By Spirit Melody - kat@lsak.fsnet.co.uk – and Firesong – firesong@ukonline.co.uk –

Rated NC-17

Part Four:

Remy’s arm and shoulder jolted painfully as someone grabbed his wrist, stopping his descent as well as nearly pulling them over with him... Remy couldn’t help but cry out as the pain all centered around his right shoulder and arm. It felt as if he weighed a ton. His saviour held on as tight as he could, even though in the back of his mind he worried that he might break the Cajun’s fragile wrists, but that was far preferable to letting him drop to his death.

Remy tried to grab the other wrist holding him with his other hand, but he just didn’t have the strength in him, and could do nothing but try and scrabble for purchase, but he was too far down the side of the balcony; his hand couldn’t reach the top edge. The pain in his arm and collarbone made him feel like blacking out.

He wasn’t so sure he wanted to die now. He hated that whoever it was that had saved him had… well saved him. Even if death wasn’t entirely what he wanted, it was preferable to living as he did.

Remy felt the man pulling him up, and then putting hands under his arms to bring him over the top. Remy glimpsed the face before he fell to the floor, breathing heavily. Pete had obviously come back to his room for something.

‘Y’ decided t’ kill yourself in anoder man’s room, Remy. How clever.’

The Cajun pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his head back against the railings of the balcony, resisting the impulse to bang his head against them. His eyes closed slowly and his chest heaved with quick, shallow breaths; his heart hammering against his ribcage as he fought the oncoming physical shock. He hadn’t had such a mind-blowing adrenaline rush in years.

Remy blushed as he realised what he must look like to Pete. An unstable, suicidal, quivering, weak wreck of a man. Unaware too… Pete must have been right behind him to successfully catch him; and Remy hadn’t even noticed – still torn between reality and nightmare.

A slightly trembling hand pushed back some strands of Gambit’s hair and he opened his eyes. Pete was kneeling next to him.

“Why’s y’r hand shakin’?” Remy winced when he heard just how much his voice was shaking.

“Well mate. I’m feebly tryin’ ter tell meself that yer slipped… but the fact remains, that I just saw a friend try ter kill himself.”

Remy blinked at Pete, unshed tears glittering in his strangely becoming eyes.

“Ami?”

“Course I am, yer daft twat.” Pete stood up, and brushed himself down. He was shocked and angry and whilst part of him wanted to make sure Remy was okay the other side of him wanted to scream and shout about how scared he’d been. He looked down on the Cajun, and opted for the latter.

“For Christ’s sake Gambit what the fucking ‘ell did yer do that for?”

“I…”  Remy didn’t know what to say.

“Yer scared the livin’ shit outta me! What would throwing yerself over the balcony accomplish?  Yer tryin’ to make me feel guilty?”

“Non!  I just…  “  Pete turning his back to him.

“Is this all over the fact that I didn’t sleep with yer?! I thought we talked about it! I thought yer understood why not!” Remy got to his feet, and stared back at Pete.

“It wasn’t anyt’ing to do wid dat! I had a bad dream, an I got confused an’ I just wanted de hurtin’ to stop!” Remy started to cry again, and Pete just pulled him close. It surprised him just how much the Cajun was hurting to do something like that. He gently rocked the Cajun as he started to sob.

“S’okay Remy. Yer got me now, and I ain’t gonna let yer hurt yerself.” He lifted Remy’s face to his and kissed him.

“You really wan’ to be wid me?”

“Yeah Remy, if you’ll ‘ave me.”

“Mais oui!  I will.” Remy clung him so tightly, that Pete couldn’t breathe all that well, but he didn’t really mind. He was pleased that it hadn’t been the drink talking.

Remy felt so slight in Pete’s arms, the Englishman realised, even more slight than he appeared. Pete made circling motions on Remy’s trembling back until the sobs that tormented Remy’s body started to subside. He moved the hand to the Cajun’s head, instinctively stroking the soft hair there. Remy flinched a little at the more intimate gesture, but quickly acquiesced with an almost contented sigh.

Pete knew he should take Remy back to the lab, but remembering the Cajun’s reactions to it the night before; he just couldn’t bring himself to put anymore pain or stress on the young man.

~*~

Pete wasn’t sure how long he held Gambit in his arms; his fingers gliding through copper hair. When Remy did move hesitantly out of the embrace Pete was quite sure that it was from Remy thinking of Pete’s feelings, rather than an actual desire to move. Pete followed the Cajun to the kitchen. He filled a glass with water and passed it to Remy’s shaking hands. He made Remy sit down and was glad to see some of the shock disappearing as Remy playfully sighed at the babying.

“Why are yer so depressed Remy?” Pete winced at the wording, hoping it wasn’t too callous. Remy didn’t seem to take it as so; even though his shoulders slumped at the question. A worrying gesture of defeat. Or maybe acceptance of something, Pete couldn’t decide.

“I didn’ t’ink I was dat bad. Still don’. I don’t t’ink I was in my right mind… y’ know?” Pete refrained from muttering ‘I’ll say so’ under his breath. “I’d had a nightmare an’ things started t’ blur.” A tear wound a path down Remy’s cheek. “I jus’ felt so unwanted… undeservin’.”

Remy wouldn’t meet Pete’s gaze.

“I don’t think you’re unwanted Remy. I like yer, Logan does too; I’m sure. Don’t yer ‘ave friends at the Mansion? Family?”

Remy swallowed convulsively at the mention of the X-Mansion.

‘So maybe not.’ Pete reasoned.

“I got Stormy, she my best friend, but she was leader of de Morlocks! I don’ know whether in ‘er heart of hearts she can truly f’give Remy. Dey all t’ink I’m a traitor, dat I’d sell ‘em all out for a hundred bucks or somet’in’. Scott an’ Hank are de only other ones no’ givin’ Remy grief ‘bout it, as well as Logan an’ Ro; mais Henri’s consumed by his work and Scott has t’ keep de interests of de team as a whole at top priority…. I got family, oui, love dem all, but I can’ see ‘em often.”

Pete took all the information in, liking what he was hearing less and less.

“Why don’t yer give your family a ring later on, ‘ey mate? When was the last time yer talked ter ‘em?”

Remy thought back and back.

“Not since ‘fore de trial ‘appened. Spoke to my Poppa jus’ before de mission.” There was a long moment of silence, and then Remy sighed; and whispered: “I need t’ feel wanted Pete. Need t’ know someone loves me if just for one second while dey’re in de throes o’ ecstasy.”

“Remy… I-”

“Sshh.” Remy got up from the chair and pressed a finger lightly to Pete’s lips. He leaned in until his lips were an inch from Pete’s.

“Don’t think Pete.” The accent was gone, but a lush, fruity, southern lilt remained.

Pete’s mouth went dry and he struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“I’d be taking advantage of yer…”

Remy’s finger traced the shape of Pete’s lower lip as he nipped at Pete’s earlobe with white teeth.

“Don’t think mon cher… don’t think.”

Pete studied Remy, still fighting his reactions to the Cajun’s sensuous ministrations. There was no charm. The sense of awe inspiring lust was absent, but what was there now was a lust that seemed even stronger – and more disturbing maybe – all because it was without manipulation. But was it still taking advantage? Maybe there was an element of that, Pete decided, but more pressing was the naked, vulnerable need for contact and possession he saw raging in Remy’s eyes.

He took Remy’s hand in his, bringing it away from his mouth and kissed the younger man gently, savouring the feel of lips that were… different? Pete blinked.

And then found himself shoved against the kitchen counter, an amused but slightly irritated Cajun staring in his face.

“Don’ treat me like ‘m gon’ break Pete. I need to know I’m still here! I wan’ it rough, an’ you want t’ give it to me. I know y’ do. I’m not a woman, cher,” he grinned without pleasantness, “I’m not *Kitty*.”

Jealousy and possessiveness flared up in Pete to an excession that almost had him rocking on his heels. Remy was here, with him, his for the taking. That bitch could have her flatscan. He didn’t need her anymore. Remy wouldn’t betray him like she did.

Pete wouldn’t let him.

Still holding Remy’s hand, he half-led, half-dragged the Cajun into the bedroom, and then pinned him to the wall, kicking the door shut behind him. He claimed Remy’s lips with no hesitation now, plundering that sweetness with his tongue. Breaking to breathe, he looked into Remy’s eyes. They were sparkling, dancing. Remy was flying.

“Sure yer want this?”

Remy pulled off his top with startling speed, throwing it away from him, and placing Pete’s hands on his naked hips.

“Don’ ask me dat again.” He warned stone-faced, yet with a playful glint in his eye.

Remy began to undo the buttons on Pete’s shirt with deft fingers but Pete suddenly grinned and caught the Cajun’s wrists together in one hand. He steered Remy to the bed, and then pushed him lightly on to it. The Cajun fell gracefully, landing on his back, his hair fanned out around his striking face. Pete straddled his hips and ran his fingers through Remy’s hair once.

“OK Remy,” he grinned in mischief, “I’ll make sure yer have no doubt that you’re still ‘ere.”

He carelessly divested himself of his own shirt and set to work to test just how sensitive Gambit’s smooth skin was. He planted kisses along the defined jawline, deliberately ignoring Remy’s mouth making the boy whimper impatiently. Pete didn’t indulge him. He moved down to Remy’s neck and placed his lips over the Cajun’s pulse point, feeling the fast pounding beneath the skin. He bit down, leaving a mark, and smiled as Remy squirmed beneath him, gasping. Briefly he wondered what it would be like if he controlled that heartbeat, make it quicken or slow as he pleased, but hastily discarded the dark thought; not wanting to contemplate where it came from.

Remy’s arms lifted to touch Pete, but the Englishman held his wrists, pushing them back down.

“They stay there, okay?”

Remy smiled. “Make me.”

Pete stopped in his tracks for a moment.

“What?” He wasn’t sure if he heard right.  The Cajun ground his hips up against Pete.

“I said…  make me.” Pete laughed and leaned down. His lips just brushing the Cajun's ear.

“Keep yer wrists there, or I’ll tie ‘em there so tight, that your hands will drop off. Understood Cajun?” Remy chuckled and murmured consent, licking his lips; emotions in the pools of liquefied carnelian and ebony that Pete had no chance of recognising or understanding. He raked his fingernails over Remy’s chest and then wetted a nipple, lightly blowing over it making Remy arch slightly and then quiver helplessly, fists embedded in the sheets; so needing to be restrained. So wanting to touch Pete.

Remy’s jeans were off in a second, managed by Pete with a very complacent Remy. He kissed a knee, and then separated Remy’s legs. He nipped and kissed a trail up Remy’s inner thigh; and then bit down into the soft skin with blunt teeth. Remy’s hands flew from the sheets to Pete’s shoulders then, and sentences of a breathless but fluid Creolean French echoed sweetly in Pete’s ears. His hand shook, he’d never felt anything quite so incredibly *real*. He just had to feel everything Remy had to offer. Christ, where was that lubricant?…

As if possessing telepathic powers for a moment, Remy drew on his reserves of self-control and flipped Pete over neatly, then pulled off his shorts, flinging them nonchalantly over his shoulder. Looking into the man’s face for just a second, he grinned, and placed his lips over the tip of Pete’s cock, tonguing the slit. Pete shouted something unintelligible in a gruff voice and then thrust slightly, telling Remy in no uncertain terms what he wanted. Remy deep-throated Pete, sucking his cheeks in; just feeling the infinitesimal tremors shocking through the man underneath him. Pete was sure he was going to come that second. Then a second passed without it and he realised he had to stop Remy. He withdrew from Remy’s mouth, breathing heavily, trying to regain some sense of calm. He closed his eyes, picturing idyllic fields under cerulean skies. Accomplishing that, he opened his eyes, seeing Remy’s flushed face. Remy swallowed and smiled.

“Wet ‘nuff?”

Feeling as invulnerable as Achilles, Pete flipped Remy back over, and Remy crossed his ankles behind Pete’s back.

“Yer better ‘ope so.”

Pete thrust in fully, and then paused, giving Remy the chance to accommodate his girth comfortably… and himself a chance to stop himself coming right there and then.

Pete withdrew until he was just in, and then slammed in again. He soon set a rhythm to which Remy eagerly responded, raising and lowering his hips creating a moving friction on Pete’s cock that was almost too wonderful to describe. Pete closed his fist around the base of Remy’s cock and then started pumping, all the while looking intently into Remy’s eyes. He saw as the Cajun worried his lower lip with his teeth to stop moans escaping his lips. Pete slightly adjusted his angle and hit Remy’s sweet spot full on, feeling smug for a moment when Remy whimpered and gasped in pleasure.

As he came Pete saw white sparks behind his eyelids and then something gently glided past his shields and then he was experiencing the emotions of another orgasm mixed with the lingering aftershocks of his own. When he opened his eyes again he was lying next to Remy on the bed; both of them breathing heavily. He looked down at himself, then Remy and the bed.

“Shower?”

Remy turned his head to face Pete and nodded, not quite up to speaking. Pete smiled contentedly.

*****

Remy lay in bed next to Pete, suffering from the insomnia that reared its head from time to time. He didn’t really mind, he felt warm, and there was something very secure in watching Pete breathe peacefully in his sleep. Remy shuddered, thinking of the situations in which he’d never see this.

Besides, everytime he let his head relax into the pillow and closed his eyes a pulsing started at his temples… something that curiously reminded him off the throb he felt before collapsing in the converted cellar.

Kissing Pete lightly on the shoulder, Remy silently slipped out of bed and pulled on his jeans. Every impulse in his brain that was master-thief and X-Man was shouting at him that there was something a little less mundane than stress happening to him. He felt constantly off-balance, both physically and mentally; as if something or someone was trying to drag his attention away, or to them.

He made no sound as he navigated the halls and corridors of Excalibur’s home. Safely encased in shadows, he set a timed charge that would go off when he was near the cellar, distracting Logan and allowing Remy to pass unseen and unnoticed. He hoped Logan wouldn’t find his scent too suspicious.

He watched from afar as Logan left the room, and then jumped down from his hiding place as agile as any feline. He wished he could remember where he’d been heading before he fainted; but it was still a sketchy muddle of sight and pain.

Yet as soon as he took his first few steps into the cellar that ceased to be a problem. The most incredible force called to him, and he followed the pulse in his head as it grew stronger and stronger with each pace. It led to a wall, but trusting his thieving instincts, Remy searched the wall and pressed the small rubber indentation he discovered.

A section of the wall shimmered out of existence. An illusion; but one with actual substance and texture. Powerful Shi’ar technology.

Finding his way easily in the dark, Remy stopped just before a crate in which something was emitting an eerie glow. He disabled the laser alarms and opened the crate as silently as he could. He found it almost impossible to concentrate now, the thumping in his head was so extreme he was surprised there wasn’t blood running out of his nose and ears.

Remy closed his fingers around the glowing black gemstone and then started to shake, experiencing the sensation of something alien bonding with his entire being. The stone grew dull, but light filled the small room – Remy’s own body was glowing with the essence of what looked just like a rock, sitting docile in his palm.

*TBC*