Lessons 2: Introductory Course

By Jennie

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

Fandom: X Men

Pairing: Remy/Logan

Series/Sequel: Yep. Prequel to Lessons Learned, second (well, actually first) in the Lessons series.

Rating: R

Archive: At Full House, WWOMB and archives connected to the lists I'm posting to.

Spoilers: Nope. None.

Notes: This is a very late Birthday gift for Bermille.

Summary: How it started.

Warning: Here there be bondage. It's mild - one could even say it's schmoopy - but it *is* bdsm

.

Beta: Orithain, Dark Cherry, Suze, and Teri. Um... I think that's everyone.

Lessons 2: Introductory Course

By Jennie

***

Logan:

It all started when Cyclops rolled up his sleeves that day. The air conditioning had failed us - on the hottest day of summer, of course - and he thoughtlessly shoved the arms of his long-sleeved t-shirt back above his elbows.

I had vaguely wondered why he'd chosen that style of shirt on such a warm day. But, considering his peculiar ideas about how a Fearless Leader should dress, I'd shrugged and returned my attention to the kata I used to warm up before workouts.

Then he rolled back those sleeves and I saw 'em. Ligature marks. Noticing my stare, Cyke glanced down at the reddish lines circling his wrists. Damned if he didn't smirk at them, then look over at Jean. Now, I don't know what telepathic message she sent to him; I can make an educated guess, though, if his flush and her 'cat that ate the canary' expression were anything to go by.

I'd thought (when I'd allowed myself to think about it) that Jean and Scott were the poster mutants for vanilla sex. The evidence was pretty much irrefutable, though. They were into bondage! More incredible than that, Cyclops, Mr-always-in-control-and-oh-so-proper, played the 's' part in their D/s games.

The fine art of compartmentalization has always been one of my many talents, and I had every intention of shoving this particular realization into my mental folder of 'Things I Will Not Think About'. My mistake was noticing Gambit's expression.

I probably shouldn't have met his eyes, either...

But I did. His expression was one of curiosity and excitement mixed with fear and longing. It took my breath away, and suddenly the blood in my brain migrated southward. Which was not good. Not good at all.

Don't get me wrong, I like games as well as the next guy, but Gambit was a teammate. A very young (by my standards) teammate. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to soothe his fears. Show him how good it could be to submit. To be restrained while someone - yes, I am the someone I pictured in my mind - touched him, fucked him. I wanted to spend hours teasing him with fingers, tongue, and teeth. To take him to a place I was sure he'd never visited, granting him release only when he was incoherent with need.

However, not only was the kid... well, a kid; he was also, by all appearances, straight. As far as I could tell, and I had been watching, all of his lovers were of the female persuasion.

I made a mental note to visit my very favorite 'private' club at the first opportunity and did my damnedest to finish the workout without sustaining injury or delivering bodily harm to anyone.

Remy was more than a little distracting. Between the shyly inquisitive looks he kept sending my way, his fascination with the marks on Cyke's wrists, and the nearly overwhelming waves of pheromones I scented on him, I was just about a wreck.

Then Gambit stumbled and fell after clumsily avoiding a shot from one of the 'bots. I, being closest to him, held out one hand to pull him to his feet. Which shouldn't have been a problem. If only he'd weighed a little more - or I'd refrained from yanking up with such force - I might have been able to let it go. Unfortunately, he ended up off-balance, plastered to the front of my body. Pressed together as we were, I could hardly miss the increased heartbeat, the heat of his skin, the fact that his cock was every bit as erect as mine.

All my good intentions flew right out of the proverbial window. "Tonight," I whispered huskily into his ear.

His flush deepened, his breathing increased, and with the slightest of nods, he rushed into the locker room.

With raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk, Cyke called an end to the workout. Once everyone had trailed out except him and Jeannie, they approached me.

"Well, well, who'd have ever imagined?"

Jean poked Scott's ribs. "Shut up, dear," she said sweetly. "Logan... I'm pretty sure that Remy's new to this. You won't...?"

I snorted. "Ain't gonna hurt the kid, Jeannie. You know me better than that."

Cyke puffed up indignantly. "And just what the hell does *that* mean?" he demanded to know. "Have you two...?"

Turning to face her husband, hands on her hips, Jean merely *looked* at him.

"Uh-"

"Our room, Scott. Now," was all she said.

Damned if he didn't nod abashedly, hang his head and leave the room.

With a wink at me, she followed him out of the Danger Room at a leisurely pace.

I made sure that Remy stayed within my sights all day. He was jumpy, far more easily spooked than I'd ever seen him. Still, every time I caught him looking at me, his flush reappeared, his heartbeat increased, and the scent of curiosity and desire rolled off of him in waves.

His red on black eyes grew evermore haunted as the day progressed. I suppose I should have felt guilty. I simply couldn't, though. I wanted him. Badly. Visions of Remy restrained and at my mercy as he squirmed and panted under my ministrations, ambushed me at every turn.

To tell the god's honest truth, I was having the time of my life. The thrill of the hunt, the novelty of a nervous Remy, and thoughts of just how he'd look, restrained, eyes glittering with arousal, hair tousled and slightly damp with sweat, all increased my determination to have him.

***

Remy:

Every time I turned around, there was Logan. In the garage, tuning up my bike, I could feel his eyes on me as he worked on his beloved jeep. I went swimming, hoping to tire myself enough to dull my awareness of him, and he turned up at the poolside puffing happily on one of his cigars. I retreated to the computer room and again, there was Logan. The hotly promising look in his eyes scuttled my attempt to run a diagnostic on the security system.

He didn't say anything. Logan isn't the most talkative person I've ever met, but this was quiet, even for him. As if his silent regard wasn't enough, he kept finding ways to touch me. A casual touch of one hand along my shoulders as he passed me. Leaning over my shoulder ostensibly to look at the computer screen while I attempted to complete that diagnostic. He made a point of brushing against me at every opportunity.

And the slyly promising looks he kept sending my way... He knew. The bastard was fully aware that I wouldn't turn him away. His smug expression told me that my dazed, muddled, *fucking* humiliating and confusing desire was no secret to him. Which, I suspected, was the point of the exercise. He wanted to keep me off balance, my mind filled with him, too aware of the promise in his eyes to have second thoughts.

That was just about the longest day I can remember. Finally - finally! - dinner time arrived. Looking forward to the relief I would find in a crowd, I rushed to the table, arriving before any of the others. Funny thing is, I wasn't even surprised when Logan came in moments later and sat himself right across from me.

I choked down the small amount of food I could manage, shoved back my chair and rose, leaving the room with a mumbled apology. In the parlor, I turned on the television and clicked my way through the channels. HBO was showing 'Velvet Goldmine', and I paused there. Just about the time I caught on to the gay theme and moved on to Showtime, Logan walked in.

Queer as Folk was on. Naturally. I fumbled the remote, dropping it to the floor in my haste to change the channel.

"Leave it on, Gumbo. I ain't seen this one yet," he said, settling right next to me on the sofa.

Once I'd managed to retrieve the remote, I shoved it at him and scurried upstairs with more haste than dignity. It had been a difficult day; a long shower and a good night's sleep would help me to relax, I decided. A man like Logan wouldn't - couldn't - interested in a man like me. He'd been teasing, playing a joke on me, that was all.

After bathing I was still jumpy, so I looked around for some kind of distraction. I straightened my room, changed the sheets on my bed, and cleaned the bathroom. Even so, my restlessness hadn't abated. Deciding that a brisk walk in the night air would tire me out, I donned sweats and sneakers and opened my door to head outside.

***

Logan:

"Goin' somewhere, kid?" I asked when his door opened.

"L-l-logan?"

I grunted and pushed past him. "Had that stutter long?"

"Um... non," he answered, looking everywhere but at me.

"Huh." I sat on the bed and regarded him. I didn't want to, but I couldn't take this any further without asking, "You okay, Gumbo?"

"Non. I mean, oui. I mean... Y' been followin' m' all day. Touchin' m', teasin' m'... What y' wan' from Remy?"

I shrugged. "Sex. Fun. To show you what you've been missing. I know ya want it, kid. Can smell yer desire and curiosity."

"Ain' never done anythin' like dis 'fore, Logan."

As if I hadn't realized that. Shit.

I knew he wanted it. Was curious and excited by the idea. Leaning back on my elbows, making it just about impossible to miss the visible sign of my desire, I challenged him, "Saw ya looking at Scotty's wrists. Know the idea turns ya on."

After scuffling his feet against the carpet, sighing, and glancing at me through his bangs, Remy spoke quietly, "Don' like pain, Logan."

Just as I'd thought. "Pain ain't a part of the program, kid. Just pleasure."

"Mais..." He licked his lips and moved a little closer. "What...? Why y' wan' m'? Y' never did 'fore."

He shrugged. "Things change. Ya ain't a virgin with men, are ya?"

"Non."

"Is it me yer afraid of, kid?"

"Non."

"And ya don't have a problem with me being a man?"

"Remy ain' straight."

I moved on to a discussion of the 'games' issue. "There's a world of difference between bondage and S&M, Remy. The kind of games I enjoy don't involve pain."

"Oh." He frowned in thought, then met my eyes. "T'ink I'd like to try, Logan. But... what if it's-"

"Too much?" I supplied when his words stuttered to a halt.

Remy swallowed heavily and nodded. "Oui," he whispered.

"Won't hurt ya, Rem. Ever. No chains, no whips - just submission on your part. And," I showed him the silk scarves I'd been concealing behind my back, "these."

With an audible gulp, he moved back a step. "Don' know, Logan," he said hesitantly.

"I ain't inta pain, Rem. Wanna make ya feel good like you've never felt before," I promised soberly. "Look, we'll use a safe word. If I scare ya too much or hurt ya in any way, just say the word and I'll stop."

"Jus' like dat?"

"Yep. You say... ummm... 'stop'... no, you have to say it in French." I waited.

"'Arret'," he supplied.

"Fine. Ya say that, and I'll untie ya and leave."

"Y' won' get angry?"

"No, I won't. Look, bondage games ain't for everyone. And, no one plays the game the same way. The control is what turns me on. Having it. Watching you as you lose yers. If ya trust me enough ta hand that control over, I... I think ya'll like it. But, if not we just forget the whole thing. No harm, no foul."

Still, he hesitated, chewing on his lower lip in indecision. "I watch, Remy. I listen. I hear more that anyone knows. Ya got a rep, kid. That's what they're fucking. I wanna show you that at least one person sees behind the mask you wear. Yer pleasure, no more, Remy LeBeau. *That's* what this is about tonight."

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "'Kay, Logan. Remy'll try."

"Then come on over here," I said softly, afraid to spook him at this point.

His feet dragged as he approached me slowly. "Logan-"

"Shhh," I murmured, rising to my feet. "Relax, kid." Soothingly, I rubbed his shoulders as I leaned forward to nuzzle at his neck. "Mmmm, you taste good."

"Ah... Merci?"

His voice was shaky but he tilted his head to one side, silently asking me to continue.

So far, so good.

"Remy, I'm going ta undress ya and tie ya ta those handy posts on yer bed. All ya have ta do is keep quiet and enjoy what I do to ya."

He shivered. "Quiet? Y' mean I can' talk?"

I moved my oral attentions along his jawline. "Yep. That's the only rule, Rem, no talking. Appreciative noises are welcome, though." A thought occurred. "Ya ain't a talker in bed, are ya?"

"Non," he whispered.

"A screamer?"

"Ummm-"

It was waaay too soon for a gag, this being his first time. Toys would come later, if there was a 'later'. I shrugged and chuckled. "Okay, then. If ya get the urge to yell, let me know - I'll muffle ya with my hand."

"Mon Dieu," he said weakly.

I couldn't wait to see his body, so I started undressing him, as slowly as possible under the circumstances. Christ! Long and lean and just downright beautiful, he made my mouth water in anticipation. Once he was naked, I led him to the bed and guided him down to lie against the pillows. Once he was arranged to my satisfaction, I stepped back to view him in appreciative silence.

"Christ, Rem! Yer one beautiful man."

He shyly looked away, then turned back and opened his mouth to speak. "One word, Remy," I reminded him. "Say 'arret' and this ends right now."

I took the negative shake of his head to mean I should continue.

"Okay, then." Holding up the scarves, I raised one eyebrow. "Ready?"

His nod was hesitant, but his arms and legs readily moved towards the bedposts. I tied his right arm, then watched him test the knot and strength of the fabric. I smelled his sudden fear and sat on the edge of the mattress. "This," I held up the free end of the scarf, "is a quick release knot. One pull and yer free."

Reassured, he sighed and relaxed. I took several moments to reward him by investigating every square inch of his arm. Each nibble, lick and kiss was greeted with sighs and moans. Once I'd finished sucking on each of his fingers, I moved on. His other three limbs received equal time, to his enthusiastic response.

"You okay, there, kiddo?"

"Oui."

The blush that followed his lapse was just so damned cute... I could only glare at him in mock anger and shake my head. "I'll give ya that one fer free. Just don't let it happen again."

Chagrined, he nodded.

Snorting at my leniency, I headed into the bathroom. "Gonna go wash up," I told him. Grinning, I couldn't help but tease, "Don't leave while I'm gone."

***

Remy:

Oooh. That bastard. That no good, smart-assed, smug *bastard*. Helpless, I waited for Logan to come back, eager to get this show on the road.

When he returned - after taking a *very* long time to 'clean up' - he was naked. Merde! I'd seen him in the locker room - and in that form-fitting uniform we all wore on missions. This, though... God above, there was something so different - so intimate - about seeing him naked, erect, and staring at my body with lust clear in his eyes!

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to touch him. The fur on his chest fascinated me, as did his muscled frame, covered with golden skin and... hair. I briefly tried to recall if any of my past lovers' had been this hairy. No. No, they hadn't. I wondered why I'd never realized how much body hair turned me on. Why hadn't I known this about myself?

With fists clenched around the fabric binding my wrists, I watched his approach with mixed dread and anticipation. My breathing increased as he moved closer, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on my skin, a rash of goosebumps covering my skin as my nipples hardened.

Logan paused at the edge of my bed. "Mine," he breathed. "All mine."

I had no argument with that.

Lowering himself to sit on the mattress beside me, he reached out one hand, trailing the fingers across my chest. To my shame, I couldn't help but flinch at his touch.

He paused, lifting his eyes to meet mine and regarding me seriously. "One word," he reminded.

Unable to speak, I lowered my shields and let him feel how much I wanted this, despite my hesitation and fear.

"Good," he purred. "Excellent."

I swallowed heavily and averted my eyes, waiting to see what he'd do next.

"Ya sure, kid? Ya do trust that I won't hurt ya, right?"

Surprised by the clear doubt in his voice, I turned my head to meet his eyes. Speech was beyond me, so I nodded and opened my eyes wide in an unspoken plea. Again, I sent him a pulse of need and want and excitement.

"Okay, kid. I ain't gonna keep ya waiting this time." With a light touch, Logan started to skim his fingers over me. Starting at the top - my face - and slowly working his way down, he stroked every available inch of my skin with one notable exception. Very deftly, he avoided my genitals, grinning widely at the incoherent sounds I couldn't control.

When I arched pleadingly, silently begging him to touch me *there*, he shook his head. "All in good time," he said. "We don't want to rush things now, do we?"

Oh yes, we do, I screamed inwardly. We want very much to rush things.

And that was the last coherent thought my poor brain produced. His surprisingly soft fingers were followed by his lips, tongue and teeth. I writhed and panted each time he located a previously unknown hot spot on my skin. Straining at the restraints, not trying to escape, reveling in his attentions, accepting that all he wanted from me was my pleasured response, a far corner of my mind knew that I'd have marks on my wrists in the morning. I just couldn't bring myself to care. The knowing smirk I'd undoubtedly receive from Scott was the last thing on my mind.

Logan was right, you see. Once I gave in to the restraints and allowed it to be all about *me*...

"Ready, kid?"

I had lost the ability to understand coherent speech, so I just nodded automatically. When his hot, hot mouth engulfed my cock, I yelled with surprised pleasure. Only later, once my brain was no longer mush, did I realize that he'd done this before. I couldn't have cared less. Silently, fervently, I thanked every man he'd practiced on, learned from.

Orgasm gathered low in my belly, and I whimpered pleadingly.

Logan redoubled his efforts, grunting encouragement, and I was airborne. Nothing existed for me except his mouth, his tongue, the sounds he made. He felt it coming and covered my mouth with one hand, muffling my screams of ecstasy.

"Logan," I begged once I'd regained the power of speech, "fuck me."

Shaking his head and grinning, Logan methodically released my restraints. "Not this time. We'll work up to that in time."

"Non," I protested. "I wan' t' watch... while you come inside of me."

"Sorry, darlin'. Aside from the fact that I came when ya did, I won't push ya. When yer ready, we'll fuck."

"Y' came? 'Cause o' Remy?"

"Sure did," he confirmed.

"Den... I... this... it was good?"

With a snort, Logan rolled of off the bed. "Don't ask stupid questions, kid," he grumbled as he sauntered into the bathroom.

"Y'll wan' t' do dis 'gain, cher?"

No response, just the sounds of water running and splashing.

My stomach threatened to drop right through the floor at his nonanswer when Logan walked back into the bedroom and stood at my beside, staring at me intently. Before I could panic,, he spoke, "I'll be back," he said shortly. He climbed into bed and pulled me into his arms. "Now, go ta sleep, Cajun."

"Y're stayin?"

"Fer now. I don't sleep well, so don't be surprised if I'm gone when you wake in the morning."

I carefully arranged the blanket and pillow to my satisfaction, snuggled against Logan's chest, and fell asleep.

***

END