped painfully -- in, breathe, out -- panting breaths filled with fear, excitement and too little air as Logan's fingertips seared against his pale flesh, nipples pebbling into hard little peaks as his shirt was carefully pulled from the waistband of his pants in a sliding tease of dark silk. Logan slowly revealed more pale flesh, folding the soft material back with the reverence of a collector exposing a rare and fragile antique.

Remy was tight-strung, electric current racing through him. Logan shifted and settled back on his thighs; the sides of Remy's shirt pulled back to expose pale flesh to a blue gaze scorching through the blindfold burning into Remy's retinas transmitting along his nerves like a wild singing in the wind, wailing a seductive bludgeon that he couldn't refuse.

Remy groaned twisting his head blindly, seeking. *LOGAN!* He wanted to scream. He was going to die. He just wanted Logan to get *on* with it. He twisted under the coiled strength, wishing he had his voice back, his hands, wanting to touch himself, wanting Logan to touch him. He couldn't restrain a whimper as he rubbed himself like a bitch in heat against Logan's ass. *S'il vous plait, please... please... please... anyt'ing... anyt'ing*

Angry, frustrated, and ready to fuck a hole in a log, he swore fluently. Deep laughter greeted his struggle and he could swear, again, that somehow Wolverine *knew* just what he was doing to him. A hushed cry lodged in his throat as callused fingers grasped his nipples, squeezing and pulling. He arched his back, pushing his chest into that touch, his mind melting as wet heat followed the aching pleasure, Logan's tongue soothing the rucked bud while twisting the other. Shaking like Tante Mattie when she had the augue, he moaned long and low, eyes closed tightly behind the blindfold.

Flashpoint of pain brightened behind his lids, bringing him almost off the bed with enough force to dislodge Logan. The fire focused on his nipple and he shouted behind the gag, eyes flew open to darkness of silk, panic raced through him and he twisted, trying to pull away.

He felt Logan gentle him, cooing soothing words, husky honeyed liqueur whose meaning eluded him in his world of sensation, narrowed down to two bright flaring points of fire centering on his nipples. "Shhh.... Remy.... shhhh.... just one more. Ya look so good wid dese clamps on ya. Black rubber tight on yer small eager tits. Look at 'em, achin' fer my touch. Ya wanna please me, doncha, lover. Take it easy. It'll be okay.... ya look so hot. Damn, boy, ya would drive a nun to sin."

And the pain was soothing, dulling to a throb, easy to handle, and he let out a shaky breath, lifting his hips to rub against Logan's ass again. *Oui. Remy please ya. C'mon Logan, PLEASE* He whimpered as Logan moved off him, the wonderful pressure against his aching sex removed.

"Now we gonna see what else ya got gift-wrapped here fer ol' Wolverine."

Remy heard the snap of his pants overloud in a room echoing with ragged breathing. Fingers he had always thought too thick to be nimble slid along his fly, buttons sliding from holes like butter on a hotplate. Leather slowly peeled from sticky skin, cool air moving in eddies across overheated flesh. A trail of soft hair curled bright against his pale heat slicked flesh leading downwards.

Passion flamed and denial pulsed through Remy in a strange counter-rhythm reminding him of the voodoun rituals that could be heard echoing through the bayou late summer nights. He dragged in another agonizing breath, wondering if he would ever be able to take a normal breath. Logan's rough growl whispered hot against his ear, "I c'n smell yer fear, Tastes so sweet Remy. I'm gonna take it all. Everything ya got. It's mine now. Yer mine. An' I got no plans of ever lettin' ya go."

The dark words spun through Gambit, chilling, thrilling, exciting. Remy lifted his hips at Logan's urging, even as he questioned his obedience. The leather pulled damply at his sweat-sheened skin. His cock bobbed free, thick and heavy, leaking a steady stream of pre-cum. "Never hear o' baby powder, infant?"

He suppressed a semi-hysterical giggle, wanting to explain he'd not come for this. That he'd not planned for this. That there was no way in God's green Heaven he would have known this was coming. He wanted to beg Logan to turn back the clock. To not be here, to erase the burning dance in his nipples, the weight of the cool links laying between them, the hot pulse of his cock. He wanted to deny the heaviness between his spread thighs, the slickness of pre-cum seeping from the slit of his erect penis.

He wanted Logan to fuck him, own him. And the intensity of his desire scared him most of all, so that he bucked and rocked, cock bobbing in its bed of soft auburn curls, balls tight drawn against his body.

"Aww, no Remy. It's too late fer second thoughts. Ya been doin' so good." Logan moved off the bed, grabbing one of his ankles and lifting. He felt soft fur circle his ankle, another band of fire, branding him as this man's plaything. This man's toy. He moaned and yelled, his throat burning. It did no good and all too soon his other leg was suspended in the air, too, knees splayed wide, exposing him, he shook his head frantically back and forth, trying to communicate his confusion, his denial. *I changed my mind. I don' t'ink I wan' be here! Non... non... please.* His own soft cries filled his ears.

Those same callused hands slid hotly down his legs, rough fingers tracing lightly through the fine down of hair along his inner thighs. Goose pimples marched along pale flesh. Logan's hand was heavy on his flat belly, rubbing in gentle circles. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Pretty soon, I'm gonna take yer gag off, lover. I'm gonna give ya somethin' else ta fill it with. An' there won't be any talkin'. Ya unnerstan that? If ya say one word, I'll just put that gag back in an' mebbe leave ya here alone. Let one o' them butch boys come in an see ya set up so fine. Like an open invitation from th' lamb to th' wolves ta dine."

Remy froze, a half sob strangling him, heart thudding painfully as he wondered if Logan would seriously leave him here, helpless.

"Ya want that gag off, Remy?" Logan slapped his flank lightly before stepping back.

He nodded his head vigorously, his adam's apple razoring his throat. *Oui... please, Logan.* Remy could see Logan watching him in his minds eye. His face flushed red with the knowledge of how he must look, legs pulled wide, ass presented, cock ripe and leaking above his flat belly, the silver chain belt cool on his hips, the nipple clamps pinching his tits tight, neck arched with his mouth spread wide, an invitation for Logan to plunder it. His muscles strained against his bonds, etching the long lean limbs in corded relief.

He heard the sudden intake of breath, felt that blazing stare like a weight moving over his naked flesh, his anus twitched as if asking to be filled, and knew that if Logan didn't do something *soon* that he *would* cum just from that scorching blue-eyed glare.

He heard movement and imagined the kicking off of boots, the rustle of cloth as first a shirt, then jeans hit the floor. His heart lodged in his throat making it even more difficult for him to swallow. His whole body vibrated as a puff of warm moist air tickled against his perineum. *MERDE!* he shouted, pulling against his restraints, his voice echoing loudly in his head as a long wet swipe of warmth brushed along his crack, Logan's tongue probing between the rounded globes of his ass, tracing a line of crackling energy around his anus.

Logan probed again, and Remy flung his head back, arching his slim hips upwards, cock an angry red. Logan rubbed the rough stubble of his cheek against his inner thigh, tongue working diligently, one hand soothing his belly, his other stroking lightly against the soft velvet sac, balls hard as granite.

With a guttural chuckle that rang evilly in the room, he grabbed Remy's ass, forcibly pulling apart the firm spheres of flesh, pointing his tongue and thrusting it into the spasming hole. A scream erupted as a muffled wail, Remy's entire body rigidly arching upwards as if electricity surged through him, heat gathering in his groin, sweeping from head to feet and pooling in a surging tide that fountained from his cock in pulses of wet heat, warm thick cream splattering belly, thighs and chest in a jerking frenzy.

"Yeah, that's it babe, give it ta me. I wanna watch ya. Scream fer me. Know it's me... Logan making ya crazy like this baby. Know yer mine. No one else ever gonna make ya feel the way I do, Remy. No one!"

Remy collapsed back on the bed, panting heavily, fine tremors shaking his lithe frame. He could feel Logan lapping at the warm seed cooling on his groin and his cock twitched in renewed interest. Fingers fumbled with the buckle behind his head, the gag was pulled slowly from his aching jaw. He felt a small pop as he worked his mouth.

He squirmed, pressing his body upward, feeling the tensile steel of Logan's stocky body between his thighs, lying along his chest. In the dim recesses of his mind, he recognized him moving up his body and parted his lips obediently when he felt Logan's tongue gently outline his mouth, and then sucking avidly on his tongue: Remy tasted the salt-sweet thickness of his own semen. *mmmmm....dat nice* crawled through the sludge that was his brain. Logan's answering chuckle let him know that the words had slipped out.

"Been wantin' ta kiss ya all night, lover," he whispered roughly into Remy's mouth.

Remy silently agreed. He wanted to swallow the man whole, it felt so good to finally taste him. The press of strong lips, the scrape of stubble against his chin, the sweet heavy smell of musk and cigar that marked Logan. He groaned into the kiss, giving himself up to it, to Logan. His cock twitched again in sympathetic response to the steel-hard branding iron that seemed to be drilling a hole in his belly.

Logan pulled back, shifting so that his cock lay like a thick snake against his lips. Remy blinked as the blindfold was removed, his eyes glowing in the dimness that seemed over-bright after too long without sight.

Logan grinned down at him, running his knuckles in a light possessive caress down his cheek. "I want ya t'see me, lover. I want ta watch yer face as ya suck my cock. I want t'see yer lips spread wide around my dick."

Remy jerked in a deep breath, feeling heat beginning to gather in his limbs again. Suddenly, it didn't seem so strange to want to take another man's cock into his mouth. His tongue flicked out hesitantly, and curled around the purple head of Logan's cock: a wet trail of pre-cum glistened on his chin. Remy lifted his head and sucked on the tip, tongue teasing the slit as he tasted the unique combination of musk and sweat that was Wolverine. Hollowing his cheeks and gently pulling more of the length into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the thickness pushing into his mouth, he gazed in slit-eyed satisfaction up at Wolverine, watching as the other man reflexively pushed, his hips pumping lightly, head thrown back exposing the strong column of his throat.

An undeniable thrill raced through Remy as he watched Logan respond, felt the swell of Logan's cock in his mouth, his groans mingled with Logan's. He wanted to touch him! Needed to touch him, to feel those muscular thighs flex beneath his hands, to run his fingers through the thick thatch of dark hair curled invitingly around the large organ. *please, please, cher... untie me.... I could make dis so good fer ya.* He thrashed against his bonds, while his jaw worked, pulling more and more of Logan's length into him, until he felt the soft head of the glans touch the back of his throat and choked a little.

The smell of musk hung heavy in the room, sweat rolled down Logan's body. Remy could feel Wolverine's balls slap against his chin, heavy and full. Excitement raced through him at the sudden knowledge of his power, hardening his own cock again. He was doing this. He was driving Logan out of control. It did not bother him that another man's cock filled his mouth, it was a heady tincture to know that all that volatile strength that Logan kept barely leashed was his to wield. He whimpered around the throbbing organ, swallowing convulsively, opening his throat, pulling the massive cock deeper.

"FUCK REMY!" Logan howled, thrusting once, jamming himself balls deep in Remy's mouth, then went rigid.

Remy swore that he could count each individual knotted muscle as Logan froze over him, the cock in his mouth swelling impossibly larger, and suddenly he felt the warm splash of liquid against his throat, sucking hard he tried to swallow the fiery salt sweet fluid as it flooded his throat in pulsing waves. *merde, dere is so *much*, how do women do dis?*

Logan slumped over him, holding himself on shaking arms, gazing down at him raptly. "God damn, Remy. Yer a natural." Then he chuckled and slowly pulled his softening cock back from the embrace of those lush bruised lips. He rolled to the side, breathing heavily; one hand floated butterfly-light across Remy's torso, plucking lightly at the tit clamps, eliciting a groan from his captive as Remy's tits came afire again. His tongue slid wetly against the shell of Gambit's ear as his hand continued its voyage down the slim body, thick fingers curling through the soft auburn curls nestled around his tumescent cock.

Remy trembled.

Logan rolled up, and released first one, then the other of Gambit's legs. Remy couldn't restrain a moan as his legs came down from their widespread position. His muscles quivered with renewed circulation, sweat curling tendrils about his face, dewing his pale flesh. Logan's deep voice rumbled over him.

"Take it easy, Remy. Show's not over yet, baby. That was just ta take th' edge off." He began to gently massage Remy's legs, firm hands rough against his flesh, kneading and working his way up towards his thighs. Logan curled his fingers around Remy's thickening cock and stroked gently once, twice, letting the heat slick silkiness of the organ pulse in response. With a final approving pat, he settled on the bed. Taking Remy's face between his palms he brought his lips down on the Cajun's with surprising gentleness. "Better?"

"Ou-oui," he tugged at his wrists, looking up at Logan beseechingly. "You untie me now, Logan?" His voice sounded raspy in his own ears.

Logan lapped gently at his lips, nibbling tenderly at his swollen lips. "No." Wolverine placed a trail of light kisses down his throat, moving the collar gently so he could lave and suck at the tender hollow at the base of his throat. Remy could feel the bruise blossom, marking him. He writhed, a small sound lodged in his throat, half protest, half whimper. "Please... "

"Merde!" He shouted as Logan licked delicately at his nipples the reddened buds aching. "Shit! Logan!" He didn't know what he wanted, it hurt, it felt good, waves of pleasure and pain danced along his body. "I can't... Logan... I" His lips were re-captured in a rough kiss, Logan demanding and receiving entrance, his tongue probing deep into the moist heat of Remy's mouth. Logan lay heavily against him; he yelped as the clamps were nudged, tears pooling in his eyes. His breath was coming in harsh pants, but his cock stayed hard. Logan's fingers moved in light traceries down his body, tiny fires flaming into existence everywhere Remy was touched.

Logan rumbled something approvingly, but Remy couldn't distinguish the words through the growing roar in his ears. Fingers too light to be satisfying played with his renewed erection, causing a long low moan of frustration and pleasure to well up from the depths of his body. "Please, mon amour, ma couer,... "

"What do you want, Remy?" He curled his tongue around the rosy-colored head of Remy's cock, gently ran it around the tip and then sucked the head into his mouth while keeping Remy from plunging deeper into his mouth by the simple expedient of bracing his arm across the top of the young thief's thighs. With a last gentle lick he released Remy's cock with a lascivious slurp, letting it bounce heavily against the firm belly.

"Dieu! Suck me! Please, Logan.... stop playin' wid me!"

Logan's voice was tinged with wicked amusement, "I don't think I'm ever gonna stop doin that, Cajun. I a'ready told ya you were mine ta do with what I want." He bent down to kiss the head of the leaking cock, and then rolled away and fumbled for something in the chest.

Remy twisted, straining to see what Logan was doing. "Encule! Connard! Ah don' hav'ta stay like dis, Logan. Ya know damn ... "

He gulped and lapsed into silence when Wolverine turned back to face him. His voice was a dangerous silky thread, "You do just what I tell ya as long as you wear my collar, boy." He smiled wolfishly, tugging on the chain between Remy's nipples.

Remy shouted and bowed upward, cursing and pleading.

"I think I'm gonna hafta have ya teach me some o' that Cajun y'speak. Got me a feelin' yer not bein' too polite ta yer master, Remy. An' ya gotta know that ain't wise. Don't really think ya up fer public punishment yet, do ya?" He chuckled and dropped his head to blow softly across the head of the throbbing cock.

Remy's only response was a moan. He felt the welcome heat of Logan's mouth and shouted, hips thrusting upwards, pushing his pulsing organ into the sweltering heat. He froze as a coolness slid along his crack, a gel-covered finger probing at his anus. "Non! Logan! I can't... " His voice cracked in desperation.

Logan gave the cock in his mouth a hard swipe and pulled it in further, his tongue sliding along the sensitive underside. Remy gave a small mewl and sunk back on the finger, feeling a sharp burning pain as it pushed passed the guardian ring. He wriggled uncomfortably, trying to pull away from the invasive feeling, his cock plunging back into Logan's mouth.

He locked his legs, keeping his body bowed away from the intrusion; Logan merely chuckled, releasing Remy's cock. The cock surged as if seeking the shelter it had been expulsed from. He gave a soft cry and pushed back down, letting the finger breach his entrance again and the lush heat of Logan's mouth returned, lips surrounding the head of his cock.

Logan suddenly crooked his finger, and Remy shouted, a miniature shock wave pulsing through him. "FOUTRE! Oh OUI.... Yessssss.... please... please, Logan... t'encule-moi.. fuck me... fuck me... " He was out of his head. He had to be. ... he wanted... Yes Oui... Dieu God he wanted... "encule... " His head whipped back and forward on the pillow and he strained against the leather circling his wrists.

Logan crooked his finger again, rubbing lightly across that same sweet spot. Sweat trickled down Remy's face, between his thighs, along his crack, he arched, twisted, writhed and begged... the sweet pressure on his cock never increased enough, sending tiny sparks of electricity along his raw nerves like a live wire vibrating in a hurricane; he licked his lips, nearly sobbing his frustration and spread his legs in lewd invitation.

"That's all we been waitin' fer, Remy." With a loving lick and a kiss to the fiery head of Remy's cock, Logan knelt up, looking at the splay-legged figure bound below him. Remy was breathing harshly, his chest heaving like a bellows. Logan took the gel and fisted his throbbing cock, coating it thoroughly.

Remy quivered. His heavy-lidded gaze followed each and every slow motion of Logan's. He swallowed thickly as Logan took his legs and hefted one over each shoulder with apparent ease; Logan's cock was thick and looked much bigger from this angle.

Logan gave him a sensuous smile, rubbing his impressive cock along Remy's crack. He slowly pushed his erection to the tiny opening, watching Remy's face intently. With infinite patience, his eyes shuttered as he held himself in rigid control, he began inching into the tight opening; finally he rested against the smooth pale curve of ass, his balls so tight against his own body that they were painful.

Remy drew an open-mouthed breath, gulping for air as the wide head pushed passed the tight ring of muscle. A sharp burning pain wavered along his nerves, and tears watered from his crimson eyes to track down his cheeks. It felt as if he was riding a log and being slowly split in half. He could feel the dark-furred balls tight against his ass. He drew a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Logan reached down and began to stroke the Cajun's flagging erection, blue eyes glittering black with desire.

Remy moaned again and pushed into the tight grip. With a sudden change in angle, Logan's organ rubbed over his prostate. Pleasure spiked through him like streaks of lightening and he pumped into the grip on his cock and pushed back, impaling himself on the rigid cock. Remy had given up language -- given up speech altogether; the only sounds he could make were incoherent cries and soft mewling pleas.

Remy's wanton display tore at the edges of Logan's tattered self-control and he began to thrust recklessly into the Cajun's wildly-bucking body. A torrent of passion drove him to a reckless frenzy. And Remy matched wild thrust for thrust, pleasure gathering in his groin and centered in his ass as he was filled and refilled; he felt the throb of his balls and screamed as Logan bent him nearly double with a single thrust, stabbing his prostate and plucking the clamps from his nipples.

Wildfire raged from his nipples to his groin, miniature shock waves pulsed and surged along the length of cock buried in his ass, pain and pleasure running together, melting together, white lights danced behind tight closed lids, his orgasm ripped from him as he came and came and came wailing Logan's name.

Logan snarled long and low as the rippling muscles of Remy's tight ass seemed to pull his cum from his body and he exploded in a series of hot throbbing surges that sent his seed deep into his lover's exhausted body. With a final plunge, he collapsed on top of the semi-conscious thief, chuckling tiredly at the soft "woof" that tickled his ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to the slack, bruised lips, pushing the damp auburn hair from Remy's eyes. Exhaustion dragging at him, he reached up to unclip Remy's wrists from the headboard, tenderly rubbing the arms to restore the blood flow.

Remy murmured inarticulately, snuffling against Logan's throat as Logan wrapped him in a fierce protective embrace. Logan kissed his damp forehead, smoothing hair away from his dazed eyes, he blinked sleepily up at him and gave an experimental wriggle.

Logan chuckled softly, stroking his hair, his back, across the curve of his ass. Logan feathered kisses lightly across Remy's face before rolling away. Remy felt the bed dip and turned to stare muzzily at Logan. "Where?"

Logan touched his lips briefly hushing him. "Stay."

*Back to bein' his l'il chien.* He grinned to himself, *mebbe bein' his l'il pup not so bad thing, neh?* He stretched and arched, feeling the dull ache in his muscles and a not too subtle reminder of just where Logan had been a few short minutes ago. Exhaustion rolled over him and he couldn't keep his eyes open.

The bed dipped again, and Logan fondled the pale globes of Remy's ass, stroking along the curve of his cheeks, a smile lighting his dark visaged face. A flutter of fear tickled Remy's belly when he felt Logan spread his cheeks wide, once again. Remy shifted and muttered dreamily, "Wh..ya doin', Log'n?" He tried to turn, but Logan stilled him, fingers curved on his hip.

"Go sleep, Cajun. I'm just gonna check ya an' clean ya up a bit."

Logan bent down and brushing his lips against Remy's shoulder. He trailed tender kisses down the thief's spine and kissed each cheek, nuzzling at the cleft. "Go to sleep, Remy. Ya don't wanna piss me off."

Remy snorted and snuggled down into the covers, managing to claim both pillows. He felt a warm cloth move over and around him, sliding between his cheeks, and with a final sweep, heard Logan toss the damp cloth away.

Logan lay down next to his new lover, cradled his body next to him, hands moving along the long line of back, cupping Remy's ass and pulled him closer. Remy felt cherished and drifted contentedly. Sleep beckoned and he had neither the desire, nor the willpower to resist. With a quiet sigh, he surrendered and fell into a deeper sleep.

Logan bit lightly at Remy's ear, causing the younger man to mutter an incoherent curse and turn within the confining circle of Wolverine's arms. Logan followed him, spooning behind him, one arm thrown across the Cajun's waist, cupping Remy's lax genitals, his fingers caressing the softened cock proprietarily. His voice was a harsh whisper as he drifted towards sleep, "Yer mine, Now."

********************************

Logan scowled in his sleep, a slight noise intruding on pleasant dreams of a certain begging thief. He sat up suddenly when the soft tapping was repeated. Grumbling, he stumbled towards the door, his voice heavy with sleep as he opened it. "Yeah, whaddya want?"

Remy stirred and lapsed back into a deeper slumber.

A deep voice smoothly inquired if he would be needing the room the rest of the day.

Deep laughter disturbed Remy's sleep and a puzzled frown pulled at his brows before smoothing out again.

Logan glanced back into the room, Remy's eyes were still closed, long dark lashes fanning pale cheeks. He looked both incredibly young and vulnerable curled beneath the dark satin covers.

A raspy chuckle rolled through the room. "Yeah, Nick... thanks. I owe ya."

"You most certainly do, my friend. You most certainly do." Nick allowed, trailing his gaze from Logan to the bed, sweeping the sleeping form thoughtfully before returning his attention to a glowering Wolverine. "Do not worry, Logan. I do not poach. Though there are others who do. I would keep your property close to you."

"I plan on it buddy. I plan on it."

"Good night then. You can leave the key with Simon or Jim when you decide to leave." Logan tilted his head. "Yeah. Okay."

With that said he closed the door and locked it, checking on Remy before curling up next to him, letting sleep take him away. He did not notice the red glitter beneath slitted lids as exhaustion claimed him.

Finis

Translations are provided with the help of my high school teacher (little does she know the use I finally made of it some two decades later ) and the Alternative Dictionaries site. The Acadian Slang Dictionary was non-functional at the time of the research, so my apologies with making free with the language.

END