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A little more than kin

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***

Logan was glad the kid had come back.

He’d been in a bar (the odds were quite good he would have been, in fairness) when the kid had come to find him a few days after the island.

Logan had started to realize by then that sending away the only person he knew, or that knew him, in the entire world may not have been the smartest thing to do, but he’d felt vulnerable. His instinctive reaction to someone having that kind of advantage over him, knowing things about him that he didn’t, had been to push them away.

He’d caught the kid’s scent before the kid had even entered the bar.

His senses were strange, he knew, but infallible. He’d recognized the kid’s scent instantly, the same way he could tell who in the bar was drunk, who was aroused, who’d had sex that day, who was angry, who was tired. It was impossible to creep up on Logan, either, as a few muggers had discovered only yesterday, because even if he couldn’t hear their approach clearly, the scent of intended violence was unmistakable.

The kid’s scent was clean – no trace of fear or anger.

Logan had breathed in deeply. The kid smelled good; Logan was already too used to the scent of fear, or at least suspicion. Even if he kept his claws sheathed (and hadn’t they been an exciting surprise?) everybody seemed to sense that he was different – the instinctive fear of prey for predator. Logan seriously just wanted a beer without suspicious eyes on him, the constant sense of anticipation, was that too much to ask?

The kid had walked in and grinned as he’d caught Logan’s eye. He’d been wearing a hat, tipped down low over his brow to shade his eyes; in the poor light they could have been brown. The kid’s scent was interesting, though, not in line with his appearance at all. OK, yes, he looked good and smelled good, delicious even, but his scent was dangerous, an edge of dark steel you could miss looking at his pretty face.

This guy, though, the Other one. He smelled exactly like he looked.

***

Like with the kid a week before, Logan had been in a bar when he’d caught the scent.

Remy had been with him this time though, leaning against the bar, playing with his beer and idly watching a card game the locals had going on at a nearby table. Logan rolled his eyes; there’d be trouble if the kid decided to play. No one took kindly to losing their money to strangers, and even less so to a snarky pretty-boy, and Remy played it up for fun; enjoying the fight almost as much as the game.

Remy’s enjoyment of the fight probably accounted for why he was still travelling with Logan after a week; that had to be it, or else Logan was completely stumped. Logan was not the easiest person to get along with; silent mostly, and when he wasn’t silent he was gruff and harsh, but the kid didn’t seem to care, rolling easily with the punches, giving them back.

Rolling on top of Logan, too, at night, all soft skin and sharp teeth. Strong fingers and smooth thighs, pushing Logan where he wanted him, climbing on and riding his dick hard and careless, just moaning and pressing into Logan’s hands when Logan left bruises on his hips and bite marks on his neck.

Logan’s head snapped up as he caught the scent, causing the kid to stiffen instantly next to him, alert to danger.

“What?” he asked, sharp red eyes searching.

Logan said nothing. He stood up, fixing his eyes on the door. The scent was unmistakeable; it had been all over him when he’d woken up; strong and harsh, old blood and iron, rage and joy, hatred and love. The scent had been on his clothes and skin, so certainly he’d been in extensive contact with the source very shortly before he’d woken up, but it had felt older, stronger, deeper. In his bones, not just on the surface.

The scent was old and dangerous, and too like his own to be ignored.

The man who opened the door and walked in looked just like he smelled.

Logan felt a jolt, not of recognition exactly, his total memory loss still intact, but of knowing, an instinctive knowledge outside of actual memory, of kinship. Of pack.

The man grinned, showing sharp canines.

Logan noted absently a small shift in the scent of the room – at least a few had noticed and had felt fear. The kid’s scent changed, too. Not exactly fear, but definite wariness.

The man crossed the room and sat down easily beside Logan at the bar. Neither Logan nor Remy sat down.

“Well, well,” he said, low voice rumbling as he cast an eye over Logan and Remy. “I didn’t know you two were so... intimately acquainted.” He grinned again, amusement and malice dripping.

Logan knew he could smell on them what they’d done that morning in a rumpled, stained hotel room, as easily as Logan could tell the barman had fucked one of the guys playing cards last night, even though he’d slept next to the woman working behind the bar with him.

Remy sat down on the bar stool next to Logan, the wariness easing off, but he picked up a bar mat and ran it through his fingers, sparks shooting from it as it charged, ready.

“I think the range of what you don’t know must be overwhelming,” Remy said with a shrug.

“I know how well you know one of the guards from Stryker’s island and that that’s how you got away,” the guy said. Remy stiffened slightly. “Everyone’s a sucker for a pretty face.”

“What would you know about pretty faces?” Remy sneered and took another sip of his beer. “And I didn’t have to get to know him that well... just enough for him to be in range.”

The guy nodded without malice. “Close enough to fuck is close enough to fight,” he agreed, and picked up Logan’s beer to toast Remy with it.

That was enough. Logan grabbed the guy’s wrist before he could take a drink.

“Get your own,” he growled.

The guy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you owe me at least a drink, Jimmy?”

“Who the hell is Jimmy?” Logan asked. “And who the hell are you, anyway?”

“What?” the guy asked, and for the first time, his voice was flat and serious.

“He’s lost his memory,” Remy supplied. “This is Victor Creed, Logan. One of the bad guys.”

Emotions flickered over the guy’s face, too fast to recognize.

“You don’t know me?” The guy’s voice was still flat.

“I don’t know anybody,” Logan said uncomfortably, feeling obscurely guilty.

“You know me,” the guy, Victor, said softly.

Logan met his eyes, and, yes, there was part of him that did know.

You know me,” Victor said again, deep and soft. “You and I are forever, Jimmy, and that’s a fact.”

“Your name is Logan,” Remy contradicted him, in a slightly bored drawl, “and the last time I saw you with him, you were trying to kill each other.”

Victor grinned again suddenly, regaining some of his amusement, “Oh, we were just playing, Jimmy, just playing.”

Neither of them were lying.

“Then y’all play pretty rough,” Remy said, and he was teasing slightly, drawling softly in a way Logan recognized.

“That’s for sure,” Victor said, and his grin was all teeth.

***

They went back to Logan and Remy’s room.

Logan wasn’t sure if he and Victor had done this before; but he thought maybe not. They fit together awkwardly; Logan instinctively shaping into somebody shorter, Victor surprisingly hesitant.

They pushed against each other clumsily, and Remy laughed at them, smooth and low, and he inserted himself between them.

Things were easier, then. Remy’s confidence was catching.

Logan could smell them both, and feel Victor’s hands alongside his on Remy’s slim hips. Remy was facing Victor, and they kissed, hot and heavy, biting and sucking, although Victor’s eyes never left Logan's over Remy’s shoulder.

Logan was almost surprised by the growl that rumbled from him as he watched them... not entirely sure who he was growling at.

Remy pulled back and laughed a little. “Don’t worry, Cher,” he said, only slightly mocking, “we couldn’t forget about you.”

He stretched his neck back, meeting Logan’s lips and baring his throat to Victor. Victor pressed his mouth to Remy’s throat, sharp teeth scraping and Logan felt Remy shudder.

“Fuck,” Logan said against Remy’s mouth and he pressed his hips up against Remy’s ass.

“Good idea,” Victor growled, and he reached back to grab Logan’s hips and pull them even tighter against Remy, pushing Remy into him in turn.

They stripped quickly. Logan had seen Remy naked plenty, but still the eye couldn’t help but stick on the kid; all long limbs and flat stomach, elegant under smooth skin and layered with sleek, hard muscle.

He wasn’t sure if he’d seen Victor before, but Victor was just as impressive; larger all over in frame and muscle – as hard and perfect as a granite sculpture.

Remy pushed Logan onto his back on the bed and climbed on, casting an only slightly exaggerated ‘come hither’ look over his shoulder at Victor who grinned back, amused and feral.

Remy took hold of Logan’s cock and Logan groaned. Remy’s fingers were rough and confident and his eyes glowed red as he looked down. Victor’s head appeared behind Remy’s shoulders and his eyes were dark and lust-filled, staring down at Logan intense and hot.

Remy turned his head and spoke against Victor’s cheek, “Lube in the drawer.” They didn’t have condoms; STDs were no match for Logan’s mutation.

Victor’s hand tangled with Remy’s on Logan’s cock, slick with lube. Logan picked up the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers, and Remy’s head went back as Logan slid his fingers inside to prepare him. Victor mouthed at Remy’s neck and he kept the rhythm up on Logan’s cock as Remy’s grip faltered.

Remy shifted forward on Logan’s hip and sank down on his cock slowly. Remy groaned softly but didn’t start moving. Victor’s hands slipped down past their hips and Logan felt Victor push Logan’s thighs apart.

“Fuck, what are you doing?”

Victor’s predatory grin widened; all sharp teeth and lust.

“Making it good for you, Jimmy,” Victor said and he rubbed slick fingers gently against Logan’s ass.

Remy laughed, “All talk so far, mon ami,” he said, and rocked gently, making Logan gasp and grip at Remy’s hips.

Victor growled and grabbed Remy’s chin with his free hand and pulled his laughing mouth into a kiss.

Logan reached a hand up almost unconsciously and pressed his fingers to their mouths, which looked hot and pink and swollen. They sucked his fingers in and mouthed them, nipping and sucking and grinning at each other as they played in some sort of competition. Victor’s fingers took advantage of Logan’s distraction to push in and Logan gasped.

“Fuck.”

“That’s the plan,” Victor said, pulling away from Remy’s mouth. They both looked down at him, the intensity of their focus almost blinding.

“Get the fuck on with it then,” Logan growled. “You can’t hurt me.”

Victor stared down at him, grin fading, replaced by something intense and greedy. “I’ve waited more than a hundred years for this, Jimmy. I’m not rushing it now.”

Logan frowned, but didn’t question the words and Victor pushed his fingers in further, making him buck up into Remy.

Victor was slow, pushing in with surprising gentleness. His mouth stayed at Remy’s neck but his eyes were locked with Logan’s, stopping him from looking away. Logan could feel the strength of his fingers and sharpness of his nails but they’d been gentle inside him and were gently gripping his spread thighs as Victor rocked into him.

Victor felt enormous inside him, and Remy was tight and hot clenched around his dick. Logan struggled to dictate the pace, but Remy just rocked on top of him, smooth and sure, his back supported against Victor’s chest, allowing Victor’s rhythm to guide him.

“Fuck, fuck,” Logan chanted, and they grinned down at him, pinned by Remy’s hips and Victor’s cock, until Victor pushed them both forward.

Remy was fortunately flexible enough to go with him as Victor pressed them both forward to reach Logan’s mouth. Victor’s teeth were sharp and his lips were rough, but his tongue was soft and eager, pushing into Logan’s mouth as Logan gasped at the change in angle and came.

Victor kept fucking him with his tongue and his cock as Remy rubbed up against his belly and came, sticky and hot against him. Logan bit down on Victor’s lip, hard as Victor moved perfectly inside him, and Victor followed them both, a soft groan of Jimmy against Logan’s mouth.

***

They were heavy.

Uncomfortably hot and sticky now, with Victor’s breath soft and hot on his neck and Remy’s mouth pressed against his cheek. Logan thought about pushing them off, but Remy clenched his thighs against Logan’s softened dick, and maybe breathing could wait.

“Let’s see you do some of the work this time, mon coeur,” Remy said, and Victor rumbled in agreement.

Logan opened his eyes to see lustful red eyes on one side and the grinning flash of sharp, canine teeth on the other, and thought he was probably up to the task.

***