niceandfluffy2 | FIC: Promises: Contracts (13/?)

Promises: Contracts
Author: Foofy

niceandfluffy
Rating: NC17
Setting: Origins – Wolverine movieverse
Warnings: Graphic sex, violence, incest, AU
Pairings: Victor/Logan, Victor/Wade, Logan/Remy
Past chapters can be found HERE

Summary: The team attempt to work out the pecking order, and end up with more paperwork than they had expected.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long period between chapters, got hit by real life. As a result, the chapter isn't the greatest in the world... *shuffles*

*

Remy was slightly drunk when he got back to the island. Not completely drunk, the type which normally involved him swinging around lamp-posts and singing to the stars, but certainly more than a nice little warm buzz. He had money in his pockets, he was almost free of constantly looking over his shoulder, and he was able to feel the street under his feet and the wind in his hair. Life was relatively good, and the pieces that weren’t good just needed a quick polish to get them shiny. LeBeau chuckled to himself; polishing things was much easier if your current partner had metal parts. Normally the shine was metaphorical, but with Logan, you could polish him until you could see your face in his knuckles.

He snorted softly. That sounded worse than it probably should have, but then again if you slept with wolves, you had to expect the occasional flea bite.

“Ah, Logan,” he called out as he strolled through the doors. He could hear his accent begin to reclaim his words as the alcohol wore down his control, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. There were many things that he couldn’t quite bring himself to care about at the moment, the edges filed off to make them all nicely streamlined in his mind.

The feral seemed to be in a little world of his own too, standing at the end of the corridor and staring down at his feet as though he was surprised they were there. LeBeau cocked his head to one side as he wandered closer, studying the little frown on Logan’s face in interest. Victor, no doubt. There was absolutely no one who could affect Logan as his brother did, regardless of what the subject matter was. Victor could probably get Logan ready to explode purely by asking who was making breakfast.

Remy purred as he wandered closer, reaching up to brush his knuckles down Logan’s furry cheek and then further downwards. His fingertips rested lightly on the white vest that Logan seemed addicted to, feeling the strong muscle underneath in fascinated delight. There were so few in the cities who obtained the sheer muscle power that Logan did, and even fewer who would let him investigate them. His hand was captured by one that was broad, tanned and strong, easily stopping Remy’s little quest. Dark eyes flickered upwards to assess him suspiciously.

“You’re drunk,”

“Yeah.” Remy grinned at him, then tugged at his hand which seemed glued in place.

“I said a drink,” Logan reminded him.

“Oui, you did. And that drink was made up of lots of little ones in the same glass,” he replied solemnly before stretching up to press a kiss on Logan’s mouth. “I’ve behaved, mon ami,”

“According to who?” the rumble was disapproving. LeBeau chuckled, and tickled Logan under the ribs. The feral looked incredulous, then squirmed to grab the other hand before there was further tickling damage.

“Aww, dat’s not fair,” Remy sulked briefly, pressing forward to allow his body to rub against Logan’s groin instead. However, something wasn’t quite right. All the buttons were being pressed, and the responses were promising, but there was still that little frown on Logan’s face which refused to leave.

“What?” Gambit asked, confused.

“Why did you get drunk?” Logan kept hold of his hands, looking back at him with the steady expression of one who was asking a genuinely serious question rather than a daft one. Serious questions really hadn’t been on the schedule, and asking someone why they were drunk was like asking a hungry man why he finished the last of the chips. LeBeau raised an eyebrow, and then yelped as he was propelled into the nearest room which turned out to be someone’s office. Logan released his hands and shut the door behind them. Remy watched in bemusement as the feral folded his arms and leaned against the door in a manner that suggested that he was planning to be a human barrier for a long time to come.

“Well, aren’t you just dramatic!” Remy chuckled. He was happy, the world was fuzzy, and he wasn’t in the mood to start working out feral men’s motivations. He ran his hand across the desk before whacking a globe and sending it spinning on its axel. “Hey, I like dis place. It has neat stuff,”

“Remy. I ain’t joking here,” Logan’s voice was gruff. “Did you get drunk to get a reaction out of me?”

“If I did, it seems t’have worked, mon ami,” LeBeau replied in good humour, and draped himself over the padded leather chair as he tested the drawers for further elusive neat stuff. The drawers turned out to be locked, which was bad for them. Remy had no idea why they bothered, considering that the locks were so basic that a good thief could open them just by sneezing in a particular way. He swiftly removed a card and charged it, slipping it into the crack and hearing the satisfying explosion hit the spot. Oh yeah. Easy as pie.

“Call dis an office drawer?” he grumbled when he pulled it open and began to rummage. “Not worth the card. Paperclips, bands, some little notes. Nothing even vaguely worth stealing, and-,”

He suddenly found himself grabbed by the scruff of his collar and marched across the room, his feet trailing on the floor until Logan finally released him. Remy stumbled, and looked back at a furious feral inches away from him.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Logan snarled.

“Uh. Good?” The happy drunken haze was beginning to falter in the face of something more serious than Remy had anticipated. Go to bar, get some money from ill-advised kids who thought they could play poker, get a bit drunk and then go back. He hadn’t realised there had been a point in this which could cause angry boyfriends.

“Wade told me what you were talking about,” Logan’s gaze bore into him. Suddenly all trace of drunkenness disappeared out of Remy’s body to be replaced by an icy chill. Wade. Oh shit, shit, shit!. Was it the files? The secondary motivation on going to the other base? Some accusation that he didn’t care for Logan, or that he was deliberately winding up Victor? LeBeau found his fingers straying to his cards automatically, his body tense for the fight. He couldn’t take anything for granted when it came to Wade; no doubt he had managed to end up with half a dozen different rumours about his person.

“And what exactly did he tell you?” he kept his expression as disinterested as possible, not wanting to fuel any of Logan’s suspicions.

“That you’re trying to get yourself punished.”

“Oh.” Remy hadn’t been expecting that one. On the list of possible horrors to turn up, a desire for punishment was seriously down the bottom end of the list. He relaxed a little more. “Punished as in sent to my room without supper?”

Logan’s eyebrow twitched upwards, his brown eyes studying Remy’s. LeBeau smirked slightly at the silent meaning. All this fuss over the possibility he might want a spanking? Hell, by the way he was buzzing he might well do, as long as Logan kept it to a normal human level and didn’t allow the claws to turn up. Ordinarily he was the one wielding the weapon rather than allow himself to be chained up, preferring to know he could escape whenever he felt like it, but variety was the spice of life.

LeBeau chuckled and affectionately ran his hand down Logan’s cheek again.

“Why, does dat turn you on?” he asked in interest, wondering how much of Wade’s discussion had actually been true. Perhaps Logan did have a hidden interest in the more physical aspects, despite his traditional nature. Remy’s eyes flashed in amusement, his voice dropping to a silken purr. His hands slid down Logan’s ramrod straight body and around his hips, squeezing his ridiculously tight bottom. “Or would you prefer me t’do it? Tie you up again and have you completely at my mercy?”

Logan’s eyebrow gained more exercise by rising even higher. “At your mercy?” he snorted softly. “A little over ambitious there, kid.”

“I have my ways,” Remy grinned at him, and squeezed again. He laughed once more. “Relax, mon ami! There’s nothing to be worried about-,”

At which point the door to the office suddenly decided to smash off its hinges, scattering wooden debris everywhere and sagging in the doorway. LeBeau frowned in surprise, caution increasing in his eyes as he recognise the figure who had just booted in the door.

“- other than your psychopathic brother who apparently is having trouble working out how to knock,” he said slowly. Victor normally had a look in his eye which stated he was merely working out whether to kill someone outright or toy with them, but now the intensity had grown to the extent that Remy felt a very real need to be somewhere else. He scowled and shook himself mentally. This was ridiculous. He was not going to be browbeaten by someone who had the mental ability of a concussed skunk.

Logan’s tension was also not abating, his gaze moving onto his furious brother warily. He was about to move forward when LeBeau firmly pushed him back to where he was; or, at least, the hand was on Logan’s chest with a movement that told him what he would have done if Logan wasn’t the weight of an average mountain.

“No. I’ll sort this out.” Remy snapped. There was no way he was going to cower behind Logan’s frame every single time his ‘brother in law’ decided to get moody. He moved a little away from the desk, pretending not to notice Logan’s dubious expression. Whatever happened to a little bit of trust in your lover? LeBeau gathered himself and put confidence in his posture. He’d look Victor straight in the eye and-

-within a moment Victor had cleared the space between them and seized him by the throat with a grip that wasn’t giving him any room to manoeuvre. As Remy struggled for oxygen with his feet already inches from the ground, he heard the familiar and incredibly welcome ‘snik-snik’ somewhere behind him.

“Take one step closer, Jimmy, and I’ll snap his neck,” Victor snarled. Remy could faintly hear the snarling growl that formed Logan’s response, but the world was producing dark dots in front of his eyes and his head was beginning to swim. He realised that Victor was carefully using Remy’s own body as a shield from Logan’s attack, which was just plain unfair. He gasped for air that just wasn’t coming, one hand scrambling in his pocket for a missile, any missile, that might get him out trouble.

One thing was certain. Victor was off his Christmas card list.

“Put him down,”

“Why? I can get you another one. One that behaves a little more in keeping with his position, hmmm?” Victor eyed Remy dismissively before tightening his grip even more. LeBeau’s hand slipped from his pocket for a second before he forced himself to find extra strength. He could feel the way Victor’s hand shifted into a better position, no doubt ready to break his neck if Logan should move, and really, really wished he’d gone with his original instinct to run.

His scrambling hand finally closed over a coin; Gambit gave a quick silent thanks to the universe in general, before gathering the rest of his strength as he began to move the coin in his hand. He could slowly feel the energy begin to build, but too slow, God, too slow.

“You and I need to have words, little brother,” Victor was saying, and each word sounded so damned far away that they echoed. Remy felt the familiar tingle in his fingertips, not anywhere near his usual amount but hell, he would welcome a hiccup in hell if it helped him get oxygen. Victor realised too late what was happening, his claws ripping free as the glowing coin struck his chest and thrust him into the wall. Gambit dropped immediately, the trickle of blood from his neck the last thing on his mind as he focused on the simple pleasure of getting air into his lungs with deep, rasping breaths. Logan immediately stood between him and Victor’s prowling threat, claws extended and the man all but vibrating in anger.

Within a second, the world had suddenly taken a turn for the violent as Logan charged, his claws working to find an opening in Victor’s defence to bury them deep in the other man’s body. Victor had been clearly expecting it and had changed his tactics, waiting until the last moment to jump aside and use his dexterity against his brother’s bullish attack.

As the men battled, Remy raised one shaking hand to his slashed throat and felt the blood damp against his fingertips. All in all, the evening could have gone better. He raised his eyes to where the fight was still blazing, wincing as Victor’s clawed hand sank into Logan’s side, clenched and then twisted to all but rip out a chunk of him. Logan roared, and immediately sliced at Victor’s eyes, only just missing. Gambit fought bile rising in his throat and crawled further away before the combatants accidentally stepped on him; to die from someone’s personal attention was one thing. To die accidentally was just plain careless.

From that point on, it was a massacre. He had never seen so much blood where the men were still standing. Remy stared from his protected position in sick fascination; he had entered into his own fair share of fights, many of which had been intense, but this wasn’t a fight, it was an autopsy.

The wall shuddered as Logan slammed his claws through Victor’s shoulder and thrust him against it, their bodies so close they could have been kissing as Victor squirmed like a very angry worm on the end of a hook. The elder feral hissed and struck again, the claws raking across Logan’s shirt and turning the white into a blaze of bright red as the blood began to flow.

LeBeau watched speechlessly as blow after blow struck, each cut swiftly beginning to heal almost as soon as it was made although it was plainly obvious that the men suffered the pain associated with it. This was what the brothers had done for most of their lives together? Fighting and fucking. No wonder Logan was messed up if this had been considered normal.

No. This habit needed to stop, otherwise they’d be here again and again, each time getting more and more violent until they drifted into mutilation. Could their healing factor reattach arms? Remy didn’t know and really didn’t want to in a position where he needed to find out.

“Guys-,” he tried, but the heavy sound of Victor slamming against the bookcase drowned him out. Remy ducked to avoid a low flying medical journal, then looked up in time to witness Victor’s violent revenge that would have earned more than a few articles in a medical journal by itself.

Gambit growled to himself, and leaned forward to pick up one of the scattered, battered books; his eyes glowed for a moment, before he hurled it in the temporary space between the two combatants, smiling in satisfaction as the resulting explosion at least caused a pause.

“You missed,” Victor growled, who was taking the opportunity to grab his breath back.

“I wasn’t aiming for you,”

“Yeah?” Victor snorted, and then looked at Logan. “Apparently he’s trying to kill you now. Sweet kid.”

“You two honestly just gonna keep going until you beat the crap out of each other?” LeBeau got unsteadily to his feet and privately cursed the vodka. Logan remained silent, narrowing his eyes slightly as he watched him. Victor raised his eyebrow, but also didn’t respond; Remy had a suspicious this was less to do with his interest in the conversation and more to give his arm time to heal the vicious jagged cut which had been sliced deep into the muscle. Well, take the opportunities where you could.

“I’ll handle this,” Logan growled finally.

“You’ll handle it? How many more times is he going to try to kill me?!” Remy waved a hand at Victor, who merely smiled in his usual, toothy manner.

“Just once. And there won’t be any ‘try’.” Victor chuckled, then hissed as Logan’s claws buried themselves briefly his chest. Panting, Victor aimed a sulky look at Logan as the claws retracted. “So much for ‘conversation’.”

“You got something to say?” Logan snarled back. Victor snorted, and began to casually brush the dust from his coat, but the movements didn’t quite shield the barely controlled fury that was still flowing through the man.

“A little bird tells me you’re giving your boy privileges he doesn’t deserve.” Victor’s eyes flickered to Logan’s, the tone of his voice adding ‘surely not’ to the end. Logan’s eyes narrowed even further, his fists clenching harder and his body vibrating in anger. Remy was half reminded of a fighting dog waiting for the last moment before springing its vicious attack as he studied his lover. Victor, of course, didn’t seem to care what his brother was doing. His hands were still stained with Remy’s and now his brother’s blood, his claws fully extended, but it was the look in his eyes that chilled the marrow in Gambit’s bones. There was no mercy there whatsoever.

“So,” Victor cocked his head to one side as though the conversation was a minor one involving tea and biscuits. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Logan snarled, his words so gruff that Gambit had difficulty understanding him. Victor tilted his head toward Remy in a manner that suggested that it was beneath him to do even that.

“You’re letting the boy take you?” his lip curled.

“That’s the reason you want to kill him?” Logan gave a snort of utter disbelief, but Remy’s eyes narrowed further. He had realised that dominance and pack played a very high role in Victor’s estimation, one of the few social acknowledgements that Victor bothered with, but hadn’t entirely appreciated how far the man was going to take it. It was an interesting weakness, although to use it would require LeBeau to actually live past the next five minutes.

Sure enough, Victor pursed his lips.

“No, that’s one of the reasons why I want to kill him. However, it’s currently the main one.” Cool eyes flickered to eye LeBeau for a moment in disgust, before returning to Logan. “I can’t let you do it, Jimmy,”

“Funny. Last time I looked, I made the decisions over who I sleep with and how I sleep with them.”

“Yeah.” Victor smiled, showing off the tips of his canines. “Aren’t appearances wonderful? He’s not strong enough, little brother. You know that, and I know that. Stop threatening what we have just to keep your puppy happy. You know as well as I do that he’ll be gone as soon as he’s bored,”

“Hey!” Remy snapped, although the impact was ruined by the husky, pained wheeze from the strangulation. Both ferals ignored him. Remy growled softly in the back of his throat, ignoring the stab of pain. So that was it, was it? He was some type of pet, one that was so far from their social scale that he wasn’t even a blip on the radar.

It was also a statement on what they faced. Regardless of the physical battles which Logan seemed to be winning, Victor would never give up. This would go around in circles endlessly, neither man giving in or even trying to resolve the issues between them. Logan didn’t even know half of what was going on; the true guiding force of Logan’s life was the cat-like monster of a man who haunted Logan like a ghost tied to a castle. Remy focused a little harder.

There was no question over it anymore. He and Victor were going to have to remove the middle man in the conversation if they wanted to sort this out, which ironically was the actual man they were going to have to discuss. In a strange way it was like two parents battling over custody of their child, although Remy swiftly dropped that image as being more than a little disturbing.

Of course getting to speak to Victor before he reintroduced his claws to Remy’s neck was going to be a minor miracle in itself.

In the meantime, the brothers had continued the conversation and had barely got off the snarls that seemed to follow the ferals around like the littlest hobo. Logan looked a mixture of confused and fucked off, and clearly wanted to get back to the black and white fight which he was able to understand. Victor also seemed to prefer the physical, despite appreciating the reasoning behind it; Gambit suspected much of the man’s verbal offerings had been a simple delaying tactic for both healing and locating opportunities to exploit.

All in all, they’d get absolutely nowhere if he left it to them.

“Logan,” LeBeau raised his voice as much as he could without actually shouting it. “I’ll talk to him, mon ami.”

That got their attention. Logan looking at him incredulously and Victor smiling in a manner that would make a Great White jealous.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Victor purred, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve got the ketchup on standby,”

“I’m serious,” Remy growled. Victor chuckled, although the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah. So am I.” his tongue licked lazily over his bottom lip as his eyes assessed him hungrily. Logan slammed a fist on his brother’s chest, almost absent-mindedly, and frowned harder at Gambit as though the universe was trying to play one massive joke on him.

“Why?” he asked bluntly. Remy shrugged, although he always kept Victor in careful view. The feral’s expression was thoughtful, as though he was a fox was prowling around a chicken coop looking for the best spot to get in. Finally Victor snorted.

“Well, go on. Talk. If you’re waiting for a gold edged invitation, I’m all out of those.” The eyebrow raised again with a little twitch of mockery.

“In private,” Gambit said softly.

“No.” Logan snarled immediately. Victor’s eyes gleamed.

“Let’s not be hasty, little brother,” he purred. “If the boy’s feeling confident, let’s allow him his moment.”

“He’s only confident because he’s drunk,” Logan growled back.

“Even better. Marinaded Cajun.” Victor grinned, his tone hungry and a little too pleased by the suggestion. Remy scowled sulkily. He wasn’t the one covered in blood and wanting to tear his sibling apart; to be judged by this pair was more than ridiculous.

“Well?” he said pointedly. Victor shrugged carelessly.

“Why not. There has to be some reason why my brother is interested in keeping your sorry ass alive. Perhaps we’ll find it.” The grin flickered upwards again, Victor’s gaze travelling up and down Remy’s body lazily. The smile increased. “Perhaps not,”

“I said no.” The look in Logan’s eyes was one of pure anger. Remy eyed him carefully. Technically the correct response was to politely remind Logan that he didn’t have authority to decide what LeBeau did, but then again Logan was still large enough that he could simply grab him by the scruff of the neck and thrust him into a cupboard. The ‘I choose what I do’ aspect only really worked if you were quick enough to follow through with your decision when you were faced with men as strong as Logan.

“I’ll be fine,” Remy said softly, trying to convince him without adding to the dominance problem. Victor smirked slightly, but leaned against the wall without comment as they waited for his brother to come to the conclusion that the other two had already accepted. Short of Logan watching their every move for the next 24 hours, he wouldn’t be able to stop a conversation occurring at some point. Remy could see the frustration grow in his lover’s eyes, before Logan snarled and punched a hole through the wall a few centimetres away from Victor’s head. Victor, for his part, didn’t move, although the manly image was ruined by the fact the plaster dust made the feral sneeze.

“If either one of you is dead when I get back, I’m going to be fucking annoyed,” Logan snarled as he marched out. Remy waited until his lover had left before raising his head and studying his current problem. Gambit tended to have at least two problems on the go at any one time, making life more exciting, but Victor was the type of problem that just kept on giving in a variety of medical ways. He could almost see the way the man was trying to keep a firm grip on his pride and his life, but even Victor’s claws weren’t quite strong enough to cling on. If he didn’t want to rip Remy into confetti, Gambit could have felt quite sorry for him.

As it was, the confetti ending was a worrying possibility. Victor’s anger hadn’t vanished, although the man’s control over it was surprisingly impressive. Logan simply destroyed whatever irritated him straight away; Victor seemed to store it up, caressing and carefully shaping his revenge until he could strike.

“Well,” Victor drawled, his predatory eyes trained on Remy as though he represented a good, full meal with added sauce. “This ought to be interesting,”

LeBeau straightened to his full height, which still meant he was pretty much looking straight at Victor’s nipples rather than his eyes, and tried to make his body forget the alcohol that was currently still flowing in his system. Every second counted when it came to Victor.

“I believe we need t’make a deal,”

Victor studied him for a moment, then roared with laughter. “You want to make a deal? Are worms able to make deals?”

Remy watched him without emotion, ignoring the jibe. “You know as well as I do dat if you kill me, Logan’ll just replace me with someone else. All you’ll get with each killing is your brother’s loathing, which I’m assuming is probably going to ruin your chances of getting in his pants again. Right?”

Victor leaned against the wall carelessly. “Like that makes a difference at the moment,” his lip curled. “You’re not making yourself any more interesting to me, pup. Too much boredom and I find something to sharpen my nails on.”

“Fine. Let’s cut straight to the deal, shall we?” Remy watched Victor make a little ‘be my guest’ gesture, then removed a card and began to play with it in one hand. “I’m not going to promise dat I’m going t’be the passive one in my relationship. It’s dull, it’s boring, and I’m not great at being permanently submissive. However, I can keep that behind closed doors. No one need know but you, Logan and me, although I assume Wade will also find out eventually, n'est-ce pas? Outside of those agreed times, I’ll be the image of a good little obedient soldier to those who are physically stronger than me. Which, I believe, includes you, does it not?”

Victor eyed him silently and in obvious disbelief. “You’d never do it correctly,” he said finally and dismissively. “You don’t do orders, and you don’t use physical strength as your main advantage. Makes it hard,”

“We’re here for a few days due to Wade, oui? So try it out. See for yourself. If we can’t..,” Remy shrugged carelessly to indicate that very little would have been lost. Victor’s tongue slid over his bottom lip as he watched him thoughtfully.

“So, what? This good behaviour’s in exchange for me not slicing your stomach open and using your guts to tie my shoelaces?”

“Exactly.”

Victor eyed him, rubbing a finger over his chin as he thought it over. Remy could see the calculation in the predator’s eyes, and knew damned well that Victor was mulling the additional opportunities and advantages over the situation. There was no such thing as a fair trade with someone like Victor. The secret was simply to find some personal advantage that tied in with your enemies’ interests.

“So,” Victor drawled. “If I shouted at you to do something, you’d do it?”

“Within reason,”

Victor snorted softly and pushed himself from the wall, prowling closer. Remy held his ground, looking the much larger man in the eye and trying to pretend he’d entirely forgotten about the razor sharp claws that Victor possessed. This was unsurprisingly difficult.

“I don’t believe you.” Victor lifted his hand and gently ran one finger down Remy’s cheek and slowly down his chest; LeBeau felt his heart quicken in his chest, but forced himself not to react. That was what Victor wanted, and whatever Victor wanted tended to be bad for someone. Remy really wasn’t in the mood to take Wade’s place on the operating table.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a lying, manipulating, profit grabbing bastard,”

“So are you,” Remy replied. Victor looked at him for a moment, then chuckled softly.

“Possibly.” he allowed, then grabbed hold of Gambit’s collar and thrust him against the wall hard enough that Remy felt the breath forced painfully from his lungs. He cracked open an eye to find Victor’s eyes inches away from his own, his breath intimately caressing on his skin. LeBeau tried to remain as calm as he could, but this was remarkably tricky when the only part of him that was touching the floor was the tips of his toes.

“Listen, kid,” Victor purred. “This might work with the people you normally play with, but I’ve never been good with contracts and deals and paperwork. So let’s get to the point. We’ll give your thing a go, to an extent. If I so much as sniff you showing off your … let’s call it ‘influence’, shall we?.. on this mission or anywhere else, you’re gonna be hanging in different pieces from a tree in a wonderfully Halloween version of Christmas decorations. If you be a good little boy, then you might get to your fifteenth birthday.”

Remy resisted the urge to struggle. “I’m older than fifteen.” he protested, his words slightly ruined by the restriction on his windpipe.

“Yeah? Then act like it.” Victor watched him for a moment longer in disinterest to Remy’s plight, then released him with a snort of disgust. Gambit slid downwards rapidly, landing on his feet and thankfully keeping a tight grip on his balance as he collected his breath and watched his opponent warily. Victor’s hand pressed itself on LeBeau’s chest, the pin-pricks of claws pressing through the fabric as the feral looked at him with eyes so cold they could have frozen a penguin.

“Just be clear about this. You’re not alive now because you’re useful to me. You’re alive because my brother likes you. You steal any more of him away from me, and you’ll tip the balance.” Victor leaned forward, his eyes fixed on him. “Be very, very careful, hmm?”

Remy stared back at him, panting softly. “I know what I’m doing,”

Victor smiled and allowed his hand to drift downwards; Remy’s heart froze in his chest as the feral cupped his groin in his clawed paw, the coldness in Victor’s eyes so intense that it was a wonder that the man’s blood was still warm. The paw squeezed gently, enough to demonstrate how very easy it would be to tighten it, and Remy had a horrible flash of memory on how swiftly those claws slid through anything. Victor smiled winningly at him.

“No. You don’t. Confident isn’t the same as capability.” He squeezed again, hard enough for tears to come to Remy’s eyes, before Victor dropped his hold once again and took a step backwards.

“Good luck, kid.” Victor’s lip curled, the man slowly turning to leave. “You’re gonna need it.”

*

There were many things in this world that Logan hated, and being excluded from his own life was one of them. He could have dug his heels in, but ultimately they would have simply discussed something else and waited for him to leave before entering into the real conversation. Victor had always excluded him from any really important conversation, and LeBeau liked to play his cards close to his chest as though he was suspicious that Logan might steal something. All in all, the pair of them liked to add complexity where none was necessary. It was enough to make a guy tear holes through the walls.

At least the argument – Victor didn’t do discussions – seemed to have ended better than Logan had anticipated. Remy slipped into the room after fifteen minutes, his throat bruised and scratched but definitely still there, and Logan couldn’t see any new injuries that Victor had inflicted. There was also a thoughtful, calculating look in the boy’s eyes which clearly stated that something had been agreed and LeBeau wasn’t quite sure how Logan was going to take it. Logan growled softly and finished his beer. Sneaking around was definitely not his thing.

“So. You’re alive, then?”

Gambit slipped to sit in a chair and relaxed in it, putting his feet on the table and leaning back as though he was actually in a log fire library with a bottle of scotch, a pipe and a smoking jacket. He grinned carelessly, which seemed to be at odds with his bruised, scratched throat.

“Dat I am, mon ami. Are you alright?”

“Me?” Logan snorted. “Of course.”

“Your clothes look a little… shredded.” LeBeau said delicately, his gaze drifting over the battered vest top which had received enough clawing to practically turn it into lace. Logan snorted again, and fetched himself another beer. He was aware of the chair moving, and the pitter patter of light feet on the floor; LeBeau’s hand gently touched him on the shoulder, sliding his smooth palm over Logan’s muscles caressingly. Logan growled softly in irritation, although couldn’t quite stop himself responding to the gentle touches.

“This your idea of distraction, kid?”

“I’d say it was society’s idea of distraction, but I can claim ownership if you’d prefer,” Gambit purred, his body moulding around Logan’s in what was no doubt supposed to be a seductive way. Certainly Logan’s body was convinced, even if his mind was still irritated about the whole damned evening.

Of course Remy couldn’t just leave it at simple closeness. One hand slid from shoulder to chest, fingers toying with the shredded fabric of his vest before slipping inside to finger a nipple. The other worked its way down Logan’s side to squeeze his thigh, Remy’s hips nudging against his backside as though expecting permission to enter. Logan closed his eyes and took a deeper breath; he could smell blood and sweat, the sickly sweet smell of alcohol and the bitter sweet of lust. Their scents seemed to intermingle, his, Gambit’s, Victor’s, even Wade. It held both agony and longing at the same time.

“What did you talk about?” he grunted softly, not even expecting an answer. Since when did anyone give him the truth about anything? Victor had ‘handled’ things since they were kids. Stryker had manipulated any truth to fit his own goals. So called ‘Silverfox’ had played on his sentiments, skilfully guiding him to what she wanted even if she regretted her part in it. Wade was working in his own reality. And Remy… well, Remy was a gambler. They looked for the best odds and then played them.

Sure enough, there was a little chuckle and another gentle kiss on his neck. “Nothing t’worry about, mon cher-,”

Logan had flipped around and grabbed hold of the boy’s shirt before LeBeau had even realised what was going on; he shoved him to the wall and eyed him with apparently so much aggression that Gambit’s eyes widened in surprise.

“No. I ain’t playing this game anymore.” Logan snarled. “You two had a conversation, and I want to know what it is. And if you start telling me some elaborate lie, you better damned make sure I never find out.”

LeBeau watched him warily, the smile completely vanished from his features. Logan was reminded of the look that Gambit had given him on the very first time they had met, bleeding and bruised from their fight and thrust up against the wall after taking a pounding. It was a look that spoke of caution and resentment, a big fish in a small pond suddenly finding out that the oceans contained sharks.

“You know, I could really do with not getting shoved against any more walls,” the boy’s tone was clipped, the soft accent which had increased through drink vanishing entirely as it always did whenever he was trying to sound more in control than he actually was.

“I could really do with someone telling me what the fuck’s going on, and apparently that someone is going to be you. Get on with it,” Logan snarled.

Remy snorted softly, his eyes trained on him. “Or what? You’ll punch me? You’ll use those claws of yours on me?”

Logan’s hand tightened in the Cajun’s shirt, tight enough to make the collar uncomfortable against his neck, before he shoved the boy back against the wall as he released him. Logan looked at him in disgust, before turning and heading to the door. Fuck this. He wasn’t going to try to beat the damned stuff out of them. If they wanted their secrets, they could have them and leave him the fuck alone.

There had to be a decent bar somewhere.

“Logan, wait!”

He didn’t. There was a muttered curse behind him, then the patter of feet behind him once more. A gentle hand rested on his arm, which Logan immediately shook off. Oh no. No more distractions.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on, so will you please stop marching off and calm down?!”

Logan merely responded with a snarl. There was a little noise that suggested a sigh had been forced through gritted teeth, before the soft pattering of feet sounded again to catch him up.

“Well, fine. We’ll go to a bar,” Gambit needed to readjust his stride to keep pace with the fast stalk that Logan was keeping. The feral eyed him grumpily.

“We?” he said pointedly. “Who said anything about we?”

“Your body did. Was it lying?” Remy asked calmly. Logan eyed him a little more, then muttered under his breath about sneaky kids and continued to stalk to the exit.

“So where’s this bar of yours?”

“Just follow me,” Remy flashed him a smile. “Remy’s gonna show you a good time.”

Logan snorted. “I doubt it.”

But he didn’t argue about the sentiments. A good time was so desperately needed before he completely exploded. The word of the night was ‘beer’, and god, he was looking forward to it.

*

The joyous lyrics of ‘I’ve got a loverly bunch of coconuts’ was bouncing off the walls by the time Victor got back to the cage room; Wade was lying on his back, still completely naked, occasionally conducting with his foot.

“… big ones, small ones, ones the size of your head, BOOM BOOM..,” the song paused as Wade realised that he had an audience. A toe pointed toward Victor in curiosity. “Oooh, there you are. And you’re bloody and ripped up., and is that plaster dust I can see, or dandruff? I assume you met up with Logan?”

“Yes.” Victor stalked to the cage and opened the lock, stepping inside and immediately pulling off the remains of the t-shirt. He was irritable and tired, his body hurt, and he just wanted a few moments where he forgot everything. He stretched, then looked at one of the gashes in his side which was almost healed. Logan was getting far too good at working out what took time to fix. Victor shook his head impatiently, then dropped to hands and knees and crawled the last few feet to Wade.

“Roll over. Get your ass up,” he ordered. The toe twitched, possibly in surprise.

“Twice in an hour? Ooooh, kitty wants his cream-,”

“If you’re in the mood to talk, I’m in the mood to shove a sock in your mouth,” Victor replied briskly. Wade rolled his eyes, and shuddered.

“Not with your feet you don’t. You only change your socks yearly, and I don’t like the taste of cheese unless it’s on pasta.” he pushed himself up and moved onto hands and knees, spreading his legs and wiggling his bottom encouragingly. “Frustrated, eh?” he said understandingly.

“Yeah,” Victor growled, waiting for Wade to find a good position before releasing his aching length from his pants. He rubbed his hand over it, relishing the stabbing beauty of pleasure that shot through him, then looked down at where Wade was waiting for him. He had to give it to him, Wade occasionally knew when to shut up; not entirely shut up, obviously, as that was against nature, but certainly not harping on about a subject that Victor really, really wanted to ignore. However, the thoughts kept playing in his head, over and over until it threatened to turn him insane.

Would the brat follow orders as he claimed he would? Victor wasn’t sure. LeBeau wasn’t suicidal and seemed perfectly aware that he was playing with fire, but the bastard was cocky and that normally meant that at some time he just wouldn’t be quick enough. There was also the question of what he was telling Logan, although Victor was less concerned about that; LeBeau was a thief, and offering information freely was about as natural as a purple penguin competing in the Olympics.

Victor scowled. Much as he hated to admit it, Gambit was a problem. LeBeau would never win in a fair fight, but then people like that avoided fair fights like the plague. They worked out their advantage and then they used it, as hard and as fast as they could. Victor rubbed his palm over his aching cock again, feeling the sensation meld with the frustration to produce a welcoming, burning throb of intense anticipation settle in the core of him. Anger always made him so much harder, as though the emotions settled in the tip of his cock, throbbing and furious to get going.

He spat on his hand and slicked up his cock; Wade widened his legs willingly enough as he put the blunt tip of his engorged penis against the dusky pucker and thrust. Tight, firm muscles welcomed him, the heat washing over Victor’s body and burning through him, but not as much as Wade’s yell. Victor grinned to himself. Wade always did know when he wanted as much noise as possible, a fake punishment that seemed somehow right. He slammed in again, as hard and as far as he could, and revelling in the next scream. His balls pressed up tight against the younger man’s body as he growled in his ear, one hand sneaking around Wade’s waist in order to grip his cock. Wade bucked in response, giving a not-quite acting gasp as Victor gripped him tighter to thrust deeper into the hot, welcoming channel.

“Not sure you’re going hard enough,” Wade panted, between gasps and growls and howls as the world’s kinkiest wolf. “I can still feel my toes,”

Victor responded by a thrust that nearly shoved the younger man flat on his face. Wade pushed himself up shakily.

“Much better,” he gasped, then yelped again as Victor’s hand squeezed him tighter. He could feel his partner beginning to struggle against the relentless pressure, but Victor wouldn’t let him; he needed this, to know that he controlled the situation regardless of what happened, to feel another submit under his roughness. Wade bucked again, his whimpers becoming more frustrated as Victor refused to give him any quarter.

He bent over and nipped Wade’s neck with his teeth, breaking the skin and allowing his tongue to swirl over the blossoming wealth of blood that emerged. Too soon the healing factor began to heal it, the blood slowing to a trickle, so he bit again, a little deeper. Wade groaned softly, arching his back, but that was the extent of his comment.

“Too slow,” Wade gasped. “Harder. Think hare, not tortoise.”

Victor’s eyebrow twitched upward at that, but this was something he could do. His hips continued to breach Wade’s body as hard and as fast as he could, Wade meeting his rhythm eagerly despite his body’s protests at the rough treatment. If only Jimmy could work out the natural roles, regardless of what the scientists had given to him. Victor snarled to himself and thrust harder again, making Wade scrabble for a better purchase.

His time would come, eventually. And then Jimmy would be his again, his little brother to adore and control. Victor smiled as he thrust in once more with enough violence that he felt Wade’s body give under him. He could wait. And when he got them, the pleasure would be intense.

*

The bar that Remy led him to was dark, loud and had a clientele that was far too young. Logan felt ancient as he walked through the room full of young, slim bodies and the youthful laughter which normally meant someone had told a joke that seemed utterly witty to anyone under the age of twenty five. Girls danced in small groups, talking amongst themselves eagerly and eying up the young men who prowled around like wolves checking a herd for stragglers. Gambling was everywhere of course, whether that be card games or dice, whispers and giggles following them as they made their way to the main bar and found a couple of seats. Logan was relieved to note the main gaggle of baby patrons seemed to lurk near the back, playing their games and believing that they had found themselves a suitable escape route if necessary. It was sweet, in a way.

LeBeau had already ordered the drinks, and looked brightly at him as the beer bottle was passed in Logan’s direction. Logan eyed the label, then took a swig; it was pretty damned weak as beer went, merely water with a hint of potential, but it was better than nothing. He was also thankful that Remy had taken the lesser alcoholic route as well, no doubt remembering how his stronger drink had told against him when facing the rage that had been Victor. Carrying a drunken Cajun back to their current room was not something he wanted to do, not least because he wasn’t entirely sure how sick the boy would get in the morning.

At least LeBeau had remembered why they were there. Gambit leaned forward, eyes twinkling in the low light. Logan watched him without expression, knowing what he was going to hear was LeBeau’s version of the truth but equally knowing it was better than nothing.

“You don’t have to worry.” Remy began, his features in a perfect version of what ‘honesty’ should look like. “We talked it through and came to an agreement.”

That was even poorer than he had been expecting.

“Victor doesn’t talk and he doesn’t do agreements.” Logan replied flatly. “Try again.”

“Have you ever tried talking to him, or did you always go straight to physical violence?” Remy replied irritably. “We did, and we have. If we didn’t, what are the chances I’d still be breathing?”

Logan eyed him, although conceded that point. There would have been more injuries had they fought, and something had occurred. However, it was still difficult to associate Victor with any type of discussion when it came to a matter than normally required blood to fix it. “So what agreement did you come to?” he asked gruffly. Remy shrugged carelessly.

“To keep up appearances,” he replied, picking up his beer and taking a delicate swig from it although his eyes never shifted from Logan. “He’s got himself in a tizzy about losing his place in the pecking chain.”

In a tizzy. Victor really didn’t do tizzies. He went for cold blooded mutilation and murder, depending on how severe the problem was. However, the pack order was plausible. Logan frowned slightly, trying to work that one out. They had to talk in private for that? There had to be more to it.

“So what ain’t you allowed to do?”

Remy shrugged carelessly. “I can’t show him up in public. That’s pretty much it.”

Logan chuckled ruefully. “Can’t say many people have had a chance of showing him up in public. That normally leads to a lot of blood loss.”

“Ah, but he’s worried about you.”

“Victor doesn’t get worried either.” he said dismissively.

“Well, he’s started to embrace new experiences then,” Remy smiled at him, then cocked his head curiously. “Your family.. has it always coped with discussions using such aggression?”

“Guess so.” Logan took another mouthful, unconcerned. “That’s what brothers do,”

Remy looked at him as though he had grown some bunny ears and a little bunny tail. “No. Brothers might bicker, but they don’t, on the whole, attempt to pull out their sibling’s kidney through their mouth.”

“No? Cain and Abel ringing any bells for you here, kid?” Logan drained the last of the beer and signalled he wanted another. “How Victor and I sort out our issues ain’t up for discussion. And I assume all this boils down to ‘I stay on top’, right?”

Remy chuckled. “Of course not. Just carefully done.”

Logan growled softly. “I ain’t really in the mood to keep looking over my shoulder if I want a bit of fun, kid.”

“Don’t worry, mon ami,” Remy patted him on the knee. “People are stupid. There are many ways you can have as much fun as you like in plain view, if you know what you’re doing.”

Eyes narrowed. What Remy could get away with and what Logan could get away with were two entirely different things. LeBeau had grown up working out sleight of hand and misdirection, his speed and skills perfect to sneak out whatever he wanted. Logan, on the other hand, normally removed problems the good old fashioned physical way. Sneakiness was overrated and far too much work.

“Sounds like a hassle,”

“A hassle? Mon ami, the thrill you can get from doing something under someone’s nose without them even noticing, oh, it is fantastic!” LeBeau laughed, and leaned closer to the bar to pick up his beer. As he did so, Logan suddenly felt a questing foot gently beginning to slide against his calf; he glanced at Remy, but the boy looked as oblivious to the foot as if it belonged to someone else. Said foot was also hidden to the world by the way the chairs were positioned.

Oh yeah. Sneaky.

“I take your point. You can stop now,” Logan replied gruffly, taking another swig from the bottle. However, the foot ventured further.

“Stop?” Remy gave him a puzzled look that didn’t quite enter his eyes. “I thought you were braver than that. After all,” he took a casual swig of the bottle, his eyes never leaving Logan’s. “you still owe me command over a session. I choose this,”

“Victor threatens to rip you a new asshole and you want to do something in public? I must have slammed you too hard against that wall and scrambled your brains.”

“As long as the public believe I’m obeying you, then it’s not that much of a risk,” Remy smiled at him. “And you have to have some risk in your life. That’s what makes it worth living, after all.”

He shifted position to indicate for another drink. Instead, this allowed Remy’s hand to settle in Logan’s lap, gently squeezing him through the fabric. Logan nearly bit off the top of the bottle as a finger traced along the lines of his balls, a steady throb between his legs seeming almost loud in the shadows of the bar as he tried to control himself. Not. Here. And yet his body seemed determined to disobey him, the very thing he was trying to calm down being fuelled by his attempts for control.

“Stop it,” he growled softly.

“No,” Remy whispered conspiratorially. Logan growled softly, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to move away from the delicate manipulation that was teasing him onwards. LeBeau’s actions were clearly not to get him any satisfaction, merely to increase his sexual frustration until he was helpless to resist the suggestions.

“Keep this up and I’m gonna-,”

“What? Spank me?” Remy’s eyes twinkled. “Sure. Would look good for your brother, right? But that’s your turn. Now’s my turn, and I choose…,”

The finger stroked around Logan’s balls again before flickering against the sensitive tip of his stiffening penis. Logan growled in frustration and seized hold of Remy’s wrist. LeBeau laughed softly, and took a mouthful of beer.

“Coward.”

“Fuck you.”

“Well, that wasn’t the idea at all,” LeBeau’s tongue licked over his bottom lip as his hand removed itself from Logan’s lap, the younger man leaning back in his chair. “Unless you’re planning to go back on your word because of your big, bad brother, hmm?”

“I ain’t gonna go back on my word,” Logan snarled.

“Really,” Remy’s eyebrow twitched upwards. He drained the rest of his drink and pushed himself up lazily. “Let’s see how brave you really are, mon ami,”

He strolled toward the rear of the bar, giving a little nod toward a few people who called out a greeting. Logan rolled his eyes. Gambit could make contacts even if he had only been in a place for a few hours. He finished the beer and stood up, growling softly to himself. This was a damned bad idea. It didn’t make him any the less aroused, but at least he could identify one when he saw it.

Logan stalked after him, the crowd parting out of his way like a shoal of fish out of the way of a shark, and slipped into what turned out to be the toilets after his elusive prey. The smell of chemicals and urine hit him immediately, most of the walls covered in white tiles which were pretty damned filthy. Another man had just finished zipping himself up and gave them a careless look, the look in his eyes stating how intoxicated he was even if the stink of alcohol around him didn’t.

“I knew you would,” Remy had been waiting next to the door and stepped behind him, turning him round and meeting Logan’s mouth in a passionate, hot kiss that seemed to turn his already aching cock into a volcano of activity. Logan growled and kissed him harder, deeper, his hands pulling Remy close to his body and sliding his hands over the boy’s form. Gambit purred in pleasure, accepting everything that Logan had to offer, before putting his hand gently on Logan’s shoulder and giving him a guiding push into one of the empty cubicles. Logan almost slipped on the floor as he found himself in a claustrophobic cubicle, putting his hands on the cistern to hold himself up as Remy moved behind him again and managed to shut the door behind them.

Logan panted softly as LeBeau leaned across him and began to nuzzle his neck, his hard and eager body pressed against the feral to state exactly how excited the younger man was. Logan snorted softly in amusement and allowed the kid his moment of dominance; he lowered his head and felt Remy’s hands begin to plunder his body, unfastening buckles and buttons and slowly pushing the fabric downwards. He could hear the echoes of the bar outside but no one had yet joined them, their soft panting the only living noise that existed.

Remy’s fingers slid over the firm muscle of his rear as it was slowly exposed, Logan trying to open his legs further but finding himself frustratingly trapped by his own jeans. His breath hitched as he heard the door to the toilets opening, followed by the heavy tread of a man in boots as he walked in, but LeBeau was not concerned in the least; he merely flickered his finger tip across Logan’s entrance as though slightly lost, slowly sliding the tip of his finger inwards. Logan tensed, expecting the usual pain from Victor’s claws, but Remy stopped almost immediately. The feral bit back his noise, far too conscious of the other occupants in the room, and tried to readjust to the full feeling that his muscles objected to. It was damned hard to remember that it was a much slighter kid behind him than Victor, Logan’s body already tensing for the usual battering he received from his brother. Instead, it was greeted by a soft kiss on his back, the finger slowly slipping further into his body where it began to make tiny little circles against Logan’s unrepentantly stubborn muscles. One soon became two as LeBeau’s eagerness increased, the soft noise of his lover’s breathing seemingly a scream in the public room.

Logan lowered his head, biting his lip to stop himself from reacting. He hadn’t thought much about Victor’s snarls and pride, dominance seemingly nothing after the pleasing brutality of his brother, but now, as the younger man began to twist his fingers deep within him, he was slowly beginning to see Victor’s point. The need to turn and grab hold of the kid was incredibly strong, using his own power to guide exactly what he wanted from the encounter. He couldn’t shout, couldn’t move, couldn’t even see what Remy was going to do next, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. His body did, certainly; it ached and throbbed, desperate for sensation. Logan growled softly, feeling Remy’s fingers twist harder then slide from his body.

They both froze as the door to the main room banged open, then Remy chuckled softly and nudged his hips into position; Logan tried to spread his legs further, but LeBeau hadn’t lowered his jeans far enough to stop them becoming a denim shackle. He growled softly before gripping harder to balance himself as he felt the kid’s hardness press against him insistently. There was a soft little noise of concentration and slowly Gambit began to force himself through the barrier into Logan’s body; Logan growled softly at the splitting pain as his muscles struggled to adapt, his body so much tighter over the kid’s length from his immobility which was now looking suspiciously pre-planned. LeBeau chuckled again, a carefree noise where Logan would normally expect a toothy growl, and continued to sink into the heat that the feral offered.

The experience was so damned foreign. Cooped up, restricted, he felt like an animal in a cage ready to perform in a circus as the boy finally was fully sheathed within him; he could feel the way the younger man’s balls slapped against him as the kid came to a brief halt. Logan shifted position, and tried to ignore the scents that were assaulting him, gripping onto his handholds tightly to avoid the horrible prospect of falling over. He was god near certain he’d never be able to get back up again without a serious loss to his dignity.

Light tickling scratches raked down one buttock, followed by a healthy slap as though he was some sort of horse. Logan growled again and shifted, feeling LeBeau chuckle again and finally begin to move. Again, he was struck between the differences between his younger lover and Victor; when Victor fucked him, it was a claim of pure ownership even if it was enjoyable, his brother snarling his orders and expecting them to be obeyed. It was rough and fast, shoving society to the edges and simply enjoying each other. In contrast, Remy seemed almost delicate, cheekily adding suggestions to their erotic recipe, but with no real desire to force his particular needs down Logan’s throat, literally or metaphorically. It was a game, like a puppy chasing a ball.

“Okay?” LeBeau murmured, no doubt sensing the way that Logan’s body was tensing. Logan growled his response and shoved backwards; there were some things you just never admitted to. Gambit hesitated, then took the hint. His fingers gripped Logan’s hips a little tighter as he sped up, his breathing beginning to time itself with each thrust. Whatever this was, ‘real’ or game, it was certainly pleasurable; Remy deliberately shifted his hips to different angles, managing to hit as many sensitive spots within him as he possibly could, and almost – but not quite – slamming himself onto the bundle of nerves that Logan knew would be the end of his ability to be quiet. Without Victor’s thrusting fury, Logan was able to balance enough that slipping a free hand between his legs was plausible; he touched himself roughly, then began to stroke in time with Remy’s thrusts, growling softly as he did so.

Of course, his control didn’t last too long. It never did, after all, and especially when his lover was skilled enough to spot all of his personal happy spots and plunder them with the enthusiasm of a pirate with a particularly accurate treasure map. Logan’s hand squeezed at the same time that LeBeau thrust hard at exactly the right angle, and groaned as the intense need suddenly exploded deep within him. His back arched and a strangled, desperate groan escaped through furiously clenched teeth as his body took on a stranglehold around Remy’s cock. The boy lasted a second longer, his body tense against Logan’s as he shot deep within him before LeBeau slumped against Logan’s back like a puppet with its strings cut. Logan easily took the weight as Gambit leaned against him, the little desperate panting stating exactly how exhausted the boy was. If they weren’t stuck in a filthy public toilet, it would have been almost cute.

“Fuck, my legs are killing me,” there was a soft murmur behind him, a statement that Victor would never, ever say, even if said legs had been cut off with an axe. Logan chuckled and waited until LeBeau had softened and withdrawn before finally pushing himself up and pulling up his jeans. He turned round to find himself faced with a pleased, cocky grin of pure smugness, Gambit sliding a hand through his hair to tame back the slightly sweaty tresses. Logan eyed him, then gave him a light clip around the back of the head.

“Hey!” Remy protested, rubbing the ‘bruise’ sulkily.

“You needed it before someone mistook you for a Cheshire Cat.” Logan replied idly, leaning past him to unlock the door and having to breathe in to open it. Remy found himself gently but firmly pushed through the cubicle door, Logan following him almost immediately into the thankfully empty toilets. Sly eyes turned to him curiously.

“So? D’you like it?”

“Toilet fucking? I normally don’t have sex with such a kink in my neck,” Logan grumbled, pausing to wash the sticky seed off his hand. There was absolutely nothing he could do about the seed that was slowly, laboriously sliding down his inner thigh and no doubt being smeared by his jeans. “But yeah, it has its merits.”

He smiled at the youngster and ruffled his hair, a bit of comfort plus getting his hand dry in one easily movement. Remy blew a strand of hair out of his eyes, then grinned back and waved a hand to the door.

“Fancy a game of cards? They’re all pretty rubbish here, but at least you might stand a chance of winning,” his eyes sparkled. Logan cursed and aimed another clip to the ear, which was swiftly sidestepped. LeBeau chuckled and opened the door, waving him through. Logan smiled ruefully at him; the pup’s enthusiasm was infectious. Whether he’d allow it to become a regular thing was another matter.

It also meant he’d need a bath before Victor sniffed him. The trials of life seemed to be permanently tinged with soap at the moment, although that was something that Logan felt he could probably put up with if the rest of the world stopped being quite so insane. They had Wade for that, after all.

Logan smiled ruefully as they walked back as casually as possible. Perhaps they might not kill each other before they even started on this mission. He could hope, anyway.

TBC