Chapter 8

So maybe this was why he'd gotten on smack in the
first place. Paul rolled over and sighed. It was
still dark outside but he couldn't sleep - and he
wasn't the only one. Remy and Logan were awake a
floor above and fucking like bunnies. Marie was up
and feeling bad because she could hear Remy and Logan
fucking like bunnies. Logan was pretty quiet but that
keen Remy made when he was feeling really good
carried. At least John was asleep and dreaming. Paul
could *feel* him dreaming. Weird.

He didn't remember things being like this before, but
he'd been using for - for awhile. Long enough that
he'd forgotten just how long. Paul didn't know if
something was changing, if he was getting more mutant,
or if he'd just forgotten how it was when he wasn't
high all the time. John flickered through another
series of feelings - fear, pleasure, fear. Paul
turned over to look at his motionless roommate. John
was having a nightmare.

It was over in a minute but Paul knew that if John
remembered it, he'd describe some scene that had felt
like hours. Dreams were like that. Seconds long but
they felt like they went on forever. Paul had been
having weird dreams himself and they'd felt like
they'd gone a long time and he guessed they were just
like everyone else's. A few moments of - swimming or
something - that felt endless. Except it wasn't'
really swimming and he wasn't quite sure it was a
dream because sometimes he had it when he was awake.
Paul rubbed his stomach absently. During quiet
moments like this he'd feel - different. Like his
body was just humming along doing *something* and he
had no idea what and it was something he'd never felt
before - not puberty or anything like that. Paul
wondered if this is what all the other kids had felt,
when their powers started to manifest. Their bodies
just going on without them. It was really freaky. No
wonder everyone here was so fucked up.

Paul rolled out of bed, to restless to sleep, feeling
that weird hum in his - blood or bones or something.
He padded barefoot down to the kitchens and snagged
some of that special wheat-free bread Dr. McCoy had
gotten for him, blinking painfully in the bright light
from the refrigerator. The bag was almost empty. It
was the first stuff he really *liked* to eat. Hank
had put him on an exclusion diet until they'd found
food that he liked and now Paul was hungry all the
time. Then Hank had put Remy on the same diet and the
two of them would argue over the almond milk and green
tea and the special bread. Neither of them were
putting on any weight which made Hank complain but at
least they were both eating regularly. There wasn't
any almond milk left because Remy had drunk it all,
the thieving bastard.

Paul knew it had bothered Hank when Remy turned out to
have the same diet thing as Paul, and not just because
he'd never noticed that the Cajun didn't like to eat.
Now, Dr. McCoy was dragging Remy down for tests nearly
as often as Paul. Paul had started going to class
sometimes because that was his Christmas gift to John
- he was going to try to like it here, at least until
Spring - and he could guess what was bothering the
doctor. Mutations were random - from flat worms to
those poor fruit flies they were breeding now in
science class to Winnie and Marie and disgusting
Frank. No one had ever seen two identical mutants -
not even in twins like the ones in Canada. Until him
and Remy.

They had the same hollow bones. The same eyes - both
of them could see in nearly pitch dark. Skinny and
quick and both of them were empaths. The same double
joints - Paul grinned to himself in the dark kitchen.
He drove Logan nuts in the self-defense classes
because he was already as fast as the super-trained
Canadian and Logan didn't know how to train someone as
flexible as he was. His grin faded. He'd tried to
flirt exactly once. Logan had nearly pounded him into
the mattress, scaring him and everyone else in the
class and pissing Logan off so bad he'd left he
mansion for a week. When he'd come back, Logan had
gone after Remy big time and now they were screwing
almost every night. It wasn't fucking fair, Paul knew
they'd started because of him and now he was hands
off. Paul crammed the last of the bread into his
mouth and went to find Marie. He knew why she was
feeling so bad and that was something he knew how to
take care of.

Paul finally found Marie in the attic, crying.

"Hey -" Paul leaned on a beam and put on his
professional smile. "You stole my spot."

"Fuck off." Marie rubbed fiercely at her eyes with
her gloved hands. Even at four in the morning she was
all covered up - gloves and a clingy long sleeved
nightgown. It clung in just the right places too, no
wonder Kitty was going to bed with wet panties every
night. "Damn - why'd *you* have to find me."

"I was looking for you." Paul sat on a pile of old
black and yellow clothes. "I - um - was wondering why
you were - crying a lot lately. I'm usually the one
up here sniveling."

Marie glared at him. "Just leave me alone, okay? I
don't need you telling me that's it's all going to
work out - that there's some stupid rhythm to life and
when I find my rhythm everything will fall into
place!"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Sounds like you were talking
to the Goddess. I don't tell anyone that kind of
crap. Life is shitty, then you die. Why are you
crying?"

The girl only glared at him some more and Paul sighed.
It wasn't like he'd made friends here or anything.
There wasn't any reason for her to talk to him but -
he knew how to help her - if she'd let him. And it
could be fun, it would at least be distracting.

"Hey," He shrugged casually. "I don't care, you
know, except that - I'm tired of feeling it. I know
why you're crying, really."

Marie went slowly, agonizingly red and stared open
mouthed at him, waiting for him to go on.

"You're crying because you think you can't get laid."
Paul stared into her eyes and went on, cruelly. "But
that's bullshit. You just been reading to many damn
harlequin romances."

"Oh, yeah?" Marie cried, angry enough now to talk to
him. "I can't touch anyone! The first boy I kissed -
the *only* boy I kissed - was in a coma for two weeks!
I nearly killed Logan! No one can kill him - except
me! How am I gonna m-make love if I can't touch
anyone? Huh? You're the fucking expert. You're a
whore - you tell me!"

Paul jerked, flushing when she called him a whore. It
hurt more, somehow, from someone he knew. He had to
remember that these people weren't his friends. He
pulled out a sheer blue and yellow scarf he'd stolen
from Ororo's room. He held it up between them and
looked at Marie through it. "You ever see that
really, really old science fiction show with the guy
with pointed ears? They had this episode with some
woman who was really - like an energy cloud - and she
fell in love with some spaceman or something and took
this dying woman's body so they could fuck. Kinda
thought of that recently."

He leaned forward, heart pounding because he wasn't
*positive* that this would work, draped the scarf over
Marie's head and kissed her. She froze and he froze,
lips pressed to hers through the thin silk. Nothing
happened. Paul pulled back, licking his lips.

"So - um, was that long enough for you to know if your
power is gonna work through that?" He asked.

Marie nodded, staring silently at him.

"'Kay." He grinned and kissed her again. He tried a
little tongue action and that was weird through the
scarf but it mostly worked. Marie didn't know any
different anyway and she began to shiver. When her
kisses got hungry and she bit him, Paul pushed her
gently down.

He traced a line of kisses along her collar-bone,
smiling to himself as she moaned and squirmed under
him. Paul could feel how hot she was getting. Her
nipples ached to be touched - he could feel it - and
he cupped a breast in his hand, rubbing a thumb across
the hard nipple through the stretchy fabric of her
nightgown. She was so soft and alive under his hands.
Breasts were weird.

"Oh - w-wait - I don't - I don't even *like* you!"
Marie panted but arched to grind her crotch against
Paul's.

"It dosen't matter." He whispered harshly in her ear.
"You don't have to like me. Prince Charming's a
lie."

His voice dropped lower, knowing what she wanted -
what they both wanted - and couldn't have. "Logan's
up there fucking Remy right now and he's never gonna
want you. We're just a couple of kids to him. He
ain't gonna come down and fuck you - he ain't gonna
figure out how to make it with you. He's got what he
wants - but I can give you something. Something good.
I can make you feel good, Marie. You don't have to
like me."

"Oh - god - I hate you! I hate you!" Marie sobbed
and grabbed Paul's head, dragging him up for another
kiss. Paul wasn't sure who she was talking about,
him, Logan or herself. He groaned, hard, hungry -
sharing her hunger and aching from it. He was afraid
she was going to stop - and he couldn't stop, not now.
Paul *reached* out somehow - like feeling people's
emotions but more than that. Instead of just letting
things flow in, he tried to - to go out. Make her
feel what he was feeling. Make her feel good, feel
hungry. Want him.

Marie cried out, jerking under him. Paul wedged a knee
between hers, spread her legs, and ground his hard
cock against her crotch, moaning at the pressure.
Suddenly everything was so intense, so good. Even
through all their clothes it felt so good, like they
were more than naked. She had her hands on his ass,
squeezing him, moving him. Paul dipped down to suck
on her nipples, biting a little, her hands clutched
his head. Something sparked along his fingertips,
felt really good, almost ticklish and Marie cried out
in pleasure. It was something he was doing and Paul
tried again. Again, that warm tickle rising up from
his hands, spreading through him - through Marie -
through them both.

He put his hands down between her legs, feeling the
heat and wetness through her panties. Paul rubbed
against the soft lips, feeling a little weird with
her. He'd never actually fucked with a girl before.
It was only in movies that women picked up whores.
All his tricks had been men.

But this didn't seem that different. Marie was hot
and hungry for him, wanting him now and forgetting for
a while that she didn't like him. He could suck on
her nipples - they were so sensitive - and play her
down there. He found her clit and laughed a little
when she wailed as he rubbed her there. Using that
heat - he didn't know what it was but it sure felt
good - on Marie's clit was sending them both through
the roof.

"Like that?" He gasped, lifting his head from her wet
nightgown. He nibbled along her neck, licked her
jawline and kissed her, tonguing her through the veil.

"Yes - don't stop." Marie panted. She wiggled a hand
between them and pinched his nipples, did it again
when Paul groaned and arched. His whole body felt
alive, tingling, *humming* and he'd missed fucking so,
damn much.

"Here -" Paul fumbled himself out of his pants and
dragged her gloved hand down to his cock. "Me too."

She wrapped a hand causisouly around him, scared she'd
hurt him, he realized.

"You can do it harder." He said and groaned when she
did. He rocked into her hands, stroking her, kissing
her through the veil. He figured out how to make her
feel good, make her move and grind and moan. That
made him feel good - different good but still good.
He could make her moan with pleasure almost anywhere
he touched her. Marie'd wrapped her legs around his
waist and he was fucking at her through her panties -
the faint wetness against his cock was making him
crazy.

She was beautiful like this, flushed and panting, hard
nipples like two pebbles under the thin white
nightgown. She smelled good too, salty. Paul licked
at the sweat gathered in the hollow of Marie's throat,
barely remembering to put the veil there first. He
wanted to lick her all over and his cock surged at the
thought. She was wanting to come, Paul could feel
the tension in his own body, could feed it with his
hands, with that rosy heat. Paul gripped her hips and
shifted her so he could rub his cock against her clit,
sensation sparking everywhere he touched her. They
were fucking, moving together - so good. Marie had
dragged his shirt up to stroke his back and she had
her teeth locked in his throat. Paul moaned, rocking
faster - harder. So good. God - yes. So good. It
had been so long.

"I've seen Logan naked - " Paul whispered, Marie
whimpered and began to grind hard against his hand.
He could feel how hot he was making her, talking about
Logan. It was making him hot too, remembering what it
had felt like. "He's hairy all over, like a wolf or
something. Got huge muscles - god, he's hot. And
he's got a big - thick - ah - don't stop - don't stop
now, Marie! A b-big cock - made for fucking - oh, god
- I'm gonna come! Gonna -"

Marie wailed, arching and shaking and jerking against
him. Her orgasm shot through him; bright lights and a
sweet aching pulse somewhere deep inside. Paul echoed
her wail, coming all over her nightgown.

He sagged down on top of Marie, listening to her
pounding heart. Paul realized their hearts were going
in the same rhythm, like the fading clenches insider
her body were the same as the twitches of his spent
cock. There sure was something going on with him.
Something different. Paul rolled off Marie abruptly,
pulling the veil away from his face. Marie sat up,
pleasure turning to worry.

"Are - are you alright?" She asked. "I didn't hurt
you, did I?"

Paul shook his head sharply. He wiped is cock off
with the veil and zipped back up. Marie blushed,
watching him, and struggled to straighten herself up.
There were big wet patches on her nightgown over her
breasts where Paul had sucked at her. "No. I'm okay -
um - you're okay too right?"

"I'm - fine. Good. Um - it was really good." She
glanced at him uncertainly. "I - it was okay right?
I - mean - it was good for you too?"

The feel of her uncertainty was strong and Paul
couldn't leave her thinking that she was lousy as
fucking. Even if he was scared, wondering what had
happened, wondering if he was going to something
really freaky next. It wasn't fair to make her feel
bad about it. He leaned over and kissed the back of
her hand. "Hey, if you can't figure out that I had a
good time from me coming all over you then you've been
sleeping through Ms. Gray's human bio classes!"

Marie snickered and touched his face, tracing his
eyebrows with something like wonder in her touch. "I
- never thought - I figured I'd never really have sex.
I thought I'd spend the rest of my life - well -"

"Wanking off?" Paul grinned, trying to get her to
relax a little. "At least you figured that out. Any
sex is good sex. That's my motto."

She snorted. "Yeah, I believe it. But - what's the
matter?"

"Nothing!"

Marie narrowed her eyes at him. "You're lying."

Paul scooted back, out of reach. "Um - things were -
a little different. I feel things sometimes - I
guess most people don't or - maybe its like that with
girls."

She stared at him. "You never - had sex with a
girl?"

It was Paul's turn to blush. "No. Just guys 'cause -
you know, women don't pick up street hustlers."

"Oh."

"But I'm okay. I liked it. Really. And you liked it
so - hey, it was sex!" Paul shrugged and gave her a
sideways grin. "See - you just got to have a little
imagination, that's all. Here - you can have the
scarf."

"You're just giving it to me because it's all - ick -
and 'cause you stole it from Ms. Munroe."

Paul shrugged and stood up, rubbing at a wet spot on
his jeans. He needed a shower. So did Marie. He
didn't know what to do now. Usually his tricks just
paid him and left. He wasn't used to fucking for
free, he didn't know what people did afterwards. He
glanced at Marie and away again. "So - do you still
hate me?"

Marie twisted the scarf in her hands, then scrambled
to her feet so they were both standing. "I don't hate
you - just - I don't know. This is weird. I don't
hardly know you and we - made love, I guess."

"Had sex." Paul had to correct her because he wasn't
going to lie about it. And he didn't want her chasing
after him thinking she loved him or anything. That
would be embarrassing. "You make love with someone
you care about. Like you said, we don't even really
know each other. But if you don't hate me - it wasn't
just a fuck."

"No I don't hate you."

"'Kay." Paul shuffled awkwardly, sort of backing up
towards the door. "Um - you'd better get a shower
before all the other girls wake up - or, you know -
they'll be all over you."

"Oh, god - " Marie blanched at the thought of
enduring a grilling from Jubes and pulled her robe
closed, heading towards the door. Paul trailed after
her relived and already wondering if he'd be able to
get Marie to do this again.

*******************************

Logan watched the first white light of dawn warm the
shadows of Remy's tangled hair. All that long hair
tumbling down the thief's back, pretty as a woman's.
The wide, flat planes of his shoulderblades and the
sleek ripple of muscle was all male. The supple roll
and shift as Remy turned over to look at him was -
like no on else. Except one.

"Cher?" Remy asked. "Come back to bed eh? It's
early still."

Logan propped is chin on the back of the chair he was
straddling and didn't move. "You're gonna have to
train the kid."

"Quoi?"

"Paul." Logan growled. "I can't do it. Don't know
shit about how to train someone with his build. Don't
know how to manage his joints, how to teach him to
fall. And - he's to fast for me. Gonna get uppity on
me and get himself hurt. You're gonna have to help
out on this."

Logan could still feel the springy flex and shift of
Paul's back under his hands from yesterday's class.
It had been the first time he'd felt Paul was ready
for anything challenging. The kid's hand was better
and Hank had finally figured out the dope. He'd
guided the kid through a series of nearly professional
gymnastic flips and tumbles, a hand lightly on his
back to keep him balanced. The second time around,
Paul hadn't needed his help. And he'd been
spectacular to watch, beautiful, graceful, sleek and
so fucking perfectly *right*.

It hadn't been the flirting that had pissed Logan off
- the girls did that all the time. It had been that
smile. Paul standing there - so fucking happy in
that moment just to be alive, to move, to feel. Logan
had seen that smile and wanted it. Wanted to make
Paul smile like that - wanted to make him feel that
good. Logan rubbed his hands on his jeans and glared
at Remy.

"Y'gotta work with that kid, Remy. He's driving every
body nuts."

"Driving you nuts, you mean, homme."

"Whatever." Logan said sourly. "But yer the one who
knows - the charm and the build and all the rest of
it. He got the charge thing too?"

Remy sat up and shrugged gracefully, pulling himself
into a half lotus position. "Don't know, homme. Remy
seen no sign of it. Remy come into it when he 'bout
fifteen, so de boy's overdue."

The thief frowned uneasily at Logan. "We're not
identical, de chile and Remy. Jus close. His empat'y
not de same. Stronger dan mine. De charm - not so
strong less he's touching you. His eyes worse dan
mine. Meybe he got no charge."

Logan watched Remy rub the arch of his own foot
absentmindedly. The elegant curve looked to be a good
place for his mouth, next time they fucked. The
Canadian frowned, not liking the routine he was
falling into.

Remy was a guy. Sure he fucked guys sometimes - why
the hell not? But just for fun. He didn't think
about it once it was over. He didn't *look* at a guy
he'd done and anticipate the next time. But he did
all those things with Remy and more. They slept
together sometimes - no sex, just lying next to each
other while Logan listened to the Cajun's heart
beating and breathing his scent.

Remy was his friend and, more than that, he was
someone he trusted at his back in a fight. He knew
the thief's strengths and weaknesses. He knew the man
would go through hell to protect his friends and - no
matter what Scott said - was loyal to his word and his
duties. He knew the man's quirky sense of humor and
the brand of cigarettes he smoked. That he cried in
his sleep sometimes. That he wasn't troubled by
Logan's nightmares. Remy was his friend and Logan
didn't fuck his friends.

So what the hell was he doing here? Logan glared
darkly at Remy who was watching him warily.

"W'at homme?"

"You doin' anythin' t'me?" Logan asked, flushing
uncomfortably. He knew the question was stupid as
soon as it left his mouth. Either Remy was messing
with his head - and he'd lie and say no. Or he wasn't
and he' d tell the truth and say no. "Screwin' with
my - feelings or somethin?"

Remy reared back, black and red eyes snapping with
anger and a surprising amount of hurt. "You t'ink I
do dat to you? Jus fuck around wid you? Use you like
dat?"

"Dunno - no - shit, Remy. Forget it."

"Non! Remy not forget it!" The thief rolled to his
feet and stalked gracefully over. The Cajun was the
only person Logan had met - besides himself - who was
as comfortable naked as he was dressed. "You wan
pretend you don want me, homme? Go ahead, make up
w'at you want but don blame Remy! Mebe you been drunk
all dis time. Ain't dat the excuse everybody use?
'Boy I was drunk las night! Don know what I was doin!
It was dark - din know you were a guy!'"

"Shit -!" Logan swung out of the chair, retreating in
the face of the Cajun's anger and sorry he'd said a
word. "No - okay! I'm sorry, Christ - Remy."

He went to the window and jerked the heavy curtain
aside. It was just barely light outside, his own room
would be filled with silver light. Remy's was on the
west side and still in darkness.

"You should be sorry, homme." Remy said, voice
dropping. "Dat was one mean t'ing to say."

"I said I was sorry." There was still snow outside
but not for much longer. Soon enough it would be hot
and muggy and Remy would finally stop complaining of
the cold. Logan turned around, because he wasn't a
coward, and stared hard at the slim thief. "Just -
why the hell *are* you sleeping with me?"

Remy pushed his hair back and stared helplessly at
Logan. "Because Remy love you, dat's why."

"You're shittin' me." Logan finally managed, throat
dry.

Remy swallowed hard, all his glib lines gone. "Non."

Logan shook his head, slowly, then again faster. He
wasn't afraid. He was angry. He didn't have
relationships with guys. He didn't have relationships
with friends and Remy couldn't - love him.

"No. Fuck that." Logan took a stiff step towards the
thief who backed warily away. "You're out of you're
fucking mind, gumbo. You - I - don't love guys and
there ain't no way you could love me."

"Don you tell Remy w'at he feel!" The Cajun snapped,
upset enough to risk Logan's erratic temper. "Remy
love you, you son-of-a-bitch. He don expect not'in
from you back. He know better dan that."

The thief's face twisted bitterly. "Yeah, Remy know
you don love guys. Save dat for de women - all dat
feelin ain't for him."

"Shut up!" Logan shouted, chest tight and it was
anger he was feeling. Not anything else. Anger
because Remy was being stupid. Remy wasn't following
the rules. Remy was messing *everything* up.
"Goddamit, Remy, shut up! You're outa you're head,
godammit. Just 'cause we fuck don't mean nothin! I
don't do this shit with guys! This is just fucking,
Christ - just fucking! Why the hell you'd have to go
and tell me this bullshit! I thought we were
friends!"

"'Cause you asked, homme!" Remy yelled back, tears
welling in his alien eyes. He blinked them back
angrily. "Remy don lie about w'at he feel. Not gon
do dat, not even - even for you!"

Logan snarled at Remy, pushed right to the edge of his
control. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want
to know this. Couldn't deal with this. Remy couldn't
love him, it was just to damn ridiculous. He wasn't
going to let Remy go on thinking he did. "Get the
fuck out of my way - you stupid Cajun."

Remy blinked, backing away at the snarl edging Logan's
voice, no real surprise on his face. It hurt like a
bitch to walk out - Logan didn't want to know why. He
just knew that everything had suddenly become
dangerous, a minefield of feelings he couldn't bear to
face.

********************

Everyone must have heard them yelling and Paul was
slinking down the steps, hoping to get back to his
room before someone caught him. He wiped at his eyes,
crying in sympathy, unable to shut out all the crap
flooding out from Remy's room. Logan was just -
losing it. Remy was crying inside, whatever else he
was showing on the outside.

Then the door slammed open and Logan was staring at
him. Paul froze, watched the Canadian's expression
change - sensed the rush of bloody rage - and turned
and ran. Logan howled and pounded after him, Paul
sprinted down the stairs, heart racing so fast it
hurt. The man was going to kill him if he caught him
- he could feel it. He was faster - he was faster, he
could get away. Except Logan leapt the gap in the
stairwell, crashing through the banister and a steel
hard hand closed on Paul's wrist.

"Help!" Paul screamed, not caring about being caught.
Praying someone would come and could stop Logan.
Logan swung him around and slammed him into the wall,
Paul's head snapped back, slamming into the wall and
he staggered. "Logan - god, Logan - please! Don't
hurt me! Don't - "

Logan snarled, foam spattering his lips, rage, fear,
hate - all confused in his mind. He looked blind,
face contorted until he looked like some kind of
nightmarish animal. He slammed Paul against the wall
again then his hand closed ruthlessly on Paul's
throat, choking off his pleas. Remy was yelling at
Logan in the background, racing down to them, stark
naked and panic in his eyes.

Paul tried to scream, tears streaming from his eyes.
He tried to kick Logan away, leverage him off but the
cruel hand only tightened until Paul could feel blood
trickling down his neck. He couldn't breathe and all
of Logan's crazy feeling were rushing through is mind.
Nothing made any sense. Green and cold and monsters
everywhere and Paul couldn't breathe and Logan
couldn't breathe and there was a sliding, clean pain
in his hands and - in his fading vision - Paul saw
gleaming knives sprout from Logan's hand as if in slow
motion.

Paul closed his hand on Logan's straining wrist and
reached *out* with his mind on pure, terrified,
instinct. Not just sharing Logan's madness, reaching
into it, finding the heart of it and - releasing it
into the man's fractured mind. Logan screamed,
spasming and the blow that would have gutted Paul was
deflected, grazing the boy's arm instead. Paul
screamed, echoing Logan's agonized shrieks as the man
thew him aside and collapsed into a corner.

Pain and he couldn't move, couldn't even scream.
Green light and icy, drowning cold. Monsters and
champagne and pain - pain - pain - never ending.
Unbearable and he couldn't scream, couldn't scream.

TBC