Chapter 6

" - going to do? Cut me off the crap you're giving me
now?" Logan heard Paul's voice - sharp with challenge
and hostility - ring through the door of Scott's
cramped office. "Yeah. A couple of days cold turkey
and I'll be begging to do your stupid schoolwork!"

"Paul - we'd never do that!" Scott said. Sounded
like he was hanging onto his temper with both hands
and Logan snorted in amusement. From what he'd been
seeing, Paul had a real knack for pissing people off.
"But you can't just *ignore* us. We're doing our best
for you, you need to give a little to."

Logan exchanged a quick glance with Remy and shoved
the groceries at him. Remy nodded and disappeared
into the kitchen.

"I don't have to give anything to you!" Paul yelled.
"You don't own me. You don't have anything I want. I
don't have to stay here!"

"Yes you do!" Scott finally yelled back, Logan
winced at the racket. "We're giving you care and
shelter - and we have your custody. If we didn't,
you'd be in some state run juvenile ward - would you
prefer that?"

"What do you mean?" Paul sounded near panic. "What
do you mean you have custody! I - didn't tell you
anything. How -"

"Paul - Paul, I'm sorry. Don't be frightened. Listen
- sit down -"

"No! You leave me the hell alone!"

Logan drew back into the shadows as Paul slammed out
of the office ran down the hall, head down, breath
catching as he fought back tears. Scott's door swung
for a moment and Logan heard the faint, frustrated
curse from inside. He went over and stuck his head
in. Scott had his head in his hands and papers
scattered all over the floor.

"Hey, Slim."

Scott jerked up, saw him and relaxed. Then turned his
face aside with a frown. "Logan."

Logan gritted his teeth and came in anyway, shutting
the door. Scott was still pissed at him. He
collected the papers, Paul's file, and put them back
on the desk. "Paul's bein' a hard case."

"He's *not* a hard case!" Scott snapped, wincing and
fumbled in a drawer for his headache pills. "He's a
kid and scared half to death."

"Scared don't mean he ain't bein' a pain." Logan
leaned on the back of a chair, not sure if he wanted
to sit, if he wanted to stay and deal with Scott's
unrelenting anger over what he'd done. Yeah, he
deserved it - and more - but that didn't mean he had
to like it. He wished Scott would just beat him up or
something but the man did't work like that. So he had
to suffer instead until Scott decided he'd hurt enough
and forgave him. Paul's scent lingered, stirring
memories he didn't like and wished he didn't have.

"He's so impossibly hostile!" Scott burst out, his
glasses caught the winter sun and shone like cherry
candy. "I don't think he's even picked up a pen since
he came here. He's *sleeping* through class - when he
shows up at all. I don't know what he did but he
brought Frank to tears yesterday. He's not even
trying to work with us!"

"Dunno." Logan sighed and took a seat. "Sounds like
he's trying real hard to me. Trying to set you off.
Trying to push yer buttons."

"We just can't get through to him." Scott pulled off
his glasses to rub his face. "None of us. He hates
Hank with a passion. Ignores Ororo. Me - I swear he
wants me to strangle him."

Logan watched the snow melt off his boots onto the old
carpet that had been in this room ever since he'd
arrived. Kid had been a pill the first time they'd
met, but not as bad as he sounded now. The kind of
asshole behavior the kid was showing now would have
gotten him killed on the streets. He wondered what
was bugging him, and how to find out. "Look, he's
only been out of bed for a month. An - shit, he's
trying to kick a habit. Probably feels like shit and
wants t'share, that’s all."

"Share." Scott resettled his glasses and set his jaw.

"Ya ain't letting Remy talk to him, they got stuff in
common. He might -"

"I think you and Remy have too much in common with
Paul as it is." Scott interrupted coldly. His hands
clenched on his desk like he was trying not to hit out
at Logan. "He's got enough problems to deal with -"

"Look, Slim, get over it!" Logan snarled. "I can't
undo what I screwed up, can only try t'make it right."

"Make it right!" Scott hissed. "You can't make it
right. It's done, it's over and we all have to deal
with it."

"An puttin' me and Remy in the doghouse fer the rest
of our lives ain't solving anything! We ain't the
ones -" Logan broke off abruptly. Scott's old trauma
wasn't his problem but it wasn't Paul's either.

"What!" Scott said wildly.

"Nothin! Just y'been trying ta handle the kid like
he's made of glass - but he's been out there longer
than most and he ain't gonna trust us easy. Someone
tried to knife him, my guess it was his pimp. He
ain't gonna take up with us like some twelve-year old
that was living with mommy and daddy before they got
their powers."

"He's so *miserable*." Scott said and Logan could
tell he was thinking of some other miserable boy. "I
just look at him and can't stand it. There's got to
be something we can do and I'm just so sick of trying
to prove my good intentions and getting slapped in the
face for it!"

Logan grunted and stood. "Yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"Dunno. But I ain't gonna do this hands off shit no
more."

Scott's mouth thinned but he didn't say anything.
Logan shrugged and headed out. That was an
improvement anyway.

He followed the scent to the back library. Paul had
found the darkest corner in the darkest room to huddle
in. He was sniffing hard but done crying. Curled up
small like that he looked to damn young.

"Paul." Logan said. The kid's head whipped around,
expression shifting to real relief and startling need,
before settling back into his usual wary blankness.

"Logan?"

"Yeah." He pulled up another chair and propped his
feet on the edge of Paul's leather armchair.

Paul wrapped his arms around his shins and stared at
him through those dark glasses but Logan had been
staring Scott down for years and he was used to it.
He was wearing three different shirts and still looked
cold. That was where Logan's favorite flannel had
gone, after all. He'd figured Marie had taken it to
sleep in. He saw those thin fingers clench on a
sleeve. The other hand was still in a brace.

The smell of him was accusingly familiar and hit him
just below his belt. He shifted to ease the pressure
then watched Paul lift his head and cursed the empathy
that didn't allow him any secrets. Couldn't help but
draw in another breath, reading the tears and the
sickness along with the spice and salt that was the
kid's true scent.

"Thought they told you to stay away from me."

"Yep. They did. Fuck 'em." Logan pulled out a cigar
and lit up, hoping to cut the smell that was setting
his heart beating hard. "Ain't doin' anyone any good,
is it?"

Paul shrugged. "I can't believe you told 'em."

Logan shrugged. "Better than you trying t'hold it
over our heads."

Paul shrugged again but smiled wryly. "Not for me.
Hey - you got any of Remy's cigarettes?"

"Nope."

Paul resettled himself and, dammit, couldn't help but
watch him move. Long limbed and graceful and he
wondered what it would be like to see him run. But
there was no weight on him and he could smell sickness
in him.

"Y'still puking all the time?"

Paul shook his head slowly. "Not so much."

"But ya ain't better."

"What the hell you expect?" He said bitterly.

"Well you ain't dead, which is practically the way you
came here, that's somethin. Why the hell you pissing
everyone off? Y'know they ain't gonna hurt ya and
they ain't gonna kick you out - no matter who much of
an asshole you are."

"Yeah - they're just waiting for me to start toeing
the line for them!" Paul said contemptuously. "Why
the hell should I?"

"'Cause they're giving you a chance most of us don't
get." Logan said bluntly. "They ain't gonna turn ya
into some preppy fucker - not unless ya want it. Ya
think I'd be here if they did shit like that? This
isn't someplace where they're gonna try t'make ya
normal. Ya ain't normal. Ya know and so do we. This
ain't the Salvation Army."

Paul yanked off his glasses and wiped at his tear
streaked face, flushed with anger and embarrassment.
His eyes caught a bit of light and shone like a cat's.
"I hate it here! I'm not a baby, I don't need them
running my life like this. I'm not grateful - okay,
except for the knife thing - but I didn't want to kick
my habit. I didn't want another chance. I'm fucking
done with all that already. It's to - to fucking
much. All of a sudden, I'm supposed to tie a knot in
dick - play nice with the girls and boys 'cause they
don't wanna deal with it! I'm supposed find myself a
new daddy. Go back to school. Sober up."

"Ah - kid." Logan couldn't stand the bitterness in
his voice and the hard set to his mouth. It was
something he usually saw in the mirror, not in a
seventeen year old kid. Paul had been kicked down so
much he didn't even want to get up. And he was hungry
for the kid, wanted to taste that anger. Find what
was hurting in him and put his mouth on it. The urge
was strong enough that he had to hang onto the chair
to keep from going over there. "Christ, your're as
bad as me."

Paul slid out of his chair and stalked over. He
leaned on Logan's chair, all angles and crow's wing
black hair and a mouth begging to be tasted. "I know
you and Remy are fucking. Because of me. And I don't
get shit - I get a handful of methadone and a bunch of
lectures about being a good freak. But I don't get to
feel good anymore. I don't get to - t-touch anyone
anymore. 'Cause I'm just a kid right? You think I'm
a kid? Do you?"

Paul straddled him, hands already tangled in Logan's
hair - turning his face up - and he didn't move,
didn't dare because if he did Logan knew he just take
the kid now. His cock stiffened so fast it hurt.
Paul shuddered on his lap and Logan's hands were on
his hips, hauling him close, feeling that ass grinding
against him. His boots hit the floor with a thump,
Logan groaned under his breath. God, so good. Heat
under his fingers, Paul panting in his hair. Making
these little sounds - so sweet - god, nearly setting
him off right there. Needy little moans.

Paul was telling him how much he wanted it. Needed
it. Whispering in his ear, knees spread wide around
the chair. Logan felt the hard cock pushing against
his stomach as Paul rocked against him. He needed it
to. It seemed like the right thing. The only thing
and it didn't matter that they were dry humping in the
library and Scott was just down the hall - trusting
him.

Logan dipped his head, fastening his mouth over a
racing pulse. Bit until he tasted blood, the kid was
hanging onto his shoulders and whimpering. He tipped
his head back making Logan growl with pleasure at the
submission. Logan thought of Remy and how good he
felt and the press of Paul on his lap reminded him of
fucking Remy and the way it had felt to fuck Paul that
one time. He wanted so bad to do it again. Couldn't
think of anything else. Not with the kid whispering
in his ear.

"Need to touch you - need to touch someone. Anyone.
Feels so good. Need it so bad - I can't stand being
alone. I c-can't stop - don't want to stop. This is
what I am. This is all I am. I don't have any dope.
I can't get high. I hurt so much - please - Logan -
please." Paul went on and everything seemed to make
sense.

Logan dragged that face down, Paul's mouth was greedy
on his. He nipped that tongue, knowing he had to stop
that voice. Kissing, open mouthed and hungry, and his
hands down Paul's pants, feeling that smooth skin.
Slipping fingertips down the his crack, Paul's good
hand at the nape of his neck, stroking him. Logan was
so hot for him - but without Paul's voice knocking is
good sense out of his head he could dig up some self
control.

"Shit - shit -" Logan growled. "Y'fucking using yer
power on me. Dammit, kid!"

"I ain't a kid, asshole!" Paul hissed and ground his
cock against Logan. "Feel that? Feel that? Am I a
kid?"

"No - ah - shit!" Logan grabbed his wrist, pushed
Paul roughly off and struggled to his feet.

"Logan!" Paul's face twisted with surprising
desperation. "Damn you, you want me to beg?"

"Quit it, Paul. Quit jerking me around!" Logan let
go and wiped his face. He stomped out the cigar that
was burning a hole in the carpet. "I ain't gonna do
ya."

"Jesus - please!" Paul was shaking and Logan had to
let him go, had to push him away because he didn't
dare touch him. Paul smelled right and felt right and
the only thing between Logan and his instincts was a
thin, unspoken promise to a friend.

"No!" Logan shouted, hurting because he wanted Paul
so bad. He had to get him to stop screwing around
with his head. His training didn't do shit against
Paul's whispered promises. "Dammit, Paul it ain't all
about fucking! If y'hurtin' we'll help ya but I ain't
gonna fuck ya! An quit with the damn mind games. Ya
think that's okay? Y'think that ain't coercion? Just
cause you ain't holding a fucking gun to my head don't
make it right. Ya think it ain't rape cause the force
you use ain't physical?"

"No!" Paul yelled, his face bleached white with shock
and horror. "Logan - it isn't the same thing. You
want me! I know you do! I just - want to feel good!
I can make you feel good too!"

"I don't want t'fuck ya, dammit!" Logan shouted and
what had been lust was bleeding into red fury. "Y'got
a fucking gift, Paul and it makes y'stronger than
other people and yer abusing it - what the hell you
think yer gonna be like it ten years? The guy who
knifed you? Telling people what t'do, making them do
things they don't want?"

"It's not rape! It's not rape!" Paul was screaming
and tears of fury were streaming down his face. "It's
not the same. I'm not - not hurting anyone! I never
hurt *anyone*! People hurt me - hurt me all the time
and I never hurt anyone! I'm not - not - hurting
anyone!"

"No?" Logan snarled, fists clenching. The ache in
his cock and the aching need to hit something - felt
like the same ache. So angry, he hadn't known he was
so angry. "My fucking best friend can't stand the
sight of me because of what I did w'you. All the
people that trusted me -"

Logan broke off, jerking away from Paul because he was
going to hit him.

And, he realized looking at Paul's frightened,
desperate face that the kid didn't care. Didn't care
of Logan hurt him or not. So long as Logan touched
him. "No -!"

"Logan?" Paul was sobbing and it hurt him to hear it
but he didn't turn back. He stalked out of the room,
slamming the door. He had to get away. Had to get
away, from Paul, from his tears - tears he'd caused.
From the kid's wicked voice and sweet mouth. He
wanted Paul and was scared by how easy it would be to
give the kid what he wanted, fists or fucking and how
little it mattered to him which it was.

"Logan - please, I'm sorry. I swear it. I - I didn't
mean to! Please - Logan!"

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

He couldn't stop crying. Paul rolled onto his side
and clutched his pillow, sobbing so hard he was
beginning to feel sick. He hated this, he knew he'd
feel so much better if he could have a hit - knew all
the aches and pains would go away and he'd stop
crying. Everything would be farther away, couldn't
hurt him. If he could have something. Something
real, not the methadone that was all they were giving
him. It wasn't fair.

John had gone home for Christmas and Paul was all
alone. All he'd wanted was to feel good. To be with
someone else, to feel them and make them feel good.
Then he could feel good too. A little distraction.
He'd been a distraction for other people often enough.
That was all he wanted. He didn't want to hurt
anyone. He didn't want anyone to hate him. He didn't
want Logan to hate him.

"Go away!" Paul yelled to the quiet knock on the
door. But they ignored him, of course, and came in
anyway. It was Remy, the feel of the other mutant
just made Paul more aware of how much he hurt, how
much he needed to feel someone else against him. He
curled up tighter.

"Paul, cher." Remy said, standing at the foot of his
bed in an old maroon sweater and a pair of flannel
lined blue jeans. A cigarette dangled from the corner
of his mouth, the smoke - spangled with luminous
specks - blurring the Cajun's long face. "Crying a
lot lately, cher. W'at wrong?"

Paul sniveled and closed his eyes. "What the hell you
care? Why are you here, gonna tell me I raped you
too?"

There was a long pause. "Who tol you dat?"

Remy's voice was low and dangerous and Paul eyed the
other man. He thought about Logan and Remy and the
two of them being together and him out in the cold.
He could make Remy hate Logan. Could make them fight
each other. He could make them miserable - as
miserable as he was. But he didn't want to feel bad
anymore. He wanted to feel good. Telling Remy what
Logan had said wouldn't make anyone feel good. Paul
started to cry again, not wanting too, flushing with
anger and shame.

"Eh, cher." Remy put out his cigarette and sat down
next to him. Paul felt long fingers lightly stroke
his hair; the touch carried the complicated sense of
the other man, his worry, fascination, tentative
affection, abrupt anger and beneath it all - the
subtle note of desire. Like Logan, Remy still wanted
him.

Paul threw himself at the other man, wrapping his
hands around Remy' waist and pressing his tear
streaked face to his thigh. "Don't make me say!
Don't wanna say!"

"Paul -"

"No!"

"D'accord - Remy not gon force you, cher. You can
tell him w'at you want." Remy said, somewhat
bewildered. He tugged on Paul's shoulders and Paul
unwillingly let go of him - he wasn't going to try to
force Remy like he had tried to do with Logan. There
were enough people angry at him.

But Remy reached for him, cupped his face in his long
fingered hands, gently wiping the tears away. "Dis
face to fine to be crying all de time, Paul."

Paul pressed his palm to Remy's hand, turning into the
touch. It felt so good. Just the touch of his hand
felt so good. Remy blinked and his face shifted,
softening with pleasure and wonder as he shared Paul's
feelings.

"Uh - don't be mad at me. Could we - just be close.
No sex. Really! Just that. Remy - please?" Paul
flushed again, he felt so stupid. Junkie talk, stupid
words, stupid behavior. He never let himself get like
this. He'd always kept the monkey fed and happy and
didn't do stupid stuff like begging someone for a hug.

"Remy not mad." The other man closed his red and
black eyes and Paul was swept with a strange sense of
sorrow and - recognition. "Notin' for you to be mad
about, cher. Remy - understand w'at you feeling. He
- understand."

Paul tugged on Remy's sweater and the Cajun lay down
next to him, stretching with a long sigh. Paul closed
his eyes, sharing in the physical sensation then
snuggled shyly against the other man. Remy stroked
his hair and the touch - and the sense of welcome made
Paul bury his face against the bony shoulder, throat
tightening again.

"I hate this!" Paul groaned, rubbing fiercely at his
running nose. "I hate this - stupid crying shit all
the time. And everything *h- hurts* and - and - I
hate being a junkie! I didn't wanna come off it!
Everything's to loud, to *bright*, can't get away from
it and everyone *hates* me. Everyone knows - knows -
I'm a whore -"

Paul knew he was running at the mouth but he couldn't
stop. Couldn't hold still either as the aches in his
muscles made him jerk and shift restlessly. He itched
for a hit and methadone didn't feed that itch. Remy
sighed and stroked his back patiently, letting him
babble until the words and the tears ran down.

"No one hates you, cher." He said gently. "Dat's de
junk talking. It's coming out of you dis way - all
tears and yelling. It gets better cher. You gonna
get better from dis and it won't hurt and de world
won't be so mean."

"Just tired of feeling bad all the time." Paul
whined. "Why'd you have to take me off it? I wasn't
huring anyone."

"You hurting yourself and you can if you want but not
'ere." Remy said firmly. "De smack ain't legal and
de Professor not wanting to get in trouble wid de law.
You want de cops here - scaring everyone?"

Paul thought of Frank and Winnie the albino girl and
Marie with her white hair and creepy power and then he
thought of the police and what they'd do to a school
full of mutants.

"No." He muttered sullenly. "But I didn't wanna come
here."

"You called us, cher." Remy said. "You needed us and
we asking you to pay us back by being a little patient
eh? Not bringing more trouble on us all."

"Scott said he got custody of me - and I gotta stay."
Paul muttered. Remy shifted to look down at him.

"Non." He said and Paul could feel his determination.
"If you wan leave, Remy not let dem hold you. Dis
ain't a jail. Dis ain't JD. We - want you here but
not if you wan leave."

"I -" Paul broke off. He could tell Remy he wanted
to leave and the man would help him. He knew it. He
could feel it like he could feel the soothing rhythm
of the man's breathing. He had a choice - which meant
he had to choose. Paul didn't like choices, he hadn't
gotten many before and he didn't like this one now.
He closed his eyes and pressed his face to Remy's
fuzzy sweater. It was winter. He had free food and
housing here. He didn't have to chose until Spring.
"I dunno."

Remy sighed, running a hand down Paul's back. "Fine,
cher. You don have to chose nothing right now. Wait
and get off de junk and see how you feel."

"The smack don't do anything I don't want." Paul said
sullenly.

"You like dis twitching and aching?" Remy snorted.
"Don think so. Undignified, eh?"

Paul snorted and turned onto his other side, pulling
at the taller man until Remy spooned around him,
muttering something under his breath in Cajun. Maybe
he could hold still if he was warm enough. "If I was
still *on* it, I wouldn't be acting this way. I'm
much nicer stoned that straight."

"Dat's alright." Remy muttered into Paul's hair,
shifting uncomfortably. Paul could sense his rising
desire and smirked to himself. He wasn't even doing
anything - anything that anyone else couldn't anyway.
Remy really did want him, it wasn't some power. "We
used to obnoxious people here - Logan, Scott, Marco.
Me, eh?"

"Logan won't even - touch me." Paul said, struggling
to sound casual. Stupid because he knew Remy could
feel how much it hurt. Maybe if he pretended hard
enough, it wouldn't hurt so much. "Said his best
friend was mad at him because you guys fucked me."

Remy sighed, breath heavy with cigarettes and spices.
"Oui. Scott and Logan been friends for a long time,
cher. De - teacher - ain't taking it to well. Never
much liked me in de first place, I guess, or don
expect any better from me or something. Not bothering
me 'bout it anyway."

The bitterness was sharp enough to make Paul restless
again. And loneliness - like his own. Like Remy
didn't feel like he belonged here either. Paul
twisted around until they were face to face. This
close, his vision was fine. He stared into Remy's red
and black eyes and realized just how disconcerting
they were. How weird. No wonder people were freaked
by him all the time.

"But - it didn't mean anything! I'm almost seventeen
- most kids are having sex by the time their thirteen
- they say it in the news all the time! And I wanted
to. And - Jesus - its not like you guys were the
first, or the first threesome even. Hell - I did a
party where -"

Remy cut him off, touching Paul's lips with his
fingers, his touch slid along Paul's cheek stroking
him. Felt real good. Made him want more. Made Remy
want more too - he could feel it. "Remy not need to
know dat. De years you got don bother me. You old
enough, Remy t'ink. Not dat - "

The other man closed his eyes as if he couldn't look
at Paul. Pain swept through him, awful guilt, shame,
self- disgust. Paul blinked at the strength of it.
He couldn't figure why it was such a big deal. "Remy
- hey, it's not important. C'mon. Really. Remy -"

His confusion only seemed to make the older man feel
worse. The man's face twisted with misery. "Remy
swore never do dat! Promised - never use someone dat
way. Never leave someone wid no choices. Never -"

"I knew what I was doing!" Paul flared angrily.

Remy shook his head. "You know, oui. You know you
gotta eat. Gotta find a place to sleep. Gotta have
some dope to make you're life bearable. Dat's not
choices. Dat's doing w'at you got to so you live.
You a survivor, Paul but dat don make it right - what
we did."

Paul breathed hard, angry. He wasn't some kid. Not
now. Not then. Not for a long time.

"I got choices now." He said, moving closer. Moving
deliberately against Remy, just so - just right.
There were ways to make the man feel better and Paul
knew just what they were. The other man's excitement
sharpened abruptly and he would have pulled away but
Paul held on.

"You said." He whispered to Remy's closed face.
"Look at me. You said I got choices now."

Those eyes flicked open, searching his face. The
man's face was drawn with hunger, need, his feelings
ringing through Paul's, making his own need almost
unbearable.

"Din come here to have sex wid you, Paul."

Paul licked his lips, getting desperate and watched
Remy's eyes follow his movements then darken as he
felt Paul's need. "You know I want it. For real.
Not so I can eat. Got all the damn food I want here.
We - "

Paul flushed, god he was desperate. "- we don't have
to fuck. We can just - do stuff. If I'm such a kid,
we can do kid stuff right? I mean, if Scott caught me
and Marie necking in the hallway would he get pissed?"

Remy snorted. "Dat man get pissed when de wind don
blow the way he want."

"Don't give a shit about Scott." Paul touched Remy's
face, stroking his lips, his cheek. Watched those
familiar eyes in a strange face darken, the red iris
disappearing as Remy's breathing quickened. He pushed
his hand into the long reddish hair and pulled the
other man close. Remy didn't resist, remaining
passive as Paul kissed him. Paul nipped at his lower
lip, guessing that if Remy liked Logan, he'd liked
biting. He wasn't wrong. Remy moaned and Paul
tongued him. Hands tightened on his hips. Remy began
to answer his kisses with hungry ones of his own.

Paul moaned low in his throat, pressing closer,
kissing deeper. Breathless, panting against Remy's
mouth and loving the skilled response. The man knew
how to kiss. And he was finally warm. Hot. Remy's
warmth, the press and tease and stroke of his lips
burning Paul up. He kissed his way along Remy's jaw,
tasting stubble. Bit his ear and sucked hard at the
soft place just below it. Remy groaned and writhed
and stroked Paul, pushing his hand under his shirt and
stroking his back.

Paul grinned and nipped lightly. Now that he knew he
had Remy, he was willing to tease. And he knew he had
him. "Ah-uh. Kid stuff, remember? No under the
clothes."

Remy groaned and cursed him and pulled his hand out.
He rocked forward, made more exited by the
frustration. Nuzzled at Paul's ear, tonguing him,
teasing him as he was trying to make Paul come just by
kissing him. Pulse pounding, Paul was willing to try.
The kissed back and forth, deep and open and hungry.

Remy groaned harshly and rolled on top of Paul, pining
him under his weight. His hips thrust, grinding his
hard cock against Paul's as they kissed desperately.
The rhythm got urgent, pleasure feeding back and forth
like the taste of each other's mouths. Paul had his
good hand on Remy's ass, feeling the flex and surge of
hard muscles, pulling Remy tight to him so he could
thrust his cock against the other man.

"So good. Deiu, so good." Remy gasped. Paul could
only moan in response.

The press of Remy, his weight, was just what Paul
needed, every inch of him craving the touch. It was
squeezing the itch out, the restlessness. Filling him
with heat and good feelings and pleasure and lust -
everything Remy was feeling and more. Paul hooked a
shin against the back of Remy's thigh, shifting so the
man could thrust between his legs. The two of them
dry humping like kids too stupid to take their clothes
off. It felt to great to care.

Remy wasn't a kid and he was loving it too. So much
that Paul knew they were gonna come soon, he could
feel it building like static at the base of his spine,
blurring his already crappy vision. Remy was so
*hard* - aching to come. Paul wanted him to come, it
would feel so great.

The other man stiffened suddenly, jerking and his lust
shattered into abrupt worry. Paul gasped, looking at
the door. That was the only thing he could think of
that would stop Remy. But it was closed and Remy was
pulling hurriedly away anyway.

"W-what?" Paul sat up, Remy was struggling to catch
his breath and staggering to his feet. His attention
was already elsewhere, shutting down the desire like
he was flicking a switch. Paul couldn't figure out
what he was doing. It hurt just to watch. The Cajun
yanked a pager out of his pocket with a curse.

"Merde!" He gave Paul a wild glance. "Oh, cher, s'v
plait. Remy got to go."

"But - Jesus, is the world ending or something? Do
you gotta go *now*?"

"Dieu - !" Remy bent and kissed Paul swiftly, pulling
back before he could get a hold of him and *keep* him
here. "Got to, cher. 'de sole."

And he did. Paul stared at the closing door then
flopped back onto the bed. He reached down and
touched his aching cock. He'd never been able to jerk
off when he was alone - he could do it if someone was
watching him but not if he was by himself. He didn't
bother trying now.

"Damn, you better be saving the world or something."

TBC