Title: Think It, Want It, Feel It

Author: eoen

Pairing: Jean/Logan/Scott/Remy

Rating: NC-17

Summary: PWP building on the rest in the series. Day 3, if you 

will….

Archive: yes, just let me know where (Lu, all yours if you want 

it…)

Email: wedschild@mail.com

Series/Sequel: So it would seem… Follows: "Two's Company, Four's…?" 

and "Wild"

Web Page: www.yathink.tvheaven.com

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

Warnings: Erm… Slash, and that's about all I can think of.

Think it, Want it, Feel it

By eoen

        "Hey, kid," Logan said gently. Remy looked up from his bills. 

        "Bonjour, Logan." He was seated at his writing desk in the 

corner of his room. A candle glimmered on the top of it, casting a 

warm yellow light around the immediate area. Logan was used to the 

indirect lighting. Sometimes it was so low he wondered how the kid 

could see at all under normal conditions. Remy had one leg tucked 

under his knee. He twisted in his seat to look at Logan. He rested his 

chin on his arm. 

        "Yer gonna break yer spine doin' that someday. Wondered where 

ya ran off to this mornin'."

        "Ain' like I ain't got dings t' do. Sometimes I dink Fearless 

believes heists don' need any kind of research."

        "Bullshit, Gumbo. Why'd ya run off? Ya even managed to slip 

out without me hearin' ya."

        "I'm a t'ief, homme. Dat's what t'ieves do," Remy said, 

rolling his eyes. He turned back to his correspondence. "An' how do 

credit cards manage t' get away wit' rates like dis? If'n dey were in 

de Guild we'd call dis protection money. It's against de rules!"

        "Why doncha pay 'em off?" Logan asked.

        "An' ruin m' cover as a po' lil' student? Non."

        "Is that what yer tellin' the government?"

        "Oui. What else? Need t' have somet'in' dat says I'm an 

upstandin' member of society. An' I'm livin' in a school. Best t' use 

it, oui?"

        "True." Logan settled on Gambit's bed. It was the most 

comfortable spot in the room. "Nice diversion, but I'm askin' fer the 

truth this time, Cajun. Why'd ya run?"

        "I don' like de wakin' up part," he said, not looking up. 

Logan growled softly. "I don'." Logan knew, just *knew* that the kid 

had arranged his lips into a pout, but he refused to fall for the con.

        "I asked ya fer the truth," Logan said bluntly. Gambit's 

shoulders tensed as if he were under attack. Logan smiled ruefully. 

"Come on, Gumbo. Trust me. I ain't gonna let it go, ya know." He shook 

his head as the pen continued to scrabble over papers. Finally, Remy 

couldn't find anything else that needed to be done. Logan hadn't moved 

in something like two hours. He was going to have to face the man. On 

the plus side, he'd actually finished doing the business 

correspondence he'd been putting off for two weeks. Scott would be so 

proud. Maybe that's how Fearless got things done, he just had Logan 

stare at him until it was finished. Remy toyed with the fountain pen, 

then put it back into it's case. Logan moved finally. He snuffed out 

the candle on the desk. Remy looked up in surprise and met the calm 

blue eyes. "Ya answer me here or ya answer me out there. Yer choice." 

Remy sighed.

        "De roof," he said. Logan nodded. He gestured for the younger 

man to go before him. Gambit glared, but grabbed his coat, shades, and 

a new pack of cigarettes. He slipped up the stairs past Storm's loft. 

Luckily she was in the garden, preparing it for the first frost. Remy 

took his usual place and stared out over the grounds as he lit his 

cigarette. "Listen, homme. Dis just ain't somet'in' permanent. Y' know 

dat. Dey'll get bored, even if y' don'. Dey'll get older an' it won' 

be fun anymore, so dey'll call de whole game off."

        "Bullshit."

        "Logan."

        "Kid. Ya know I love ya." Remy scuffed at the roofing 

shingles. He didn't answer for a long moment.

        "Oui," he whispered finally. 

        "Do ya trust me?"

        "More'n anyone I know," he told the older man. 

        "Do ya trust Cyke?"

        "He can keep a secret."

        "That ain't what I asked." Remy sighed. He shook his head. 

"Jeannie?"

        "Non."

        "Rogue?" Remy shook his head. "Storm?"

        "Wit' some dings. She jus' ain' comfortable wit' m' keepin' m' 

hand in dings. Keepin' m' rep up. But she trusts m' t' de ends of de 

eart'. More'n anyone's ever trusted dis po' boy. Even *you*, cher." 

Logan nodded ruefully. 

        "Yeah, well, I found out I was wrong. Besides, I ain't been 

that mistrustful since that first week. All I knew then was that ya 

were a thief that took a little girl on jobs with him. Then, ya 

started fightin' with us. I ain't too fond of the past, Kid." Logan 

decided to press his luck. He laid his hand on the younger man's knee. 

Remy put his hand over it gently. He didn't look at the Canadian. "Can 

ya try to trust Scott and Jean not to throw ya away?" Gambit took a 

long drag of smoke. He exhaled slowly. 

        "I ain't gonna promise y' anyt'in', Logan," he said finally. 

"I been thrown away once too many times. My heart ain't gonna handle 

another go round." Logan nodded. 

        "I ain't gonna throw ya away, Darlin'," he promised. Remy 

didn't say anything. "Well at least ya've stopped claimin' ya ain't my 

darlin'." Remy dipped his head to hide his smile. 

        "So, how y' goin' t' tell Jubilee 'bout all dis?" he asked, 

jumping topics.

        "Alright. Alright. I give in. Just tell me whatever's got you 

sulking like Rogue on a bad hair day," Scott snapped finally at his 

wife. 

        "Remy." Scott pinched the bridge of his nose.

        "To shamelessly steal Jubilee's line, 'like, Duh.' What part 

of it? The fact that you keep miscalculating the strength of 

mind-numbing sex as a leash? Or the fact that I've been right and 

you've been wrong about how he's going to react?"

        "Knock off the smug act, Slim," Jean threatened putting a hand 

to her temple as if preparing a psi-bolt. 

        "Smug? Moi? Non, chere," Scott mimicked. Jean blinked. "Come 

on, Jean. I don't need to be a psychic or a shrink or a spook, to know 

that you're worried about him. And it's something that you don't think 

you can tell me without permission. Yes, yes, I definitely see hints 

of the professor's ethics lecture creeping up on your face now. Let's 

see. It has something to do with how he got some of those scars. And 

something to do with Sinister. Either one of which you think is going 

to set me off in a negative way either on him or the world. You're 

sick of hearing those rants so you don't want to chance it." He 

frowned and leaned close as if studying her face. "Yes, there it is, 

the Scott's being a pain in the ass again line." He traced the frown 

line in her forehead. "And now we get to the, damn, he's right, and 

I'm not going to admit to it part. Let's see if I can make a few 

educated guesses about our pet thief."

        "Fine. Let's see you try." Jean leaned back in her chair with 

her arms across her chest.

        "First off, now I know that he's adopted, he was *definitely* 

on the streets. Therefore, we've got abuse issues. Gee golly 

willickers, who'd have thought. Second, he ended up turning to 

Sinister for help. Let's see, that means he's estranged with his 

fosters, er… the LeBeau's I assume. His powers hurt someone and he 

feels too guilty about it to tell anyone. And he's done something a 

hell of a lot worse than break into some facility or other or kill one 

person. I don't know how many people he took out when his powers 

appeared, but I'm sure that a few of those scars are from his own 

powers." Jean sighed.

        "I didn't look. I only looked at the Sinister part of his 

memories. He was so damn scared that I was going to run across 

something he wasn't allowed to tell me that he wouldn't have let me 

see anything else."

        "Allowed?" Scott asked, settling on the couch next to his 

wife.

        "That's what he said," she shrugged. "He wasn't even sure 

about letting me see his mindscape without a blood oath. I know enough 

to know that two of the most traumatic incidents in his life are right 

before he met Sinister and right before he left him. I know he's 

completely confused about what he even feels about that bastard. 

Sinister was comfortable for him."

        "Comfortable?" Scott nearly squeaked. "Sinister? Christ. He is 

fucked up isn't he?"

        "He's got the screaming, gibbering, terror and pain of 

hundreds of people swarming around his mind. He's got so much pain 

that isn't his in there that he can't feel good. And his shields are 

so fucking tight that he can't let any of it out. He's the only person 

I know with *traps* in their mindscape, just in case a 'path happens 

to get past his first two layers of shields."

        "Three layers of shields? He has three layers?"

        "More, I think, but they're arranged in three general levels. 

And the last level isn't even recognizable as a shield. I wouldn't 

have known except for the fact that he kept warning me about his 

traps. And they call to me."

        "Who?"

        "The traps. I want to know what they'll do, but I'm scared 

that they might actually be as deadly as they seem to be."

        Wolverine was stalking his prey through the Mansion after 

lunch. The sounds of everyday life made it difficult to use his 

hearing. His nose twitched as he caught the familiar scent. There! He 

had him. He tensed and leapt. Gambit dodged back and under the lunge. 

He sprinted for the door. He needed space.

        Bobby jumped out of the way, saving his juice. He stayed out 

of the flight path, sure that Wolverine was following. He was right. 

Logan barreled past into the backyard. He paused to catch the scent. A 

movement caught his attention and he was off. He caught the thief 

around the waist and spun him so that he could be pinned to the wall.

        Remy struggled against Logan's grip. The knee that separated 

his legs was hot compared to the fall air. The Canadian's hands were 

firm until the struggling ceased. Remy pouted. "Y' let m' go now?" he 

asked, hopefully.

        "Never." Logan growled.

        "Remy'll do whatever y' want, M. Make y' feel so good," he 

purred into Logan's ear. Logan chuckled.

        "Maybe I just like watchin' ya squirm." Logan folded Gambit's 

arms across his chest and pinned them there. Despite the fine layers 

of muscle, Gambit was slender. His wrists were delicate under the 

thick fingers that pinned them. He fought the new grip.

        "Please?" Remy said with puppy dog eyes. They didn't work. He 

felt Logan's cock against his hip. Logan released one hand and Remy 

stroked through his "captor's" thick brown hair. Logan fastened a blue 

cat collar around the still trapped wrist. There was a small, 

high-pitched bell on it, and a fish shaped tag.

        "Quoi?" Remy asked, brows drawn down into a vee.

        Logan kissed the thief's palm and folded the long fingers 

around it. He stepped back. Red eyes blinked at him in surprise. He 

grinned and wandered back to the kitchen. Gambit opened his mouth to 

say something, but couldn't figure out what. He stood up straight and 

studied the little tag. "If found please call the Summers." It gave 

the boathouse extension. He snickered. He jingled the little bell. He 

loved a challenge. He went to find Storm.

        //You are insane,// Betsy told Jean. //You do *not* want his 

shields snapping at you.//

        //I just want to see how they were created. I don't know 

telepaths with shields that complex.//

        //I never got past the parlor. The headache was incredible.//

        //He showed my your mark on the door.//

        //?//

        //It's as if he never fixed the damage you did to his shields. 

There was a mark on the door to the outside of that room.//

        //But other than that it was in order?//

        //Yes. Very Victorian actually.//

        //Well, he's repaired the damage Rogue did then. It looked 

like a whirlwind had torn through it// Betsy registered Jean's 

surprise. //The furniture was overturned, the books scattered, and the 

desk looted. It was so dark and cold that I didn't believe he would 

ever wake up from it.//

        //It's in order now. The only oddities are the padlock on the 

door and the scarred wood. It looks like a knife cut.//

        //I didn't realize I'd hurt him badly enough to scar him.//

        //But you knew your touch hurt?//

        //Yes. It was a raw channel.//

        //I supposed I should have suspected that. Thanks, Bets.//

        //You're welcome.//

        "Bon jour, Stormy. Y' need help?" Remy asked her gazing around 

the nearly winterized garden.

        "You could take these things to the composter. And then, you 

can clean off the tools," she informed him. Her eyes were twinkling. 

"And do not call me Stormy."

        "Oui, petite." She smiled at him.

        "Are you sure that you will be warm enough?" She asked, 

realizing that he wasn't wearing his coat. 

        "Mon petite Ororo, she keep her Remy warm, non?" She shook her 

head and called warm winds to surround her brother. She focused on her 

plants. She found her attention caught by an odd sound. She could have 

sworn that she heard a bell. She discounted it. Perhaps it was merely 

one of the windchimes being knocked askew by Remy's movements. He was 

humming under his breath. She smiled and relaxed into the ease of 

working with him. He was a good partner in the garden, so long as you 

didn't have him doing the weeding. He had a tendency to pull up her 

flowers with startling regularity. He always looked guilty when he 

did, but he just didn't have the eye to tell one green stem from 

another. He was good for the plain physical labor. And in the summer 

he could be occasionally convinced to take off his shirt. But only 

around her. The bell rang again. This time she couldn't discount it. 

        "Brother?"

        "Oui?"

        "Do you hear a bell?" He cocked his head to the side. 

        "Now?"

        "No, it's not ringing now. But it was a moment ago." Her cat 

eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You heard it then?" He winked. He held 

out his wrist for inspection and jingled the little silver bell. She 

laughed and shook her head. "You are the only person I can think of 

that would make that into a fashion statement."

        "Dat's because y' only know a small group, chere. Y' need t' 

go out more," he chided her. "How y' goin' t' meet de right homme 

hidin' y'self away in dese enchantin' gardens? Dere's plenty of nice 

places t' go. Y' could visit de Botanical Gardens, or even join a club 

or somet'in', 'tite. Give a normal life a try."

        "Remy," she said, looking down her nose at him. "Do not start 

with that again. I am not going to be a part of any club where they 

tell me what to do… Other than this one of course."

        "Least y' don' have t' pay dues," Remy grinned. "De tools are 

cleaned. Anyt'in' else?"

        "Yes, the greenhouse needs to be neatened."

        "Oui, 'tite. Remy'll do y' chores f' y'. Y' just remember dat 

when he asks y' for somet'in'."

        Scott was reading the paper in the den when Remy decided he 

wanted attention. He flopped down on the couch and settled his head in 

Scott's lap. He played with the impromptu bracelet that Logan had put 

oh him. Scott continued to read until his curiosity got the better of 

him. "What the Hell are you playing with?"

        "De bell." He held up his wrist for inspection. Scott caught 

the collar with a finger.

        "Cute. When'd you start wearing this?" Remy grinned.

        "'Bout t'ree or four hours ago. Logan put it on. I ain't taken 

it off yet. De bell drives Warren crazy."

        "That's a good reason to keep it on right there."

        "Oui." Scott tugged on the collar, a thoughtful smile on his 

face. Gambit's eyes narrowed. "Whatever y' dinkin', de answer's non."

        "Come on. Trust me," Scott said, setting the paper aside. Remy 

shook his head stubbornly. "You don't trust me, but you'll trust Mr. 

Drop-Everything-And-Go-Searching-For-My-Past?" Scott smoothed the 

younger man's hair back from his face.

        "Oui," Remy said seriously. He tried to pull his hand back, 

but Scott's grip was firm.

        "Why?" Gambit looked away from Cyclops' face.

        "He's… open."

        "What does that mean?" Scott's frown was thoughtful.

        "He *feels* dings so strong. An' he don' lock dem away. He 

ain't numb."

        "In other words, my shields are too strong and you can't read 

me?"

        "Non. Not dat exactly. Y'r emotions are… muddled? Y' don' feel 

one ding. Y' get angry an' y' feel guilty an' sad too. It gets t' be 

too much t' sort out." He tugged against the collar gently and Cyke 

let him go. Remy played with the bell. Scott continued to pet his 

hair.

        "You're not the only one confused," Scott informed him. 

Emotions aren't simple."

        "Dey are f' some people. Leastways, dey feel what dey feel 

strong. An' free. Logan, Roguie, and Jubes, dey ain't got as many 

feelin's at once. Even mon petite Stormy's emotions get confused." 

Scott rested his free hand on Remy's abdomen.

        "You're wearing gloves again," Scott said after a long pause. 

Remy's eyes flicked up to Scott's face again.

        "Oui?"

        "Why?" Scott asked. Remy shifted uncomfortably. "Well?"

        "Used t' burn people," he said softly. "Merde, couldn' touch 

f' years. M' gloves made it more possible. Still couldn't touch much, 

exceptin' M. Essex an' M. Chatton. Wit' de healin' it weren't a 

problem f' dem."

        "Did you ever tell her?"

        "Non. She wouldn' understand. Couldn' tell her wit'out tellin' 

her how I can do it now. An' she'd never have loved m' den."

        "She was raised by Mystique."

        "An' her friends got hurt by *Dem*."

        "Not everyone is irrational."

        "Non, just ma chere." Remy spun the collar around his wrist.

        "What does Jean want to tell me, but won't?" Remy sighed.

        "Details about m' time wit' Essex."

        "And will *you* tell me?"

        "Non, I don' dink so."

        "Will you let her tell me?" Remy stared at the red crystal and 

the glow that was Scott's power for a long moment. He reached up and 

ran his finger along the edge of the glasses.

        "Oui," he whispered. Scott carefully kissed his fingers and 

pressed them to Remy's lips.

        "Whatever scared you, we'll deal with it." He traced his 

fingers over the dark bruises on his lover's throat. "You aren't 

alone, Remy."

        Logan was in his room. He was concentrating on locating a 

single sound in the Mansion. He zeroed in on the quiet tickle of the 

little bell and tracked Remy's movements through the house. He smiled 

to himself. Despite the impression to the contrary, Remy was easy to 

please. The collar obviously amused him. By the sound of things, he 

was making sure it sounded at every possible opportunity. A nameless 

worry eased off of Logan's shoulders. He got up.

        He tracked Remy to the library. He was reading the weekly art 

updates he seemed to memorize almost instantly. He lay on his stomach, 

hands folded under his chin except to turn pages, and his trenchcoat 

spread out over the carpet. He must have run into town. "Bonjour, Ole 

Man."

        "Hey, Kid," Logan replied. "Ya plannin' on goin' out tonight?"

        "Oui. Charles gave m' a shoppin' list." Logan blinked. The 

thief had never told him when he was going out on an assignment as 

opposed to partying.

        "Come to the boathouse when yer done."

        "If'n ya wake up dere so often, why ya ain't moved out dere?"

        "I was keepin' an eye on ya, Gumbo. Figure we'll get yer stuff 

and mine out there as soon as Jeannie's done redecoratin' the kitchen. 

No sense in gettin' under foot."

        "Ingrate," Scott commented from the doorway, "making me suffer 

alone. Gambit, I need to talk to you. My office in twenty?"

        "Oui, Cyke." Scott left. "Merde. Must be in trouble again."

        "Naw. Slim probably wants to kiss ya fer good luck." Remy 

snickered. "Why doncha come sit up here with me while ya read?"

        "Non. Y' come down here wit' Remy. Relive yer yout'."

        "Brat," Logan said, sitting on the floor and letting Remy 

settle across his lap. He stoked Remy's spine.

        Remy dropped the data discs into the professor's drawer and 

the documents into Scott's file cabinet, then crept back to his room. 

He was surprised to find Jean waiting for him. He blinked at her 

stupidly. "Dis is gettin' t' be a habit, chere."

        "And you've been avoiding me." She was startled when he 

dropped his tools into the back of the closet. She hadn't seen the 

bag. 

        "I been busy." Jean sighed.

        "I'm here to make sure you remember to check in with Mother 

Logan."

        "Merde. A lil sex an' now de man' dinks he owns m'." Jean 

shook her head with a smile.

        "No, he and Scott always wait up for you to come home. Now 

Logan's just willing to tell you." She snickered at his raised brows. 

"So get your things for the morning. I'm not letting you sneak out 

again." He kissed her once, hard, before throwing together a bag.

        Logan grinned when he noticed the collar was still on Remy's 

wrist. Remy's eyes were flashing with an almost drunken ferocity. He 

devoured Wolverine's mouth with harsh kisses. The Canadian managed to 

pin the younger man's wrists behind him, shocked by his 

aggressiveness. Cock brushed cock and Remy arched closer. Jean licked 

her lips. Remy broke Logan's grip and controlled the older man's head 

with both hands. Logan lifted Remy easily and took him up to the 

bedroom.

        Scott felt the wave of lust and euphoria wash over him and 

bleed through his shields. His pupils dilated and there was a flash of 

red through his sleeping goggles. Remy was already stripping Logan 

down. Scott watched Jean pull off the simple dress she'd thrown on to 

wait for the thief. Jean pulled at Remy's coat. She shook her head 

when he shook her off. Logan's hands were buried in Remy's hair now. 

He pulled back and Remy's fingers clenched harder on Logan's head. He 

was panting slightly.

        "Either ya take 'em off or I cut 'em off, Darlin'," Wolverine 

growled. Remy snarled and stripped with no wasted effort and returned 

to the kiss that bordered on violent. Logan fought to take control of 

the kiss, but failed. The thief refused to be passive tonight. He 

urged Logan towards the bed.

        Meanwhile, Jean was being thoroughly kissed by her husband. 

Scott was more than ready to plunge into her body once more. The sight 

of Logan being practically manhandled by the Cajun had forced his 

arousal to the near fever that made him mark his lovers. Jean rolled 

the condom onto his hard length, then laid back as he suckled her 

breasts. She had a good idea of what would happen.

        Without more than a glance, she knew that she wasn't the only 

one thinking it. Scott was seated firmly in her and she held him to 

her by force. Scott was already prepared physically by their earlier 

romps, but he was surprised to feel Logan in him once more. Logan held 

still to let Cyclops adjust, then moved back to impale himself fully 

on Remy's erection. Jean let Scott move and they found their rhythm 

almost immediately. The combined weight of all three men drove each 

stroked deeper into Jean's slip. Scott was aware of little more than 

the moist warmth around his cock and the solid intruder in his ass. 

Logan's teeth grazed Scott's shoulder. Logan's thrusts were deeper and 

harsher than usual, but not painfully so. It was more a matter of 

claiming than anything else. Logan rocked mindlessly between the 

familiar pleasure of Scott's tightly spasming ass and the new feel of 

Remy's cock filling and emptying him.

        Scott came first, his muscles clenching hard around Logan and 

drawing him along. Jean came as Remy thrust deep into Logan's 

constricted channel and thereby driving Scott deep into her. Remy 

came, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of having Logan wrapped around 

him and his lover's orgasms battering through his shields.

        A few minutes later, when consciousness clawed up through 

pleasure sapped synapses, Gambit realized that Scott and Jean had 

passed out. He snickered and Logan grinned at him. He had cleaned them 

all up because his faster recovery time. He tugged at the collar Remy 

still wore on his wrist, now sans bell. He quirked a brow.

        "Couldn' keep it quiet," Remy told him. He shrugged. "Didn' 

want t' take it off. Weren' so sure y'd approve. Y' did win after 

all." Logan chuckled.

        "Let's say a week. And put the bell back on, except fer jobs." 

He kissed the bruise he'd left gently. "I'll be huntin'," he growled. 

Remy smiled.

        "Goin' t' have t' learn t' keep it quiet den." He stroked the 

velvet of Logan's once again stiff cock. "Dis f' Remy?"

        "If he's a good boy."

        "Remy can be real good, M." He arched into Logan's stroking 

hands. Logan's eyes glittered with amusement.

        "I was hopin' ya'd see it that way." He arranged the thief's 

hands over his head. "Stay," he whispered. Logan kissed him softly, 

sweetly. He backed off, leaving Remy wanting more. He prepared the 

thief slowly, watching the cock spring to attention. He kissed gently 

down the center of the younger man's chest. He lapped along the 

sharply defined rib cage as Remy fucked himself on Logan's fingers. 

Remy chewed his lip, trying to stay quiet. Then, Logan was in him and 

he couldn't restrain a moan. Logan kissed him gently in the hollow of 

his neck, then surged home, and then out. He moved slowly as Remy 

tried in vain to speed him up. No curse, promise of plea could change 

his pace. Logan tracked the changes in scent and skin color as sweat 

trickled down Remy's chest and blood pounded through his veins. 

        "Sil vous plait, Logan. Gonna come soon. Please, cher, more," 

Gambit begged. Wolverine's blunt fingers settled on his waist and he 

pistoned in and out at a frantic pace. Gambit's eyes closed and his 

body tensed into an almost arch, restricted by Logan's hands. Semen 

splattered his stomach as Logan's seed filled him. Exhausted, Remy 

collapsed back into the bed. He snuggled close to Scott and Jean's 

bodies, seeking to share warmth. With a smile, Logan spooned close 

behind him and laid an arm over his hips to stroke the small of 

Scott's back as he fell to sleep.

FINIS