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MENTAL SCRAPBOOK
by Scorpio
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~click~

Heart pounding behind ribs, sweat soaking chilled skin and the sheets. Blood,
pumping furiously through thrumming veins. Red on black eyes wild, tremors
and shivers wracking a tall lanky frame. Thick fingers rubbing in gentle
circles over damp clammy skin. Calming. Soothing. Low voice murmuring words
into the pink shell of an ear half hidden behind a tangle of auburn hair,
drowning the lingering cries dragged out by a hideous nightmare. By a memory
refusing to die.

"It's okay Rem. Let it out. I gotcha and I ain't letting go. You're safe now.
I gotcha."

"Je suis desole. Oh, mon Dieu, je suis desole."

Inhumanly strong arms pulling tighter, a protective and sympathetic embrace.

"I know, darlin'. I know."
 

~click~

Twin motorcycles racing side by side down the twisting and turning street.
Autumn leaves clinging to the trees lining the rode blur into a mosaic of
smeared yellow, orange and red. The rise and fall of the pitch of matched
engines roaring through their gears echo through the countryside.

One rider, long and lean; brown trenchcoat and long auburn hair fluttering
behind in the wind. The other rider, heavily muscled and stout; unlit cigar
clenched firmly in a feral grin. Neck and neck, they race the wind and each
other.
 

~click~

Keening wail of exquisite pleasure filling the air. Two men, entwined as one.
Heavier one on his knees, longer thinner one straddling his lap. Back to
chest, arms stretched forward with fingers clasped tightly together, six
adamantium claws deeply imbedded into the plaster above the headboard. Bodies
locked together, seemingly still but for tiny shudders and tremors of muscles
flexing and twitching in ultimate pleasure. Scent of sweat, musk and sex
swirling around them. Wild animal growl of completion stealing over to drown
out the wail.
 

~click~

Sharp click of pool ball against pool ball, two sets of eyes track it as it
rolls across bright green felt only to drop into a hole and be caught in a
woven leather pouch. Two sets of eyes leave the table and seek out the other.
Red on black, blue on white. One smirk, one scowl.

"Remind me again why I'm playing against a man that calls himself Gambit?"

Rich delighted laughter filling the room.
 

~click~

"Hey! Look at the two faggots! We oughta kick their asses!"

One long nimble fingered hand reaches up to slide down dark sunglasses even
as the other hand pulls out a few cards from a deck hidden within one of many
pockets. The SCHNICK sound of adamantium claws popping out of their flesh
sheaths.

"Gambit don' t'ink dat's de brightest idea you ever had, homme."

The shock-fear-disgust-hatred flash of emotion across fresh scrubbed faces.

"Fuck! Their *mutants*!"

The sound of sneaker and booted feet retreating into the distance followed by
a sad and tired sigh.

"Remy hates dat. Shouldn' be dat way, mon couer."

"I know, Rem. I know."
 

~click~

Silky red hair trailing over gloved hands. Hands squeezing too tightly to
allow breath. Fear and adrenaline pumping through veins, squirming and
gasping, praying for a miracle.

THUNK! GASP! GURGLE!

Three razor sharp claws explode out of the enemy's chest, dripping gore and
blood. Strong hands quiver once, twice and then slide bonelessly away from a
throat raw and sore. Gasps for breath, red on black eyes turn to look up into
haunted blue ones gratefully.

"Merci. Vra..." Coughing and gasping. Voice rough and hoarse. "Vraiment."

Two strong arms grabbing the taller man, pulling him in tightly, smearing
cooling blood over them both. Comfort and relief shared and exchanged. Given
and taken equally.

"Anytime, darlin'. Anytime."
 

~click~

Heavy strong thick fingers tangled in long silky auburn hair, holding a head
still. Metal against metal, hips pump and roll in a timeless rhythm, moving
faster and faster. Pressure bruised lips wet with the giving and receiving of
pleasure. Wet agile tongue, flickering over sensitive places. Cheeks sucked
in, highlighting an amazing bone structure. Tight, hot, wet throat swallowing
around a thick heavy erection that twitches and jerks at the sensation.
Fingers clenching convulsively in auburn hair.

"Rrrreeeeeeemmmmmmyyyyyy!"
 

~click~

Wounded cry of animal pain echoing through the night as a heavily muscled man
caught in the grips of malignant magnetic fields is left hanging on the verge
of being torn asunder from the inside out. Cruel laughter curling through his
mind even as pain curls through his body.

Wild reckless leap into the fray, long lean limbs tuck and roll to land in a
graceful crouch behind the Master of Magnetism. Reaching out with gloveless
hands that burn with fuchsia fire. Kinetically charging living flesh for the
first, and hopefully last, time. Drop to the ground and frantically rolling
away once again.

BOOM!

Heavy body covered with sweat and trembling with pain drops to the ground.
Moans and whimpers escaping full lips. Long fingered hands that no longer
glow rolling him over, pulling him close.

"Je t'aime, mon Wolverine. Je t'aime."
 

~click~

Bottle of single malt scotch, bottle of aged bourbon. Half empty pack of
cigarettes. Scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. Bowl of pretzels, bowl
of peanuts. Two piles of plastic chips. One deck of cards. Two men trying to
win, but uncaring if they lose. Both realizing it's not the game that's
important, it's the other player that matters.

Two sets of eyes meet; one red on black, the other blue on white. Neither can
remember the score.
 

~click~

Shorter man climbing into bed. The weight of the metal in his bones causing
the mattress to dip down. Taller, leaner man grinning as he allows his body
to roll with it, cuddling up to the muscled heat of his partner. His lover.
His all.

Lips meet, soft and tender. Tasting, feeling, sharing. Hands reach out to
caress and touch. Fingers sliding gently over warm flesh. No words are
needed.
 

~click~

Intruder alarms blaring, pulling them out of their unending and endlessly
amusing bickering. Adrenaline pumping, massive excitement and mild fear
sizzling along raw nerves. Jumping up and running, side by side, to meet pain
and hatred and death together. Guarding each other's back, needing to defend,
to protect. To fight. Wanting to live, but prepared to die.

Together.
 

~click~

Backyard barbecue. Sunshine pouring down on laughter and friendship, love and
happiness. Scent of food thick on the air, beer bottles sweating in warm
hands. Lovers standing together enjoying the free show of the younger kids
playing volleyball in the grass. Overhearing two friends contemplating their
love.

"You know Hank. I just don't get it. Them. Don't get me wrong, I'm *glad*
Logan and Remy are happy together. I am. I just have trouble understanding
it. I mean, they have *nothing* in common."

"I don't know about that Robert. Looks *can* be deceiving. Take it from the
blue furry guy."

"Yeah, but... You know what I mean."

"I do, Robert. I do. And I will admit, I too was shocked by their coming
together. However odd as their relationship seems, it does work."

"Yes. It does."

Two sets of eyes meet. One red on black, the other blue on white. Twin smirks
are shared and the taller man leans against the shorter one. A thick heavily
muscled arm wrapping around a thin waist.
 
 

END: Mental Scrapbook