Lessons Learned
Or
Don't Make the Cajun Cry
By Jennie

***

The only thing I could figure was that he'd somehow used his damned empathy
to keep me asleep while he did it.

The little shit.

I mean, c'mon, what other explanation could there be?  No way do I sleep
deeply enough to not waken while someone creeps into my room - in the dead of
night, mind you - and ties me to my own freakin' bed.  I knew the kid was a
thief.  Talented at the old silent entry thing, sure, but talented enough to
get past even my defenses?

Uh uh.  Not a chance in hell!

Nevertheless, there he was - and there I was.  Yanking at my bonds, I growled
a warning at him.

He smirked, tilted his head to one side, and said in an irritatingly
self-satisfied tone, "My turn, cher."

In my agitated state, I wasn't about to consider that he might be right. I
resolutely ignored the pictures flashing through my mind.  Pictures of the
times I'd done this to him.  Pictures of the way he'd gracefully submitted to
my whims.  Pictures of him twisting in agonized pleasure while I touched him.
 

Dammit.

I released my blades and tried like hell to cut through the ropes binding me.
 The amused way in which he watched my efforts only increased my
determination to get free.  When I accepted that he'd been clever enough to
tie me in such a way that I couldn't reach the ropes, I started pulling with
all of my strength.

"They won't give, Logan."

His words only inspired me to pull harder.  Although the ropes showed no
signs of weakness, the wooden bedposts he'd tied me to creaked ominously.

"Y'r gonna break de bed, cher."

"Fuck the fucking bed!  I'm gonna break your fucking *neck*."

"And den?"

"And then I'm gonna go back to sleep, you no-good-Cajun-sonofabitch."

"Ah."  He nodded, unsurprised and - what? - resigned, maybe.  "So... y' can
dish it out, but y' can' take it, eh?"

That gave me pause.  For a moment.

He pressed his advantage.  "Remy don' use *his* powers 'gainst y', Logan.
Not in bed."

Okay.  He did have a point there.  Still... dammit, submission is just *not*
in my nature.  I don't trust anyone enough to allow this.  Never had and
never would.

Or so I thought.

"What y' 'fraid of, Logan.  Remy won' hurt y'."

Afraid?  *AFRAID*?

Wolverine is afraid of nothing.  *Nothing*!

Growling, I renewed my efforts to get free.  He watched me for a moment, then
shrugged fatalistically.

"'Kay.  Hold still for a moment.  I'll set y' free."

Which was exactly what I wanted.  Right?  Yeah, right!  The disappointed tone
of his voice would not bother me.  Neither would the sad expression in his
eyes.  This was *his* fault.  Who the hell did he think he was for godssake?
Actually thinking that I would allow myself to be tied up in this humiliating
way.  Would let him do to me what I'd done to him...

With efficient motions, he pulled out a switchblade and sliced through my
bonds.  Lunging up, I attempted to get my hands on him.  The slippery bastard
danced away, eluding me easily.

"No."

That was all he said.  'No.'  But, I had this uneasy feeling about the way he
said it... It wasn't just a 'No-you-can't-catch-me' kind of a teasing thing.
There was a certain finality about the word that reached past my anger and
made my stomach clench.

"Whaddya mean, 'no'?"

He paused at the door, one hand on the knob.  "I mean no.  No, y' ain' gonna
hurt me.  No, y' ain' gonna punish me.  No, we ain' gonna play dis game no
more.  Just... no."

He left then.  As silently as he'd crept in, he crept out.

Exactly as I wished.  Just like that, he did as I'd asked.  I flopped back
down onto the bed, shifting around until I was comfortable, and waited for
sleep to return.

And waited.

And waited...

Eventually, after much tossing and turning, I gave it up and climbed out of
bed.  Started pacing restlessly around the room.  I couldn't get him out of
my mind.  That disappointed tone.  The reproachful way he'd spoken.  The
finality in his voice when he'd said that the 'game' was over.

Shit.  Damn.  Fuck.  *Shit*!  What the hell was my problem?  I could live
without the sex.  Sure he was hot - hotter than a firecracker - but I'd had
plenty of great sex in my life and could very easily replace him.

Very easily, godammit.

I took a long, relaxing shower, banishing all thoughts of him from my mind,
then got back into bed.  Punched the pillow into submission and concentrated
on the trip I'd be taking to my favorite club in the very near future.
Pictured the way whomever I picked up would submit to my whims.

Problem was, my mind insisted on morphing the unknown partner into Remy.

Even worse, I kept imagining our roles reversed.  Me restrained, him touching
me with clever, clever fingers.  Tasting me.  Making lo-

Whoa!

Making love?!  Oh no.  Nononono.

Disgusted by my wayward thoughts, I got up and pulled on a ragged pair of
sweats.  I'd go for a run.  That would clear my head.

Unfortunately, I had to pass his room on my way to the stairway.  I tried to
hurry past, determined to not waver in my resolve.  It was over and I didn't
care.

I didn't fucking *care*.  He'd been a momentary aberration, dammit.  Just a
way to get my rocks off.  An indulgence.  No more than that.  I didn't need
him.

His light was on, though, and he was talking aloud, scolding himself for
being a fool.  And, damn my heightened senses, I could hear every word.

"Y'r a fool, Remy," he said.

"Should have known better.  Good 'nough for a quick fuck, but dat's all.
Face it, homme, he t'inks y'r a whore jus' like de others."

"What made y' t'ink he was any different, eh?  Once a whore, always a whore."

Such a wealth of sadness in his words...

Against my will, I paused.  Debated.  Inwardly arguing with myself, half of
me insisting that I was doing the right thing, the other half drawn to his
pain.

"Y' c'n have anyone," Remy insisted to himself.  "*Anyone*!  Don' need him."

Then... a loud *boom* as he threw something - something he'd obviously
charged - against the door.

I jumped at the noise and frowned.  Jesus, he really was upset.  To lose
control and destroy one of his precious doo-dads indicated that I'd hurt him
far more than I'd imagined.

A shaky sigh sounded, and I heard his bedsprings creak in protest as he threw
himself on the mattress.

"Fuck it," he mumbled.  "Fuck all of dem.  Don' need *him*.  Don' need
anyone."

And he started crying.

Bad enough that I could smell his tears, I really didn't need to hear him -
or have this mental picture of him stretched across his bed, face buried in a
pillow in an attempt to muffle the sounds of his weeping.

I was still firmly telling myself that I would *not* give in to him when I
opened the door and walked into his room.  He gasped at my entrance, propped
himself up on one elbow, and turned his head to glare fiercely in my
direction.

The effect was somewhat diminished by his tear-stained face and hitching
breaths.

"Go 'way.  Y' made y'rself clear.  Remy won' be bot'erin' y' 'gain."

I raised one hand and shushed him with an impatient gesture.  "Look... I... I
didn't mean ta hurt ya, Rem.  It's just that-"

Turning his back to me, he pulled a pillow over his head.  "I said go 'way!"

"No," I refused.  "Yer gonna listen ta me, kid.  Then, if ya still want me ta
leave, I will."

He sighed and tossed the pillow aside.  "D'accord.  Parle!"

"I can't... " Jesus, this was more difficult than I'd thought, this 'baring
my soul' shit.  I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed.  "Remy, being
tied up... well, it scares me.  I have nightmares about being restrained.
And hurt."

"Logan, I didn' wan' t' do dat to y'.  Frighten y', I mean."  He shrugged
uncomfortably.  "I jus'... I t'ought dat mebbe... I t'ought y' might be
willing t' let m'-"

"Be on top?" I broke in.

"Oui.  Ain' ever had dat wit' a man, y'see."

Drawing in a deep breath, I reached out and touched his shoulder.  "How about
if we try it a different way?"

Confused, he rolled over to face me and frowned.  "Diff'rent how?"

"Without restraints."

"Y' wan' t' fuck Remy wit'out tyin' him down?"

"No, idiot."

His frown deepened.  "Den what?"

"The opposite."

"Oh," he said, mentally chewing on my words.  Then, as the light dawned, "OH!
 Oh, oui!  I'd like dat, cher."

Before I could change my mind, I stripped and joined him in bed.  "Get yer
clothes off and do it then," I said roughly.

He hesitated.  "Logan, we don' have t'-"

"Remy..." I growled impatiently.

After searching my face for signs of reluctance - and apparently not finding
any - he grinned and disrobed.  He joined me under the blankets, and, well,
much as it pains me to admit this, he rocked my fucking world.

He sucked, he licked, and he nibbled.  And he touched me - everywhere.  By
the time he got around to actually fucking me, I was pretty much an
incoherent wreck.  It was... it was the first time a lover - yes, I said
'lover' - had taken the time to search out and satisfy *my* needs.

It was also the first time I'd allowed anyone to top me.  Well, the first
time as far as I could remember...

I loved it!  Reveled in the sensations he offered to me so generously.
Arched into his every touch.  Participated enthusiastically.  Hell, I even
pushed my shameless ass against him, begging silently for *more*, *harder*,
*FASTER*.

Everything I asked of him, he gave.  I couldn't have possibly wished for a
better introduction to the joys of being fu-  Shit!  I guess I have to admit
it now.  He - we - made love that night.

Just as we have on numerous occasions since.

Incredibly, it just keeps getting better with time.

Maybe, one day, I'll break down and give it another try.  Let him tie me up
and have his wicked way with me.  After all, I do know that he won't hurt me
now.  I actually trust him.

Amazing, huh?

Oh.  Gotta run.  He's on his way up to our room now.  I can smell him getting
closer.  If - no, when - I decide to give the restraint thing another try
I'll be sure to let you know all about it.

***