COMMENTS: This hasn't been beta'd, so please forgive mistakes. The
boys have been together for a few weeks. While it doesn't follow any
particular storyline, it is post-Antarctica.

DISCLAIMER: Marvel owns the characters. Duran Duran own the
soundtrack. Salut! I just borrow them to play with and I promise put
them back when I'm done. I'm not making any profit, just trying to
get these images out of my head.

Feedback always welcome.
****
And I could carry on with you
Does that sound crazy?
I think you feel the same way too
And you can't face it
The hardest thing is to let go

"Someone Else Not Me" written by/copyright: Duran Duran
2000 Skin Trade Music and Private Parts Music
***
"Logan..."

Hands slid to his chest, across his abdomen and then to his right
hip, the part of his anatomy which seem to fascinate Remy to no end.
He never knew when finger tips would flutter across the bone, to the
hollow, and then trail to his thigh. The others he had fucked always
focused on his knuckles, licking the flesh where his claws would come
out. Logan supposed it had to do with control, that his bed partners
could lick the flesh for the thrill of being so close to something
that could skewer them dead. Simple as that.

But with Remy... sure he would place an occasional nibble there but
the thief always seemed more intent on his hip bones.

He glanced down to find Remy's eyes sparkling with lust and
mischief. "Yes?"

Lips lifted into a devilish grin. "Join me in the shower?"

Was it to be like this for the rest of their lives or at least for
however long he and this Cajun thief were together? That didn't
matter right now. What mattered was that Remy wanted him, all of him,
all at once.

Scooter hadn't been too happy about granting them this extra time
off. As far as their Fearless Leader was concerned, Gambit and
Wolverine were probably off for a few days of drinking, smoking, and
poker playing, and Gambit would be carousing wildly with anything
that moved.

Gambit and Wolverine keeping each others' company hadn't surprised
the other X-Men. Most still were very unsure around Gambit, but
Gambit was the only one who a) rode a bike as faster than
Wolverine's, b) smoked besides Logan, and c) who could drink
obnoxious quantities and not get stupid-drunk. Gambit and Wolverine
would got to Harry's for drinks and smokes after dinner, Gambit and
Wolverine would play endless rounds of pool at Harry's, and Gambit
and Wolverine would retreat to the boathouse were Gambit had taken up
residency to play endless rounds of poker. Well, the latter part was
the convenient and believable lie that those at the Xavier Institute
believed.

No, those nights when Remy and Logan had returned to the boathouse,
it had been a different kind of poking indeed.

They'd been together less than three weeks when this mission to
Detroit had come up. After completing it in record time -- "Mon
chere, dis is no job for a Master Thief! Icy could pull dis off and
y'know how clumsy *he* is!" -- and dutifully sending the information
back, Logan had simply called Scooter and said, "Me and Gumbo gonna
hang out in Chicago for a few days."

Okay, so it wasn't a formal request. Still, Scooter had let out a
long sigh before saying, "Just be careful."

So there they were on their second day in Chicago, in some
disgustingly fancy hotel that Remy had insisted on. It had rained the
entire time they were there, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like
they were venturing out or anything. And perhaps one of the benefits
of such an expensive hotel was that no one batted an eyelash when two
grown men sharing one room ordered monstrous amounts of food via room
service but hadn't left since checking in.

The fingers glided along his hip again.

There was no shame in enjoying the spoils of victory, was there? And
Remy was most definitely a prize Logan felt he had won. Since their
first night in the boathouse, Remy hadn't strayed once from Logan's
bed. Their romps before had not be at this leisurely place, allowing
for the casual exploration of each other. Now, well, Logan knew of a
point just below Remy's left shoulder blade that when rubbed, caused
the thief to almost purr. A scars here and there, ones which Remy
never explained and Logan didn't demand about. There were still
secrets; those things Logan understood. Remy was definitely more open
around him, but guarded all the same.

If he hadn't been, Logan wouldn't be nearly as comfortable.

"The water can be as cool as you like," Remy added as his fingers
slid down. The thief's idea of a good shower was near-blistering
water, something that Logan hadn't quite adjusted to yet. "Oui?"

Logan rolled, pinning him to the bed. "Why not just stay here?"

"Because I live for adventure," Remy grinned impishly. With that, he
slithered from underneath Logan's body, a sensation that startled the
Canadian so much that he'd been unable to react quick enough, and the
thief trotted into bathroom.

Then Logan heard the water running. Slowly, he pried himself out of
bed, kicked the pillow out of the way so they would have a clear path
back to the bed, and wandered into the bathroom. Remy was already in
the shower, turning beneath the cascade of water and causing it to
splash against the transparent shower door. Logan leaned against the
wash basin, taking in the sight.

"Not going to join me?" Remy teased when he realized the Canadian was
in the bathroom but only staring at him.

"In a moment," he replied.

"Oh." The thief abruptly turned around, presenting his tempting
backside. It confused Logan for a moment before he understood Remy
had interpreted his momentary pause for a request for privacy.

Logan, however, was content to watch.

"De water isn't too hot," Remy called out as lather foamed down his
back. "Just like you liked it last night."

"Uh-hmmmm" he replied, entranced by the suds as they formed wide
patterns across Remy's skin. He had missed this the last time; the
thief had literally dragged him in the shower last night, refusing to
let go of him for even a short while. Logan hadn't been able to enjoy
such a delicious sight. Now....

"D'bedsheets," Remy continued, "do you like dem?"

Bedsheets?

Where in the hell had *that* comment come from? Bedsheets were
fucking bedsheets.

When he didn't answer, the thief continued, "Dey're quite nice.
Better dan satin sheets 'cos you slide all over de bed wit satin." He
began scrubbing his hair, more white foam frothing down his fingers
and skin; he still hadn't turned around. "No leverage."

"Never thought of it like that," Logan answered succinctly.

"Oh," Remy said as soap suds splattered against the door. "Sorry.
Gambit shut up now."

Logan picked up on the affront in the thief's voice; it was a tone he
often used when Logan refused to give elaborate answers or join in
the conversation. Also, the thief rarely used the third person
anymore when they were alone together. For him to use it now simply
meant that Remy didn't expect this to last.

Would it?

Dropping the third person... was it a subtle hint that Remy wanted
more than a casual affair? After all, why else would he have stopped
with the one-night stands? He hadn't done that while he was seeing
Rogue no matter what anyone else thought. Was Remy fearful that he
would slice and dice his other bed partners?

No. It was the sincerity of Remy that had caught Logan completely off-
guard at first. That the Cajun didn't want to have a "suck and fuck"
session with him. He wouldn't have let his guard down unless he was
serious. All these revelations and conclusions remained unspoken, as
if the other didn't want to break the spell.

Eventually, it would be something to talk about.

Now... now just wasn't the time.

"Never thought I'd be talkin' thread counts with ya," he explained.
The sight of his wet, sudsy lover was definitely arousing.

"Hmpf." Remy doused himself underneath the water again, rinsing off.
When he spoke again, his tone was neutral, wonderfully neutral, as if
all were forgiven. "Well... I like dem. Very much." Then his voice
dropped to that seductive tone which made Logan's toes curl. "I'll
make sure I have a set next time, oui? We enjoy dem at home."

Logan didn't answer; instead, he slid open the transparent door and
stepped in behind the thief. Before the Cajun could turn, he leaned
forward, his hard sex nestling in the crevice of that tempting ass as
he pressed rest of his body flush with the Remy's.

"Oh, Logan," Remy cooed, as if he possessed all the confidence in the
universe, and then shifted his hips, "a little feisty today, non?"

By God, what this thief did to him....

"You've been tempting me for far too long," Logan growled softly,
lips against the thief's ear. "Far longer than any sane being should
have to endure."

Remy's only response was to push back against him and brace himself
against the shower wall, forearms flat against it.

Logan's thumb traveled down the thief's spine, past the scars that
could have only come from methodical abuse, and stopped just where
the crease of Remy's ass began. He turned his hand so that his
forefinger could touch the opening while his thumb remained at the
base of Remy's spine. That was when he began to move his forefinger
in slow, circular patterns as he undulated his hips so that the tip
of his sex would bump against the opening.

That last time had been frantic.

This time it would be proper. Or as proper as one could get in the
shower stall of an expensive hotel.

The water continued to beat down upon them.

With his other hand, Logan drew odd patterns across Remy's chest,
listening to the breathless sounds being made. He watched as the
thief closed his eyes and bent his head forward, biting his lip
continually as he continued his assault.

Gently, he slipped in one finger. Remy gasped, his muscles
tightening. He pushed into Logan's hand, hips swaying slightly to
encourage more contact.

Oh, the thief was wanton as one could be pressed up against marble
tile. Logan smiled and nibbled the thief's shoulder. He continued for
a few more moments before sliding until only the tip of his finger
remained, enough so he could guide his sex.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but not as much as Logan had expected.
Remy groaned, sliding his feet apart slightly to allow for more
movement, and then Logan began an agonizing slow pace, holding Remy's
hips still as he rocked.

The thief's back was arched in a way that prevented him from slamming
into the wall. Logan wound his arms around Remy's, palms against the
backs of hands, as he pressed his head into Remy's shoulder.

A steam-filled room. Water pounding over them. The odd fragrance of
whatever soap Remy had bathed with mixed with Remy's own scent.
Sensuous. Primal. Tapping in to those instincts that made Logan want
to possess with all his being this prize he had won.

He snaked one hand down, grasping Remy firmly, and matched the
strokes as best as he could. Remy began thrusting into his hand, so
forcefully the Canadian almost lost his footing a slipped. Logan
brought his other hand down so that one would be wrapped around the
base of Remy's cock and the other to thumb the tip. Remy's reaction
was instantaneous: his muscles tightened followed by a breathy, "Mon
dieu! Oui!"

Logan pounded into that hard, lean body with every bit of himself.
His lover continued with the barely audible declarations of "Oui!"
and "Dieu!" until he arched upward, a seemingly impossible maneuver,
and spasms racked his frame. It was one of the most unusual
sensations Logan had ever felt, causing him to increase his own speed
to ride that wild crest of reaction, and finally he finally erupted
with a howl that echoed in the small area.

They slumped against the wall.

The water continued poured over them.

"Mon coeur, mon Logan... mon chere."

That answered one question.

Mon coeur indeed.

**** Finis ****