Three of a Kind

Jiggling nervously, Paul slumped on the bus bench and
stared at the deserted street. There was no one out
this late but he lingered, despite the rain, hoping
for just one more trick. He needed the money and he
needed it now. He was hurting for a hit and his stash
was long gone. One trick - even a cheap one - and
he'd have just enough to get him through the night.
Not for anything else but it wasn't that cold out, he
could sleep under the bridge.

There was someone across the street, leaning on a
streetlamp and watching him. Paul squinted, struggling
to see past the flecks and glittering streaks that
wiggled across his vision most of the time. His eyes
were bad tonight, even with his sunglasses on, the dim
illumination of the streelamp was broken up into a
confusion of rainbow streaks and jumping specks. One
of the reasons he wanted his dope, it usually helped
for a few days. But yeah, the tall guy in the coat
was watching him, smoking. Paul leaned against the
bench and let his legs sag open. Stared at the guy.

The man swaggerd across the street, graceful as an
alley cat. Close enough now that Paul could see that
the long duster was real leather, the man was young,
thin as a rail with long brown hair, a long pointy
nose and - more importantly - he was wearing nice
clothes. He had money and Paul smiled at him,
mentally doubling his prices. Why the hell someone
with looks like that was picking up a street whore -
then Paul met the man's eyes and flinched, jumping to
his feet. The red and black eyes shown like a cat's
in the dark. Staring, shocked, at the man's eyes,
Paul didn’t notice the bitter twist to his smile. The
tall stranger was a mutant. No wonder he had to pay
to get laid.

Paul pushed his shades up on his nose then glanced
nervously up and down the street. Nobody around
except for some gorilla in a ratty biker jacket
heading towards the bus stop.

"Eh, cher - getting pretty wet out here Non?"

"Uh - guess so." Paul muttered. "Look - uh - sorry
but I don't do mutants. You never know what you're
gonna get, you know?"

"Ahh. Of course. But it's just de eyes, cher. Just
de eyes." The man flicked his cigarette butt into the
gutter. "And I'm lonely tonight. You must be lonely
- or something - to be out so late, when everyone is
safe in der beds."

Paul's stomach cramped, reminding him why he was out
here and he managed another weak smile, trying to
avoid looking at the man's strange - and terrifyingly
familiar eyes. "Okay, yeah. I can be lonely too.
But it's gonna cost extra."

The man nodded, mouth quirking. The snapped his
fingers and a hundred dollar bill appeared. Paul
snorted at the cheap trick and reached for the money,
trying not to snatch at it. A hundred dollars. Maybe
he wouldn't have to sleep under the bridge tonight
after all.

He folded into his pocket. Paul eyed the man, trying
to guess what he wanted. Chewed on his lip uneasily
when he realized he didn't feel the usual wash of lust
from him. He always knew when someone wanted to fuck
him and what this man wanted was more - complicated -
than that. On the other hand, he didn't seem to want
to hurt him either. Or save his soul. Didn't have
the feel or look of a god nut. He felt sad though
nothing showed on his sharp face. Paul shrugged.
Whatever. "Okay. What do you want to do? And you
gotta wear a rubber if you wanna fuck me. I got
some."

The tall man sighed, sadness rising, making Paul
wrinkle his nose and glance away. "Not to scare you,
cher but dat man looming back der is m'friend. He
come to, oui?"

"Crap." Paul muttered. The gorilla. That's why the
big bill, they wanted a threesome. He looked the man
up and down quickly. Short, built like boxer, black
hair every which way and glaring at his 'friend' a
reeking cigar clamped between his teeth. Dangerous,
with those heavy fists, but even with all that leather
and sullen glares, he didn't strike Paul as the kind
of guy who beat up whores for fun. He was angry, but
not at Paul. He licked his lips and considered
bolting. Whatever was going down between these two,
he didn't want to be involved.

"This wasn't what we talked about, gumbo." The man
growled. The tall man shrugged.

"Seems a good t'ing now, cher. De boy is - easy on de
eyes."

He was lying, even as he very obviously looked Paul up
and down. There was no heat in him, not really. He
was faking. And who the hell was he trying to lie to?

The tall man reached out and brushed his fingers
across Paul's cheek, just below the sunglasses.
Everything changed. Paul's vision went out in a rush
of white static and he was suddenly, painfully exited.
Blinking frantically, he pulled back, his vision
cleared but the heat remained. His cock surged in is
pants, swelling painfully. The man was staring at
him, hand frozen in mid-air, blinking and rubbing his
eyes. Hungry and startled, still sad, and Paul could
feel it all. Feel the way the man was desperately
interested in Paul, not for sex. Or that's the way it
had been. The man was as unexpectedly aroused as Paul
was. And Paul could feel it, feel it like it was his
own excitement, his own growing unease. He could feel
it like he'd never felt anything before.

"Rem - Remy!" The big man shook his friend roughly,
then glared at Paul. "What the hell did ya do to him
kid?"

"Nothing!" Paul backed up and sat abruptly on the bus
bench, shivering. "I didn't do nothing. He's the
fucking mutant!"

"You watch your mouth!" The biker snapped. Too dizzy
to stand, Paul stared up at him, frightened as the guy
loomed over him, teeth shining white in the night.

"Non - non, homme. S'v plait." The skinny guy
murmured, resting a bony hand on his friend's big
shoulder. "It's alright. De boy did - nothing. It's
Remy causing de problems, as usual, Logan."

Then it was like someone was sitting on Paul's head
and only years of hiding his reactions - especially
when something hurt - kept him from crying out. He
blinked back tears, vision blurring then - the specks
and flickers of light that had tormented him all his
life dimmed. The skinny guy was doing something.
Something to stop all the weird feelings and the
painful throb of his cock. Paul shook his head, it
was like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. He
couldn't hear.

Except it wasn't his ears that were muffled. It was
the thing that told him when people around him were
angry, or happy, or wanted to fuck him. It was the
thing that, sometimes kept him alive and other times
made his life miserable. And it was the first time
Paul had been without it.

"What -." Shivering, Paul lowered his head. He
couldn't let on that he felt anything, that he knew
anything was going on. He started again. "What's the
matter with you? Sick?"

Remy - if that was his name - shrugged slightly, still
looking a little blank. "Non, homme. Just a screwed
up mu'tant."

He took a seat on the bench and with his big friend on
the other side, Paul felt trapped. He stared at his
ratty sneakers, wondering if he had the energy to run.
He felt out of balance, already missing that extra
sense of his, suddenly cut off from what people around
him were feeling. What if it never came back? When
he'd still believed in god, he'd prayed for that.

"What do you want already?"

"We just want to talk kid." The big guy leaned
forward earnestly. "Kid, look - it doesn't have t'be
like this - "

"Oh, shit!" Paul surged off the bench, disgusted.
"No - I haven't been saved and I don't want to be,
thank you very much! If Jesus wants me, he can come
by and pay like everyone else! Okay? Now piss off."

The skinny guy was laughing silently, laughing so hard
tears were squeezing out of his weird eyes. "Dieu, no
one ever tol' Remy he'd be saving souls!"

The other guy slumped back on the bench, tapping a
booted foot in a puddle and chuckling softly. "We
ain't evangelists, kid."

"Not social workers?" Paul asked suspiciously.
"Vice? Nope, can't be - not handing out the green
first. Or, at least, you can't arrest me. What the
hell do you want then?"

"Look we just want to talk a little."

Paul crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his
hands to hide his shaking. Man, all he wanted was his
dope and a quiet place to sleep. He didn't need this.
"We'll, I'm not a fucking talk show host. You wanna
fuck, fine. I give great blow jobs. Whatever, but I
ain't no friend of yours. I'm just a cheap whore."

The tall man sobered abruptly. "Turning tricks
b'cause you're hungry don make you a whore."

Paul snorted. "Look, I'll have sex with you - both of
you - but I don't need any lectures. I don't need
anyone promising to take me away from all this."

The cigar smoking ape sighed. "Y'know, kid there are
still some people in t'world that just wanna help.
Christ - okay, it's a lame line, but it's true this
time, kid."

"Uh-hu." Paul took a step back. He had the money.
He didn't have to put up with these two. He could
just run like hell.

The skinny guy stood abruptly and moved within arms
reach. "So maybe we go then - see about t'ings, oui?"

"Cajun?" The dark man glanced at his friend
curiously. The thin man jerked his head, walking down
the street.

"Know a place, homme, where we can all get more
comfort'ble?"

Sighing, Paul trailed after. He couldn't outrun the
tall man with him already on his feet. "Sure. Just
up sixty-ninth there. Hey, if you're both gonna do
me, I want you to rent the room for the whole night."

The biker guy winced.

The French guy rented the room for the night, like
Paul asked. The desk jockey didn't even look up from
her computer as she took the money and gave them a
cheap cardboard keycard. Paul always went here when
he had a john that wanted a room so the dirty gray and
blue decor, the sagging queen sized bed and the
blessedly dim lights were familiar. The other two
glanced around, then the thin guy stretched out on the
bed while his friend dropped into the only chair in
the room.

"Gotta piss, be right back." Paul said, retreating to
the bathroom that was shared between the two hotel
rooms. The opposite door was locked and there were no
noises from the neighboring room.

He pulled off his soaked jean jacket and squeezed it
out as much as he could, then shoved it under the
sink. Squinting he pulled off his shades and stared
at himself. The flickering at the edges of his vision
thickened, a multi-colored halo around the dull bulb
screwed into the fixture, less intrusive in the
shadows. He saw best in the dark. Black hair, brown
eyes. Paul smiled. Plain brown eyes, nothing unusual
about them. And dammed expensive - the contacts had
cost more than a month of blow-jobs and butt fucks.
But they hid everything, pupil, iris - even the whites
of his eyes. Whites that weren't white, pupils that
weren't brown. Eyes that he'd never seen on anyone
else - not until tonight and some skinny mutant came
up and gave him a hundred dollars. His smile faded
and he tilted his head trying to overhear the soft
conversation outside. His eyes might suck but his
ears were good.

"- don know w'at happened, Logan." The thin guy was
saying quietly. "De charm just - go off like crazy.
Somet'n about that kid. Wonder w'ats -"

"Shit, Gumbo, that just a kid in there!" The big
man's deep voice rose angrily, then dropped off again.
" - why the hell are we up here? We can't -"

"De boy, he's skittish as hell -"

"- ain't goin' t'do nothing with some kid. We're here
to help him -"

"Was gon' run on us."

Paul narrowed his eyes at his reflection. They were
here to try to save him, the sons of bitches.
Thinking he was some kid that couldn't take care of
himself. He'd been on the streets for years. He
didn't need saving. He pulled off his shoes and
pants, then unbuttoned his shirt and let it hang open.
He knew had a nice body - people were sure willing
to pay for it - and he remembered how hot the French
guy had been before. They thought they were going to
save him. Paul's mouth twisted. Let them try.

He pushed the door open and leaned against the frame,
smiling triumphantly as two sets of eyes tracked down
his body then snapped away. But then the thin guy
looked back, strange eyes sliding over him even as the
man's mouth twisted sourly. Yeah, he had him. That's
the way it usually was with all those good Samaritans.
All they really wanted was to fuck you over.

"Mind if I smoke, homme?" The thin guy said,
immediately pulling a cigarette out and concentrating
on lighting up.

"Na. So long as I can." Paul snapped his fingers and
a joint appeared his hand. The French stranger choked
on a laugh. Paul lit up and went to slouch on the bed
next to the skinny guy who'd shed his long coat and
boots. Didn't even have holes in his socks. The
three of them sat in silence for a while three
different kinds of smoke - sweet, herb and bitter -
floated up to roll and drift near the ceiling.

"W'ats your name, homme?" The thin guy asked. "Me,
Remy. Him - dats Logan."

"Paul." He said.

"'Paul, d'accord."

"You French?"

Logan, who was watching them both sullenly, snorted.

"Non - Cajun. 'Merican, eh. N'Owleans."

"'Kay." Paul murmured lazily and ran a hand down his
chest slowly. "Whatever."

"An where you from?" Remy's eyes followed Paul's hand
as he rolled a nipple in his fingers, then jerked
away.

Paul rolled his head on the headboard and sighed.
"Utah. Not a great place for - faggots."

"Family kick you out den?"

"Sure." Paul muttered. "Don't they do that to
everyone?"

He took a deep drag, pulling marijuana smoke deep, and
slid up to press his lips to Remy's. He gave him a
shotgun kiss and the Cajun reflexively inhaled the
smoke. Paul pulled back a little, still leaning on
the man's tense body, and smiled. Smoke drifted from
both their mouths, mixing together.

"What's a matter, Remy. You afraid I'm gonna break?"

Skin to skin, Paul felt that cottony, smothering
feeling drift away like the smoke from the man's
cigarette. Underneath that was - heat. The skinny
bastared was burning up for him. This, Paul knew how
to handle. He brushed a thumb along the man's
jawline, feeling stubble and a speeding pulse. Those
red and black eyes dilated suddenly and Paul felt the
surging ache of Remy's cock like it was his own. It
was his own. This close, Paul felt everything Remy
did. Suddenly, he wanted the tall stranger so bad it
was like dying.

"God -!" He moaned and kissed him.

He swept his tongue past prostesing lips. Tasted even
white teeth and groaned at the sudden hard sucking on
his tongue as Remy gave in and kissed him back. A
long hand cupped the back of Paul's neck, dragging him
closer and the mouth on his opened demandingly.
Whimpering at his almost painfully stiff cock, Paul
pulled at Remy's shirt. Silk and pretty but now all
it was a barrier to what he wanted so much.

Some strange connection had opened between the two of
them and if Paul hadn't been so desperately turned on,
he would have been scared. A too small voice in the
back of his head was telling him he should leave -
now. Before it was too late. Before something bad
happened. But he was forgetting all that he'd learned
on the streets, all the things that had kept him
alive. Because Remy's hand had slid down his back to
cup his ass. Paul's hips jerked and he bit Remy's
lips as that long fingered hand stroked him, one
finger probing gently.

"Jesus - Remy - ! What the hell -" Logan's rough
voice didn't even penetrate. When he reached angrily
to pull Paul away, the connection between the two on
the bed jumped to Logan as well. The big man groaned
suddenly, jerking away then coming back,
uncontrollably drawn. It was so much better with
three.

Paul felt the bed dip and scrambled up, Remy caught
him in his arms. Logan grabbed for him too and there
was this scary moment when Logan and Remy glared at
each other, Paul between them like a prize bone two
dogs were fighting over. Paul slithered around,
sitting between Remy's spread legs, feeling the hot
mouth sucking on the back of his neck as he reached up
and pulled Logan's head down. Remy's hand snaked
between Paul's legs and he wailed into Logan's mouth
as his cock was touched. He nearly came right then.

Logan's teeth were sharp and the man bit him. Paul
flinched, Logan groaned. Remy kissed Paul's neck and
murmured soothingly.

"He's a little rough, cher. But he don want to hurt
you."

"B-bleeding." Paul muttered dazedly. But he really
didn't care - especially when he felt how hot it made
the big man kneeling in front of him. He lifted his
head, catching Logan's mouth again. Let him suck on
his cut lip. Kissed him, feeling - fangs - in that
greedy mouth. Christ, they were both freaks.

Paul pulled back, panting, the last of his warning
bells going off. He could get really hurt here.
These men, he knew, were dangerous.

He met Logan's dark eyes. There wasn't anything mean
there. Just hunger and uncertainty and more than a
little confusion. Well, he was feeling pretty
confused himself, right now. Remy's fingers found his
nipples and Paul cried out, arching up and staring
pleadingly at the other man. Logan licked his bloody
lips and shrugged off his leather coat.

"God, I - dunno - this ain't right." Logan muttered,
shaking his head as if that would help him think.
"Y'just a kid. Just a kid."

All Paul wanted was to be touched. Touched more.
Touched everywhere. "P-please, god. I'm almost
seventeen. Almost legal, I swear. Please. Need it
so much. I'm gonna die. Please -"

Remy, his cock pressing against Paul's back through
his pants, was convinced but Logan wasn't. Not
entirely. Paul couldn't stand it. He could feel how
much Logan wanted to touch him but he - wasn't. Paul
reached out and cupped his hand over Logan's crotch,
squeezing just a little roughly.

"Ah, shit!" Logan cried out, low in his throat and
surged forward. He kissed Paul hard, hands pulling on
his bare thighs. There was a fierce pulsing against
Paul's fingers, pulse that throbbed through is own
body, felt so good and behind him, Remy moaned. Shit,
the guy had gone off in his jeans.

Logan was crushing him, his hand pulling on his cock,
tangling in Remy's fingers. Paul gasped for air,
pressed tight between the two men as the big man's
mouth nipped along his throat and down his shoulder.
Remy shifted behind him, nuzzling Logan's thick, black
hair. The other man lifted his head from Paul's skin
and the two strangers stared at each other, eyes wide.

"L-logan?" Remy breathed.

The man growled. Remy leaned forward, long hair
sliding across Paul's shoulder and kissed his friend
gently. The kiss deepened and Paul moaned.

He could feel it like they were both kissing him. Wet
and hot and new - they'd never kissed before. Never
touched before. Never - Paul pushed frantically at
Logan's shirt and dragged open his belt. He didn't
care what they'd never done before. He knew what he
wanted.

There were hands on him, sliding up his naked thighs.
He couldn't tell if it was Logan or Remy and it
didn't' matter. They all felt it. They all wanted
it. Naked. Hot. Hard. Remy was wiggling behind
Paul, sliding partway out of his pants even as Logan
dragged Paul farther down on the bed so he could
stretch him out and mouth his way down Paul's pale
skin.

Then, Remy's thighs were on either side of Paul's head
and he was tugging his cock free of his pants. Paul
licked his lips, blood humming with hunger. Logan
growled and bit a nipple. Paul gasped and tangled his
fingers in the coarse dark hair.

Remy's cock was - everything he'd ever wanted. Long
and sleek, the tip wet. Paul watched a fresh drop
form at the slit then curled a hand around Remy's hip
and pulled him down. Opened his mouth. That
incredible cock slid into him. Shuddering, Paul
closed his eyes, tongue circling the head. Tasted so
good. There was another generous dribble of pre-cum
across his tongue as Remy made a choked sound and
dragged Logan's head off Paul's chest to kiss him
again.

Logan was between Paul's spread legs while Remy knelt
at his head. The two men were kissing across his
body. The supple Cajun flexed his hips, pushing into
Paul's mouth with careful thrusts. Vaguely aware that
Remy was afraid he'd choke, Paul wrapped his arms
around the narrow hips and pulled, relaxing as the
cock surged into his throat. He knew how to suck
cock, for god's sake.

Remy yelled and collapsed down Paul's body. Suddenly,
stunningly aware of how close the skinny man's mouth
was to hic cock, Paul made muffled begging noises
from between his legs. He drew his knees up and - god
- Remy caught his cock up. Hot licking tongue. Paul
wailed again, Remy's balls smacking lightly across his
nose. Then - he was being sucked too. Same rhythm,
same deep, hungry heat. He thrust up, Remy thrust
down. Again. Again.

Paul couldn't tell where the Cajun began and he left
off. It was like he'd lost his skin but it wasn't
confusing, it seemed very clear. Sensations sliding
across his body, a silk shirt, the rough weave of the
cheap cover against his back, Loan's hands running up
his thigh and the big man bending down, breath hot on
Paul's balls. The glorious, glorious stroke of Remy's
cock in his mouth. The wonder of Remy's mouth, open
and skilled and teasing him closer and closer to the
edge. It was more than just the physical ache. Paul
was feeling - sharing - Remy's dismay, pure joy and
self- disgust, the needy edge. The man ached to be
touched. Ached like Paul ached. It was the same
ache.

Logan was afraid, angry and exited; the feelings were
driving the man into a vicious, frightening, bundle of
instincts. He was so hard it hurt, watching Paul and
Remy move together, hearing the double sounds of
sucking. Smelling salt and musk. Paul shifted,
pulling his knees up further while Remy's long hair
tickled his thighs. Afraid to offer himself to that
growing madness, more afraid not to.

Remy's mouth on his cock never stopped. Logan was
dipping down and then there was wet heat on Paul's
balls as the big man licked him. Sucked him, pulling
hard on his testicles. Paul writhed, teeth scraping
lightly along Remy's shaft. The man cried out,
throbbing in Paul's mouth. Sucked on him harder.
Logan was - Logan was - no one had ever -. Paul
wailed, jerking under them, pulsing into Remy's hungry
mouth as Logan's tongue thrust into his hole, fucking
him like that. Wet velvety pressure that didn't stop
as Remy swallowed his cum, stiffened and shot into
Paul's throat with a muffled cry.

Logan pulled at him, pushed at him, growling as he
licked Paul's hole. Making him wet and teasing him
open with single minded insistence. Paul choked
weakly around Remy's softening cock, clawing at the
man's back until he rolled off and Paul could breathe
again. Even as Remy gave him room, Logan pushed his
knees up, looming over him.

Paul stared up into the dazed face above him. The
dark eyes were glazed, sweat beaded his forehead. The
man was panting raggedly and shaking. He wasn't sure
Logan even knew what he was doing. Paul tried to
relax. The familiar touch as the big man positioned
himself and the immediate, dull, sliding ache.
Another thrust, driving deeper and Paul cried out,
clutching the sheets, arching up. Welcoming the burn,
the stretch and the sensation of being filled to
bursting, opened, taken. Fucked. He was such a
whore.

Logan froze, breath hitching on a whine, aware of
Paul's pain and not able to understand what to do.

"Oh, god!" Paul cried, clawing at the powerful arms
clamped on his shins. "Don't stop - god, don't stop!"

Something of his desperation reached the other man and
with a snarl, Logan slammed into him. Paul shrieked.
Driving hard thrusts, Logan grunting, leaning over
him, forcing Paul's knees to his chest. Paul's head
was resting on Remy's trembling thigh, he couldn't
think. He could only ride the rhythm. Ride Logan's
pleasure, know how good it felt, the tight clamp of
his ass around Logan's heavy cock. His own pleasure
too - he could see it reflected in the red and black
eyes staring at them - they were all drowning in it.
It was making him hard again, the stimulation
painfully good.

Paul was rocking unconsciously up, meeting Logan's
thrusts, balls slapping his ass. With a raw howl,
Logan's rhythm staggered and he slammed deep, froze
and came. Paul whimpered, Remy echoing him as the
both felt what Logan felt. Something so good about
that.

The big man sank down, touching Paul's face gently,
still lost in a place where he only felt. Couldn't
think. Paul kissed him, licked the man's soft mouth.
Stubble rasped against his chin. He reached down to
touch himself. He was hard again. Needing more. He
shifted closer to Logan, rubbing against him. Warm
hands held him as Logan nuzzled Paul's hair, breathing
hard.

Remy was curling against his back and long fingers
slid into his stretched ass. Brushed his spot, making
him whine and push back. "Cher? Okay?"

"Ohhh - god, yes." Paul moaned, fingernails scraping
down Logan's back. The man shuddered. "Yes. Fuck
me."

The Cajun rolled Paul over, against Logan and moved to
press against Paul's sweating back. Whimpering, Paul
let his head drop against the biker's powerful
shoulder, spread his legs wide and felt the long,
careful slide of Remy's cock into his wet, relaxed
hole.

Hooking a knee over Logan's hips, Paul humped against
the man's thigh in time to Remy's slow, almost lazy
thrusts. Needed more.

"Easy der, cher." Light kisses fluttered along the
back of his neck and Remy's cock moved in tormenting,
shallow thrusts. "Let Remy make you feel good."

"Need it. Need it." Paul panted, arching back, hips
churning as he struggled for more sensation. "Damn
son-of-a-bitch. Fuck me!"

Logan growled a half-coherent curse and pushed his
hands between their bodies, grabbing Paul's cock.
"Don't tease him, dammit Remy!"

Then Logan was jacking him hard and Remy was fucking
him hard and Paul was coming - coming hard. He
shrieked then sank his teeth into Logan's neck. The
big man grunted and gave his cock a final wonderful,
terrible squeeze. Remy sagged against his back,
breath hot on Paul's neck. The two men kissed each
other lazily over Paul's shoulder. He felt the
friendship between them, the trust, with a wistful
envy.

Paul shut his eyes and pretended that the warmth, the
gentleness and the arms curled protectively around him
were for real. That it meant something. That these
two really gave a shit. Remy's head bowed against his
shoulder. Paul felt tears against his neck as the man
cried.

All that grief and guilt spreading between them like
the earlier lust. Paul lifted his head to stare at
Logan's expressionless face. His face might be
blankly hostile but Paul could feel the misery in him,
the man didn't want to be here. Neither of them did.
Paul pushed his way to the edge of the bed and hugged
himself. He dug his toes in Logan's discarded pants.
Of course they didn't want to be here - no one really
wanted a whore - but Paul didn't have to have his face
rubbed in it.

No longer touching, the feelings weren't so bad. More
like what he was used to, except for the thread of
desire still lingering. He never felt that way for
his tricks, god he was sinking low. Paul rested his
head in his hands.

"Eh, Paul - "

"What?" Paul snapped.

Remy pulled himself upright. Logan rolled himself
abruptly off the bed and grabbed his pants, not
looking at either of them.

"Dat not - dat not w'at we come here for, Remy swear.
We - w'ant to talk to you. About - about not havin'
to hide anymore."

Paul knew he was telling the truth but he let is face
twist in disbelief. "Sure. You just pick up whores
to - talk."

"Stop callin' y'self a whore, kid!" Logan snapped,
zipping up.

Paul dropped his eyes to where Logan's hands were
buckling his belt, then lifted them to his face.
Didn't have to say a word. The man rubbed his hands
over his face, hard. "Goddamit - oh, kid it wasn't
supposed to go like this."

"Gotta piss." Paul muttered, heading to the bathroom,
jeans in his hands. He shut the door and locked it.
Turned on the water and grabbed a towel to wash up.
He scrubbed quickly between his cheeks. He wasn't'
bleeding, not even after being fucked twice in a row.
Neither of them had used condoms, Paul shrugged.
Wouldn't be the first time and he was more worried
about starving than dying of AIDS anyway. And more
worried about getting his next hit than eating. That
put safe sex third down, at least.

He let the water run as he quickly pulled on his
pants. He pulled his wet jacket out from under the
sink and shrugged it on. He opened the wallet he'd
stolen from Logan's pants, bit his lip. Two hundred
dollars. Shit. These guys were rich. He snatched it
up, zipped, flushed the toilet and - while the water
was running - jimmied the lock on the opposite door.

Holding his breath, Paul cracked the door to the
neighboring hotel room. Dark. Quiet. Deserted.
Paul slipped out of the bathroom, leaving the light
and water on. Trotted across the room and opened the
door. The bright hallway lights made him wince and he
put his shades back on. The door to the room where
he'd left the two johns rattled and Paul took off,
racing for the emergency exit.

"Kid!" Logan hollered and pounded after him. "Wait
-!"

"I ain't a kid, asshole!" Paul yelled and ran faster
and slammed into the stairwell. Sprinting down the
stairs, hearing the alarm go off, he also heard the
big biker chasing after him. Still pleading with him
to stop.

It was pouring rain outside and the skinny Cajun was
waiting at the mouth of the alley, water dripping from
his finger tips, cigarette glowing like a third eye in
the dark. Paul skidded to a halt, glancing wildly
around. Logan slammed out of the stairwell, pulling
up and patting the air reassuringly.

"Let me go!" Paul yelled, panic stricken. Wondering
if they knew he'd lifted Logan's wallet. "You got
what you paid for!"

"It wasn't what we wanted, dammit!" Logan shouted.

"I don't give a damn what you want!"

"W'ant to live like dis 'till someone kills you den,
cher?" Remy said coldly. But the pain in him was
flooding out to Paul like a shout. "You know you can
trust us - know us b'etter den most - an' we know
you."

Paul shook his head, lying, desperately frightened.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about you
freak!"

"Don't lie!" Remy yelled. "Remy know the taste of
lies, cher. He know you felt it, felt us all t'gether
like chilun in de mamma's belly. T'gether. Sharin'."
 

"I don't know and I don't care! That was you - I
never felt like that! I'm not - not going anywhere
with you! I don't need you to save me!"

"Alright." Logan's voice carried clearly. He
gestured at Remy who shut up, dragging angrily on his
cigarette. "Alright kid. We ain't gonna drag you off
nowhere."

Paul pushed his hair back and sniffed. "Fine."

"But you take dis." Remy insisted. He snapped his
fingers and a card appeared. Paul smiled slightly.
"Take it, call us if you need help, cher and we come."

Paul reached out, snatching the card from the thin
fingers as he was afraid the man was going to bite
him.

Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youth
2300 Graymalkin Lane
NY NY 21002

And scrawled on the back in smudged blue pen was a
phone number and 'Remy' underneath.

"Okay. I took it, now let me go." Paul shoved it
into his pocket. The two men parted to let him pass.

Nervous, just waiting for Logan to suddenly discover
his missing wallet, Paul sidled past the two men. As
soon as he was on the street, he started running
again. Running in the thunder and rain until he was
sure they were gone. He was safe. He was alone.
 

"Fuck!" Logan slammed the door on the jeep and
slumped behind the wheel. The rain was hammering down
and, dammed, that kid was out in it somewhere, to
scared to trust them. And his scent was all over his
body. The passenger door swung open, then closed as
the Cajun climbed in, water running off his leather
duster. Logan glared at him, smelling the boy on him
too. Sex and blood and the three of them tangled
together in a cheap little room. Fucking some half
starved homeless kid. No wonder he thought he wasn't
worth more than a hundred dollars and a dry place to
sleep for the night. They sure as hell hadn't shown
him any different.

"Cajun, you better start talkin'" Logan said softly,
knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Remy fumbled out a cigarette and lit up. His casual
shrug was belied by the trembling of his hands. "Not
much to say, homme."

"No?" Logan slammed his hands on the wheel of the
car, fighting to control his urge to just punch that
sarcastic smile off the Cajun's face. "Nothin' about
scaring some kid half to death? Nothing about that
goddam charm o'yours? I thought you could control
that damn thing!"

Remy laughed bitterly. "Oui, Remy t'ought dat too!
Dat boy - dat boy - "

"Yeah, I know what you thought of that boy!" Logan
growled. "Y'couldn't wait t'get your hands on him."

"Remy not the only one!" The thief flung at him.

"Fuck that!" Logan snapped. He hauled the thief
across the seat and snarled into his face. "You let
that goddam charm loose on me again and I'm gonna kill
you. You got that?"

Remy shoved his hands off, eyes wild. "Remy couldn't
stop it! Dieu - Remy tried! He tried. Ain't never
been like dat. Ain't never so strong. You t'ink I
want to hurt dat boy? Merde - Logan - I know - I know
w'at it's like t'be hungry. T'got no place and no
one. Remy swore - swore he never do dat to anyone
else - "

Logan leaned back and Remy buried his face in shaking
hands. "I swore - I swore -!"

"Christ, Remy - suck it up and tell me what the hell
happened!"

"Dat boy, he's an em'pat - or somtin like it. Remy
never knew ano'ter em'pat. Just touch him and Remy
could feel him under his skin. Just a touch and de
charm go off like a rocket. De boy - he felt it to,
from de start." Remy shook his head and pulled his
hands through his tangled hair. "Tried shuttin' it
down, homme. Den de boy - he touch me 'gain. Never
been dis bad - not since Remy a chile."

"Wheels don't know what kind o'mutation the boy got."
Logan said gruffly, staring at his fingernails.
"Hell, we werent' even sure it was him. Just someone
in the area setting off the computer big time."

"De boy like a mirror, Logan. Sent de charm right
back on us." Remy sighed. "Remy never - eh - never
felt de charm from de other side."

He gave Logan a bitter smile. "So now Remy know eh?
Dat boy made him feel it - w'at everyone else always
bitchin about. Made me feel it - an Remy couldn't say
no. Remy felt dat heat and just took him. Just like
everyone e'ver did to Remy. Now Remy know."

Logan shook his head, still pissed at the thief for
dragging him into something that was going to leave
him feeling dirty for months but he could see how
shaken the swamp rat was. He knew - if no one else at
the mansion did - how ugly the world had gotten for a
young mutant with a gift for making people hungry.
The thief had probably been where Paul was now.
"Isnt' like that w'you Remy. It was stronger - man -
it hurt it was so strong. Did it feel like that
f'you? Like he was makin' y'more sensitive? Maybe he
can magnify other people's powers."

"Remy can't tell. Jus - remembered the feel of him.
Being so close - never been so close t'anyone else.
Was like living in his skin - and yours. Could feel
you to, homme. But he got a gift of his own, Paul
does. He knew what Remy was feeling b'fore we -
touched. Em'pat. Remy swear it."

"Maybe." Logan tried to figure if he'd felt - somehow
- different. If the kid did something to his own
powers. He could hardly remember anything except the
intoxicating taste of him, salt and sweet and strong.
Long legs wrapped around his waist and an incredible
heat tight around his cock. The kid had begged for
it. Begged. Logan winced, he remembered that at
least. And that was more than he wanted to remember.

"What the hell are we gonna tell Wheels?"

Remy shrugged. "Tell him we made contact, oui?"

"Christ, we did that." Logan muttered.

"Tell him dat de boy bolted on us. Gave him some
money an' a card. 'Ave to wait and see."

"And just pray Chuck don't go pokin' around in our
heads." Logan shook his head, letting it thump onto
the window wearily. "'Cause I don't think he's gonna
take to kindly to us fuckin' an underage kid we'd gone
to recruit."

TBC