Housetraining

"It’s over, sugah. Warren’s right, ya’re nothin’ but a slut.” Remy winced, but
didn’t bother trying to defend himself. It wasn’t as if anyone would ever
believe the truth. He just fixed his eyes to the ground at her feet. She
wouldn’t understand the gesture, but he had to make the offer.
Rogue wiped at her tears. God damn it, the Swamp Rat didn’t even bother to
deny it. She knew he couldn’t help it. She knew it was part and parcel of the
charm that could make her come just from hearing him talk. But it hurt every
time he went out without her. He’d offered to take her in the beginning, but he
hadn’t offered in months. She knew what seeing him dancing with someone else
would do to her. She slapped him, pulling the blow, so it merely drew blood. He
didn’t raise a hand or even his eyes.
"I’m y’rs, chere, if y’ ever. . .” He trailed off with a swallow. "If y’ ever
need m’, I’m y’rs.” His voice was a whisper.
"No, Cajun, I ain’t givin’ ya another chance to break mah heart.” She left him
standing in the garage. He slowly sank to his knees, his arms tight around his
chest, trying to hold in the pain.
Logan knelt down in front of him. He’d been watching from the shadows. "Let it
out. . . pet.” Remy practically flung himself into the offering arms. He buried
his face in Logan’s shoulder and sobbed. Logan rocked gently until the young
man calmed.
"Let go. Let the pain go. That’s my good boy.” Logan held fast against the
torrent of emotions that battered at his mind. Remy pulled back, scrubbing at
his cheeks with the sleeve of his duster. "Come on, kid.”
Remy followed without a word, hesitating only a moment when they stepped into
the danger room. Logan called up a traditional gym. Remy blinked at him. Logan
crooked a finger and led Remy to the punching bag. "Logan?”
"Ya wanna hurt somethin’ just as bad as yer hurtin’ right now. Yer so used to
swallowin’ it. Don’t. Use it. Get rid of it.” Logan patted the bag.
"Logan, I don’. . .”
"Hit it.”
"Logan.”
"Now, boy,” Logan said sharply, hoping the training would still be activated.
Remy flinched, then struck. Logan snorted. "Fer real this time.” Another strike
followed. "I know fer a fact yer better’n that, boy.” Remy scowled, then drove
a fist into the leather, then another and another, until he was hammering into
the bag. He wound down after about forty minutes, tired, but calm. "You and me
gotta talk, pet. Come on.”
Remy followed without a word and Logan repressed a smile. They settled on the
back porch and stared out at the freezing rain. Remy shivered. He pulled his
knees up to his chest and settled on the boards near Logan’s feet.
"Where were ya headin’?”
"The Jekyll and Hyde. The manager likes m’ eyes.”
"So ya were gonna hook up?”
"Non. Just dance. Weren’t ever gonna get drunk. Y’ know what that gets like.
Just gonna dance, touch, play a bit.”
"So yer a cock-tease, not a slut.”
Remy flushed a pleasing shade of red at that. "Oui,” he said with a smile. "I
drink wine at all I’m lost. Can’t control t’ings. Really heats up the party,
non?” He raised a brow and Logan grinned.
"Ya need a leash, pet. A nice, sturdy one. So ya never introduced Rogue into
yer kinks?”
Remy rested his forehead against his knees and laughed. "We talkin’ about the
same femme?” Logan waited patiently. "Cher, I can talk her off wit’out a touch
usin’ plain ole vanilla descriptions. She ain’t got no experience and y’ know
dam well I ain’t got what it takes t’ train m’self a Dom. Saints, homme, not
one as stubborn as that girl.” Remy growled in frustration. "Tried t’ sound her
out about it. Took her to a few of the milder clubs. Only t’ing it ever got m’
was a frown and an early night. Oui, she can fuck-up m’ head in a second and
God f’bid I flirt wit’ anyone else, but she don’ seem t’ have the instincts t’
ask the questions and I ain’t gonna push her int’ anyt’in’.”
"Shit, boy, she don’t even have to touch ya.”
"*You* know that. Remy knows that. Roguie don’t wanna hear it.”
Logan looked down at the thief seated at his feet. He shook his head. "If I’d
know ya were that big of maschocist I’d have snapped ya up before she got to
ya.” He winked and Gambit grinned brightly. "Yer wife?” He hazarded.
Remy nodded. "Oui. Bella always said she was the only one that got t’ hurt
m’.” He batted his lashes. "I’m jus’ so weak an’ helpless, non? Ah, me and
Belle fought like cats and dogs sometimes, but we got along right. Used t’
switch wit’ her, t’ough that was more her toppin’ from the bottom, non? She’s
an assassin. She got plenty of ways t’ kill m’ with her bare hands, so she
liked t’ be tied up. Trained t’ kill wit’ sex, her. Trained t’ steal wit’ it,
me.”
"So what changed?” Logan asked, thinking that a teenage switch of a mistress
explained the kid’s pathetic training.
"Quoi?”
"Ain’t no way in Hell yer a Dom, pet.”
Remy lit a cigarette. He offered one almost unconsciously and Logan waved it
off. "Always tended toward sub. I could top Rogue easy, but not someone wit’
experience. Merde, probably not even <Dave?> an’ he’s so young it hurts.”
"Kid’s yer age.”
"Only in body, boss. Cole’s closer t’ my age up here an’ he’s got a few years
on me,” he said tapping his head. "Matter of childhood.”
"Yer pop abuse ya?”
"Non!” Remy’s eyes blazed. "Jean-Luc ain’t never touched m’. Saved dis po’
boy. Took him off the streets.” Suddenly, Remy paused. "Y’ didn’ know I was
adopted?”
Logan shook his head. Remy took a deep drag and let the smoke out slowly.
"Jean-Luc took m’ sorry ass in when I was about ten. Taught m’ all sorts of
t’ings. How t’ read. How t’ t’ieve. How t’ love unconditionally. Taught m’ I
was worth somet’in’. Even m’ master didn’ make m’ t’ink I was worth much f’ all
his talk.”
"Master?"
Remy sighed. "Spent the first eight years of m' life in the Collection.
Slavery's slavery, 'cept when y' choose it, non? De Antiquary, he collects
chilen. He don' use the Collection sexually per se, but he uses potential. He
uses up y' soul then dumps y' on the street t' whore or steal unless y' one of
his special ones. Then he uses y' until y' die." Remy shivered and pulled into
a tight ball. "Remy was gonna be his golden chile. Be wit' him f'ever. Ran as
soon as he could." The Cajun shook his head. Logan rested his hand on Remy's
bangs and stroked as he contemplated the falling sleet.
He fondled the leather in his pocket. "Gimme yer hand and close yer eyes."
Remy did as he was told, betrayed by the slight tremor in his hand. Logan
kissed the palm, then laid the soft, brown leather collar in it and curled the
long fingers over it. "Ya know what this is, pet?" Remy nodded. "Yer gonna
decide when ya put it on, but it don't come off until I say." Logan grinned at
the high color that rose to Remy's cheeks. "Ya got a taste of what I'm like
last month. And from that outfit, this is what ya were goin' out t' look fer.
So ya just go on inside and put on a sweater before ya catch somethin' nasty
and figure out what ya want. Ya want yer boss back, ya put on yer collar and
wait in my room. On yer knees, pet, got it?"
"D'accord, boss." Remy clenched the leather tightly and went to his room.
Rogue watched him wander by the rec room. He was in such a daze that he didn't
see her. Rogue's eyes followed him down the hallway. She turned her attention
back to the movie she was watching and jerked back. Logan was leaning over the
set. They were alone and suddenly she was terrified.
"Ya proud of yerself, girl?"
"W-what?"
"Ya like hurtin' him, darlin'?"
Rogue flinched. "I just broke it off. That's all."
Logan snorted. "The two of ya been off and on more times than this TV. It's
fer good this time, girl. He'll let ya hurt him over and over again, Rogue.
He'll always come back. He can't run it off. It ain't in his nature. But, I
ain't gonna watch it. Boy's been abused more than enough, Rogue. Set him free."
"I love him. I just don't like him all that much. Boy's a slut. I've seen him
dancin'."
"He likes bein' touched, but he don't come home smellin' like sex, darlin'."
Logan shook his head. "Ya stay away from him, Rogue. Let him figure out his
head."
Rogue frowned. "He's mine, Logan."
"No, he ain't. Ya dumped him. Ya know he ain't got the will to refuse ya, so
ya do things like this. Ya dumped him. That means he ain't yers no more. I know
he's temptin', girl. But either keep him with all his faults or let him go."
Rogue held Logan's gaze for a long time. "He's all yours, sugah. Let's see how
long ya can handle him. Ya break up, he's fair game."
Logan smiled with feral glee. Rogue swallowed hard. "There won't be enough
left of the body to ID it if I let him go."
*****
Remy set the leather in front of him and stared at it. He could feel the tug
of the leash and the sharpness of Logan's teeth with the intensity of a
ghost-limb ache. Did he love Rogue? Yes. Did he want Logan badly enough to make
his jaw ache? Yes. Did he trust Rogue? Not anymore. Not really. Did he trust
Logan? More than he should.
He picked up the leather, still warm from Logan's body heat, and fastened it
around his throat. He trembled. He knew he'd made his decision weeks before. He
stroked the leather. He left his coat and his shoes and socks in his room and
slipped unseen through the halls. He knelt and settled back on his heels next
tot he door, remembering from somewhere that it was traditional for a Japanese
wife to do so. He wondered if Logan would like it or not. The minutes ticked by
like hours and all he could think of was the ache in his thighs, the leather at
his throat, and the arousal that was building, held by the leather of his pants.
*****
Logan grinned as he recognized Remy's scent and heartbeat behind his door.
Then, he arranged his face more serenely. He stepped into the room and looked
down. Remy's eyes were fixed on the floor, his hands were in his lap. Logan
closed the door and went to his dresser. He pulled out the familiar ball-gag
and pressed it against Remy's lips. Remy submitted with a faint whimper of
protest. Logan buckled it snuggly.
"Strip." Remy complied quickly and returned to his knees. "See some of yer
lessons took." Remy blushed. Logan nudged Remy's legs apart. "Better. Stay."
Logan went through his evening routine. Remy laced his fingers behind his head
to keep his hands away from his cock.
Logan toweled off his face. "Ya need this bad, don't ya, pet?" Remy nodded. He
looked up with big eyes. Logan cupped Remy's chin and held his gaze, stroking
the strap of the gag. "First, I'm gonna fuck yer sweet, little ass to remind ya
who ya belong to. Then, I'm gonna drive ya crazy fer my touch. And if yer good,
I'll let ya come." Remy whined and nuzzled at Logan's shoulder as Logan
tightened the cock ring. Logan sucked at Remy's firmly parted lips. Remy's
knuckles were white where he clenched them at the back of his head.
Logan locked the door. He looked over his pet. Remy had dropped his eyes. He
was so sweetly submissive that Logan ached for him. "On the bed." Remy settled
on his back, on hand compulsively clutching at the cotton sheets. Logan
fastened wide leather cuffs to each wrist and ankle. He tied the wrists to the
bed with firm knots, leaving Remy with next to no movement in his arms and
shoulders. His wrists twisted and strained, proving only that he was firmly
caught. Logan slicked his cock watching the flex and twist of muscle as the
Cajun struggled.
He settled between the splayed legs. He nipped the edge of Remy's ribs and the
thief twisted and writhed beneath him. The crimson eyes closed and he offered
his throat more firmly, arching up. Logan bit him, tasting sweet blood and
salty sweat, marking him for anyone who cared to look. "Mine," he growled
harshly. Remy moaned. His hips surged up, presenting his cock, hard and ready.
Logan ignored the erection. "Gonna give it to ya hard and fast, pet. Gonna fuck
ya so ya feel it." A sweet whimper answered the statement. Logan entered in
one, hard thrust and but for the gag, the thief would have screamed loudly
enough to bring Bishop crashing through the door. He paused for a second then
pulled almost all the way free and thrust back again. The thief was lava hot
and strong, even in his bonds. Remy rose to meet him eagerly.
Saints, Logan was thick and hard and deep in him. Remy fought wildly wanting
to force the pace faster. His cock was on fire. He could smell his own blood on
his throat and his cries echoed in his head. His teeth were imbedded in the
ball between his jaws. Stretched wide, his jaws ached, but he longed for a
wildly possessive kiss. He wanted to taste his blood in Logan's mouth like he
used to taste it in his wife's. He didn’t' think he'd ever been ridden so hard
in his life. Not even by Logan. Then, Logan froze and came, pulsing, throbbing,
in Remy's ass and in his mind. Remy howled in pure frustration.
Logan left a trail of bites on Remy's collar bone, ears pricked to catch the
litany of moans, groans, mewling whines, and garbled attempts to beg as he
worked his way across the thief's body. He separated slowly and his pet whined.
He stroked the turgid cock and Remy's hips follows his touch.
Logan fasted Remy's ankles to the foot of the bed, leaving just enough slack
that the allowed freedom would frustrate the Cajun further. He lapped up the
leakage from the head of Remy's cock, then proceeded to bite and kiss and lick
his way over the bound form. He left a trail of bruises and blood on the inside
of the Cajun's thighs and along the graceful arch of his neck. Then, he left a
startlingly dark bruise on the inside of Remy's left arm. "Ya my good boy, pet?"
Remy nodded frantically. He'd have agreed to anything by then.
Logan kissed him, pressing on the gag with his tongue. He watched the dilated
eyes close and removed the cock ring. "Come for me, pet." He didn't even have
to touch him. Remy came, then collapsed, boneless and blissed. Logan cleaned
him carefully. He fastened the boy's wrists together with a heavy chrome lock.
Then did the same with his ankles. He shut off the lights and cuddled his pet
close, one hand resting against the leather collar. He stroked it with his
thumb in an absent-minded reinforcement of his presence. The mansion had just
gotten a lot more interesting.
FINIS