This was... not good.  Not good at *all*, I realized, as my traitorous body
reacted with enthusiasm.  Hell, I never claimed to be a saint.  I like sex.
I like sex a lot.  Whether my partner is male or female don't matter.  I like
the sounds, the smells, the closeness... the sheer joy of good sex.

I just knew that Remy would be a fuck to end all fucks.  The kid is drop dead
gorgeous.  Sex on two very long legs.  And, since I'm baring my soul here,
I'll admit that his accent turned me on from the very first time I heard him
speak.

Remy was sick, though.  And, though I might have my suspicions, I had no way
of knowing if the kid even had any inclinations towards sex with another man.
 He shifted against me, bringing his hip into aching contact with my cock.

Moving with extreme caution, I attempted to lift him off of me and back onto
the couch.

"Logan?" he slurred.

His eyes opened, then widened when he realized where he was.  "Wha-"

"Ya had a nightmare, Remy.  I was just calming you down."

"Oh."  He looked up at me, then blushed.  "How'd I get... here?"

I couldn't help but notice that he was making no effort to remove himself
from my lap.

"Ya were fallin' offa the couch 'cause ya were rollin' around.  I caught ya
an, somehow, we ended up like this."

"'Kay."  He accepted my explanation with alarming ease.  "Y' warm, Logan," he
said, resting his head on my shoulder.

Yeah, I'm warm.  I'm hotter'n a firecracker with you sittin' on my cock.

I shifted my weight, trying to ease the pressure on my groin.  "Um, Remy..."

He shot off of my lap with amazing speed.  Standing in front of me, wringing
his hands, he tried to apologize.  "Remy sorry.  Didn' mean to... Wasn't all
the way awake."  Looking anywhere but at me, he started backing away.

"Hold on there, kid.  I'm not mad at ya.  I just... I... " With a grimace of
self contempt, I waved one hand at my groin, bringing my embarrassingly
obvious erection to his attention.

"Oh," was all he said.  But his lips curled up in a slight smile.  He took
one step towards me, paused, took another.  "Dat for me?"

"Well, you *were* the only person in my lap."

His smile widened.  "Y' like hommes, Logan?"

"I swing both ways," I told him with a shrug.

"An' you like Remy?  Dat way?"

"Yeah, I do."

"C'est vrai?"  He seemed stunned that I could be attracted to him.

"Yer an empath, check fer yerself."

Oh, he didn't like that at all.  "How you know dat?" he asked suspiciously.

"Remy, I know everyone thinks I ain't the brightest bulb on the tree, but I
watch.  I notice things.  And I can add two and two just fine.  I've known
you were some kind of telepath fer a while now.  Not like Jean and Chuck -
somethin' to do with emotions."

"Y' don' like telepat's, Logan.  We *all* know dat much." The suspicion had
faded into self-doubt and hesitation.

I shrugged, hoping to set him at ease.  "Long as they stay outa my head,
they're okay.  'Sides, I never felt you trying to read me."

"Remy wouldn' do dat."

"I know.  This time I'm givin' ya permission, kid.  Go on, look and see how I
feel 'bout ya."

He stared at me for a moment, then his frown disappeared and his eyes
widened.  "Y' do.  Y' really do want m'.  Y' *like* m'."

In that moment, I wanted to kill 'em all: every person who'd ever let him
down or hurt him or lied to him.  Had anyone ever *not* used him?  Betrayed
him?  I'm not the most trusting person on the planet, but there are a few
people I trust - people I call 'friend'.

"Why y' upset, Wolvie?"

Shit!  He'd picked up on that, and just when he was starting to calm down.

"'Cause ya've been treated badly in the past, Remy.  I get pissed off when my
friends get hurt."

"Y'r frien'?"  Carefully, he sat on the couch, about a foot away from me.
When I simply smiled at him encouragingly, he leaned back against the
cushions and seemed to relax a little.  "I like dat.  Bein' y'r frien'."

"Good."  I turned to face him, one leg tucked up under the other.  "How do ya
feel about me, kid?"

It appeared I'd stunned him again.  He stared at me, chewing on his lower
lip.  Several times he opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.  "Dunno what
y' wan' m' to say," he finally whispered.

"Do ya trust me?"

He gave that careful consideration for a moment, then nodded.  "Oui.  Trust
y' more dan anyone else I know."

That was a relief.  But... "Rem, do you... I mean, are you... Ever been with
a man?"

"Dat's a funny t'ing, Logan."  He looked a little wistful.  "I always
preferred men - t'ink I'm gay - but, dey always wan' it rough.  Dey hurt m'.
So, I stop wit' de hommes.  Tried wit' women, but did' like it much.  Jus'
din' feel right, y'know?"

I chewed on that for a minute.  "These men you were with... What did they do
that you didn't like?"

Tilting his head down, he effectively hid the expression in his eyes from me.
 "Day always t'ought I should be submissive.  Wanted m' to lay dere an' jus'
take it up de ass." He shrugged, glancing at me out or the corner of his
eyes.  "Sometimes it wasn' so bad - but, me, I like to touch, to kiss, to..."
Big sigh. "I jus' always t'ought there should be more."

"There is, Rem.  A lot more."

"Y'... Y'll show m'?"

First reaction was: *YES!*  Second was: Finally, I've got him relaxed enough
to stop with that third person shit.  Third... well, damn, how in the hell am
I going to do this?  Should I let him take the lead, show me what he's been
wanting?  Make love to him in the gentlest way possible, to demonstrate the
possibilities?  Just hold him tonight, show him that it doesn't always have
to mean sex?

Unable to resist any longer, I stretched my arm along the back of the couch
and ran my fingers through his hair.  "Yeah, kid, I'll show ya.  But I need
you to tell me what ya want, what you can handle.  Yer pretty weak, y'know."

He straightened in indignation.  "I am *not* weak.  I'm fine."

"Uh huh."  I looked at him severely.  "Remy, ya haven't been sleepin' or
eatin' fer I don't know how long.  Yer skin and bones.  I don't want to push
this too far, too fast.  We have plenty of time.  I don't do one-nighters -
not with friends.  If we do this, it'll be because we both want to try a
relationship.  An', hurting you is the worst way to start that."

Remy's head raised, and he turned to look at me in disbelief.  "Did y' say
'relationship'?"

I nodded.  "Yeah, I did.  If that's a problem for you, tell me now.  I
promise I won't get angry, and I'll still think of you as my friend."

The auburn head lowered again.  "I'd like dat.  I would.  Um, mebbe we could
bring down some blankets and cuddle in front of the fire?  See what happens?"

"Works fer me.  You stay here; I'll run upstairs and find some bedding."

Anyone tells Cyclops that the word 'cuddle' is even in my vocabulary and -
you got - I kill 'em.

Once I had the furniture pushed back from the fireplace, I carefully arranged
the blankets and pillows I'd located.  Then I proceeded to strip down to my
skivvies.  As a general rule, I sleep naked, but, all things considered, I
didn't want to put any pressure on the kid.  He was skittish enough as it was.

"Don't get nervous, Remy.  I don't usually wear anything to bed.  I'm leaving
these on for your benefit.  'Sides, it's hotter than the gates of hell in
here."

I lay down on the makeshift bed, and sighed.  "'S nice.  Would be better if
you'd join me, though."

With uncharacteristic shyness, he shed his outer clothing, leaving his
t-shirt and underwear on.  Then he lowered himself beside me and lay on his
back staring fixedly at the ceiling.

I turned onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow.  "This empathy of
yours, can it go both ways?"

"Oui.  Why d'y' ask?"

"I want ya to lower yer shields.  Want ta know I'm not scarin' ya - want you
ta know how much I care for ya - how much I want ya."

He rolled closer to me, burying his head against my neck, but not before I
saw a telltale sheen of tears in his eyes.  Emotions - emotions not my own -
filtered into my head: overwhelming gratitude, curiosity mixed with
excitement, a tinge of fear, and, most interesting of all, a need to be loved
that damn near brought tears to *my* eyes.

Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed him somewhere in the vicinity of his
ear, all the while letting him see how very much I wanted him, admired him,
*trusted* him.

"Logan?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"I wan' to... you won' mind if I touch y'?"

"Anything you want, Rem.  I'm all yours."

He hesitated so long, I began to think that simply sleeping together might be
best.  Give him time to get used to the idea.  Contrary to popular opinion, I
can be very patient when properly motivated.

Remy was definitely worth a little patience.

"Rem, we don't hafta do anything tonight.  Just holding ya would be more than
enough fer me."

"Non!"  Rising up on one elbow, he watched my eyes as one hand rose to touch
my face.  Gently, he explored my features, tested the rasp of my heavy
stubble, ruffled my thick sideburns.  When those clever, clever fingers
traced a line around my lips, I opened my mouth just enough to flick my
tongue across the tip of one finger.

He gasped, eyes opening wide, and the stirrings of his lust touched my mind.
Of course, I thought, a thief would, of necessity, have sensitive fingers.  I
grinned and, after I'd finished tasting that digit, I moved on to the next...
and the next...

The near-silent gasps and moans that escaped him spurred me on, and I didn't
stop until each and every one of the fingers on that hand had been thoroughly
appreciated.

"Ya taste mighty fine, Remy," I said quietly.  "An' yer hands are pure magic
on my skin."

Definite upsurge of his lust at my words.  This might just work, after all.
Pushing the blanket down to my waist, I arched up towards him and pressed his
hand to my chest.  "More," I whispered.

He blinked at me, then grinned.  "Y' like?"

"Yeah, darlin'.  I like very much."

A thorough exploration of my torso ensued.  I sighed happily under his
caresses and raised one hand to idly play with his hair.  His fascination
with my chest hair was both amusing and touching.  Floating in a haze of
pleasure, I gasped and tensed when he lowered his head and tentatively
touched the tip of his tongue to one nipple.

Wetting suddenly dry lips, I curved my hand around his neck and pressed him
closer.  "Yeah, Remy.  That's... oh, that's nice."

No one ever accused Remy LeBeau of being a slow learner.  His mouth moved
back and forth between my hardened nipples, licking, nibbling, and kissing
the sensitive nubs.  I could clearly feel his sense of pride, his joy that he
could reduce me to a writhing, mumbling wreck with so little effort.

Overlaying it all was his need for me.  For satisfaction.

When my balls crawled up close to my body and that familiar tingle started at
the base of my spine, I pulled on his hair lightly.  "Remy, wait.  Gimme a
minute here.  Don't wanna come too soon."

"But, I wan' y' t' come, Logan."

"Oh, I want it, too, make no mistake about that.  Want ya ta come with me,
though."

"Eh?"  His curiosity and desire flowed through my mind.

"C'mere."  I shifted even closer to him, and urged him with trembling hands
to move.  "Lay on top of me, Rem.  Wanna feel yer weight.  Wanna kiss ya."

Once he understood what I wanted, he moved to drape his length over me.
Gasped when our erections pressed against each other.  "Oh, Logan.  C'est
bon."

Hands on his hips, I ground our groins together with a side-to-side motion.
Couldn't help but smile at his dazed expression.  "Oui, Remy.  C'est tres
bon."

His surprise at my use of French disappeared rapidly as my hands guided him
into a rhythmic motion against me.  Once he grasped the idea, moving without
any encouragement from me, I slipped one hand under his t-shirt to caress his
smooth skin.

The other hand moved back to his head.  "Kiss me, Remy."

While his experience with intimacy might have been limited, he'd obviously
perfected the art of kissing.  He explored my mouth with intense
concentration, nearly blowing the top of my head off in the process.

And, god*DAMN*, it... he... *we* were hot together.  I'd had my share of good
- even great - sex over the years, but I'd never been so quickly pushed to
the edge of orgasm with such relatively innocent play.  I hung there, tasting
him, feeling him, reveling in him, for a timeless beat of my heart.

His movements against me grew more urgent, less rhythmic, and he moaned
loudly into my gasping mouth.

"Logan!" he shouted/sobbed.  Then he stilled, eyes closed in concentration,
and I felt his cock pulsing against mine as he came.

Ain't a person in the world that could hold out against that.  My hands
closed fiercely on his hips, and I arched up, releasing an orgasm that seemed
to originate in the very tips of my toes.  Every muscle in my body seized up
in a rictus of pleasure, and I clutched at him convulsively.

I believe he'd have been perfectly content to fall asleep right then and
there.  And, if I hadn't known exactly how difficult it would be to get dried
semen out of my chest hair come morning, I would've let him do just that.

But, I did know, and the prospect of scrubbing semen disguised as superglue
from my torso got me moving.  He grumbled something unintelligible when I
gently rolled him to one side.

"Hush, darlin'," I whispered. "Gonna get somethin' ta clean us up.  Be right
back."

I haphazardly ran a washcloth over my chest and groin, then returned to him
carrying a damp, warm cloth.  A contented smile remained on his lips as I
shifted his boneless body around, removing his shirt and briefs, and gently
cleaning him up.

As soon as I tossed the cloth aside and lay back down, Remy turned onto his
side and settled against me, his head resting comfortably on my shoulder.

"G'night, darlin'," I murmured into his hair.

"Darlin'.  Like dat, Logan.  Darlin'."

"Ya are, Remy.  Yer my friend, my darlin', and my lover."

He sighed contentedly.  "G'night, cher."

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.  Pretty sure he did, too. Know fer a
fact that he woke up smiling, 'cause I was there to see it.

But that's another story for another day.

***