Introductory Course
Prequel to Lessons Learned
by Jennie

Logan:

It all started when Cyclops rolled up his sleeves that day. The air
conditioning had failed us - on the hottest day of summer, of course - and he
thoughtlessly shoved the arms of his long-sleeved t-shirt back above his
elbows.

I had vaguely wondered why he'd chosen that style of shirt on such a warm
day. But, considering his peculiar ideas about how a Fearless Leader should
dress, I'd shrugged and returned my attention to the kata I used to warm up
before workouts.

Then he rolled back those sleeves and I saw 'em. Ligature marks. Noticing
my stare, Cyke glanced down at the reddish lines circling his wrists. Damned
if he didn't smirk at them, then look over at Jean. Now, I don't know what
telepathic message she sent to him; I can make an educated guess, though, if
his flush and her 'cat that ate the canary' expression were anything to go by.

I'd thought (when I'd allowed myself to think about it) that Jean and Scott
were the poster mutants for vanilla sex. The evidence was pretty much
irrefutable, though. They were into bondage! More incredible than that,
Cyclops, Mr-always-in-control-and-oh-so-proper, played the 's' part in their
D/s games.

The fine art of compartmentalization has always been one of my many talents,
and I had every intention of shoving this particular realization into my
mental folder of 'Things I Will Not Think About'. My mistake was noticing
Gambit's expression.

I probably shouldn't have met his eyes, either...

But I did. His expression was one of curiosity and excitement mixed with
fear and longing. It took my breath away, and suddenly the blood in my brain
migrated southward. Which was not good. Not good at all.

Don't get me wrong, I like games as well as the next guy, but Gambit was a
teammate. A very young (by my standards) teammate. In that moment, I wanted
nothing more than to soothe his fears. Show him how good it could be to
submit. To be restrained while someone - yes, I am the someone I pictured in
my mind - touched him, fucked him. I wanted to spend hours teasing him with
fingers, tongue, and teeth. To take him to a place I was sure he'd never
visited, granting him release only when he was incoherent with need.

However, not only was the kid... well, a kid; he was also, by all
appearances, straight. As far as I could tell, and I had been watching, all
of his lovers were of the female persuasion.

I made a mental note to visit my very favorite 'private' club at the first
opportunity and did my damnedest to finish the workout without sustaining
injury or delivering bodily harm to anyone.

Remy was more than a little distracting. Between the shyly inquisitive looks
he kept sending my way, his fascination with the marks on Cyke's wrists, and
the nearly overwhelming waves of pheromones I scented on him, I was just
about a wreck.

Then Gambit stumbled and fell after clumsily avoiding a shot from one of the
'bots. I, being closest to him, held out one hand to pull him to his feet.
Which shouldn't have been a problem. If only he'd weighed a little more - or
I'd refrained from yanking up with such force - I might have been able to let
it go. Unfortunately, he ended up off-balance, plastered to the front of my
body. Pressed together as we were, I could hardly miss the increased
heartbeat, the heat of his skin, the fact that his cock was every bit as
erect as mine.

All my good intentions flew right out of the proverbial window. "Tonight," I
whispered huskily into his ear.

His flush deepened, his breathing increased, and with the slightest of nods,
he rushed into the locker room.

With raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk, Cyke called an end to the workout.
Once everyone had trailed out except him and Jeannie, they approached me.

"Well, well, who'd have ever imagined?"

Jean poked Scott's ribs. "Shut up, dear," she said sweetly. "Logan... I'm
pretty sure that Remy's new to this. You won't...?"

I snorted. "Ain't gonna hurt the kid, Jeannie. You know me better than
that."

Cyke puffed up indignantly. "And just what the hell does *that* mean?" he
demanded to know. "Have you two...?"

Turning to face her husband, hands on her hips, Jean merely *looked* at him.

"Uh-"

"Our room, Scott. Now," was all she said.

Damned if he didn't nod abashedly, hang his head and leave the room.

With a wink at me, she followed him out of the Danger Room at a leisurely
pace.

I made sure that Remy stayed within my sights all day. He was jumpy, far
more easily spooked than I'd ever seen him. Still, every time I caught him
looking at me, his flush reappeared, his heartbeat increased, and the scent
of curiosity and desire rolled off of him in waves.

His red on black eyes grew evermore haunted as the day progressed. I suppose
I should have felt guilty. I simply couldn't, though. I wanted him. Badly.
Visions of Remy restrained and at my mercy as he squirmed and panted under
my ministrations, ambushed me at every turn.

To tell the god's honest truth, I was having the time of my life. The thrill
of the hunt, the novelty of a nervous Remy, and thoughts of just how he'd
look, restrained, eyes glittering with arousal, hair tousled and slightly
damp with sweat, all increased my determination to have him.

***

Remy:

Every time I turned around, there was Logan. In the garage, tuning up my
bike, I could feel his eyes on me as he worked on his beloved jeep. I went
swimming, hoping to tire myself enough to dull my awareness of him, and he
turned up at the poolside puffing happily on one of his cigars. I retreated
to the computer room and again, there was Logan. The hotly promising look in
his eyes scuttled my attempt to run a diagnostic on the security system.

He didn't say anything. Logan isn't the most talkative person I've ever met,
but this was quiet, even for him. As if his silent regard wasn't enough, he
kept finding ways to touch me. A casual touch of one hand along my shoulders
as he passed me. Leaning over my shoulder ostensibly to look at the computer
screen while I attempted to complete that diagnostic. He made a point of
brushing against me at every opportunity.

And the slyly promising looks he kept sending my way... He knew. The
bastard was fully aware that I wouldn't turn him away. His smug expression
told me that my dazed, muddled, *fucking* humiliating and confusing desire
was no secret to him. Which, I suspected, was the point of the exercise. He
wanted to keep me off balance, my mind filled with him, too aware of the
promise in his eyes to have second thoughts.

That was just about the longest day I can remember. Finally - finally! -
dinner time arrived. Looking forward to the relief I would find in a crowd,
I rushed to the table, arriving before any of the others. Funny thing is, I
wasn't even surprised when Logan came in moments later and sat himself right
across from me.

I choked down the small amount of food I could manage, shoved back my chair
and rose, leaving the room with a mumbled apology. In the parlor, I turned
on the television and clicked my way through the channels. HBO was showing
'Velvet Goldmine', and I paused there. Just about the time I caught on to
the gay theme and moved on to Showtime, Logan walked in.

Queer as Folk was on. Naturally. I fumbled the remote, dropping it to the
floor in my haste to change the channel.

"Leave it on, Gumbo. I ain't seen this one yet," he said, settling right
next to me on the sofa.

Once I'd managed to retrieve the remote, I shoved it at him and scurried
upstairs with more haste than dignity. It had been a difficult day; a long
shower and a good night's sleep would help me to relax, I decided. A man like
Logan wouldn't - couldn't - interested in a man like me. He'd been teasing,
playing a joke on me, that was all.

After bathing I was still jumpy, so I looked around for some kind of
distraction. I straightened my room, changed the sheets on my bed, and
cleaned the bathroom. Even so, my restlessness hadn't abated. Deciding that
a brisk walk in the night air would tire me out, I donned sweats and sneakers
and opened my door to head outside.

***

Logan:

"Goin' somewhere, kid?" I asked when his door opened.

"L-l-logan?"

I grunted and pushed past him. "Had that stutter long?"

"Um... non," he answered, looking everywhere but at me.

"Huh." I sat on the bed and regarded him. I didn't want to, but I couldn't
take this any further without asking, "You okay, Gumbo?"

"Non. I mean, oui. I mean... Y' been followin' m' all day. Touchin' m',
teasin' m'... What y' wan' from Remy?"

I shrugged. "Sex. Fun. To show you what you've been missing. I know ya
want it, kid. Can smell yer desire and curiosity."

"Ain' never done anythin' like dis 'fore, Logan."

As if I hadn't realized that. Shit.

I knew he wanted it. Was curious and excited by the idea. Leaning back on
my elbows, making it just about impossible to miss the visible sign of my
desire, I challenged him, "Saw ya looking at Scotty's wrists. Know the idea
turns ya on."

After scuffling his feet against the carpet, sighing, and glancing at me
through his bangs, Remy spoke quietly, "Don' like pain, Logan."

Just as I'd thought. "Pain ain't a part of the program, kid. Just pleasure."

"Mais..." He licked his lips and moved a little closer. "What...? Why y'
wan' m'? Y' never did 'fore."

He shrugged. "Things change. Ya ain't a virgin with men, are ya?"

"Non."

"Is it me yer afraid of, kid?"

"Non."

"And ya don't have a problem with me being a man?"

"Remy ain' straight."

I moved on to a discussion of the 'games' issue. "There's a world of
difference between bondage and S&M, Remy. The kind of games I enjoy don't
involve pain."

"Oh." He frowned in thought, then met my eyes. "T'ink I'd like to try,
Logan. But... what if it's-"

"Too much?" I supplied when his words stuttered to a halt.

Remy swallowed heavily and nodded. "Oui," he whispered.

"Won't hurt ya, Rem. Ever. No chains, no whips - just submission on your
part. And," I showed him the silk scarves I'd been concealing behind my
back, "these."