Title: Hurt

Author: Xanax

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: X-Men Comicverse

Pairing: Logan/Remy

Permission to post: Anyone who wants it, feel free, just give me credit.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish it weren’t true, Logan and Remy aren’t mine; I’m just having a bit of fun. They belong to Marvel, not me.

Warnings: Cutting (self-mutilation); I know for some people that’s a sensitive topic and don’t want to upset anyone. Nothing kinky in this one, folks, it’s vanilla.

Summary: Remy has recently returned from Antarctica and finds love in the midst of his pain.


Hurt
By Xanax

Remy buried his head under the covers, fighting the wakefulness seeping into his mind; eyes tightly shut, he clung to the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness. He wasn’t ready to face the world again, not yet, but even his own mind was betraying him, refusing to hold onto the nothingness he craved.

Pushing the covers aside with a frustrated groan, Remy squinted his eyes against the late afternoon sun pouring in through the unclosed blinds and reticently rolled out of bed, yanking his sunglasses off the nightstand and settling them gratefully over his sensitive eyes.

Stumbling down the stairs to the living room, he settled on the couch with a sigh and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. Letting his mind wander, he idly picked at the half-healed cut just visible under the ratty sleeve of his sweater, smiling ruefully as the cut was reopened, blood dripping onto his jeans.

It hurt, but not nearly bad enough…not enough to convince him that he was still capable of feeling; truly feeling. Ever since he had returned home, maybe even before, he had felt numb. His emotional resources had been used up in his fight for survival and he was empty…only able to feel the hate and anger of his former friends, and not even that now, their painful emotions blocked out by his impenetrable mental shields.

Getting up from the couch, Remy shuffled into the boathouse’s disused kitchen. Pulling open one of the cabinets, eyes closed against the blinding sun coming through the kitchen windows, he reached out blindly, hand falling on the object of his search on the first attempt. Clutching the battered box, he returned to the living room, settling on the floor with his back against the couch.

Opening the battered box, he selected one of the wickedly sharp razor blades and set the rest carefully on the floor by his side. Sighing, he pushed up the left sleeve of his ratty, oversized sweater and turned his hand palm up, baring the tender flesh of his forearm. Smiling sadly he ran the fingers of his right hand over the myriad of cuts from elbow to wrist – each in a different stage of healing – and selected a suitable spot.

Holding the blade as firmly as he could in his shaking hand, he drew the blade across his wrist, pressing hard enough that he was forced to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle a cry of pain. Letting the bloodied blade fall from his hand onto the hardwood floor, Remy let out a sigh of relief. It had hurt. He had felt it, truly felt it.

Letting his head fall back against the couch, Remy held up his bleeding wrist, studying it as the blood dripped onto his sweater. He had felt it, he really had, he could touch the bleeding cut and feel the pain if he wanted to. His soul wasn’t dead, not yet, just sleeping…hibernating in the cold of Antarctica.

-------

Logan watched surreptitiously from the corner of his eye as Remy picked at the food on his plate, not eating, just pushing everything around halfheartedly. The kid looked horrible…exhausted, pale and way too thin. It was the first time Logan had seen him in over a week; the boy never bothered to come to dinner anymore, or any other mealtime for that matter, and was only present at this gathering because Ororo had insisted.

There was something not right about the kid, other then the obvious sickliness of his appearance. The boy used to be a social butterfly, happiest when he was surrounded by people, but tonight he hadn’t said a word and had put as much space as possible between himself and everyone else at the table. And there was something else Logan couldn’t quite put his finger on; the kid smelled wrong and Logan was sure he smelled blood.

Watching the boy, Logan could almost feel the tenseness in the kid’s muscles, the boy looked like he was ready to fight…or run. Casting a quick glance around the table, Logan noticed that no one else appeared to have noticed the boy’s strange behavior.

Looking back, Logan was startled to notice that Remy had abandoned his seat at the table and was heading out the kitchen door, his departure seemingly unnoticed by the rest of the group. There was definitely something going on with the kid, something big, and Logan was more than willing to put money on it having to do with the boy’s unexpected return from Antarctica.

If there was one thing Logan knew, it was what it felt like to be abandoned, left alone without even a single friend in the world, and he was damned if he was going to let the boy suffer. The kid had already suffered more abuse and neglect than anyone should ever have had to deal with; he didn’t need to add one more betrayal to that list.

Shoving his chair back from the table hard enough to make every set of eyes at the table snap around to stare at him, Logan stalked out of the room, leaving the rest of the mansion’s residents to stare in shock at his retreating back.

-------

Settling back on the couch, Remy dug into the pocket of his well-worn jeans, pulling out his favorite lighter, and grabbed a cigarette out of the half-empty pack on the end table. Lighting it with shaking hands, he inhaled deeply, the familiar habit steadying him.

Closing his eyes, Remy imagined that he was dead, not at all surprised to find that it didn’t feel much different than being alive. He could already feel the confidence he had gained earlier in the day slipping away, the numbness seeping in to replace it. He felt detached…empty.

Shaking his head to force the thoughts away, he roughly shoved the sleeve of his sweater up and squeezed his wrist roughly, relieved when the pressure ruptured the scab covering his most recent cut and started it bleeding again, the pain sharp…real. Letting out a shaky breath, he closed his eyes in relief, letting his head fall forward, overly-long bangs falling in front of his eyes.

Grabbing another cigarette from the quickly diminishing pack, Remy lit it from the smoldering butt of the first. Taking a grateful drag, he absentmindedly charged the butt of the previous cigarette, tossing it into the fireplace where it exploded with a burst of sparks, setting the logs it had been thrown on top of burning.

Remy basked in the heat of the newly created fire, his shaking eased somewhat by the warmth. It wasn’t that cold out, he knew that, but he couldn’t convince his body that that was the case. Scooting off the couch, he settled on the floor in front of the fireplace, staring into the fire, mesmerized by the flickering flames.

-------

Remy was startled out of a fitful doze by the sound of someone insistently knocking on the boathouse door. Paralyzed with indecision, he sat perfectly still, trying to decide if he wanted to face whoever was on the other side of the door. His visitor certainly wouldn’t have come because they actually wanted to see him…more likely they just remembered something else they wanted to yell at him about. But ignoring the world wouldn’t make it go away, no matter how much he wished that weren’t the case; better to just get it over with and go back to sleep. Getting to his feet with a weary sigh, Remy shuffled to the door and opened it without bothering to see who was outside first.

“Hey, Gumbo,” Logan said softly. He didn’t want to startle the kid since it looked like Remy wasn’t altogether there at the moment; the lights were on, but nobody was home.

Unable to answer, Remy stared in shocked silence. Logan was the last person he had expected to see, but it stood to reason that he would have to face him eventually.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get an answer, Logan forged ahead. “Can I come in?”

Nodding, Remy stepped aside, unsure of what to say. Returning to his spot in front of the fire, he pulled a cigarette from the now empty pack and lit it. Pointedly ignoring his visitor, he charged the empty package and tossed it into the dying fire, sending a shower of sparks across the floor as it exploded with a pop.

-------

Logan stood transfixed as the fire flared, the influx of light picking out the copper highlights in the boy’s tousled hair and making his eyes glow a fiery red before the flames died down. Shocked, he stood in silence. He had, of course, noticed that Remy was undeniably attractive before, but in the light of the fire with his hair mussed and that soft scowl on his face he was breathtaking; all attitude and deadly beauty.

“Ain’t seen ya around the mansion lately…” Logan said softly, moving to sit down on the couch behind the sulking boy.

“So? Ain’t no rule says I hafta be dere,” Remy shot back without turning around, shoulders tense in a classic defensive posture.

“Yeah, that’s true. Just wonderin’ what you’ve been up to, that’s all,” Logan replied easily, not allowing himself to be riled by the boy’s hostility.

“Get to de point, Logan. What do you want?” Remy snapped, finally turning to look at the other man.

“I told ya, already. Just wanted to come see ya, find out what ya been doin’,” Logan answered lightly, looking the boy straight in the eyes.

“Yeah, well, I don’ want you here…don’ want anyone here,” Remy huffed, staring at the burning tip of his half-smoked cigarette.

“Ya know what I think?” Logan asked seriously, not expecting a response and not getting one. “I think you’re not really mad at me…you’re scared.”

Logan could see Remy’s eyes snap up to meet his under the cover of long bangs, head still bowed. “Know how I know that?” Logan asked softly, never breaking the boy’s stare.

He had the kid’s attention now; Remy hadn’t moved, but his breathing had slowed almost to a halt and a look of guarded curiosity had crossed his face. There was no turning back now. “I know ‘cause you’re a lot like me, kid, and I know it’s a hell of a lot easier to pretend that no one can hurt you than to admit that you’re human…and that you’re scared, that you’re vulnerable…” Logan continued, knowing that he was getting through to the boy.

“Ain’t no shame in bein’ scared, kiddo. I been scared more times than I can count,” Logan said softly, knowing that the boy had been raised to never show weakness in battle and recognizing that this was a battle.

“Everyone gets scared sometime, Rem…even me,” he continued, noting the disbelieving look the boy was giving him.

-------

Startled, Remy held his breath and replayed Logan’s last statement in his mind. Rem…Logan had called him by his real name. That was all it took, that little act of kindness; he could feel the hot tears tracking down his cheeks and then the dam broke, all the pent-up fear and pain hitting him all at once, and Remy was shocked to find that he was sobbing…childish, uncontrollable tears…and even more shocked to find that Logan had moved from the couch and gathered him up in his strong arms.

It felt good…wonderful, like being home again, sheltered from the world by the warmth of his father’s arms. To hell with being strong, he’d stood fast against the pain for as long as he could and just couldn’t do it any longer. Surrendering gratefully to the flood of emotions, he clung to Logan, overwrought and unashamedly terrified.

-------

The kid was asleep, sprawled on the floor in front of the fire. Logan had debated carrying him upstairs and putting him to bed, but decided that he didn’t want to risk waking him and that it would be easier to keep an eye on him this way.

Retrieving a battered patchwork quilt from the back of the couch, Logan stooped to cover the sleeping boy. Tucking the ratty blanket around Remy’s shoulders, Logan stopped, catching a brief whiff of the coppery scent of blood just noticeable over the salty scent of the boy’s tears.

Careful not to disturb Remy’s slumber, Logan gently lifted the boy’s wrist and slid the sleeve of his sweater up, a look of pain crossing his face as he examined the cuts lining the inside of the boy’s forearm. Lightly, Logan ran the tips of his fingers over the cuts, gauging their severity, mindful of the pained whimpers the boy made as he touched the freshest ones.

Gently replacing the boy’s hand on the floor, Logan finished tucking in the blankets and brushed the overgrown bangs out of the boy’s eyes, then settled on the couch, staring into the fire, deep in thought.



PART 2

Remy woke slowly; his back was sore and his head ached. As consciousness returned, he realized that he had spent the night sleeping on the floor. Throwing the blanket over his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what had happened the night before.

Replaying the night’s events in his mind, Remy’s eyes snapped open. Logan… Throwing the blankets off, he sat up abruptly, looking wildly around the room. Logan was nowhere to be seen, Remy realized with a heavy sigh. Alone again…the story of his life.

Remy closed his eyes, trying to remember what it had felt like to feel safe, sheltered in Logan’s arms. He couldn’t…the feeling was gone, replaced with the same all-consuming emptiness that he had felt every day since he had found himself alone and abandoned in Antarctica.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Remy huddled into a ball. He knew better than to think that someone could love him, would be there for him; thinking like that only ended up getting him hurt. Scared by the numbness – the lack of even the dubious relief of a broken heart – Remy rocked back and forth, eyes fixed on the floor at his feet.

Remy froze, eyes locked on the battered box tucked under the couch. He didn’t want to do it again – not so soon, not with so many unhealed cuts on his arm already – but the emptiness was terrifying. Logan had said that there was no shame in being frightened, but Remy couldn’t face the fear, couldn’t face the emptiness.

Getting slowly to his feet, Remy retrieved the razor blades from their hiding place under the couch, too ashamed to look at the box in his hands. Eyes flitting across the room, he tried to find something to focus on, something to distract him. The stereo…music…a weak smile ghosting his lips, Remy dug through his CD collection. Choosing one from the stack, he turned on the stereo and settled on the floor.

“I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real”

Smiling ruefully, Remy selected a blade from the box and slid the sleeve of his sweater up, selecting a spot close to the elbow. He felt like he was experiencing the world third-hand…a copy of a copy…the visceral pain, the smell of blood, the rush of adrenaline were the only reality he had.

“The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything”

Teeth sunk into his lower lip, Remy dragged the blade across the tender flesh, hand shaking in a mix of pain and adrenaline. Blood pouring down his arm and tears pouring down his cheeks, Remy sighed in relief.

-------

Grumbling irritably, Logan waited impatiently for Scott to return so that he could leave his security post and check on Remy. He hadn’t wanted to leave the boy, but he had duties and couldn’t shirk them, no matter what the circumstances. He only hoped that Remy was okay.

The boy had still been asleep when he had left in the morning, sprawled in the most uncomfortable looking position Logan had ever seen, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake him. To judge by the boy’s appearance, he could use all the rest he could get.

-------

“What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt”

Slumping down to lie on the floor, Remy sobbed, tears pouring down his cheeks, the pain of his self-inflicted penance having triggered a tidal wave of emotion that he was helpless to control but grateful to be experiencing.

He knew better than this, knew better than to believe that he could ever have any security in life. He had never imagined himself to be so naïve, but the truth was right in front of him, as sharp as a slap in the face; he was alone again.

“I will let you down
I will make you hurt”

Perhaps it was for the best, he reasoned. If Logan had stayed he would only have let him down, shown himself to be unworthy of the security offered to him. It was better this way for both of them…but the rationalization did nothing for the deep ache in his heart.

“I wear my crown of shit
On my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear”

Shivering, Remy curled up on the floor, gratefully letting consciousness slip away. Sleep was a welcome escape, and Remy surrendered gratefully to its clutches, heedless of the cold or the pain in his arm.

-------

Logan knocked lightly at the door of the boathouse, not wanting to let himself in without Remy’s permission. No answer.

He knew Remy was home; the kid hadn’t left the boathouse since he’d returned from Antarctica, other than his rare excursions to the mansion. Opening the door quietly, Logan stepped inside and cocked his head to the side, sensitive ears picking up the sound of soft music coming from the living room; not something he would have picked, but then he and Remy never did have the same taste in music.

Careful to keep his movements quiet, Logan stepped into the living room. The kid had obviously gotten up at some point, since he was laying in a different spot than the one Logan had left him in that morning; eyebrows drawing together, Logan sniffed the air – he smelled blood again, fresh this time. “Oh, Rem…” he whispered.

Kneeling by the sleeping boy, Logan shook his head sadly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his fault somehow. He shouldn’t have left. The kid was a hell of a lot more important than some stupid job. Carefully sliding one hand under the boy’s shoulders and the other under his knees, Logan gathered the boy up into his arms and settled him against his chest, shocked by how light Remy was in his arms; the kid had lost a lot of weight.

Careful to keep from jostling the boy, Logan set off up the stairs; he wasn’t about to let Remy sleep on the floor again when he had a perfectly good bed going to waste. Somebody had to take care of the brat, since Remy apparently wasn’t going to do it himself and – when it really came down to it – he really cared about the kid and was tired of seeing him hurt; he deserved better.

-------

Waking slowly, Remy blearily rubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes, trying to push away the fogginess clouding his mind. Sitting up with a heavy sigh, he took in his surroundings. Somehow, he’d ended up back in bed without any memory of how he’d gotten there, which wasn’t a good sign. This whole thing was really getting out of control.

His left hand felt sticky with blood and, if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d managed to get it in his hair too. “Well, ain’t dat a fine mess?” Remy muttered, scowling at the prospect of scrubbing the dried blood from his hair.

“Yup, sure is,” came the quiet reply.

Startled, Remy jumped involuntarily. “Damn, Logan,” Remy snapped, “you tryin’ t’ give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry, Rem,” Logan said softly. “Just wanted t’ check up on ya. See how ya were doin’.”

“I’m fine,” Remy muttered, trying to decide how he felt about Logan’s return.

“Ya don’t look fine, kid,” Logan answered honestly, abandoning his stance in the doorway to sit at the foot of Remy’s bed.

“Well, I am. Okay?” Remy snapped, torn between tears and violence.

“Okay, kid. Just wanted to make sure,” Logan answered, turning to leave the room.

“Logan?” Remy asked softly, unsure of what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to be alone again; didn’t want to drive Logan away.

“Yeah, Rem?” Logan asked over his shoulder.

“Stay…please,” Remy whispered. He didn’t really have anything to lose – he’d already lost everything that mattered to him.

“Okay, Rem,” Logan said softly. “Hang on a minute, okay?”

Nodding silently, Remy fought back the tears stinging his eyes. Logan wouldn’t lie to him…he was coming back, he had to believe that. Forcing himself to breathe, Remy drew his knees up to his chest, heart pounding, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Let me see that arm,” Logan whispered moments later, laying a surprisingly gentle hand on Remy’s wrist.

Logan knew, but then it stood to reason that he would. There was no chance of hiding it now, not with one hand covered in drying blood and his hair spiky with more of the same. There was no point in arguing now, he had nothing to hide. Eyes downcast, Remy held out his arm wordlessly, too ashamed to meet Logan’s eyes.

Gently loosening the sleeve of the boy’s sweater from his bloodied arm, Logan slid it up enough to bare the cuts lining the tender flesh. “Sorry if this hurts, Rem,” Logan said softly, cleaning the cuts with a wet washcloth, mindful of the boy’s barely audible whimpers.

Fighting back tears, Remy allowed Logan to clean his arm, unsure if he was on the verge of tears because of the pain or because of the gentleness of Logan’s touch. It felt so good to be treated with such kindness…it had been so long since anyone had taken such care not to hurt him.

“This is gonna sting, darlin’,” Logan whispered, soaking a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and steadying the boy’s arm in one powerful hand.

Unable to hold back any longer, Remy gave into his tears, sobbing like a child as Logan cleaned his bloodied arm with quick, efficient strokes. It wasn’t the pain that had done it, although it hurt like hell, it had been that one simple endearment…

Dropping the bloodied cotton ball onto the bed, Logan gathered the boy up into his arms, knowing intuitively that it wasn’t the pain that had done it, there was more to it than that. Pulling the boy tight against his chest, Logan rocked him back and forth, heedless of the blood smearing his neck and chest.

-------

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on, Rem?” Logan asked softly several minutes later after the boy’s sobs had died down into drowsy sniffles.

“What’s de point? Ain’t gonna make anyt’ing better,” Remy whispered dejectedly, concentrating on Logan’s calm breathing.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Logan answered, not wanting to push the boy too hard. “You don’t wanna talk, that’s okay. But I know what it’s like, I just want ya to know that.”

Snuffling against Logan’s chest, Remy let Logan’s words sink in. If anyone would understand it would be Logan, he’d been through more in his long life than Remy could ever imagine surviving and yet he was sitting here very much alive and trying to help. “I just need t’ feel something,” he finally whispered, too tired to fight anymore.

“Scary, ain’t it?” Logan said softly, knowing what it felt like to hit rock bottom and understanding that at that point even pain was a welcome release. Anything was better than that devastating emptiness.

“Oui,” Remy agreed softly. He was tired; tired in body and soul…tired of fighting a losing battle…tired of life.

Pulling the trembling boy tighter against his chest, Logan let his silence speak for him, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough. He’d been in Remy’s place before, empty to the point that even death would have been welcome; he knew how hard it was, how terrifying and lonely the world could be when you had no one to turn to and nowhere to go and he didn’t intend to let the boy go through it alone.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, darlin’?” Logan whispered after several long minutes. Right now there wasn’t much he could do to undo the damage done to the boy’s spirit, but the kid still had a hell of a lot of physical needs that weren’t being met.

Nodding silently, Remy allowed Logan to scoot off the bed and then followed him from the room. He knew he must look horrible – he certainly felt horrible – and a hot shower and some more sleep were both at the top of his list of things that would make things a little more bearable.

-------

Leaving the boy to glare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and attempt to get the worst of the tangles out of his blood-matted hair, Logan started the shower. “Come on, get those clothes off,” Logan ordered. Remy wasn’t the least bit bashful and Logan knew that if he left it up to the kid, it’d be an hour before he actually got undressed and cleaned up.

Abandoning his attempts at damage control, Remy sighed and tugged off his sweater, tossing it to the floor at his feet and starting in on his jeans, not the least bit embarrassed by Logan’s presence. There didn’t seem to be a single spot on his entire body that wasn’t aching and the prospect of getting cleaned up, while appealing, was also daunting. He was exhausted in spite of the sleep he’d gotten.

The kid looked like death warmed over, completely exhausted in spite of the fact that he’d spent all day asleep. “You want me to give ya a hand, Rem?” Logan asked, no more concerned with modesty than the boy was.

Looking up with sleepy, surprised eyes, Remy nodded. As it was, it was a struggle just to stay on his feet; he was going to need all the help he could get.

“Okay, kiddo,” Logan answered easily, yanking his shirt over his head. “You get the rest of those clothes off and we’ll get ya cleaned up.”

-------

Remy stared with drowsy eyes at the red-tinged water swirling down the drain, too tired to do anything more than stand under the shower’s spray – held up by Logan’s strong hands on his hips – and let the pounding water wash the blood away.

“Come on, Rem, put your hands up here,” Logan said softly, hesitantly moving one hand from the boy’s hips to place Remy’s hand against the tiled wall of the shower.

Gratefully complying, Remy leaned against the shower wall, forehead and palms pressed to the cold tile, and sighed. It felt wonderful to be taken care of like this, even if Logan was only doing it out of pity; right now he was willing to settle for any comfort he could get.

“Head up, darlin’,” Logan said, laying a gentle hand on Remy’s shoulder and squeezing lightly, “I gotta wash that blood out of your hair.”

Forcing his aching muscles to comply, Remy stood up straighter, sighing contentedly as Logan tangled his fingers in his hair, scrubbing the blood out with gentle hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, Remy let the tears stinging his eyes roll down his cheeks, their tracks washed away almost as quickly as they were made. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he hadn’t ever cried this much in his life. Not even when he was a child, alone and starving with no one to take care of him. Not even when he’d been left alone to freeze in Antarctica. Not ever.

“Turn around for me, okay?” Logan said, wrapping one strong arm around the boy’s chest to support him; he needed to rinse Remy’s hair out and wanted to be sure he had a firm hold on him.

Hesitantly pushing off the wall, Remy turned around as best he could in the small, crowded space, grateful for the water washing away his tears. Gratefully leaning against Logan’s brawny chest, Remy relaxed into Logan’s firm control and allowed him to rinse his hair, holding him carefully under the shower’s spray until the water ran clear.

“Ya want me to wash your back?” Logan asked, stroking the boy’s back lightly. He could smell the boy’s tears even over the water washing them away; the kid needed all the comfort he could get.

Remy nodded silently, content to let Logan take care of him. It was such a relief to surrender control to someone else…someone bigger and stronger than he was. He felt…he felt like he had when his father had taken him in – safe, protected from the world…free from the burden of responsibility.

Holding Remy tight against his chest with one arm, Logan soaped a washcloth as best he could without releasing his grip and rubbed the soapy cloth in gentle circles over the boy’s shoulders and back, smiling as Remy relaxed with a sigh.

-------

“You goin’ back t’ sleep?” Logan asked, scrubbing at the boy’s hair with a towel as Remy leaned against the sink, too tired to argue.

“Oui,” Remy said softly, staring drowsily at the cuts on his arm; in the bright light of the bathroom, they looked frightening.

“You wanna put some clothes on first or no?” Logan asked, tossing the towel in the hamper and leaving his hair to air dry.

“Non,” Remy mumbled, hesitantly releasing his hold on the sink and standing on unsteady legs.

“Fair enough,” Logan shrugged. “Come on, kiddo, move it.”

Allowing Logan to shoo him into the hallway, Remy shuffled down the hall to his room, reassured by the sound of Logan’s heavy tread behind him.

-------

Climbing wearily into bed, Remy allowed Logan to tuck him in; it was comforting to just give in and let Logan call the shots, secure in the knowledge that he had nothing to do but let himself be taken care of. “T’anks, Logan,” Remy mumbled with a sleepy smile.

“Anytime, kid,” Logan answered, brushing the boy’s bangs back from his forehead.

“Logan?” Remy mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, Rem?” Logan asked.

“You’re gonna be here when I wake up, right?” Remy asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, Rem, I’ll be here,” Logan answered softly.



PART 3

Opening his eyes hesitantly against the glare of the expected mid-afternoon sun, Remy was surprised to find, instead, a twilight sky, and even more surprised to find that he could hear Logan’s deep, even breathing by his side. Mouth quirking into a tentative smile, Remy sighed in relief; Logan really was there, he hadn’t left.

Remy carefully shifted into a semi-sitting position to get a better look at the man sharing his bed. He’d never really given much thought to it before, but Logan was handsome; not beautiful in the same way he himself was, but handsome all the same. Tentatively reaching out a hand, Remy stroked his fingers through the Canadian’s bangs, mouth quirking as Logan sighed and turned into the touch.

“Feelin’ better, Rem?” Logan asked, opening his eyes enough to focus on the boy.

Startled, Remy jerked his hand away.

“Sorry, Rem,” Logan said, “didn’t mean t’ scare ya.”

“S’okay,” Remy mumbled, embarrassed.

“You wanna come over here by me?” Logan asked softly.

Yes, he did, he wanted to be held in those strong arms – wanted it desperately. He’d thought he’d lost this security forever, but Logan was offering him another chance; he didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t refuse…he just couldn’t. Nodding silently, he drew in a shaky breath as Logan hugged him tightly to his chest.

“Does it ever get better?” Remy whispered after several long moments.

“Yeah,” Logan answered truthfully, “it does. But sometimes it takes so long that ya think you’d be better off dead first.”

“Been dere, done dat,” Remy mumbled, comforted by the sound of Logan’s heartbeat against his ear.

“It does get better, though. I promise,” Logan assured, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. “I’ve been there. I know.”

“Dat don’ help me now,” Remy whispered, shifting his arm to examine the cuts lining it.

“There’s better ways than hurtin’ yourself, Rem,” Logan counseled.

“Like what?” Remy mumbled, burying his face against Logan’s chest.

There was really no turning back, not that Logan wanted to; the kid needed someone to show him that they loved him. Tangling his fingers in Remy’s hair, he pulled the boy away from his chest and pressed his lips to Remy’s in a gentle, soul-searching kiss, relieved when the boy leaned into the kiss with a soft sigh. “Like that,” he answered, pulling away enough to speak. “Pain ain’t the only feeling there is, Rem.”

It was too good to be true…but Logan had kissed him and he had felt it. It felt wonderful. Heart pounding and tears starting in his eyes, Remy hesitantly pressed his lips to the other man’s again, relieved when Logan pulled him close, deepening the kiss. Whimpering in pleasure, Remy kissed the other man back with fervor, pressing himself hard against Logan’s powerful chest, desperate for more sensation.

Fingers tangled in the boy’s silky cinnamon hair, Logan pulled Remy tighter against him, kissing the boy’s pouty lips with frantic abandon. He didn’t know why it was happening…why now…why it had never happened before, but it didn’t matter, not now; all that mattered was that Remy trusted him…and wanted him. Breaking the kiss, Logan tilted Remy’s head back and gently kissed his way along the boy’s jaw and down his neck.

Logan’s touch was like fire to his frozen heart and Remy gave in eagerly and without hesitation, gratefully welcoming the rush of desire that accompanied Logan’s kisses. Logan had been right, pain wasn’t the only feeling left for him…he felt this – felt it with an intensity that was almost painful – and never wanted it to stop.

Pausing at the base of the boy’s neck, Logan pulled away slightly and waited for permission to continue. Feeling Remy’s hand tighten on the back of his neck and pull him close again, he continued with a soft purr of pleasure, kissing his way down the boy’s chest and stomach, nuzzling at the soft skin and – pushing the rumpled sheets down – gently lapping at the head of the boy’s straining cock, pleased when Remy moaned softly and arched up into the touch.

Eyes closed in bliss, Remy arched his hips, urging Logan on, and gasped quietly as Logan took the head of his cock into his mouth, suckling softly for a few moments before sliding his mouth down the rest of the straining length. Moving his hand up to tangle in Logan’s thick hair, Remy moaned in pleasure, hips hitching up in need.

Moaning softly around the straining length in his mouth, Logan sucked eagerly, urged on by the boy’s fingers tangled tightly in his hair. Noting the increased urgency of the boy’s moans, Logan sucked harder and faster, moaning in encouragement as Remy whimpered desperately, hips hitching up in frantic pleasure, and came with a frantic howl of ecstasy.

Eyes fluttering open, Remy sighed as Logan nuzzled affectionately at his stomach, rubbing his rough stubbled cheek against the sensitive skin with a soft purr, before moving back up to the boy’s side, kissing him gently on the lips, hard cock pressing against the boy’s thigh. Mouth quirking into a smile, Remy kissed Logan back with fervor, shifting his leg to press it tighter against the rock hard length against his thigh, his own cock already stirring again in response.

Never breaking the kiss, Logan shifted to kneel between Remy’s outstretched legs, cock aching painfully in anticipation. “You sure you want this, Rem?” Logan asked softly, pulling away to meet the boy’s eyes.

“Oui,” Remy answered simply with a nod of the head. There was no question in his mind that this was what he wanted, he felt so good with Logan that he never wanted it to end.

Grabbing hold of the boy’s hips, Logan pulled lightly so that Remy was lying on his back and pressed himself hard against the length of the boy’s body, leaning on his elbows to give Remy room to breathe. Meeting the boy’s eyes and seeing nothing but desire, Logan slicked his cock with precum, mouth quirking as his knuckles brushed the boy’s straining cock, making Remy gasp in surprised pleasure. Positioning himself between Remy’s outstretched legs, Logan pressed his cock against the boy’s tight opening and pushed in slowly, not wanting to cause the boy any more pain than he was already in.

Arching his hips with a soft moan, Remy threw his arms around Logan’s neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss, both men moaning as Logan’s cock settled deeper into the tight clench of the boy’s ass.

“Feel that?” Logan purred, breath hot against Remy’s cheek.

“Oui,” Remy moaned, hips hitching up as Logan set a slow rhythm.

“I told you there’s better ways,” Logan growled softly, pressing his lips to Remy’s in a gentle kiss.

Letting his eyes fall closed with a smile, Remy moaned deeply in pleasure as Logan’s stomach rubbed against his straining cock, already dangerously close to the edge and desperate for release. Even with his mental shields blocking Logan’s emotions, Remy could feel the tenseness in his lover’s muscles and knew that Logan was as close as he was.

Logan could smell how close the kid was, how badly he wanted it and thrust harder, his own climax building with every thrust. “Come on, darlin’,” Logan purred, rubbing his cheek against Remy’s, before catching the boy’s pouty lips in a passionate kiss.

Moaning deeply into Logan’s mouth, Remy clung to his lover, hips arching up in pleasure and came, his scream muffled by Logan’s mouth crushed to his, hips snapping up in frantic pleasure as he came in hard, throbbing spurts, cum slicking his stomach and Logan’s.

Unable to hold out any longer, Logan gave into his climax with a deep growl, thrusting deep and coming painfully hard, vision going black at the edges and heart pounding in his ears, feeling Remy trembling underneath him as his own climax gripped him.

-------

“Logan?” Remy mumbled sleepily, sighing contentedly as Logan’s fingers combed through his bangs.

“What, darlin’?” Logan asked softly.

“Love you,” Remy mumbled, eyelids drooping closed in time to the rhythmic motion of Logan’s fingers in his hair.

“Love you too, Rem,” Logan answered.



END