Logan flicks a glance at the time display, 1 am. The X-man known as Wolverine is standing his turn in the X-men’s mini-security office. He doesn’t mind pulling the midnight shift but it bugs him when he can’t be outside keeping a watch on things, only gets to do that when one of the other’s is on watch. He shakes his head slightly while sliding intense blue eyes back to the surveillance monitor. Wisp of bluish/gray smoke curl up from somewhere on his right as he watches a sleek dark figure pushing an equally sleek bike into the garage. Rumbles somewhere in his chest as he wonders how the kid had managed to slip out of the mansion again with the beefed up security measures ~if that boy don’t stop stealin my wheels I’m gonna hafta’*hurt* ‘im~ stops at the key word in his thought pattern, tracks back. ~stop stealin. Right, exactly, when a *thief* wants ta leave a place unnoticed well then…~ Rolls the slim cigar between his thick fingers savoring the feel of imported, crisply rolled tobacco. Inhales the rich fragrant smoke curling up from the smoldering tip, breathes in deeper when the tang of spicy musk wrapped in warm leather pervades the room.

 Remy LeBeau, codename Gambit, the X-men’s resident thief since Storm brought him to the mansion. Since Professor Charles Xavier has impressed upon her ‘stealing is immoral’. Logan is slightly impressed at the younger mans resolve to stand his ground regarding his ethics and morals, ~unlike some of the other clowns around here~ watches from the corner of his eye as the lanky man moves into the room. Darkness, somehow dangerous, lean languid strides that put him into better range for tracking the play of muscle flexing in thigh, bunch of buttock. He senses the red-in-black gaze on him, can feel its intensity even through the smoke-black of the helmets visor. Waits.

Gambit knows that this is going to be it, has decided as much. ~Mmmm charged…oui~ the last a sultry exhalation of mental breath. Remy lifts gloved hands to the edge of the helmet long slender fingers curving around the bottom before sliding it slowly upward.

To reveal sharp angular chin shadowed with rusty stubble, sensually quirked full lips; lips that create fantasies of moans, low and feverish. Angular nose, fine chisel blend casting a slight blur on the edge of cheekbones otherwise too sharp. ~Sharp enough ta draw blood~ and Logan shifts in the fold of the leather swivel chair.

He knew when the Cajun walked into the room he was going to be in for a battle. Gambit is serious about this, isn’t going to let this acquisition elude him. Knows they have reached a pivotal point in the quietly waged war of the wills and he doesn’t think his reserves are up to Remy LeBeau on full TilT. Can’t help but think of rich dark velvet, silk, pale limbs, bruised lips, the shimmer of candlelight on glittering ginger-rust hair Gambit is even now running bare fingers through. Slithering like liquid heat as he frees it from the ponytail. Un-readable blue eyes track the enticing sweep along side of pale face to brush jaw. Logan can’t breathe, doesn’t want to breathe, knows the smell will go straight *there* like it does every time the Cajun is around.

“Glad ya waited up f’ m’ chér.” Slow burn of whisky, hint of smoke riding the allure of spice crawls along the edge of Logan’s nerves as the voice digs into him. Reaching in, unfurls slowly, Logan grunts.

 “Ain’t waitin’ up fer ya kid.”

“Oh,” Slight shiver of one eyebrow, quirk of lip, “really. Now why don’ I b’lieve dat chér.” Lazy lowering of lashes that couldn’t be real, darkening of heated gaze. “Dere’s no need ta lie ta Remy chér, he unnerstan’s. Remy know chér.”

“What the hell do you think you know Gumbo,” Logan growls back, fingers clenched on the arms of the chair to keep from reaching out and grabbing.

Remy smirks at him then, cocks his head to the side slides tip of tongue along lower lip. Places the helmet on the console with his hand resting possessively on top of it in fluid motion forward until he is almost in the other mans personal space, never breaking eye contact.

“Remy know just want ya want Logan,” he breathed. “kin just feel de soft burn of ropes in ya hand pulling m’ wrist. Cool slither of Adamantium on m’ skin, over m’ nipple’ fore dey tear ‘way de silk.” Gambit moves closer, shift of muscle and now he’s standing between Logan’s open knees, arms folded across his chest. Hip slightly jutted forward. Knowing…

“Know how bad ya want, *need* ta tie me up, down. Remy’ll let ya too chér, wanna hear ya growl. Make it good mon amour.”

Logan is torn. He feels the heat of truth as the words wash over him eroding his defenses. He’s pissed, at himself and Cyclops. Can’t find it in himself to be pissed at the man standing in front of him, has known the thief’s had designs on him since the first couple of days he was in the mansion. Had felt the intense stare of disconcerting red/black eyes burning him. Glittering with hints and promises, challenging him and Logan had somehow picked up the gauntlet.

Scott knows this as well and finds a great deal of amusement in the situation, uses every opportunity he can to put Logan directly in the Cajun’s path. Right now he’s observing the scene on the micro-monitor he lifted from Gambit’s room earlier. Scott knows how to pick locks too. Never lets the skills he picked up from the Diamond get too rusty. ~Payback is a bitch isn’t it wolvi~ the dark haired man snickers.

“Look kid..”

 “Mais...chér I am…an Remy like what he lookin at.” Rakes burning eyes down the length of ripped, stocky, body. “Remy tink maybe you be doin some looking aussi, non?” Toys with the tag near his throat, pulls it gently and fills the room with the soft whir of unzipping. Logan’s eyes track the movement, his breath catches as the expanse of shirtless skin is revealed when the form fitting jacket is parted. Swallows dryly as the pale hand slips inside brushing a nipple on its way. “Got ya a lil present…Know ya gon like it chér.” Hand slides back into view.

 Gambit gently swings the blindfold back and forth in front of Logan’s face where it dangles from his index finger. Grins seductively, ~got’cha wolf-boy~ lets the silk lined leather blinder slip off and into Logan’s lap.

“W-what are you doing Gam..”

“Shhh. Logan-chér. Don worry, Remy take care o’ ya. Make ya feel trés bon,” reaches behind himself and comes back with hands full of thick rope. Logan blinks. He can’t believe this is happening, has been dreaming about something like this for months ~damn good thing cold water doesn’t cost~ and taking many long late night cold showers. He wonders if Gambit is using his charm as he dumbly sits there and watches agile fingers untangle the bundle.

Remy locks eyes with Logan as he pulls the last tangle free. His eyes are mesmerizing, seem to pulse as he quickly secures Logan to the chair, lasing the thick wrist to the arms of the chair. He moves so quickly that Logan doesn’t register he’s been tied until the other man leans back. Misses the feel of cool forehead pressed against his, askew vision trying to correct itself as the beckoning eyes pull back. Hot breath against his cheek, “Mebbe next time ya tie Remy down, heh”

Slithers his hands upward from captured wrist over tensed biceps, soothing tense muscle. “Dis time jus f’ ya,” softly whispered. “Don gotta do not’in but set back an enjoy de ride chér…mais next time ya gonna hafta ask,” in the shell of Logan’s ear as he ties on the blindfold. Logan tries to jerk his head away but stops at the sudden sharpness of teeth holding the lobe of his ear, wet tickle as fingers slide through his hair and the tongue tastes along the inner curve. Shallow panting as he feels the cool brush of lips along his cheekbone, moving toward his mouth. Pressure at the corner of lips parted in anticipation. Anticipation of the kiss that doesn’t follow as lanky figure folds down to leather clad knees. Logan suppresses a shiver as he feels Gambit reach for his belt.

“This ain’t funny Gumbo…k-knock it off.” Can feel the wicked flash of eyes looking up at him though bangs. Picture it in his mind.

“Make me.” And Logan growls as cool fingers slip under the waist band of his boxers, can’t keep from flexing up. His growl slips down into a soft purr as the feel of soft skin brushes up and down his erection while the ridge of fingerprints stroke the line of dark hair snaking into thicker patch. Logan doesn’t resist, lifts his hips in fact as fingers tug his pants and underwear down freeing him. Shivers at the caress of air against his exposed skin as his pants slide down over his knees, puddle around his ankles. He hopes everyone stays asleep until…

Hot wet heat, incredible sensation up his throbbing length as dark fiery head dips forward. Logan bites back a moan. Cool caresses flutter along the inside of his thigh, swipe of tongue along his slit and he starts oozing clear sticky fluid. Remy sits back on his heels and looks up into Logan’s blindfolded face twisted with desire and lust that can no longer be hidden.

The powerful body beckoned, taunt lines and natural animal grace pulled at eyes almost fully red. Broad shoulders flowing down into tight waist and powerful legs, dusky skin sprinkled with soft black hairs. Logan drew in a ragged breath causing hard muscle beneath smooth skin to shift, etch his chest and abdomen in clean lines under the dark t-shirt. His thick erection curving up from bush of black hair to brush cotton stretched across the flat of his belly, leaving a clear smudge just above the navel. Pearl of precum drooling from the tip as the thief wrapped both hands around, almost covering it from root to crown.

“Mmmm, look soo bon chér,” soft warm breath as Remy tugged lightly and Logan squirmed, hissed in a breath as fingernail dragged along the slit, hips bucked wildly.

“Mais….Remy’ll stop if dat’s what ya really want chér…is it?” slight squeeze before pulling his hands away and looking up at Logan again. This is the last move in the game and he has won. Logan doesn’t have any more pieces on the board and they both know it.

 Thoughts swirling madly, hips jerking from the tense straining of his aching cock Logan couldn’t think beyond his need and growled.

“Oui or non chér…which.”

Logan twitched again ~yes or no yes or no which means which~ whined, needed and spasmed into the light caress.

“Ya like dat…” Remy whispered as he slid his fingers to the base of Logan’s cock, leaned forward and pressed his lips against the silky skin. ~Check…~ inhaled the deep animal musk wafting up from between trembling thighs. Tightened his lips around the crown and tugged.

Logan groaned, hissed, “Ssshhit!” ~…mate~ Remy smiled around the head before pressing forward, humming as the curved length pressed against the back of his throat. Pulled back and let a trickle of spit escape, followed it down the shaft until his chin pressed against Logan, scratch of stubble along skin of sensitive balls. Logan growled deep in his chest, was answered by vibrating hum as Remy reached inside of his own, now open leather pants and stroked himself.

“Ahh…g-g-good,” Logan sighed as he gave in and rolled his hips up against the pressure. His fingers twitched with the need to touch, stroke fine skin textured with itchy stubble, wanted to feel it tickle his fingertips; could only thrust upward into the wet heat as Remy sucked him. Head bobbing slowly up and down between Logan’s tensed thighs, soft sucking pressure of his lips following the clench-release-clench of his fingers around the hot shaft.

Remy strokes his own slick hardness with his other hand in counter rhythm. Wanting, needing more but satisfied with this small taste he has won. Right now it’s all about making sure he doesn’t loose the advantage as he intensifies his focus on bringing Logan to the edge of climax. Sinks into the sensations washing over him, through him as they both ride the edge. The room seems crowded with heat, the air heavy with sweat and sex as the tableau is played out.

From where he is secretly watching, Scott wipes the thin sheen of sweat from his brow and adjusts the volume of the ear piece. Snickers as the groans and pants, half babbled words pour out of the Canadian. ~Oh Logan, who would’a thunk~ smothered giggle, absently shifts the stiffness along his thigh to a more comfortable position. Wishes he could zoom in on the expression as Gambit pushes the other man ~Indestructible Wolverine my ass~ over the paper thin edge of need into fulfillment.

Logan can’t hold back the full throated growl as he falls into orgasm. Bucks wildly as his pulses are suctioned down vibrating throat. He can smell the whiskey sour tang of Gambit’s cum as it spurts out, coating a pearly trail along the base of the chair. Whimpers into the soft sucking sounds as deflating erection is drained.

Gambit is silent as he leans back and stares at the exhausted figure slumped in the chair. Boneless, just the way he needed to be, and Gambit is satisfied with that…~for now~. Rises to his feet and stretches, tongue swipe – cat licking its whiskers – as he slowly zips up.

The only sign Logan has that he is alone is the soft stir of air and the dissipating scent of hot spice.

****

Two figures approach each other in the dim corridor. Ginger dark head cocks to the side, dark brown shakes slowly back and forth. Wicked glint of moonlight off red-in-black and ruby quartz.

“Puits, mon ami?”

“You cheated.”

 Smirk, “Non…made sure I won. That was for keeps.”

“Whatever.”

They move past each other. “homme..”

“Yeah?”

 “Hands off….and don f’get ta untie de homme when ya done wit ya picture fetish.”

Mild snort as Scott shakes his head. “… an make sure ya put dat micro-cam back where ya found ‘fore m’ nex mission.” Scott doesn’t answer, doesn’t think about the soft wicked laughter floating back down the hall.

~Don worry Scotty…your turns coming~ and taps a special little signal on Bobby Drakes door as he passes by.

End Block?