Remy woke to the scent of Chanel No. 5 in his nose and Jean's hair in his mouth. He didn't move, overcome by a wave a painful grief that he could barely understand hidden in the soft scent of his lover's perfume. Belle had always worn Poison and Rogue preferred a magnolia scented body splash form Bath and Bodyworks. It was surprisingly simple to get used to a new scent as long as it was consistent. He couldn't understand why this was so different. Jean stirred. "Morning, sweetie." She kissed him lightly and went to get ready.
The Cajun reached for his cigarettes. He paused. He never smoked before his first cup of coffee unless he was worried. He tried to reach inside to ease his grief. "Sweetie, will you bring me my clothes? I set them on the chair."
Remy shook off his mood and collected the simple outfit. He sighed. He really needed to shop for the woman.
Scott frowned at the computer screen. The lines of numbers weren't what he'd been looking at the night before. He'd been reading the quick intel Gambit had collected for him. The files' names were similar though, so they'd probably come from the same source. He hit the intercom. "Bobby, will you come to my office please?"
There was a long pause, then a sleepy voice said, "Sure, Slim. Give me a few."
Bobby showed up in his Spiderman tee-shirt and jeans so worn he looked as if he'd been playing in the garden. Scott's brows rose. Bobby yawned and stretched. "What's up?"
"Take a look at this and see if you can make any sense of it."
Scott stood up and Bobby settled down in the soft chair. He propped his head up on one hand and peered at the screen. He frowned. He sat up straighter and leaned towards the screen. He clicked up and down almost randomly to Scott's eyes. "Holy shit. This is a double ledger. Where is this from?"
"A project called Operation Zero Tolerance. It's a government project. What's a double ledger?"
"It's what I keep here to keep people form finding that jet downstairs. The real records in one column, the public on the other. You have to keep a true record for your self, but not for the cops. Let me run this by a couple of people. We'll tease this out for you."
"Trade secret." Bobby shrugged. "Someone who's shown me some damned interesting techniques. Or you could ask Gambit to run it by his accountant."
"No, I want to move this out of his court now."
Bobby grinned. "I'll take care of it."
Rogue glanced at her traveling companion's profile as she drove. She'd have flown him back to the Mansion if she hadn't borrowed Remy's care for this little road trip. At the time he hadn't cared. He'd been in a coma. Now, however, she knew he was awake and alive.
What am I going to do about Remy? She wondered. She'd spent the past six weeks teasing out his memories. She finally understood the disconnect between his past and present and cursed silently as she took another smooth curve. You got caught up in the lie. If you'd trusted him with who you are, he'd have given you the truth. You chose the fairly tale, girl. That truth finally accepted, she hoped there'd be a way to salvage the friendship, if not the love. Please, she begged, if there's anyone listening, let this not be completely broken.
"Oui, chere, Al told me to get my ass out of the middle of her business. So I'm checking my other projects. They're staying at the place we set up for them. Got to go. Talk to you soon. Je t'aime, chere." Remy hung up on Belladonna. She rolled her eyes and got to work on the latest crisis Jean-Luc had dropped in her lap with the simple statement that it was "assassin business."
Guildmaster Giovanni of the New York Thieve's Guild was fond of the exiled prince of New Orleans. He schooled his features to the proper blankness before signaling his secretary to bring the young man. Gambit schooled his features and hid his excitement. He bowed formally and settled onto the velvet cushion in front of the Guildmaster. Remy had no formal allegiance to New York, but he'd been playing politics long enough to acknowledge the Shadow.
"What's up, kiddo?"
Remy cracked up. "M., y' do a body good. I know where the lost chest is."
Giovanni leaned forward. "Honestly?"
"Is it safe?"
"Debatable." Remy sighed. "The situation's delicate, M. I weren't looking for it. More like it found me. And I don' fault the old man. He chose a good protector. But it ain't safe where it's livin' t'rough no fault of its holder."
"Who protects our treasured past?"
Giovanni's heart froze and time stopped spinning as his mind contemplated that one word famous in whispers. "You've met the Wolverine?" he said finally.
Remy tried to hide his grin, but it crept into his eyes.
"How well do you know him?"
"Prob'ly my best friend next t' m' wife."
Giovanni's heart started to beat. "Will your position put you in any danger?"
"Walkin' in the city without shades could kill m', M. Wolverine ain't more trouble than anyone else. Y' heard anythin' interestin' of late?"
"There is a war raging. Some second got uppity and broke the truce between the Kingpin and Hennessy. It'll be bloody. Henessy's slated for execution. The Italians are going to take over his territory. Keep your head down and don't get involved. And for God's sake, Gambit, don't get killed on my turf or your wife will have my head."
"Oui, M. Merci. I do what I can t' get the chest t' someplace safe, but it ain't gonna be easy, less'n I can get m' puppy-dog eyes t' work on him. Seems t' be immune."
"Do what you can and watch your back. It could mysteriously get stolen?"
"Remy'd get blamed sure 'nough."
Giovanni blinked. "A last resort option. Don't worry." He smiled. "Go on. Get going."
"See y' soon, M."
Hank stared at the test results. Remy's blood had by far the strongest concentration of "Un-hel-air-she-de" as the computer seemed to pronounce it, but two of the other samples had traces of it as well. In face "B" was half and "A" had an eighth concentration. "C" was fully human. The doctor found himself growling at the screen and blinked. He bared his teeth at the monitor, then laughed at himself with a soft rolling chuckle. It seemed it was time for lunch. He'd promised Ororo a meal at the local vegetarian restaurant.
Scorpio raised her brows at the size of the data packet and re-read SpidyFan's message. "Stumbled onto this. Gives me the willies. I'd like your read on it." Scorpio frowned. This could be worthwhile.
Logan leaned back in the front seat of the pickup and dropped his hat down over his face. He hated shopping.
Jean glanced out at the care and saw Logan napping. She smiled. "Is he the father?" the sales clerk asked.
"We aren't sure yet."
The woman coughed nervously.
Jean smiled at her. "There are two possibilities. They're fine with it. He's just here for muscle. I need a portacrib. Two actually. A playpen." Jean continued her list and the clerk relaxed.
Alice signed the last piece of paper. Her black suit and solemn face disconcerted her lawyer. She was used to the light-hearted girl. This woman was a stranger. Scorpio shivered.
Kitty looked over the ad proofs then zipped the files for transfer.
Remy grinned at Warren. Worthington was wary. Why was the thief visiting the Worthington towers?
"Mr. LeBeau? I'm Shel Goldburg."
Warren watched with a sinking feeling as the V.P. of R&D greeted the young man warmly. "Oh, Mr. Worthington, I wasn't sure you'd be in today. May I present Mr. LeBeau of Nightwing Industries."
Warren forced a pleasant smile onto his face. "Nice to meet you. I'll be in all day. Why don't you come up and we'll have a drink when you're done with Shel."
"Merci. I'll see you later then."
Scorpio settled in her hotel room and opened her laptop. Business law had given her access to a lot of interesting clients, but her passion was puzzle solving. Her bootleg encryption package was part of that passion. She'd shared it with SpidyFan a year ago. This was the second time he'd ever used it.
Remy collapsed across his bed, staring up, but not seeing anything. His chat with Warren had gone well, considering. He didn't want to wrinkle his suit, but most of his casual clothing was in the guest room closet of the boathouse. His eyes wandered around the room. He liked this space. He was comfortable here.
He slipped into a doze. He woke to find Scott standing over him. "What's wrong?" Remy demanded.
"Kitty sent me some proofs. You're all dressed up today. Should I be worried?"
"Gang war in NYC. Kingpin versus Irish idiot. Italians staking a claim to the territory, beating out the Tang."
"Should I be worried?"
"Non. T'ink I'm dead. Can't get up the energy t' move. 'Less, of course, it's you sappin' m' will t' move, hangin' over me like some gargoyle of dread."
"I'm disappointed. I was hoping to inspire something other than dread." The Cajun didn't move. Scott settled down next to him. He laid his head on the younger man's chest. "Did I ever thank you for keeping me sane when Logan and Jean were taken?"
"Don' need t' thank me f' that."
"Yes, I do. Thank you for knowing what I needed better than I did. You don't have to move into the boathouse. We all keep rooms here anyway." He spoke to the fear he could sense under Remy's defenses.
"But y'all would rest easier if I did."
Remy sighed. "And in t'ree weeks y' gonna help me move back out."
Scott flicked the thief's nose. "This is long-term, kiddo. Get used to it."
"I feel like I just spent a day in the Danger Room wit' Logan. Help me get this trap off m'." Remy pulled at his tie. Scott smirked.
"Sure you can trust me?"
"Non, but y' the one here. Sil tu plait?"
"Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I could." Scott unraveled the silk tie. "So why the full get up?"
"Needed t' see some folks. Have t' be business-like and all. Hate it me." Scott nodded and started on the soft silk shirt. Remy's eyes drifted shut. "Warren's bourbon's good."
"I'm sure it is. Did you see Wings today?"
"Oui. Didn' plan on it. Went t' meet Shel. Didn' t'ink Warren spent dat much time at work?"
"He spends more time now that his father's gone. You got lucky or unlucky maybe."
"He t'inks I'm tryin' t' rob him. Toom m' near ont' two hours t' make him see reason."
"And a bit of charm?"
"More'n a bit. If Charles hadn' tol' him t' make nice it'd've taken longer. An' Charles needs t' work wit' the man 'bout his inability t' listen f' more'n a minute. How's a body t' enchant a man if he don' listen?"
"They aren't. Sit up, Babe." Remy pushed himself upright and shook of his coat and shirt. Scott hung them on the back of Remy's desk chair. "Better?"
"Oui. T'ing feels like a collar. Too damned tight."
//X-men, scramble!// Remy groaned. Scott dropped the tie on the bed and rushed towards the prep room.
"Are you sure that this is a good idea, Rogue?" Joseph asked. He ran a hand through his hair.
Rogue smiled. "Good idea? Probably not. The right thing to do? Yes, sugah. The professor can help ya. And I've got to return this car. We can always leave if it don't work out."
Joseph nodded and stared out at the rain slicked roads.
Remy scrubbed at the soot on his cheek. The debriefing was running long. The Cajun's attention wandered and he found himself wondering what the fight had really been about today. It wasn't mutant rights. They were just trying to contain a threat to the community at large. It wasn't political at all. He frowned. A bill for services rendered was what they needed. He became aware of silence. He glanced lazily around the nearly empty room. Cyke was pissed. Phoenix was amused. Wolverine was bored. "Did I miss anythin' important, cher?" Remy asked Logan.
"Not as I see it, Darlin'. You ain't the only one who's been ignorin' him, yer just the most accessible."
Scott glared at the Canadian.
"Guess I'll catch a nap while he's lecturin' me."
Cyclops took a deep breath and released it. "I'm not going to lecture you, but you do have the singular honor of clearing out the storage room in the men's wing."
"Dat's a nasty smile dere, cher." Remy pouted. "Why y' so mean t' po' Remy?"
"Because I'm a sadist. What were you thinking about anyway?"
"Billin' the gov'ment f' our time. Less damages of course. Just t' make sure they realize what's goin' on. Who knows. Might even get paid."
Scott's frown deepened as he considered. "Interesting thought. We'd need a mail-drop of course."
"Easy to arrange," Logan said.
"Boys, plot later. Shower, then bed now."
"You two go on. Gambit and I have things to discuss."
Logan snorted. He dropped a kiss on the top of Remy's head, then burned one into Scott's memory. He left them there. Jean left more reluctantly. Her frown deepened, even as Logan's hand wrapped around her waist.
"You can't ignore me with impunity, Remy," Scott said flatly. "It doesn't matter if we're sleeping together or not, you are still on this team and subject to my orders."
"This weren't nothin' but a rehash of old news, cher! Ain't even like we ain't gonna see it t'morrow in the fuckin' Danger Room and then go over it a hundred mind-numbin' times!"
"It has to be done! Damn it, I thought you of all people would understand repetition."
"Why? So Robert can remember how t' tie his belt?"
"That was nasty and uncalled for. Bobby's not the brightest crayon, but he's covered your back often enough."
"Oui. Why do y' insist on the repetition?"
Gambit stared. Tactically, it made no sense to him. A fatigued team was not what you wanted in battle. He examined it from all angles. Scott didn't say a word, just worked up a report on the computer interface of the War Room. He'd stay for as long as it took the thief to reason it out.
Gambit the heir to the Guild stepped down, leaving Remy the man to attempt the puzzle. He shifted in his chair, lifting one foot up onto the seat. Scott noted the change in the back of his mind. Remy considered. What was the good of rehashing the battle? There were always new variables in a battle situation. And the battles themselves were just too painful to remember clearly afterwards. He paused at the thought of pain. Scott didn't feel the same pain? That could be it, but he didn't think so. Remy grasped at the thought that was just out of reach, the adrenaline drain making him fuzzy.
"Stop thinkin' 'bout the fuckin' battle!" he snapped, rubbing his head. Scott looked up. A sudden wave of compassion swirled through him. Scott closed his eyes. He'd never considered what effect a battle had on an empath. And untrained one if Jean was to be believed. And then having to live it over and over again. He'd never considered that it might have the reverse effect than he'd intended.
Why would Scott want to dwell on the pain? Remy asked himself. What earthly good did brooding and harping on the battle do? Unless it wasn't as painful for him. Remy chewed at his lip. "Don' it hurt, Scotty?"
Scott shook his head. "It dulls the pain to go over it. It makes it into an exercise. Xavier started the pattern years ago."
Remy's face was a mask of horror. "Y' stop feelin' it? All of y'all?"
"Except for twinges of guilt or the really bad ones." Scott licked his lips. "I'm guessing hit doesn't fade for you?"
Remy shook his head. "Just gets deeper, more real. If'n I don' listen it don' hurt. Oui?"
Scott reached out a hand. "I'm sorry. I thought Jean taught you how to release emotions?"
"Ain't emotions. It's mem'ries. All m' mem'ries be like dat. Deep an' clear an' full of emotion. T'ain't somet'in' y' can stop. It's how Remy sees the world. Y' see red. Remy sees emotion."
Scott took a breath. "I never meant to hurt you. Let's get cleaned up so we can fill your head with another type of emotion."
"Remy'd like that."
"Bets, do you trust Gambit?" Warren asked as they lay in bed too wired to sleep just yet. Betsy shifted in Warren's arms. She considered for a long time.
"I trust him as much as he trusts me. No further."
Warren sighed. "That isn't an answer."
"I trust him to cover me in battle. I trust him not to betray a confidence. Beyond that, it doesn't matter."
"Would you trust him in business?"
"I'd trust him to act like a businessman."
"Meaning that I would examine any proposal with the same care I'd afford it if it had been written by my greatest competition."
Remy leaned his forehead against the smooth tile of the shower. His eyes drifted closed. Scott worked detangler into Remy's hair. He loved long hair on his lovers. Hopefully, he'd be able to convince the Cajun to let him brush it out until it gleamed like satin. Jean didn't have the patience for it.
Remy nearly purred in contentment. He could easily get used to this level of attention. He'd never realized that Scott was such a tactile person. It was such a change from Rogue. His mind drifted to his memories of her. His chest burned and he realized that there were tears on his cheeks. He also noticed that there was a muscled shoulder supporting his face and a soft fluffy towel wrapped around him. "Welcome back."
Remy smiled weakly. Scott kissed him gently. He dried off his lover and toweled some of the water from his hair. "Let me brush your hair?"
"Merci." Remy followed Scott into the bedroom. Logan was meditating while Jean flipped through a catalog, phone and wallet next to her. Remy settled in front of Scott. Jean glanced up with a smirk.
"A new victim. Lucky Slim."
Remy cocked his head to the side.
"You'll find out soon enough, sweetie."
Scott stuck his tongue out at his wife. She winked back. Slowly, carefully, Scott detangled the snarls. Then, he began to brush Remy's mane. Jean watched as the thief relaxed into the treatment. She smirked. Finally there was someone else to take care of Scott's fascination. "What's your size, Remy?"
"Y' ain't shoppin' f' this boy, chere. He got a personality that don't include flannel and jeans. Or Mr. Rogers sweaters neither." Jean's mouth dropped open. Scott snickered. "And I ain't colorblind. Don' try sneakin' any purple int' my wardrobe."
"I like purple," Jean pouted.
"Do I look like a Prince fan?" Remy countered.
"You'll wear fuschia."
Remy made his fingers glow. "Duh."
"You have got to spend less time with Jubilee," Scott stated.
The glow faded. Remy shifted. "No purple."
"All right, All right. No purple. Jeez. What's so wrong with purple?"
"Bad associations. Besides, it makes me look like a revenant."
Jean rolled her eyes. "This is a random question, but do you know Lorna? She's your sister-in-law now."
"Polaris?" Remy asked after a long pause.
"Oui. Damn good in bed I hear tell. Too bad she had Malice in her. Man creeps m' out somet'in' fierce."
"Malice is male? I thought Malice was noncoporeal?"
"Just cause a man don' got equipment don' mean he loses his gender." Remy rolled his eyes. "An' honestly, chere, t' see Polaris and Vertigo t'gether was somet'in' else." Remy knew there was a leer on his face, but he couldn't help it. "I'd've paid good money t' watch 'em go all de way, but Malice an' me don' get along."
"Why not?" Jean asked. Scott smirked, seeing her fall into gossip mode.
"Well, Malice tried t' get int' m' head when I was under sedation an' M. Essex caught him an' locked him up 'til her got Polaris f' him. Pissed Malice off t' no end t' be trapped in a girl. Took it out on me cause he didn' dare try t' take on le docteur. T'ing is, he just don' got the head f' mind games." Remy shrugged.
"Bet he didn't want to piss you off either," Logan smirked. "Since you were the boss at the time."
"Non, Hunter took over. Mais, mebbe y' right at that. Did cut the paychecks after all."
"How much?" Scott asked. His hands continued the steady rhythm of brushing.
"Eight-hundred a week."
"Damn. I am so underpaid," Scott muttered.
"Y' really get paid?"
"So do you."
"Ask Bobby. He takes care of that."
"Mebbe I do that." Scott set aside the brush. "Y' done already?" Remy pouted at the older man.
"Why don't you do my hair?" Jean asked batting her lashes.
"Because you take all the fun out of it." Scott ran his fingers through the smoothed silk of Remy's hair. Remy settled against Scott's thigh. "Do you purr?"
Logan snorted. "I can hear it already, Darlin'." Remy blinked. "Don't tell me, you can't hear it?"
Logan walked over. He pulled the Cajun up.
"Hey!" Scott protested.
"Indulge later, Slim. Just listen."
"What? Y' t'ink y' can make me purr or somet'in'?"
"Yep." Logan kissed the thief gently, exploring the contours of his mouth. He slipped one hand down to stroke the small of Remy's back. Remy's arms settled around Logan's neck. Scott's eyes widened. The Cajun was most definitely purring. Jean put a hand to her mouth. Logan ended the kiss softly. He continued to stroke, however. Remy nuzzled the salty-sweet skin of Logan's throat. He bit gently and sucked, wishing that the mark would last out the night. "Careful of yer teeth, Darlin'. You ain't gonna like it if I get rough with ya." Remy blinked at the Canadian with rapidly dilating eyes. He felt Jean's hands on his cheek and shoulder and turned obediently, still pressed against Logan's warmth.
"You purr," she stated, then kissed him. It was a much less gentle kiss than Logan's. Scott settled back, content to watch his lovers. Logan quirked a brow at him. Scott winked and shrugged. Jean maneuvered until she had Remy facing her with her thigh between his legs. Logan carefully moved aside the long auburn hair to clear access to his favorite spot. He fastened his mouth over the soft skin. He could feel Remy's pulse throb against his lips.
Scott licked his lips, enjoying the contrasts between his lovers, and seeing the similarities where they could not. He saw strength and grace in their swaying motion as they moved towards the most intimate dance. Remy's hands were locked over Logan's in an attempt to gain control of the situation. Scott remembered that feeling intimately. Logan and Jean had decided that they were going to teach him a lesson about trust. Scott closed his eyes as the memory took over. He could remember every detail. Jean's dress clung to her, revealing her nipples in stark dimensions as she stood in front of him, hands on her hips. "Do you trust me?" she demanded.
"With my life, but not with my dignity or my pride. You have the same damned pout on your mouth as you did the night you fed me Hank's aphrodisiac. Whatever you're planning, the answer is no."
Jean's pout deepened. She wrapped a piece of hair around her finger in a calculated move.
"Jean," Scott warned, "I love you dearly, but you are a manipulative wench."
"Not good enough, obviously. I just want to make your deepest fantasies come true."
"You and Storm?" Scott perked up.
"No, silly, you, me and Logan."
Scott gaped at her, then laughed.
"I'm serious," Jean said. "Just trust me."
"You're starting to worry me. Are you sure the time-shift didn't do something to your brain?"
Scott winced. Jean was building up to a rage and he didn't want to bright it to a head. He'd have to hear her out.
"Just think, honey. Think about Logan's hands roaming over you while you're buried in me. Think about wrapping your hands in my hair while I suck you and Logan's tongue fills your mouth. Just trust me."
"Dreams are just that," Scott argued, just a bit desperate as his pants pressed against his cock.
"Some dreams are worth fighting for." She kissed him. "Trust me."
"Logan's not going to. . ."
"Logan wants you," she informed him. "Close your eyes."
Scott shook his head.
Jean's greed eyes flashed. "It'll make it better."
"No. If you're going to push this, I need to know you're not just fucking with my head."
"You'd never knew if I was. But, this will be real. Maybe more real than you think." Jean had called Logan then and the Canadian walked into the boathouse, cigar in his mouth. "No smoking." Logan growled. Scott laughed as the cigar was stubbed out.
"What's up, Darlin'? Got Slim here to agree?"
"His body agrees. His mind's still resistant."
"Just gimme a minute with him. Alone?"
"I'll be in the bedroom." Jean winked.
Scott expected Logan to finish the joke by telling him the truth, that he didn't want Scott, only Jean. Logan had other plans. He reached forward, grabbed Scott's shirt and kissed him hard and deep. "Ya ain't gonna disappoint me are ya, Slim?" Wanna feel ya come around me somethin' fierce, boy. And ya don't wanna upset Jeannie, right?"
Scott swallowed hard, trying to control his breathing. "Congratulations. I didn't think you'd be able to pull off a mind-fuck like this with a straight face."
"Yer mind ain't what I'm plannin' to fuck." Logan traced the younger man's jaw gently. "You ever been fucked, boy?"
Scott didn't answer. The impending panic in his scent spoke volumes to Logan's nose. "Hush. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm gonna make ya feel good." Logan kissed Scott again. He tastes like licorish, we like licorish, Scott's tongue informed him. "That's is. Relax, Slim. This ain't a game. Jeannie's waitin' fer us upstairs. We're gonna make ya fly, boy."
"Wait." Scott's voice was rough. He carefully leaned over and kissed Logan once more. The older responded enthusiastically. "Okay." Scott let Logan lead the way up the stairs to the bedroom. The windows were open and muggy air filled the room with the scents and sounds of the world outside. Jean lay on the bed, her dress discarded over the chair. She glistened with a sheen of sweat. She spread her legs.
"Close your eyes," Jean said. Her voice was a sensual growl. Scott glanced at Logan who was now playing with the scarf Jean had been wearing in her hair. He closed his eyes. "Good boy." She removed his glasses with a thought and Logan fastened the scarf over them. Scott tried to pull away in alarm, but Logan's arm wrapped around his waist.
"Calm down, kid. Calm down." Logan's hands were warm and calloused as they stroked the back of Scott's neck. "Relax." Logan unbuttoned Scott's shirt from behind him, while Jean approached from the front. She stroked Scott's collar bone, then kissed him gently, trying to soothe his fears. Too soon though, Logan was peeling the soft cotton from Scott's arms, leaving him exposed to what he knew would be a frank curiosity. Logan had little restraint on his curiosity.
Logan's gentle exploration of his scars left him breathing in ragged breaths. "I ain't got scars, ya know," the Canadian said by way of explaination. "Really?"
"Yup. Here." Logan turned him gently and set Scott's fingers onto his shoulders. Scott took that as an invitation and stroked over the surprisingly soft skin. He felt the soft pelt of Logan's chest as he moved lower. He brushed over Logan's nipples and they stiffened. Logan's skin was incredibly smooth. Scott's fears faded as he lost himself in the sensation of Logan's body.
Jean opened Scott's fly and peeled down his pants. He heard Logan snicker as he noted that Scott wasn't wearing anything under them. "Didn't think you had it in ya, Slim."
"He doesn't yet," Jean whispered.
That reminded made Scott's heart beat in his ears, even as Jean kissed the nape of his neck. "I . . ."
"I ain't gonna hurt ya," Logan soothed. "It'll feel strange at first, but just trust me. Can ya do that?"
Scott swallowed. He nodded. His mind flipped to the first time Logan had kissed him, right after the Phoenix had died. How had he forgotten that? Jean took Scott's arm and led him to the bed. He missed the soft skin under his fingers and carefully reached for Jean's body. He found a breast as she turned toward him and called that good. He could smell her perfume, heavy in the laden air.
She tugged him onto the bed, between her legs. He kissed her gently. She grabbed his head and changed it to smoke and fire. He barely felt Logan's finger slide into him. The second finger flooded his stomach with panic. Logan kissed his back. Scott hadn't known how carefully the Canadian had been holding himself back until much later. Gentle fingers rubbed his back as the intrusion in his ass started to move.
Jean stroked Scott's cock back to attention as Logan added a third finger. Scott moaned as Logan removed them all. "Breathe, Scotty," Jean whispered as Logan pressed his cock into the tight opening. There was pain, but it faded quickly. Jean guided Scott's cock into her body. She caught his mouth in a hungry kiss. He was trapped between two bodies.
He rocked between the sensations of filling and being filled. He nuzzled Jean's throat, drawing the blood up, lightly nipping and sucking the freckled skin. Then, Logan clamped his teeth around the back of Scott's neck and started to truly thrust. The friction was too much and Scott came, wedged deep inside Jean's body. He felt Logan push deep one last time before losing consciousness.
Scott became aware of a warm moist mouth around his cock. He started and felt Logan's teeth graze his cock in warning. He leaned back in the chair and let Logan suck him off. He curled over the Canadian's body as he came. He smiled blissfully at Logan. "How ya doin'?" Logan asked.
"Sparkling." Scott looked down. "Need help with that?"
"If ya don't mind."
Scott shook his head. He switched places, feeling his knees ache. Then, he had Logan in his mouth. He could hardly remember why he'd hated doing this for him. Logan came with a quiet grunt and Scott swallowed quickly. Logan pulled him up for a kiss. Then, they moved to the bed.
Jean and Remy were curled around each other in the center of the bed. Scott bit back a laugh. The Cajun was still purring.