*****
Logan let himself into Remy's room without knocking, the even breathing from within letting him know that the occupant was asleep. Leaving his jeans and underwear on the floor midway between the door and the bed, he climbed between the heavily Marie-scented sheets and slid up behind Remy. The suppressed panic and burning frustration caused by the talk in the kitchen overwhelmed him for a moment, and he wrapped his arms suddenly around the younger man and pulled him close.
"Hmmrph?" came the sleepy mumble as Remy awakened with a little twitch. Eyes supernally keen in the dark, Logan was able to study the telltale bruise at close range, and silently wonder what the hell had been behind the impulse that led him to mark the other man like that. Had he been deliberately *trying* to give the game away to Marie?
He sighed and ran his tongue over the bite. Remy murmured a little, then turned his head a bit back towards Logan. "Maybe not a good idea for you to go leaving me marked up like that? Been a lot of fun, tryin' to keep Rogue from seeing it."
Logan sighed again. [Don't worry about hiding it, kid — she's already seen it and she don't care.] "Won't do it again," was the closest he would ever come to an apology.
Remy wriggled a little in his arms, turned to face him, kissed him. Warm, cuddly, and tasting of Marie. Not half bad. Logan pulled the kid closer, started licking along his jawline, and was interrupted when Remy shifted position and started licking *him*.
Startled but not really displeased, Logan put his hands in the younger man's hair and let him work his way down a stubbled throat to his chest, and even further downward. When Remy took him into his mouth, it did a lot to make his frustrations recede. In the few seconds of coherent thought he was able to manage, he noted what a wondrous thing it was to get a little head from someone who knew what it felt like himself and so knew how to do it *right*.
Swallowing and pulling away, Remy crawled back up to the pillow and curled up next to Logan, waiting patiently for him to get his breath back. It hadn't taken a genius to recognize the desperate unhappiness that had driven the other man into his bed at this time of night, and he had rightly concluded that his evening would go a lot better if he took steps to soothe Wolverine before he decided to do something rough and uncomfortable.
Logan sighed deeply, reaching for the younger man and pulling him close. Wrapping his arms around the kid, he gave him a deep kiss, finding the mingled tastes of himself and Marie comforting in a perversely inappropriate way. Rolling Remy onto his back, he began giving him the expected once-over with his tongue — cheek, jawline, throat, earlobe, shoulder, collarbone, chest, nipple, belly...
Remy laced his fingers together though Logan's hair, passively allowing him to do pretty much whatever he wanted. (His more-or-less standard policy since Jean's little FYI.) Eyes closed, breathing beginning to roughen, he absently wondered if he were imagining things or if the Wolverine was being uncharacteristically — well, almost gentle with him. [Probably just the blow job calmed him down a little,] he thought vaguely, before thought became impossible.
The taste of Marie having been replaced by the taste of Remy in his mouth, and her scent having been thoroughly overlain with his own, Logan absently debated whether or not the kid really needed fucking at this point. Crawling off of the now-limp Remy, he propped himself up on one elbow and opened the drawer of the nightstand. [Let's see if there's anything interesting in here... Hmm, rubbers — no surprise — women's undies? In *satin*? I really *hope* these are Marie's, and not *his*... A can of — Reddi-Whip?] Rattling it curiously... [Empty. Damn.]
Remy roused enough to ask, "What are you — oh. Try the lower drawer."
As directed, Logan closed the upper drawer and tried the second. The first thing he found was, [A book? Anything kinky?] Lifting it out of the drawer to catch the faint moonlight coming from the window, Logan's night vision was good enough to read the title. [Harry Potter? Remy, you wuss.] Dropping it back and digging some more, he mused, [At least it wasn't that Mars/Venus crap, or _The Bridges of Madison County_ — I'm sure Cyke's got parts of *that* one by heart... Massage oil — "Sensuous Strawberry"? Whatever happened to chocolate? Or plain old unscented baby oil? Could work, though... What the — ?]
Logan lifted a pair of handcuffs out of the drawer, giving them an eloquently raised eyebrow. [More than one set, too...] He craned his neck around, curiously checking the nearest bedpost for signs of having been used to anchor restraints. Not finding any obvious scratches in the wood finish, he whuffed a single gruff chuckle and dropped the cuffs back, then resumed digging. [What? No whips to go with the chains?] Finding a tube of KY hiding in a back corner of the drawer, he considered for a moment before grabbing the massage oil instead. [What the hell, let's see if it *really* smells like strawberries...]
Bottle in hand, he turned back to Remy. The other yawned and stretched, a luxuriant full-body extension that managed to neatly display the effects of the physical fitness program that was mandatory for the full teammembers. Not as well-sculpted as Logan by any means, but defined in a more slender gymnast's build.
Reaching for Logan's selection, Remy was surprised to discover a bottle rather than a tube. "What — oh, good choice," as he recognized it by touch. "Here, let me," he added, smoothly taking the bottle from the other man and pouring a fair amount into his right hand. The Wolverine growled softly, low in his chest, as the kid starting putting the oil where he felt it would do the most good. Given that the erection in Remy's hand had gone from partial to full, he (correctly) chose to interpret the sound as indicative of arousal rather than anger, and kept rubbing until Logan caught his wrist and stopped him.
Logan briefly debated finding out if Remy was flexible enough to try a little something face-to- face, before annoyedly dismissing the idea as being touchy-feely sensitive crap. Using his grip on the younger man's wrist, he pulled up and then around in a slow-motion horizontal version of a judo-style flip, rolling Remy to his back and then to his other side, facing away. Still holding the kid's wrist, Logan used the arm that he now had around his midsection to pull him closer.
Remy leaned himself back against Logan cooperatively. Releasing his wrist, Logan found a thigh beneath the covers that wasn't his own and thoughtfully traced it back up to Remy's hip. Nudging a knee between Remy's, he found an angle that he liked and penetrated the younger man.
Exhaling in a sigh, Remy put his own hands atop the pair gripping his own hips, forgetting the fragrant oil still on the fingers of his right hand. Logan ignored the slickness of the touch, concentrating on the warmth and the gripping, gliding friction. With a noise somewhere between another growl and a grunt thrumming low in his throat, he finished and slipped free.
Sliding his hands back up around Remy, he pulled the younger man back into an embrace. Letting his eyes drift shut, Logan leaned one bewhiskered cheek against the back of the kid's neck. Drowsily he nuzzled at Remy's shoulder, then gave the warm skin a gentle swipe with his tongue. [Tastes good...]
About to give Remy another lick or two, Logan suddenly tensed, eyes wide with shock. [What the *fuck* is going on here?! I'm about to fall asleep draped across this guy — I don't even *like* him! He's fucking Marie — I *hate* him! What the hell am I *doing*?]
Pulling back and away from the man in his arms, Logan eyed the tousled auburn hair and wide but fine-boned shoulders warily.
It didn't *feel* like hatred. Not anymore.
Slipping from between the sheets, Logan noticed the slickness on his fingers just in time to use his left hand to grab his jeans and briefs from the floor. Escaping into the bathroom and closing the door firmly behind him, he turned on the light and glared at himself in the mirror. He took his time about getting cleaned up and redressed, silently berating himself.
Slipping back out into the still-darkened bedroom, he moved for the door as quickly as total silence would allow. "Sure you won't stay the night?" Remy asked diffidently from the bed as Logan paused at the door to listen for potential witnesses.
Logan allowed himself a subdued bark of laughter. "Hadn't you heard? I get some pretty good nightmares. People wind up shish-kebabed if I wake up wrong..." [Just ask Marie...]
Remy sighed a little, but didn't argue. Angry with himself at the urge to peel his jeans back off and go curl up next to the kid, Logan let himself out into the hall and barely kept himself from slamming the door behind him. (Which would no doubt have woken half the hall and earned him far more witnesses than he would care to have seeing him leaving Remy's room at this time of night.)
Midway between Remy's bed and his own, the glare had been replaced by a wry look. [It's not a fine line between love and hate — they're really two sides of the same coin. And coins are made to be flipped...]
Lifting his eyes to the ceiling and the heavens beyond, he ironically directed his next thought to the Creator he couldn't remember ever having really believed in. [My life isn't complicated enough right now. Could you throw in a few more little twists and turns to keep things from getting boring?]
The challenge to an unresponsive Fate raised his spirits enough for a genuine chuckle by the time he reached his own door.
Later, of course, he would recall that Fate works at its own pace.
*****