Disclaimers: X-Men *Boys* are copyright property of Marvel Comics©. Lyrics copyright property of ©2002 Richter Scale Rocker Music Group/ ©RiotMusic 9.5…The *Boys* do not belong to me, at all…just may be a good thing…that I don’t own them I mean….Hmmmm ~*MINE*~ *snicker* Oh…Rich Johnston/Riot. …that knuckle-he does belong to me…and so does the cute and territorial little Devon Dexter.
Notes: ~ ~ are private thoughts
Summary: A tense little tableau, Gambit takes a break…The plot thickens… All I can say in my defense is… “Mais, dey took over...yeh.”
Part 2: Two weeks
Scott is standing in the study staring out the window. He’s pissed at the way things are going in the mansion right now, with the team. The cohesion is slipping. Things are getting tense. Logan has been acting strange. Gambit has been acting strange, ~the man has a name Scott, you might try and use it hmmm~ his mental voice really gets on his nerves when it sounds like Jean. Even she has been acting strange now that he thinks about it. Being psychically linked to a fire engine-red haired Jean Grey could be unsettling at times. ~wonder when she’s gonna figure out she’s the reason I have these damn migraines~
“I don’t care Jean, I don’t like it. I will not let it affect, impair or jeopardize the team….” He pauses as his eyes track something out among the trees beyond the pool. “…I don’t trust them with this. I am going with. End of discussion.”
“Okay, that’s fine Scott, you do that. You just do that!” and Jean storms across and out the room. Scott shrugs and looks around. Outside in the hall ‘Red’ is clenching her fist and muttering.
“Fine…yep, you sneaky little bastard. It’s not like I don’t know how bad you want to fuck Gambit…you could at least be honest with me. And you’ll keep having those damn migraines as long as I feel like it.” And she is moving away. ~I really haven’t got time for your shit Scott I’ve got a class to teach in 20 minutes~
He steps closer to the window and looks out. He is surprised to see the pale young boy out by the pool. Reminds himself that Remy LeBeau is anything but a ‘boy’ ~oh he may throw those puppy-dog eyes, and the ‘wasn’t dat cute’ smirk, but I *Know* better. I’ve seen Gambit in action~ absently adjusts himself in his jeans and still doesn’t think anything about it as he watches the thief.
VVV
Remy is lounging beside the sparkling waters of the Olympic sized pool. Body flung the length of a pool chair tipped back to its farthest reaches. He head was turned slightly to the side and Scott could see the glare of sun across the dark shades. What surprised him was what Remy was wearing, or wasn’t. He was practically naked with only the briefest of coverings. Black spandex/lycra shimmering in the sun molded the shape of his groin. One long, ginger dusted leg bent at the knee and flung careless to the side. He was slathered with some dark silky looking lotion from the strange brown bottle on the ground near the empty tumbler of melting ice. ~Now, that’s an interesting shade of red~ Scott thinks as he squints his gaze across the sleeping man.
VVV
Logan is watching from the shadow of the trees nearby. Drawn by the Cajun’s smell – blood, sex, and spice; Heat. There was something troubling him despite the nice tingle he got just from being near the Cajun, wondering again if the other mutant has used his ‘Charm’. Wondered what the hell was going on. “Two. Weeks.” Just a sound in his chest slipping past thinned lips. “Nearly sucks my damn brain out ‘a ma head through ma dick…and Two. Fuckin. Weeks.” The last punctuated by the double *sknit-sknit* as lethal extensions of his frustrated anger rips the skin of his rough knuckles and ejects six blades of Adamantium; glittering in the shadows like the steely blue eyes trained on Gambit.
VVV
The russet-haired young man smiles softly to himself. He can feel the emotions pouring over him as he lies there simmering in the warm heat of the sun and the slow burn of whisky from the bald guy’s office. There is a lazy smile on his face as he turns it toward the figure in the window. ~Wicked~ He felt flash from the other man and stared directly up with his unique eyes into those behind the quartz. Feeling wicked he slaps back a sultry *tickle*.
VVV
Logan is staring up at the window. He can see the outline of the man there; pick out the hint of his pheromones trying to mingle with the sudden rush of the Gambit’s. Logan looks down at Gambit and growls. ~*Mine*~ It was a merry chase but as far as he’s concerned Gambit is his, and Wolverine doesn’t share. ~If the brat wants ta play games, I’ll teach ‘im a good…”
VVV
Gambit covers his shiver of weakness by turning over onto his stomach. His eyes are closed as he is washed over in the strong possessive and lusty emotions pouring from the trees. He groans softly in pleasure. Is shocked up off the pool chair by the blast of cold water over his back.
“Mon Dieu! Merde!” Gambit it spluttering at a hysterically laughing Bobby Drake. “I should kick ya butt ice-boy…”
And Bobby blinks innocently as he hides the wet bucket behind his back.
“I-IjsutcouldntresititwasSOperfect…” and he flashes a wicked wink before falling into laughter. He stopped laughing when slim arms wrapped around him and swung him off the ground. “No-please!” and he was sailing into the pool fully clothed.
“Sorry Drake…I just couldn’t resist,” Gambit tosses over his shoulder as he heads back inside for a quick shower. ~Dat brat’s got good timin’~ he thinks and shakes his head.
VVV
Block
Title: VelvetRopeTrilogy_RopeBurn
Author: Bronze DragonBlade
Rating: NC-17 Adult language, m/m sexual Situation, and content
Pairing: Logan/Remy/Scott OMC/OMC
E-mail: dragonbladexx@yahoo.com
Web page: http://www.geocities.com/dragonbladexx
Disclaimers: X-Men *Boys* are copyright property of Marvel Comics©. Lyrics copyright property of ©2002 Richter Scale Rocker Music Group/ ©RiotMusic 9.5…The *Boys* do not belong to me, at all…just may be a good thing…that I don’t own them I mean….Hmmmm ~*MINE*~ *snicker* Oh…Rich Johnston/Riot. …that knuckle-he does belong to me…and so does the cute and territorial little Devon Dexter.
Notes: ~ ~ are private thoughts
Summary: Gambit makes the next move in his little game. There’s a new mutant on the horizon in Northern California…guess who’s recruiting? Really… hey look, I only write down what I see so dere too “and dey took over...yeh.”
Part 2A: The mission
Three days later finds an interesting trio of young men going driving away from San Francisco International in a rented Durango.
This is a basic scout -n- recruit run:
Observe the ‘Potential Candidate’
– engage only if opportunity permits “Under safe conditions and I mean that”
– determine affiliation alignments and interest and involvement factor.
VVV
So they had taken off to San Francisco to scout out some teen-age mutant getting a lot of exposure in the music industry. The subject was doing some type of promotional appearance at a South-of-Market venue. The place had a pretty ‘fierce rep’ in the circuit arena, Grace Jones appeared there once. The owner’s didn’t even mind redoing the dance floor after she jumped in the fountain and climbed halfway up the waterfall before hitting the crowd.
So far the candidate hadn’t done anything to expose himself to the world at large, if he were even aware of his powers, but had still fallen under the vigilant eye of Charles Xavier at the helm of Cerebro. There was no specific determination on his mutant abilities other than his presence causing thing to go to extremes. Charles had also informed them that further investigation had also uncovered the following information:
Small, [simple] fights escalated to levels of brawls – one actual full-scale riot had been recorded. 3 Cherries would turn into straight BAR-7 or Jackpot. An overheated car could end with blown gaskets, a cracked engine block, rusted out distributor – points – spark plugs, possibly just blowing up. Out of control sexual encounters – one extremely detailed report of a Trans-Atlantic flight turned into a roman orgy around the young man and his boyfriend who happened to be deeply involved in each others lips at the time. You name it, it could happen.
VVV
Scott looked in the rearview mirror and wondered if the other two men had paid attention to any of the briefing at all. Gambit had his head turned to the side and was looking out the window at the scatter of business parks and the ocean along Hwy. 101 as they headed for downtown. Logan was snoozing quietly in the front passenger seat, cowboy hat angled down over his brow, hairy arms folded loosely across his barrel chest.
Scott changed lanes again and shook his head. “Damn…”
“D’accord homme, dis city give anybody a license.”
Scott blinked up but the other man was still looking out the window. He was sure though, that he felt the intense gaze shifting forward just as his hit the rearview. Logan chuckled softly from the seat next to him and Scott gripped the wheel. The unexpected sound making his skin itch for a minute. ~thought the runt was asleep~
VVV
“We are supposed to be undercover Gambit,” Scott hissed as Remy checked them into the Mark Hopkins.
“Den mebbe y’ stop callin me dat huh homme,” Remy drawled back. “Go stand over dere and keep an eye on wolf-boy, I’m busy chér…”
Scott reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, spun the lanky figure around and caught a waft of heat and spice. He blinked into red-in-black eyes peeking at him over the tops of dark shades wondering how they’d gotten so close, remembered he’d jerked the other man around to face him. Scott inhaled again.
“Oui chér…?” Remy drawled.
“Ah-hem… excuse me sorry sir, your key Mr. Worthington.” Logan had to grin.
Remy turned around and winked into the knowing smile on the young woman’s face. She was eyeing the three men up and down speculatively as she handed the key over with a cheery “Enjoy your visit in San Fran.” There was the slightest bit of envy there too as she watched Gambit swagger across the lobby with the other two men in tow.
“Oh don worry chére…I will,” Gambit murmured to himself as they were led to the elevator and escorted to their suite. At the door Remy gave the bellboy a $50.00 tip.
“Ga-Remy…you do realize that wasn’t a twenty right…?”
Gambit peeked over the top of his Ray-Bans at the bill in the young mans hand, looked at the young man then over at Scott. “Oui chér…I realize dat…” killer-watt smile as sultry eyes slid back to the boy, “….he’s cute,” shrug and Gambit slides past into the room leaving one blushing, and two shocked, men out in the hall.
VVV
Friday afternoon was spent checking out the 6th and Harrison area. The club was situated on a corner under an overpass, across from two gas stations with outrageously high prices. Over a late lunch at a fast-food restaurant near Powell St., they discussed the Bay Area’s club scene and how it all worked. This club was one of the few that functioned as it did, it had set the trend that other’s were quickly picking up.
After a greasy lunch they jumped on the cable car and rode to Fisherman’s Wharf just for the novelty. Logan and Scott got caught up in the ‘touristy’ atmosphere and actually let go and had some fun. There was something about being around Remy that made it easy to do. Just let yourself go and have a good time, live for the moment. And they did. Laser tag, getting their heads ballooned over pictures of cable cars. Then there was the mime it took 45 minutes to get rid of. He thought it was a gag to ape along behind Logan and stop his foot and pout like Remy when he couldn’t growl back at Logan. He swished along behind Gambit fingering imaginary locks of hair while blankly staring through window-fronts at all the glittering trinkets on the display cases. Went stiff and followed Scott around for a bit before presenting his howling spectator with what it must look like for the other man to get dressed in the morning. Quick shower, lots of toweling with turned head eew, icky face drying of crotch. Locating of stick, under the bed? No in the corner there it is, inserting it up his ass and then getting dressed. Gambit tossed a mildly charged card on the floor next to the mime. It was the lout *POP* and the screaming mime that got them kicked off the merry-go-round inside Pier 39; weird stares when Gambit got pissed at one of the video games for swallowing a steady stream of his quarters and *charged* the thing out of service. Logan teased him for the rest of the afternoon for getting his ass kicked by a “computer generated broad in a skin-tight dragon dress slit up to her waist. An’ she was wearin heels too….Nina!” Logan kept right on laughing when Remy smacked the back of his head while stomping away muttering.
VVV
Remy finally emerges from the bath room looking extremely different than before going in. Scott wonders how anyone can spend an hour in the bathroom getting dressed until he looks up from the book he’s been reading. He swallows as he takes in the lean figure in tight black leather pants. They are very similar to his riding leathers only the quality is much better, softer, smoother. Logan takes in the decadent figure leaning in the door, shoots a quick look at Scott before glancing at his own reflection in the large mirror on the wall across the room and notices that they are all dressed in black. He is wearing a form fitting ribbed tee and straight-leg C.K.’s., still can’t believe that he let Gambit convince him to shell out close to $100.00 for a pair of jeans. He doesn’t give a damn whose name he’s sitting on as long as the pants stay on his ass he’s cool.
“Chér you trust Remy, oui…You need to have those pants Logan.”
It wasn’t the pouty lips or the puppy-dog eyes that’s got Logan; it was the crisps clarity of the cultured voice, a slightly different accent.
Scott went in the opposite direction from what he normally cadged about in. his choices had seemed a bit extreme but his surprising revelation of personal style depth pulled it all together and made it work. Logan had to admit the younger man look hot in his black parachute pants. Slightly loose shiny black material with dull black metal zippers marking the pockets on the outside of his left calf, inside right thigh, left thigh and outside right knee and there were even zippers on the standard front and back pockets. His black ribbed tee had a shiny red undertone.
Logan swallowed the sudden burst of saliva in his mouth at the sight of wiry limbs, flexible and strong, sheathed in the black grip. Two sets of intense eyes finally reach the face; clean-shaven enhancing the youthful appearance. The beauty only slightly marred by the lightly tinted Gucci eye-wear. The normally wild or pony-tailed russet hair has been tamed into a sleek straight curtain, parted down the middle and just brushing the crisp line of shoulder.
Something inside of Wolverine chanted “*mine-mine-mine*” as his senses were filled with leather, ~vanilla ice-cream (?)~ scented body-wash, shampoo and conditioner, heat, spice and a swirl of pheromones that was Remy. He growled audibly as the second scent reached his sensitive nose and he saw Scott shifting his erection absently in his jeans. The spell was broken.
“Bien….guess dat mean’s I look okay,” sizzle of smile, flash of polar-whites and the burn of eyes making his ass hot as he swaggered across the room.
~Walking Sin with the face of an angel~ the thought flitted through Scott’s mind as he tore his eyes away and grabbed his jacket. He didn’t even notice Logan staring at him as he followed Remy out of the suite and down the hall.
VVV
They finally get beyond the block-long queue and shell out $25.00 a piece. Even Remy thinks that’s robbery “An’ I should know…I’m a t’ief,” he muttered as the huge, scary looking guy finally decided he wasn’t concealing anything except his cock, balls, and butt in the skin-tight pants and let him up to the admission booth. He could already feel the pulse of the music on the other side of the heavy black leather curtains.
They weren’t prepared for what met them on the other side. It had been nothing like this during the daylight hours when they’d stopped in for a beer and in order to scope the layout. It was packed with a variety of young men and women, many you couldn’t tell either way and Scott gave up trying after watching a couple of guys come out of the ladies room and even more girls from the men’s.
Remy led them through the throng around the oval shaped bar, there were now three bartenders inside the ring and they moved effortlessly around in the weaving of the bar-backs with tubs of empty glasses or fresh ice. Gaining the bar the Cajun leaned in and placed their orders with the mannish looking skinhead in the baggy black sleeveless shirt. She was liberal with the alcohol when Remy ordered private stock labeled whisky and scotch. Logan got two Sapporo’s for the price of one.
“Stop flirting Girty, that’s a boy honey…”
“I know but I can still dream can’t I?” Remy left her a $50.00 tip. He’d put the wallet back in Warren’s things when they got back to the mansion.
Sipping on their drinks and moving slowly through the press of sweaty bodies, they followed the flow past the long dance floor. You had to step up past tall square mirrored columns the ended at the ceiling. There was an ample berth fo space for the snaking past of flowing traffic and lingering spectators. The opposite wall on the other side of the long rectangular space separated the dance floor from the patio-ed miniature park ‘out back’. Through the double sets of large sliding glass doors they could see a redwood deck that covered a good third of the large space. Tables and chairs and thronging people, beyond them, trees in square planter and steps leading down to a paved area reaching the far walls lined with shrubs, redwood benches and people.
The flow carried them down a small slope into another area containing a small corner bar, corner coat check 2 pinball machines, and a vending machine. There was also a step-down fire pit layered like a theater and bleacher-like couch areas reaching down from the far corners to the floor and in the center of all this buzzed the intense activity of a pool game. The other two men smirked as Logan inched closer to the table, deftly avoiding the groping hands on his denim clad butt.
It wasn’t until he followed Gambit past the table and out through the opening where huge garage doors had hung, that Scott realized how much attention they were attracting. He found himself moving closer to the leather clad young man in front of him as he had to fend off a barrage of roaming hands of his own. He growled as he lost sight of the lanky figure as several bodies cut him off and pressed against him.
Scott let out a sigh of relief as soft breath whispered in his ear, “Problems chér? Ya let Remy ‘tect ya from de wolves Scott, just ‘old tight.” Scott didn’t resist when his hands were placed firmly on angled hipbones and he was led through the crowd, chest brushing against Gambit’s back with every few steps.
Looking down from the small upper-deck, Scott studied the manic dancing spilling beyond the patio doors and into ‘out back’. The only safe place to be was either up on the crowded upper-deck or on the benches along the walls.
Logan walked out into the open area and looked up toward the elevated deck. He could see Remy leaning against the rail closest to the stairs, Scott standing directly behind him hands on either side of Remy clutching the rail. He didn’t miss the way Remy was leaning back into the other man. Fighting the urge to march up the stairs and separate the two Logan turned to the makeshift stage.
VVV
The young African-American behind the turntables was the ‘potential candidate’ they were here to observe. ~Didn’t know he was a DJ, thought the file said he was a rapper or some shit~ Logan thought as he watched the cinnamon-brown boy work four turntables while bobbing and weaving to the pulsing House music beats. He takes in the strong features and rich brown skin and instantly thinks of Ororo. They have the same set of shoulders and head. Similar facial structure only the boy’s ~Richard, Richard Johnston or Riot as his fans call him~ are more masculine, there is also something in the face that reminds him of Remy.
There is a minor scuffle somewhere near the center close to the stage, it’s over before the bouncers can even get close and the two guys are apologizing and dancing together. Logan caught the quick glance in the general direction before the kid changed the music and flipped records. Something from the media coverage following the boy tickled the back of his mind.
After another thirty minutes ‘Last-Call’ was announced and there was a mad rush for the bar. Logan made his move. By the time he made it to the upper-deck there was ample body space and Scott had moved to stand next to Gambit. They were discussing the DJ as Logan approached.
“He’s our man…” Scott was saying.
“D’accord.”
“Did ya catch da lil' fight thing?” Logan asked as he stationed himself on Gambit’s other side.
“Yes. I did. relevance?” asked without taking his eyes from the sinewy young man on the stage.
“I don’t know yet…something…”
“Ya know, da media is ranting bout how dere are never any ‘incidents’ at his events, dat de o'ters in de music industry could take a lesson from de homme.”
“Mutant power?” Scott mused.
“Most likely.” Gambit opined.
“Some kind of psionic ability…”
“Mmm could be…mais it didn’t feel like Bets or Jeannie. Whatever it is its strong and he’s got fairly good control.”
“Fair assessment,” Scott sounds slightly surprised.
“I’m a t’ief homme. I know what ta look for.”
“Approach scenario’s?” Scott queried the two men. He was actually rather pleased with what he was seeing. The two were able to put aside their personal issues and work together.
“Don’t know Cyke, whatever you feel’s best,” Logan rumbled as he flared up a cigar. He shook his head at the huddle of people on the deck below them under a cloud of rising smoke. ~don’t allow ya ta smoke inside then they turn ‘round an’ pump tha darn place full ‘a some worse chemical….Californian’s~ Logan looks over at Scott.
“Uh-unh. Nope. This is your show; I’m just along as an observer and maybe a suggestion here or there. We need to know that Gambit can do this if he is going to contribute to the team as a whole.”
“Dat’s only if I ‘cide ta stay.” Gambit tells them absently. His eyes are still locked on the young man below. Remy has always admired beauty and he does so now, taking in the six-foot frame of tight muscle. The boy is definitely an athlete; Remy takes in the wide shoulders and tight biceps exposed by the slightly baggy basketball jersey. The rich yellow looks good against his dark limbs and the Cajun is reminded of a jaguar as the brown torso is exposed for quick swipes with a square of yellow and white toweling of the broad sweaty chest, highlighted ridges and tapering waist.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t you stay?” ~He can’t just leave~ Scott is caught completely off guard, had never thought the other man wouldn’t want to stay. Before Gambit can answer Logan is cutting in.
“Fine. Observe from a distance.” The two men exchange a steady stare. “Quit tryin’ ta horn in bub.” Logan tells him in a quiet voice. Remy suppresses a smile behind his poker-face before turning to pull the other two men’s attention down to the platform. Cleared of everything, except the 2 large Monster Speakers in the rear corners. The outside park lights dimmed and winked out; all the lights in the club went dark. The only thing clearly visible under the starless sky and halogen lights from the above overpass, was the empty platform.
Someone in the crowd began to chant – R-I-O-T, r-i-o-t – over and over. The chant was quickly picked up, spreading like wildfire through the screaming, writhing bodies. It suddenly looked like San Francisco would be the city to break the non-violence record, and it was said they were a bit more civilized than Oakland. Riot’s next store appearance was Saturday afternoon before the flight back to Paris where his lover had to re-shoot a scene for his up-coming 3rd video release, ‘Match My Riot’.
Bass is thudding out of the speakers and the frenzy seems to be growing and then Riot is on the stage and there is a *ripple* across everything and the frenzy breaks into dancing. The boy has discarded the jersey and baseball cap for Motocross gear. Feet encased in a lighter version of the just below the knee boots with buckle-clamps up the outside. Comfortably-fitted black leather riding pants, padding at thighs, groin, and butt removed and marked by rich yellow. Waistband riding dangerously low just under the jacket, zipper down to the navel exposing sinewy muscle. Arm and shoulder padding, again missing, rich yellow and on the back are the intertwined letters, R and D. holographic, illusory the way the R sat inside the D but the D was also inside the R.
VVV
Can’t no-body hang with the bangs I flip
Can’t No Body hang with the Bangs I Flip
Match My RioT?
Tryin-IT!
y’all wanna try it – Riot
Keeps it – original
Remix – 4 the video
Flip switches on the flow
Peel y’all off like socks
All up in my jock
Riot stared down at the crowd with cool brown eyes and a wicked grin as he jungle-cat stalked across the small space drawling *attitude* into the mic snaking down from mahogany curls brushing the tops of his ears and the three men could feel the *ripple* slide across their shields as they watched the mindless frenzy shift into gyrating dancing. Gambit cocked his head. Logan scented the air. Scott waited.
“It’s in de music, ‘e’s doing sometin’ in de music,” Remy breathed.
“I don’t get any strange scents, but it might rain.” All three men look up. Logan shrugs, “I caught a whiff of rain.”
“Could be some after-effect of his power,” Gambit mused.
“We try an talk ta tha kid after tha show.” Logan decided.
“D’accord.”
VVV
Their quietly intense conversation and constant scrutiny of the crowd and the figure on stage gave them another quick glimpse of the boy’s mutant power as a tri-color-haired figure was dragged into the fray. Logan caught the sudden thud of heartbeat from the stage, Remy felt the wave of emotion suddenly locked down. Scott was almost certain the next verse of lyrics originally belonged somewhere in the song as drawl slid into a dangerously mocking growl.
Can’t no-body hang with the bangs I flip
Match My RioT?
Dude, – come on now
You know how I puts it down
You know I don’t play around
U don’t wanna try me
U ain’t ready 4 this – Run-In – I – ain’t – Funnin’
Bodies shifting quickly back to form a small circle around the young man dusting himself off before being pulled up to safety in the leather clad arms for a brief hug. Logan tracked the young man from the platform and into the shadows near the waterfall where he was illuminated by splashes of colored light as the water cascaded down into the fountain below.
VVV
The stilted meeting afterward had been useless and frustrating. Riot had been warily distant and cagey with his responses when he did respond. He did seemed to find Logan interesting which made Gambit bristle and slam his elusive shields between Logan the other mutant. Reached out for the dark-skinned young man and got a mental jolt that dented his shields. He blinked to clear his vision and saw the beautiful young man with café au’lait skin and tri-colored hair; sand, bronze, and jet. ~Merde. What de hell isit?~ He is staring into the other boy’s lavender eyes very intensely. Scott trying to disrupt the tense face off by introducing them to the younger man standing possessively between the taller boy and Gambit.
“…Yeah, I know who you are…the question is what, do you want.”
Remy isn’t hiding his dislike for either of the two young men. He doesn’t like the way the taller one is looking at Logan, or the way Logan is looking back. Scott is trying to explain about the school when he is interrupted again.
“Yes, yes, I know. You said that and to be honest I don’t see your point. Are you looking for funding or something,” he hands them a card. “Call my office and speak to the grant department about submission requirement.”
“No. We’re not looking for funding…”
“Then what? Look, incase you hadn’t noticed we’re both a bit too old to be going to high school. I already know everything thing I need to know about the um….other aspects as well,” Knowing violet-grey gaze. “No. We’re fine thanks.”
“First off homme,” Gambit snarls. “We came ta talk to m’suier Johnston…not you. And ya ain all dat homme…ya pretty…dumb, mais…quelle choose wit dat empty lil’ tri-colored head.”
~Shit if it were me I’d have decked Remy already…well maybe~ Scott is amazed at the studied calm and cool voice of the younger man.
“This one is *mine*. I do not share Miss Thang, you’ve got two already…and only two holes. You really don’t want a third. Back off.” And to Scott smoothly cultured voice, “Mr. Summers, I was serious about the funding for the school. I may not be willing to openly align us with the school or your organization…but I am willing to do what I can to help your cause. Please don’t infringe beyond that. I think you should leave now.” And they watch as the two young men move away.
VVV
Block
Title: VelvetRopeTrilogy_RopeBurn
Author: Bronze DragonBlade
Rating: R Warning Extreme Adult language, graphic m/m sexual situation, and content
Pairing: Logan/Remy/Scott OMC/OMC
E-mail: dragonbladexx@yahoo.com
Web page: http://www.geocities.com/dragonbladexx
Disclaimers: X-Men *Boys* are copyright property of Marvel Comics©. Lyrics copyright property of ©2002 Richter Scale Rocker Music Group/ ©RiotMusic 9.5…The *Boys* do not belong to me, at all…just may be a good thing…that I don’t own them I mean….Hmmmm ~*MINE*~ *snicker* Oh…Rich Johnston/Riot. …that knuckle-he does belong to me…and so does the cute and territorial little Devon Dexter.
Notes: ~ ~ are private thoughts
Summary: Jealously, manipulation and pushing the boundaries are the foundation for the smutty cure Gambit decides is the end move. San Francisco 3-way…Smut, smuttier, smuttiest :{is that possible}:…The plot thickens…and thickens (?) Okay…okay. I admit it…I got carried away…dey’re my dreams.
Part 2b: Twisted elegance
In the centrally located bathroom Gambit is stepping out of the shower and reaching for the large fluffy white towel from the rack, using it to dry himself before attacking his hair. Thoroughly fluffed and still slightly damp, he reaches over and grabs the bottle of Neutrogena body oil, smoothes on a fine sheen of the sesame scented oil before wrapping the damp towel around his hips and opening the door.
Logan and Scott are sitting on the couch watching a pay-per-viewing of ‘Ocean’s Eleven’, they have a perfect view of the bathroom door opening to reveal Gambit standing in a cloud of steam and towel. Their heads turned as eyes follow the lean figure sauntering across the suite and into the closest bedroom. Logan grumbles as he turns his attention back to the movie. Scott turns his head as well but every few seconds his eyes dart toward the open door.
Inside the room Remy takes a look around at the elegant furnishing and then he is making as much of a racket as he can by opening and slamming the closet doors and dresser drawers and the sounds startle both men into jumping off the couch and dashing for the bedroom.
VVV
Remy’s listening with his trained thief’s ears, fleeting touches of spatial awareness and intensity of emotion. He has his back to the door when the two men peek into the room. Items start flying in their direction. Socks, tee-shirts, 2 hats, 3 gloves – none match. Two pair of dumbfounded eyes watch the items sail over the lean shoulder, arc across the room and land in the general vicinity of their feet.
There is a wicked little grin on his rose-blush lips, a tiny coal of lust glittering deep in the red, subtle pulses. “Allors, dere ya at. Wunner where ye get ta…” and he tosses the bundle of red. Hooded eyes watch the bundle arc in slow motion. Hover the merest instant before smacking against solid chest. Silent explosion of warm texture and Scott is watching ropey velvet tumble down his chest and land at his feet.
“Dis ought ‘a come in ‘andy aussi,” and the southern heat in the soft-gravel purr goes straight to the groin. Cocks twitch, snaking down the shrinking space between thigh and pants leg. Eyes flash to the naked back, slipping towel as the piece of black leather smacks Logan squarely on the chin before hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“Bien!” Remy crowed like a kid as he produced a bundle of cloth. “Merde, dat’s not de unnerwear. Where de hell you put dose tings Remy?” he fussed.
Logan and Scott stare around the messy room, the scattered items at their feet. Looked at each other. Logan grunted. Scott rolled his eyes. “U-underwear?” Scott whispers. Uncomfortable, they looked away in time to see the naked thief shrug while tossing the towel aside and pulling on a pair of baggy sweat pants.
Gambit turned around and jumped slightly, “Ya don wan go creepin’ up on Remy like dat. nearly had a heart-attack me,” and the young man shakes his head as he brushes between the two stunned men. “Nex’ time ya wan a lil’ show…just ask, Remy be glad ta entertain ya boys…any time,” as he sprawls gracefully in the middle of the floor in front of the television. A short time later there is a discreet tap on the door and both men blink at that clock. It is almost 4 a.m. and Gambit is grabbing his wallet an headed for the door.
“Gambit?...”
“E’vryting’s bien Scotty, just room-service”
Turning to Logan, “I would think the kitchens would be closed for the night, and isn’t too early for the breakfast crew?” Logan ignores him and leans off the couch so he can see the thief at the door. “It’s the bellboy from yesterday,” Logan mumbles around his cigar. Scott turns back to watch Gambit returning with a heavily leaden, large silver tray.
Returning to his cooling spot on the floor, Gambit places the tray in front of him and tosses the never-opened wallet on an end table. Turns his attention to the contents of the tray and smiles at the soft stomach noises from behind him. He picks delicately through sandwiches, over fries and onion-rings, chips, soda and bottled water. It’s beaded with droplets of melting ice. There are also a few slices of pie and Logan wonders where they found Cajun-blackened catfish at this time of the morning.
From where he is sprawled on the floor, on his stomach with legs slightly parted and propped up on his elbows, Gambit can feel the hot, warring stares. Moving from the food to his naked back, the food, down to his ass. He squirms against the feel of roomy cotton between the carpet and his dick, reminding them that he’s only wearing body lotion underneath.
“Hep ya’self mes ami…dere’s more den enough ta share Remy tink, oui?” They both look away quickly ~just spread out on the floor…offering…begging~ back to the tray of food ~naked, *tight* little round ass – tied up in red velvet ropes squirmin’ round~ and both wait for the slight ache to ebb down to a suitably small *bump* before sliding forward to lie on either side of the Cajun and reach for the tray.
VVV
Trying to roll to his right and bumping into a warm body pulled Scott out of sleep. He looks around from where he is lying on the floor, turns bleary vision toward the warmth next to him and remembers finally getting sleeping after eating a bit of the stuff on the tray. He peeks over the sleeping form next to him but doesn’t see Logan. Rolls gently away and sits up for a better look around. Still no Logan but he can hear the drunken snoring from the other bedroom.
Scott gets slowly to his feet and moves over to peer into the room as he heads for the restroom. He smirks at the sight of a slumped Logan No-Last Name, hanging half off the bed, cheek scmooshed and drool spooling. Rough hairy-knuckled hand clutching the neck of a bottle that once held something strong and brown, whatever Logan had slipped out to purchase at some point. Scott pressed his palms together in front of him, slowly, almost reverently folded his finger down, clasping his hands together. Swung them back toward his left ear and jerked his hips to the right, switch the quick motion to the other side and did it again and again and again with a wildly demented grin on his wicked lips.
Forcing himself to stop his little victory dance at the ongoing torture and mind-games Gambit was slapping Wolverine down with. ~Serves you right arrogant runt-bastard~ smiled again as he thought about how frustrated Logan must be after being ignored by the hot little ball of Cajun spice for so long. Shifts his dick as his eyes notice the sleeping man’s ass.
A soft moan pulls his attention and he remembers Gambit sprawled on the floor, in nothing but a pair of baggy sweats riding low enough to show the pale tan-line, asleep.
Scott moves to locate his carry bag and pulls the slim sleep goggles from the special compartment. Closes his eyes and trades his glasses for the quartz visor. This one is a bit more flexible than the battle gear, made for sleep and comfort. On silent, bare feet he moves back into the central room and flips off the television. In the close dimness he can make of the sprawled Cajun and moves forward. Squatting down and lifting, Scott wonders at the lightness of the supple body in his arms as he carries the sleeping young man into the room. Logan must have gotten bored after they zoned out, the room as almost back to rights except for the few scattered items on the floor near the door.
Scott is kneeling in the doorway picking up socks and glove. The toothbrush and the other things Logan must not have been able to get to before stumbling off and passing out. He stuffed them into the carry bag, turns toward the mumbles from the bed behind him then picks up the bag. Looking back, his eye catches the bundle of rope. The sounds are pulling him and Scott is tossing the bag toward and leaning closer to the sleeping form.
There is a slight smile on the handsome young face. Vulnerable in his sleep Gambit is a baited lure. A heady mix of scents, sensations sweeping and swirling through the brown haired man. Scott is staring down into pulsing embers. Drowning in those eyes, opening his mouth for breath and filling it with cool lips and sweet tongue. Hint of butterscotch frosting and cake, smoke and something dark hot and spicy. Hands are sliding around his neck and Scott leans back, pulling the willing body up with him. Gambit kneeling, pressing against him, their lips melded tongues sliding – exploring. Scott trails trembling fingers over silky skin, wonders if he is having a lucid dream. Freezes as he hears the growl from behind.
VVV
Logan in standing in the door, breathing deeply, eyes locked on the figures on the bed. Remy let’s his smoky gaze drift over the stocky man, lingering on the tightening crotch on both up and down journey. Ignoring Logan for the moment, he turns his attention on Scott. His hooded gaze is locked on Scott, fingers playing in the coils of red velvet. “Ya wan tie m’ down in dese don’cha Scott-chér…” his voice is a husky purr. He darts a glance at Logan.
Logan is a tense tangle of muscle straining not to break into violence. He doesn’t care that Gambit probably started it, planned it all along. Doesn’t want to think about how that smoldering touch, look, had been focused on him up until three weeks ago; all he cares about right now is that Scott is standing at the edge of the bed. One strong, lightly calloused hand tangled in russet silk. The other hand is full of trailing velvet rope. Lips being nibbled and teased, pale hands grazing the lines of torso before coming to rest on slim waist. His vision is clouding over in reds and yellows and he can feel the pulsing in his jeans forcing the drunken haze to diminish a bit, the ache is almost crippling and there is only one thought in his head. ~*MINE*~ and he is moving forward, reaching for Scott’s vulnerable tanned neck with clawed fingers.
Gambit has been hoping for this opportunity, this is where he sees how far he can push the man, how total his grip. He is slithering out of his sweats, strong hands full of velvet helping, stroking, gripping. Trailing kisses along the line of strong jaw, down smooth neck. Kissing and then looking up and over Scott’s shoulder. Reaching out, pointing toward the black leather strap near Logan’s foot, eyes sultry as he presses closer against Scott’s hard frame and whispers, “Pick it up Logan-chér.”
Logan stops. Blue eyes blink clear of misty colors as he looks at the thing in his hand. Disbelief clouds his eyes as they flash toward the wicked face. Full of lust as hands roam the naked planes, intense eyes watching him.
“Put it on f’ moi chér,” Whispered of gravel over parted lips. Dart of tongue and flutter of lashes as Scott shifted his questing tongue from the arched neck down to a rose-blush nipple, perfect, stiff. Tongue swirling, teeth grazing and his hands splayed across the lean back as Gambit arched against his lips.
Logan can only get out a strangled growl. He clenches his fist on the leather and watches as knowing fingers uncover the planes of Scott’s slightly tanned olive/gold skin. His breathing is slightly shallow as he drinks in the alluring scents of spicy heat and autumn leaves riding on darker musk. His eyes are a slight bit glazed as they follow the fingers over the smooth dusky shoulders, brush down Scott’s spine. He dick twitches as Scott shivers under Remy’s touch. A soft moan as long fingers slide into the loosened jeans, cupping firm mounds of flesh and pulling them closer. His nostrils flare as the smooth skin is exposed, the shiny black material sliding down long muscular legs. His thoughts are in turmoil as he stares at the vulnerable back, head bowed forward. Arms wrapped around slim waist, hand…
“NO.” their eyes lock as Scott moves aside, red coals in pools of midnight and chips of ice. Logan wants to look away, let his eyes follow the flowing lines but, “GrrrrrNo,” he growls harshly. Scott is kneeling behind Gambit now, his hands are sliding over the undulating torso, palms pressing coils of slithery velvet across ivory skin. Deepening the spell in the room’s soft lamplight.
Gambit closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan as hands settle on his hips, pulling him back and down into Scott’s lap. Grinding his ass against the hard, lengthy cock nestled in short curly brown pubic hair. Slightly scratchy and Remy likes the sensation and moans again. Husky voice as he speaks into the soft groans and growls wafting through the hot room. The air is thick with sex and musk. Lust and anger. Need rides roughshod over everything, strongest. Churning them up and washing their emotions over the empathic thief.
“Scotty….Lo-gan don wanna play wit us chér. He don wan hep you tie Remy down.”
Scott is slightly dazed as he lifts his mouth from the delectable taste of Remy’s shoulder. He wonders why dream-Logan doesn’t want to play, shrugs and forgets about everything outside the sensation of Gambit in his lap. The ass he’s been itching to smack sliding gloriously over his drooling dick. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d thought about smacking the thief, even considered smacking him anyway at some point in this dream.
“Why don’t he wanna play Rem,” quizzical tone as he slides his rope filled hands down into the Cajun's groin. Smoothing and stroking the wickedly curved pale cock, wrapping the length in a velvet sheath, tugging gently. Remy whimpering, slithering against him. Humping forward, wanting, needing more friction on his cock.
“Stop.” Logan growls. He’s taken a step forward. “Remy.”
“Lo-gan,” hitch in breath as his nipples are twisted, his dick tugged upward by the length of soft rope. “Don like ta share….hmmmm, mais ya like ta share don’cha Scotty? Make Logan share hmmm?”
Scott has not taken his eyes off the other man. His eyes have been roving up and down behind the quartz of his sleep-visor as he tries to focus on the heat in his hands, in his lap. He needs more and right now, he’s willing to do whatever he thinks will get if for him. His voice sounds strange in his ears, deeper, huskier and he feels like he’s wrapped in silk, can feel it slither against his skin. The sound makes Gambit shiver in his lap.
“Come on Logan, ya know ya want to….just put on the collar and we can tie him down. Fuck ‘em all night, all day. Think about it bud…imagine…” Sweaty, slippery slickness oozing from his cock, smearing their skin, Remy whimpering.
And he is, they are. All three men are having the same vision, a collective mental experience as Gambit wraps them tighter and tighter in his charm. Logan is tearing out of his clothes. Stalking for the bed and fastening the dog collar around his throat. Pouncing on the bed, tumbling them into a tangle of limbs, writing moaning bodies. Remy is sandwiched between them. Squirming and lost in the power he’s woven, the heat inside of him. The need. Scott straddling his chest, leaning down and licking the inside of his mouth as his wrist are bound together. Wide-eyed he stares up into impenetrable quartz. Not even he can see past it. Scott is looking down, leaning and stretching their arms over Remy’s head. His hips buck as he cock is engulfed. Logan’s powerful hands on the insides of his thighs, the brush of his wild hair the brush of stubble against the sensitive skin of his balls. Shivers as Scott’s cock slaps against his nose, his wrist bound to the headboard. Scott looks down at the sight. Presses the head of his dick against soft lips, sliding inside, surrounded by moist heat.
Logan frees the throbbing cock when his head is clamped between Gambit’s thighs. He slides down the bed, trailing his rough hands over the soft skin. Causing moans, mewls and shivers. Looks up and sees Scott leisurely fucking Gambit’s mouth. His oozing cock twitches, drools and gets even harder as he watches the play of muscles in the other mans flexing buttocks, the swallowing throat, ballooning cheeks, soft pink lips shiny with spit and precum. He frees a length of the red rope and coils it around the right ankle. Trails the velvet cord down the bed until he can tie it off near the floor. Tugs it tight and does the other side.
Remy is spread eagle on the bed. Squirming on his back with his mouth full of cock and his ass full of fingers. Scott is crooning to him softly as he strokes the younger man’s tonsils. Staring into the mesmerizing eyes, drowning in the wash of sensations, barely aware of the low continual growl coming from behind him, has forgotten everything except the feel of wide wicked lips wrapped around his pulsing tool. Shifting himself, Scott turns around over Gambit’s head and shivers as he feels the wet tongue tip trail over his balls. Watches as Logan presses a second finger into the straining body. Their eyes meet briefly. Shift away, back to the sliding fingers and Scott shivers in the waves of lust and heat pouring off the sweating body.
“So ya want me ta share ya huh….can do. Share ya with Scott right now. We’re gonna Fuck ya Remy…ta’gether.”
Intense surge of spiked heat and panic, limbs straining, ,body arced in a tight bow, corded arms pulling and legs trying to jerk but there is no give. Scott his easing free now, string of spit and precum stretching from his ruddy cock head to the swollen lips. Kissing them, moving down the bed trailing bites and sucks on heated skin. Salty with the taste of sweat and sex. Flavors and scents of spice, cinnamon, lust; strong tinge of anxiety the image washed across Gambit’s mind, Scott could taste and smell them all, he could feel them as he drowned in the pool of emotions. Stopping to kneel next to Gambit’s hip he trailed his fingertips in the pool of gooey precum on the flat, quivering belly. Red eyes wide, nostrils flared as he stares down at the two men. His body is quivering like a bowstring. He feels the heat uncoiling in his anus. Spiraling up into his belly and wrapping around the inside of his velvet trussed cock.
“Non…no-“ and his words are smothered as Logan claims his lips and plunders his mouth. His struggles are shaking the bed, the velvet burns into his wrist and inside he smiles as he sinks into the flames licking the length of his cock as he his calmed by Scott’s mouth. The cool, lubed slide of different fingers, longer, slightly defter in their flexibility as they seek out and find the little pleasure-nub. Stroke it, press and curl around it. Bolts of sizzling pleasure shooting through their bodies as it spirals through Gambit.
He is begging now, hips bucking in need. Straining for what has been promised as the thick heat fogs him up on the inside, hazes over his vision until everything is swimming in thick waves of dizziness. He breath is fire in his lungs when he breathes, his insides feel soupy and quivery, his brain has ceased to function beyond the pull and swirl of feeling. Remy is dimly aware of the first burn of being entered as Scott presses his considerable length of pulsing flesh against the tight pink pucker. Firm hands still his bucking hips and muzzy sounds are urging him to relax, relax and then he is sinking again. Riding the glide of penetration as Scott eases forward. Deeper and his cloudy vision is stung clear by salt, he is lost in the sight of blue eyes devouring him, strong lean body between his trembling thighs - pressing into him, and strong square hands braced on olive/gold sweaty shoulder. Two pair of eyes watching the silken spike sink into the clenching hole. He feels fingers caressing him there and hisses.
Remy is drowning in the slow rhythmic thrust dragging along his tight
channel, “Fuck he’s tight…so hot….” And he is sinking deeper. Scott is
sinking deeper as he is teased open. Slicker, he is trying to thrust back.
Whines because he can’t. So caught up he can’t form words, just guttural
sounds, low moans, soft whimpers. The burning tug on his ankles the velvet
bite on his wrist as he thrashes. Eyes squeezed tightly shut and leaking
tears as his hips rock up and down the hard length. Smothered moans as
Scott sucks on his tongue, Logan’s rough hands on his sweaty ass urging
him on. The sudden release of tension on his tender and slightly irritated
ankles and he trails velvet across the bed as he wraps his legs around
the slim waist. Scott lifts him, leans back kneeling into the bed. He has
the over-heated Cajun in his lap, making short almost non-existent strokes
as he sucks on the boy’s tongue. Remy is wrapped around him, clenching
asshole, legs, arms, hair damp from sweat. Body slick with precum, lube,
and sex. Shuddering as he rolls his hips in tiny dips. Remy is panting
now as he feels the press of something hard and stiff against his already
stretched ass-lips. Frantic scrabble away as Logan presses against him.
Scott swallowing his rising whine, keening as he shoulders and hips are
held, clamped in the vise-like grip and his bucking hips are forced down.
The pain is exquisite. Sweet and burningly delicious. Remy has never been so full, so open, so weak with need and fuck-lust. His body gives one final tense shudder and he is overwhelmed by sensation, slumps forward against Scott’s sweaty chest and greedy mouth. Feels the press of Logan’s hairy torso along the length of his back as the two cocks slide back and forth, over each other in and out in and out and he is smothering between then. All he is, can comprehend is the glide of slick skin and the weakness in the pit of his being, bliss and fullness. Hand and mouths gripping and scratching, sucking and biting, lathing with wet tongues capturing the trickles of sweat. Shuddering like a doll in the jaws of a vicious beast as they crest the waves on the waves of delirium and velvet heat as they spiral up higher and deep, the sudden dash against the shores of release; cum spurting, oozing and sliding down slick bellies, buried shafts, dribbling on tight, crawling balls as all three men reached the pinnacle simultaneously. The sudden coolness as they fall apart, gently easing away from the clinging heat. Quivering skin in the cool air, heavy breathing slowing to normal the twitch of ultra-sensitive skin being brushed. The aftershocks racking through him as his sore cock is finally released from its velvet bindings. Three weak bodies moving together, arms and legs twined together.
VVV
Gambit stirs softly amidst the sticky damp heat of bodies and sheets, a small smile on his angelic face thrown in shadow by the spill of russet silk as the two men argue back and forth in hushed tones.
“In the morning I get ta fuck’im first.”
“Says you…”
“That’s right says me…” low growl.
“Only if you wake up first…runt,” Soft mutter.
“You forget….I’m used to the night watch…prick,” growled back just as softly.
~Damn sure din’ ‘spect dis…mais it made dis game a lot more fun~ Gambit smiles and he drifts back into sleep-delirium.
VVV
END BLOCK