Training, Day 6

Remy shuffled his cards, the king of hearts turned up, quickly followed
by the queen, the jack and the ace. He shuffled the back in, turning
up four more cards - still the suit of hearts. Remy sighed and threw
the cards down disgustedly, sometimes his brain didn't know what his
fingers were doing.

He was avoiding everyone on the train, tonight was the last night and
traditionally the time for the formal dinner and dance. The other
passengers had been tromping up and down the hallway for hours, arms
full of rustling silk, creaking leather and jingling chains. The air
practically hummed with anticipation and Remy was trying hard not to
ride the feelings out there. It only made him want to go to the party.

If there was one thing a train full of freaks and perverts knew how to
do, it was dress up and Remy wasn't about to show up in a pair of blue
jeans and a T-shirt. Logan was hidden away in some back room with a
cigar and some whisky and Remy didn't expect to see him until the train
pulled in to Seattle. The Canadian wasn't exactly a dinner and dance
kind of guy. Remy resigned himself to a night of cold food, cold
company and listening to sleet rattle on the window.

The knock on the door distracted him from trying to build a house of
cards on a moving train.

"Entre vous." He sat up and pulled on his glasses.

Lucinda came in with a smile and a bag. "I haven't seen much of you
lately, child. Has Logan been keeping you occupied?"

"We find t'ings to do, mistress Lucinda. W'ats in the bag?"

Lucinda nudged him aside and dropped it onto the bench. "I don't think
either you or Logan were thinking about the formal when you took this
job."

"Non." Remy tossed over his shoulder, peering in curiously. Red.
There was a lot of red and shiny in there. He pulled it out with much
soft creaking and the jingles from the silver rings on the collar and
cuffs. "Eh?"

Lucinda shrugged, with a wistful glance at the gear. "My husband isn't
as thin as you but he's nearly as tall. This might fit."

"Ah, merci, cherie but -" Remy shook out the gear. It might have
filled the bag, but as clothing - there wasn't much to it. Lucinda had
brought a patent leather merry-widow, not a true corset because it
didn't have boning, with matching wrist, ankle cuffs and a broad collar
all decorated with shiny d-rings. All of it in glossy, eye-watering
lipstick red and true patent leather, not the cheap plastic stuff.
Maybe Lucinda's husband was his size in jeans but Remy knew very well
that ill-fitting bondage gear was a nightmare - both to look at and to
wear.

"I pretty sure it will fit, actually." She said with grin, tapping one
shiny, black, high heeled boot. "And - there's champagne, the company
of like minds, music and how often do you see people wearing these
kinds of things in public anyway?"

Remy looked at the merry widow and thought immediately of Emma but
didn't say a word. He did not want his brain turned to oatmeal next
time he saw the White Queen. He looked over the gear more closely.
All the straps and bright buckles were for more than decoration, there
was a certain amount of flexibility in size.

"Logan 'ave a fit if I go out wearing dis w'out him."

"Hmm." Lucinda said noncommittally. "Not for me to say but I thought
you weren't a committed couple. Besides, I'm not suggesting you go
home with anyone besides the big boss -"

Remy snorted.

"- and if you did, it would be with me, child." Lucinda's voice
changed suddenly, smoky and dark and a little threatening. "Since I
bought those clothes because I like the way they look - on my toys. Go
on, get cleaned up and lets try it and see, shall we?"

Remy sighed, smiled finally and went to wash up and comb out his hair.
It was all for the champagne - and his reputation would be ruined if
anyone found out he'd missed a party.

Lucinda had to help him but it did - really - fit. The merry widow lay
smooth and snug as a second skin from just below his nipples to barely
above his hipbones. The cuffs jingled, and the wide collar fit over
Logan's which he wasn't about to take off without his boss' permission.
First rule of being a good sub; don't mess with the master's collar.

"Hold still, Remy." Lucinda said from behind him, tugging on the
buckles in the back.

"Ye - ow!" He yelped and leapt as she yanked on the jock strap but
quick and experienced, Lucinda had it tightened and buckled down before
he could get away. Remy ran frantic fingers between his legs,
struggling to adjust everything in the suddenly very snug pouch. "Das
to tight!"

Lucinda patted his bare ass. "I don't think so, child."

Remy looked down at himself, there wasn't enough clothing here to hide
a playing card in, let alone a weapon. There was only one imaginable
place for the Bo-staff and Remy chuckled to himself. The cuffs chimed
every time he moved. "Mais, Remy look like a fire-engine in dis."

Lucinda was sitting on the upholstered bench, looking him over. "You
look delicious. Matches your eyes."

Remy frowned.

Lucinda clucked at him. "Come here and kneel. Let me fix your hair,
pretty child."

Remy knelt between Lucinda's knees, squirming to settle the strap
between his butt cheeks, and bowed his head. She pulled his wild hair
back in some kind of miraculous smooth braid. Pulled a couple of wisps
free to hang temptingly across his cheeks but left him nothing to hide
behind. "No glasses, you hear me child?"

"Oui, mistress." Remy said meekly. Lucinda snorted and slapped his
bare arm lightly, then ran her fingers over him.

"Lovely build you've got, child." She purred, patting him on the
shoulder and standing up. "And I remember that sweet penis of yours.
If Logan doesn't show up, I may just take my due from you."

Remy batted his eyelashes at her from down on his knees. "Remy pay his
debts, mistress."

Lucinda shook her head with a slightly breathless laugh and left,
telling him to stay until he was fetched.

It was Logan coming back and Remy glanced wildly once around the tiny
room before sighing and sliding to his knees. He only hoped that Logan
didn't laugh. The big man had never given a single hint that he was
interested in fetish clothes or gear. Remy bowed his head as Logan
opened the door.

"Well, that's something t'see." Logan rumbled above him.

Remy looked up then blinked, at a loss for words. "Boss, dat's -
something too."

Logan smirked down at him. "Pass then, brat?"

"Ah - Oui." Impulsively, Remy slunk across the floor and rubbed his
face against the black leather of Logan's pants. Soft as butter. They
were nearly all that he was wearing. The leather pants rode
dangerously low on Logan's hips, his chest was bare and dark curls
tumbled down his broad chest, circled the exposed navel and disappeared
under the waistband of his pants. The fly was closed with leather
laces and Remy tugged on them with his teeth. The only other thing
Logan was wearing were his boots and a thin leather strap wrapped twice
around one big bicep - jewelry, if you wanted to call it that and never
to Logan's face. Maybe he wasn't that interested in the party tonight
after all. They could stay in and Remy could peel those pants off
Logan an inch at a time. "Where'd you get dem?"

"Ordered them off the Internet and had a special ops friend of mine fly
by and drop 'em onto the roof of the train car." Logan deadpanned, he
swept Remy away from his crotch and clipped a shiny red leash to the
red collar. Remy rose and smiled down into Logan's deceptively lazy
expression. The Canadian was aroused, Remy could feel it and the sight
of the Canadian revealed in all that black leather was making the red
jock feel way to tight.

"Y'nearly butt naked, pet." Logan ran a hand up Remy's bare thigh,
all the way to his hipbone. Remy shivered. "Y'okay going out with the
rest o'the nuts? Only gonna ask y'once."

"Yes, boss."

"Okay. No shoes?"

"Mistress had some - heels - but her husband got small feet." Remy
shrugged. "Remy be on his toes, eh?"

"You better be." Logan growled, dragged him close and kissed him.
"Yer my pet on display and I don't want no trouble from you tonight."

Remy lowered his eyes and followed Logan demurely, his gaze on the
powerful ripple of muscles down the other man's back and the way the
passageway lights gleamed dully on the black leather stretched tight
across Logan's ass. He bit his lip as his cock pressed uncomfortably
against the patent leather pouch.

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

Logan headed to the noise and smell of the dinner, mouth watering. But
not because of the food. It was Remy. He looked like - like candy.
Cherry sweet, silky smooth. He was nearly naked, all bare tawny flesh,
those beautiful shoulderblades, the slide of lean muscles under that
wonderful skin. Scattered bruises and teeth marks made it clear who he
belonged to. That appetizer was all Logan's.

Remy had been poured into the red corset and it clung like a kiss to
his long torso. Straps wound around his waist and buckled in the back
where the low cut back revealed the smooth dip of his spine. Wide red
cuffs jingled on his wrists and ankles and he wore a matching collar.
Even the barely big enough pouch on the jock was the same fire engine
red. He'd stop traffic at midnight in a cave.

Logan snorted and grinned briefly. Lucinda had badgered him into this
party and, seeing Remy, he was kind of looking forward to it. He
wanted to see everyone drooling after his boy and he knew how vain the
thief was. Remy was going to love it. Logan glanced out at the
twilight landscape speeding by, less than twenty-four hours to the
coast. There wasn't any harm in a little fun before the whole show was
over.

Logan sat Remy on his lap and fed him dinner - generous with the
champagne because he knew the thief loved it. He couldn't stand the
stuff. The black and red eyes were full of heat and laughter, darting
from one outrageous costume to the next.

The dining car was packed, hot and noisy. A buffet table went along
one wall, the rest of the room was for dancing. Even Logan couldn't
hear whatever pounding music everyone was supposed to be dancing to,
looking at the mostly naked bodies sweating and jumping around, it
obviously didn't matter.

The doms could be picked out by the black leather. The subs were
dressed in a crazy assortment of feathers, silks, satins, chains, gags,
clamps and hoods. Logan saw the slave Cole on his hands and knees,
restrained and hooded, with his master's booted feet propped on the
slave's welted back. Everyone was at the party, making the most out of
the last hours before the end of the line.

"Dis party look like the last i'nternational conference on mutant/human
cooperation the Professor hosted. Remember de t'ing that Mexican kid's
lover was wearing?"

Logan inhaled his beer. "Christ, Remy. Go dance, y'gonna kill me."

"Dance wit me, boss?" Remy leaned back, with a subtle wiggle.

Logan's cock twitched under the pressure. Remy purred. "The only
dancin' I do, pet, is horizontal. Go on. I know y'like t'dance."

Remy slid off his lap and Logan watched that naked ass, his breathing
quickening as the thief began to dance. Remy flicked a glance over
his shoulder, thew his arms up and seemed to sink into the crowd.
Logan watched the tangle of arms and hands, the way that Remy was
sliding along and around the other dancers. Remy was obviously flying
on the champagne and the emotions of everyone around him. The boy was
gonna kill him.

Logan drank beer and watched his boy flirt. When it started to go
beyond flirting, his eyes narrowed dangerously. The thief was sinking
fast, head thrown back as some woman with gilded nipples licked his
neck, his hips rocking back to grind against the man behind him. Logan
could scent the rising sex on the air. He could only imagine the what
the thief was feeling with that empathy of his, packed against a dozen
different people hungry to fuck. There wasn't any sign that the thief
was even trying to fight it.

Dragging his feet off the opposite chair, Logan began to shove his way
through the crowd to his pet. The heat and hot flesh pressing against
him hit him like a blow. His cock spasamed painfully in his borrowed
pants. Through the smell of sweat and pre-cum and whisky, Logan could
sense the whisper of Remy's charm. It was everywhere - Logan hadn't
known Remy could influence this many people. The thief was riding the
lust all around him - and driving it to an explosive level. Logan
suddenly couldn't think of anything beyond the ache in his cock and the
red haze of anger at seeing his boy in someone else's hands.
Threatening growl rumbling in his chest, Logan dragged the woman off of
his property.

"This pet is mine!" Logan dragged Remy against him, shoving another
man off the boy's back. Remy wrapped his arms around Logan's waist
with a desperate whimper and ground his hips against him. The crowd
pressed closer, wide, starving eyes. Heat and hunger and all focused
on the slender body against him. Logan snarled, skin crawling at the
press of the crowd.

"Boss - please - get Remy out a' here!" Remy moaned. His skin was
sweat slick and his hair had been pulled loose into a tangle of sweaty
strands clinging to face and neck. His shoulders were wet and bruised
by someone else's kisses. "C-can't stand it. N-need. Need so bad,
boss. Please! S'too much!"

Logan saw toothmarks that weren't his on the golden skin, heard the
desperation in his boy's voice and lost his grip on his self control.
With a snarl and a lunge, he thrust Remy out of the crowd, pushing the
long slim body against a table. Grabbing a handful of hair, he dragged
the boy's head back and bit his exposed throat. Remy wailed. His hips
jerked against Logan's body. The Canadian thrust against him, bending
the long torso over the table.

"Mine! Y'mine! Mine!" Logan growled against Remy's burning skin. He
drew blood, sweet in his mouth, thrust and twisted to force the boy's
legs apart. Remy didn't resist him, lifting his long legs to wrap them
around Logan's waist. With that tight ass pressed against Logan's
desperate cock and incomprehensible words pouring past his ears, Logan
howled and ground against the thief's freely offered body. His pants
were a painful barrier. He couldn't talk. Couldn't think. Just had
to have what was his now. Now.

He dragged his fingers over the slick patent leather, snarling in
frustration. Bit Remy's throat again, pulled and heard a buckle pop.
Panting, Logan stared into Remy's eyes - they were so dilated that the
red pupil was invisible, just the burning darkness. It was all Logan
could feel. Logan thrust his tongue into the wet mouth, pulling
frustratedly on the red leather that was keeping him from what he
wanted.

The crowd was packed close and someone touched Logan, sliding a hand
down his back to cup his ass. The Canadian's head snapped up and he
twisted around to snarl, sharp teeth bared. Remy slid his hands to
Logan's chest, pushing at him.

"Boss - Logan, s'v plait. Not here. Not here." He panted, rolling
his head on the table among spilled champagne and strawberries. The
thief was trembling, struggling to regain some control over his charm.
"De cabin, boss. De bed. Private - s'v plait."

Logan turned back at the sound of Remy's voice, hypnotized by it but
not quite able to follow what he was saying. He stared down at the
thief, shook his head, licked his lips. The crowd around them was like
a pressure, like the miserable pressure between his legs - urging him
on. He wanted to fuck Remy now. Right now. But, this close to the
thief, Logan could scent the fear in him. His boy was afraid. That
wasn't right.

With a grunt, Logan dragged Remy off the table and out of the room.
Needed to get someplace safe. Safe and then he'd show this boy who he
belonged to.

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

Remy staggered, nearly falling, only the bruising grip on his arm
keeping him upright. He was fighting the champagne haze and the
overwhelming heat of a dozen different kinds of desire, fighting to
regain some self control before his charm triggered an orgy or - since
he knew Logan would never allow anyone else to touch him - a fight. He
should never have gone to the party, he knew better, and certainly knew
better than to get drunk. And that's exactly what he'd done. It was a
miracle no one had gotten hurt.

Logan had heard him. Remy wasn't sure how - he could sense how lost
the Canadian was in his lust. Remy could see sweat beading the other
man's bare back and feel his hands shaking. He was grateful that
Logan wasn't just going to fuck him on a table in front of a dozen
strangers. He knew he was going to get fucked. He wanted to get
fucked - ached for it. When they reached their cabin and Logan thrust
him into the room, Remy crawled eagerly onto the bed. Logan's breath
hitched as he watched the swing of Remy's ass and the gleam of red
leather between his cheeks.

"Boss - boss." He murmured as Logan followed him, grabbing him and
pinning him down with a wordless snarl. The Canadian's hands wrenched
at the merrywidow and Remy could feel the rise of dangerous
frustration. "W'ant you to, w'ant you so bad. Remy help you."

Remy rolled them over, straddling Logan's hips, the other man hissed
and thrust up. The thief bent to lick a nipple, while Logan groaned
and was distracted, Remy unbuckled the jockstrap from the rest of his
clothes. There wasn't going to be time for anything else. Logan
wasn't going to wait any longer. And is was so good to finally have
his cock free of the confining red pouch. Remy threw the jock across
the room with a breathless curse. He cock throbbed fiercely, rising
up, tip beaded with pre-cum.

Logan grabbed his cock immediately, one hand squeezing Remy's ass
brutally. He made a frustrated noise deep in his throat and Remy
licked his way up Logan's neck murmuring soothingly. Kissing Logan,
loving the sweet pain as the other man nipped him, Remy went to work
unlacing the black leather pants Logan was wearing. His hands were
shaking and Logan couldn't hold still, getting that rigid cock out took
forever.

When Logan's cock was free, Remy rubbed against him, swallowing the
other man's urgent moans. Hard fingers were spreading his ass cheeks,
pressing against his anus. Logan dragged Remy up, positioning him over
his straining cock. Remy lifted himself, knees spread wide around
Logan's hips, staring down wide-eyed at Logan. This was going to hurt.
This was going to feel so good.

He pushed down as Logan's hands tightened, crying out at the sharp burn
and the sweet stretch. Logan forced him to take it all at once. Head
thrashing on the mattress, Logan howled and began to fuck him. Remy
braced himself on Logan's chest and rode the pumping hips. It was so
good to be fucked like this. Filled like this, stretched over and
over. Logan was panting under him, his hands like steel on Remy's
hips. Good and fast and hard. Both of them loving it like this.

There wasn't anything in the world but Logan's cock slamming into him.
A hard shuddering rhythm, Logan's was growling constantly now, voice
rising to a howl. A big hand moved, grabbing Remy's bouncing cock and
pumped him hard, twice. Remy yelled, body snapping like a whip, coming
violently. Lost himself in the rush, spilling over Logan's fingers.
Logan surged up under him, spilling deep into the sharp clench of
Remy's ass. Remy cried out again, weakly, sharing Logan's violent
pleasure, body quivering in response. He sagged atop the Logan's
heaving chest, warm arms went around him, holding him tight. Still
spread over Logan's hips, Logan's cock softening in his ass, Remy's
head sagged against a sweaty shoulder and they both passed out.

TBC