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Triptych 2

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"What are you plotting?" Scott asked Logan.

"Punishments." Scott looked up from the paper and set down his coffee. He folded his hands and put on his most attentive listening face. "Got yer attention?"



"I'm listening."

"Ya hide yer sadistic streak pretty well."

"That depends on who you talk to. So who do you want to punish?"

"Bet ya can guess."

"Is the Cajun boy wonder misbehaving again? Silly thief. Are you sure he and Rogue are quits? It's not the first time she's hit him."

"She gave back the necklace."


"Jeannie says there's somethin' broken between them. Kid's shields are leakin'."

"Explaining Jean's headache for the past few days."

"Actually, those are hangovers. She's been drinkin' with both of them to get the full story." Scott snickered.

"I thought she was just doing the professor again."

"She really did him? I thought that was just a rumor."

Scott smiled slyly. "You'd be surprised what Red gets up to."

"Or who?"

"That too. Of course after fourteen years you need a little spice in your sex life."

"Welcome to the strange world of time travelin' couples, next on Jerry Springer."

"What can I say? She's got a thing for crips. Forge better watch his ass."

"Don't tell me that's why she…"

"Only wants you when you're feral?" Scott grinned. "Yep. Actually, I'm surprised she hasn't snapped up Gambit, if his shields are leaking."

"Kid's sworn off women for awhile."

"Are we talking about the same Gambit?"

"Hey, always knew he'd screw anythin' with two legs. He did Creed. The senator," Wolverine clarified.


"Nope. Got that from Mystique. She doesn't lie about that kinda shit."

"True. But the thought of Creed with anyone is just…"


"Yeah. Maybe we should warn Kurt. He seems to be working his way through Raven's kids."

"I wanna see that conversation. Kurt's straighter than Worthington." Scott smirked.

"That's not hard." Logan was startled.

"Worthington and who?"

Scott's grin grew wider.

"You're shittin' me."

"I'm good, Logan. You're serious about Creed?"


"Tell me he was getting paid."

"Who knows. I ain't plannin' on askin'."

Gambit wandered into the kitchen and was met by two too-blank faces. He looked down at himself, then around the room. "Dere a problem?"

"You screwed Sen. Creed?" Scott asked bluntly. Gambit blinked and moved cautiously towards the coffee machine.

"Oui?" he said carefully.

"Why the hell…?"

"I was lobbyin' f' mutants," Remy grinned. "'Sides, it be wort' de fifteen t'ousand a year."


"Oui. Invested in m' company supposedly. A shell game. Break easy 'nough under serious investigation. Hurt him pretty bad if dey find out 'bout de under-age mutant boy he screwed. Dinks he seduced Remy." The man shrugged. "De bastards in Langely paid me good 'nough at de time."

"Yer agency?!"

"Fuck. I'm glad you're on our side. At least nominally."

"Oui. Langely. How Remy got caught up wit' Sinister too."

"That was a fubared op wasn't it?"

"Got out wit' m' life an' a chile. And scars from M. Chat."

"For some sick reason I have to know. Sinister?"

"Hangs right." Scott closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"I shouldn't have asked." Remy grinned at him and sipped his coffee. "So, why Rogue?"

"Why no? She beautiful. She got personality. She be Mystique's daughter? An' I dink she actually love Remy. Like de way dat feels. Dat' why it hurt so bad, her leavin'." Gambit stared morosely into his mug.

"It's really over?"

"Oui. She make it damn clear she don' want a man she can' touch wit'out a collar. She ain' never gonna use one of dose. She be scared she gonna go schizo again." Scott nodded.

"How have you managed to live without sex for the past year and a half?"

"Got an active imagination, me."

"Never pegged you for self-denial."

"Cyke, I'm Catholic. It's in de handbook. 'Sides, ain't had dat good of luck wit' relationships. Flirtin', oui. Livin' wit' it, non." He sipped his coffee. "Merde. Can' believe Gambit's sayin' dis stuff sober."

"Makes me wonder what I could get out of you drunk."

"Remy's a borin' drunk, cher," he assured. "Y' done wit' de business section?"

"Sure." Scott handed it to him.

"Merci." He left the kitchen.

"And the last time Hank ran bloodtests on him?"

"Three months ago, when he woke up from the coma."

Scott snorted. "He's probably better off without her." Logan nodded. "So what's he been doing to incur the wrath of Wolverine?"

"Besides comin' in late with Jeannie on the back of his bike and flirtin' like it's goin' outta style?"

"Besides that."

"Three hour phone conversations with Jubilee and hintin' at leavin' the team."

Scott frowned. "How serious do you think he is about leaving?"

"Too serious. With Storm grown up and Rogue tearin' up his heart, the man ain't got a reason to stay. Ain't gonna let the kid run away."

"So, tell me your plan, Runt."

"Later?" Scott shrugged.



Gambit had the ants-on-the-skin sensation that he was being hunted. Since he was on the grounds of the mansion, he assumed it was probably Logan. Whoever it was, was just out of range of Gambit's senses and for some reason that really pissed Remy off. His emotions had been muddled up and he was ready for a good mind-clearing fight.

Thus, when, twenty minutes later, he was tackled from the side he was not entirely surprised. The actual press of Logan's claws to his throat did surprise him. He kept very still as Logan nipped at his ear to mark his triumph. "Yer defenses are a mess, Gumbo," Wolverine informed him. The claws didn't move and Remy endured the lecture that followed without a word or twitch. Wolverine wound down about ten minutes later. "Yer over the need to fight, ain't ya, kid?"

"Oui, M. Logan." Well, it hadn't been a fight, but the adrenaline had cleared his head a bit at any rate.

"You eat?"


"Come on. We'll get somethin' down at the diner." He pulled Gambit to his feet and picked the leaves and twigs and out his hair. It always amused Logan that the kid matched his pace to whoever he was walking with, despite leg difference. At the moment the kid looked like a walking stormcloud. It was unfair that it made him look better.

In the garage, Scott was working on his new baby, a pretty little racing motorcycle. He looked up and nodded tot he two men, then went back to the panel he was working on. "How's de mid-life crisis, homme?"

"Watch de mout', Cajun," Scott mocked. "She's doing fine." Gambit grinned.

"Why didn' y' just find y'self a girlfriend, hehn? Y' got de wife an' boyfriend."

"Don't start with me, Gambit."

"If'n Gambit don', who will?"

"Food now. Fight later," Logan stated. He wrapped his hand around Gambit's wrist and pulled. Of course, Gambit pulled back. The kid was still spoiling for a fight, Wolverine realized. Well, he wasn't going to get one. Logan's eyes narrowed. "I said, fight later."

"Promise?" There was a rather dangerous glitter to the red eyes.

"Yes, I promise. Geez, Cyke lets up on the a.m. practice sessions and suddenly ya want to practice?"

"Of course," Scott broke in, "he always tries to frustrate me."

"Works too, non?" Scott shook his head. Logan pulled on Gambit's arm, more than a little impatient now. He could watch the two of them throw barbs at one another pretty much any time. No, Logan had questions. He wanted answers. That meant he had to apply food and probably liquor to get the boy to talk. And he also had to get Gambit far enough away from Cyke that he'd actually say something rather than just talk. Gambit looked down at the hand on his arm. He looked back at Logan's face. Logan's face held a frown, but it wasn't exactly angry. It wasn't happy, but it wasn't angry. It was more like he was exasperated. It was an unfamiliar expression and Remy noted it for further reference. He let himself be bundled into the Jeep.

They were nearly to the road when Logan said, "Put on yer seatbelt."

Remy blinked in surprise. "Worried y' gonna hit somet'in'?"

"Put it on or we're stoppin' here." The younger man blinked once more. This was surreal. He was being lectured on safety by Wolverine of all people.

"Y' got t' spend less time wit' Fearless."

"Slim ain't here. We ain't gonna talk about him. Yer gonna put on yer belt like a good little thief and we're gonna get some lunch."

"Gambit's dinkin' de price f' lunch be too high f' his blood." Logan's arm should have been too short to reach across and grab the seatbelt in one fast motion, but that's what he did, without ever taking his eyes off the road. He snapped it into place before Gambit could stop him. Not that he was planning on not putting on the seatbelt, but the temptation to irritate Logan had been too strong.

"Yer worse than Jubes." Gambit was fairly certain that was an insult, but he wasn't sure what it meant. "Don't say a damn word until we get to the diner." Logan was shocked to Hell and back when the kid did what he was told. Gambit for his part was trying to figure out the Canadian's game. He was fairly certain that this was the pay-off, or maybe the price, for becoming Wolverine's "prey" for the morning.

The diner was just that, a greasy spoon with cracked seats that hadn't been replaced since sometime in the sixties. The waitress took their orders with a bored smile, brought their drinks and food, then left them alone. "So, why're ya gettin' so close with Jubilee?"



"She's havin' trouble wit' her boy. She likes t' talk t' Remy. He listens pretty good." Gambit shrugged and frowned at a limp french fry. He wiggled it and it flopped back and forth. He dropped it onto his plate with distaste. He'd promised himself he'd never eat anything that turned his stomach ever again, and he figured that the amount of grease in this particular meal might just do him in. It made a lot more sense now. Wolverine would do anything to protect Jubilee. If Remy and Jubilee were friends anything that hurt Remy might hurt her. Logan considered that for a moment.

"She stealin' again, Gumbo?"

"Non. She got de urge dough. She feelin' really low an' shopliftin' be her addiction. It cheer her up some t' dink about it."

"And thinkin' leads ta doin'." Gambit shifted suddenly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was headed. "And she's talkin' ta you about this?"

"Oui." Gambit rearranged his silverware, laying the fork and knife across the top of the plate. "Dink of it as 12-steps f' t'ieves."

"But yer still stealin'."

"Oui, but de petite don' care 'bout dat part of it. Remy's only stealin' f' de team now an' she knows dat. Dat's like sayin' y' still kill, Logan. Non, dis is de impulse. De time I been tryin' not t' spend at de Met lookin' at dings. Or goin' shoppin' at de jewelry store."

Logan took a bit of his hamburger. He nodded thoughtfully. "Yer break-up affectin' things?"

"A bit. Hard t' get used t' not havin' a reason not t' go back t' it." The waitress came in on that last bit and reevaluated the pair. Her brother had similar conversations with his sponsee.

"There's always a reason, sweetie. Anything else I can get for you boys?" Logan looked at the waitress. He thought, then shook his head.

"No, thanks, Darlin'. Kid?"

"Non, merci." Her smile widened. His eyes didn't faze her anymore. They'd been in too often for that. Sometimes, they had more people with them. Now that she thought about it, that mixed up of a group was finally explained. If she could just figure out what meetings they went to, but no, that was against the rules if Danny was telling the truth. She'd just make sure they stayed away from the liquor from now on. All of them. It had to be hard to be around people who weren't on the wagon.

"I'll bring your check then."

"What was that all about?" Logan wondered.

"I dink she likes us now or somet'in'. Y' slip her a tip when Remy weren't lookin'?"

"Ya ain't sober yet, are ya boy?" Logan snickered gently. The Cajun looked out the window, wincing at the sun.

"Bright out dere, non?"

"Fergit yer shades?"

"Oui," Gambit admitted.

"Slim's got a spare pair in the glove box. He ain't gonna care if ya borrow 'em." The thief wasn't quite as assured about that fact. But he didn't argue. The reduction of light eased the ache in his eyes. He hated the sun. He leaned back in the seat of the car and arched his back to stretch out the kinks. Logan was watching him with a faintly amused smile.

"Hank ever find out if yer really a cat?"

"Wanna make me purr, old man?"

"Don't tempt me." Logan shook his head. "Ya still want to fight?" Remy brightened.

"Oui. Where we goin'?"

"Back home."

"Mais, we go somewhere else? Somewhere wit' no Scotties?"

Logan snorted. "Shut up, kiddo."

Remy pouted. Logan's fingers dove for the younger man's ribs. The Cajun squirmed and laughed. Logan settled back, satisfied. "What's up between y' two?"

"What ya talkin' about?"

"Why ain't the two of y' doin' each other?"

"Who says we ain't?"

"Y' don't act it."

"Ya don't act like yer screwin' a senator either."

"Well, I ain't no more."

"No?" Logan pulled out of the parking lot. "So yer single, huh?"

"Yeah." Remy slumped in the seat. He kicked at the floor of the car. "Year an' a half I spent on that femme an' she up and left m'."

"Come on, Gumbo, ya didn't really buy into her love bullshit."

Remy looked out the window. Logan watched the thief out of the corner of his eye. Remy thought for a very long moment. "I wanted to," he said finally, almost so low that Logan didn't hear it. There was no way to take that sort of pain away, but it did explain the anger somewhat. "I know I'm all kinds of stupid for it, but I t'ought mebbe dis time it'd be real. I know Belle's probably the only one dat loves Remy for what he be, but it was a nice fantasy. My chance t' start over non?"

"I hear ya, kiddo. Ya don't have to be alone ya know."

"Y'll kill dis boy if'n he makes a move of Jubilee an' she's de only one available."

"Yer lookin' in the wrong direction."

"Only do men f' business, cher."

"Yer in that business, huh? Better talk to Cyke. He likes a percentage."


"Really? How much?"

Remy snickered. "You sure in a mood old man."

"Yup. Wanna help me out with it?"

"What y' want from po' Remy?"

"I was plannin' on fuckin' ya, but that's subject to change."

Remy licked his lips. He hadn't considered that response. He didn't have anything to say to that. "Oh?" he managed finally.

"Yeah. Depends on whether Scott wants in on the fun."

"Mebbe y' should be askin' Remy?"

"Nope. Slut that he is, I don't think he'll have a problem with it."

"I ain't a slut."

"Whore then?"

"Only f' the gov'ment."

"Then maybe I'll call Langley. I've got a contact or two down in Virginia. I think I could get it turned into an assignment fer ya. If that's all it takes."

Remy rolled his eyes. "Don' bother, cher. I ain't gonna do y'."

"Why not? You've done Sabretooth."

"That was savin' m' head, cher. That don't count. Last ditch effort t' keep Victor from guttin' me."

"Ain't the way I heard it from him. Heard he gutted ya too."

"Well, he done that too, but not at the same time, well, maybe, don't remember too good about that part of t'ings. He messed me up somethin' awful."


"Yeah." Remy crossed his arms over his stomach as a ghost of pain wafted through his body. "Still got the nightmares t' prove it. Lucky that I got found when I did, else I'd've died then."

"Oh? Who found ya?"

"Don't remember." Remy shrugged. "They patched me up though. Sent me on home when I could walk on my own again. Let's talk 'bout somet'in' else okay? Like mebbe how y' gonna celebrate Jubes' birthday."

"She's makin' the plans. I'm just financin'. Ya wanna be at the party ya gotta talk to her."

"Already got an invite, me."

"Great." Logan rolled his eyes. "So, how much fer a night?"

"I don't charge teammates. . . often. Scotty mebbe. Charge him a full nights sleep and no fuckin' four a.m. sessions f' awhile. Ain't right f' a body t' be gettin' up at that time."

"If I could arrange it with him. Pay off that little debt, ya give me a night, no holds barred, anythin' I want?"

The Cajun eyed the Canadian warily, sensing a trap in the deal. "No sessions b'fore ten f' t'ree months. And not'in' painful. I ain't int' pain at all."

"I ain't gonna hurt ya like Creed. I don't do that sort of shit. Well, not often. And never without a consentin' partner."

"Just puttin' in my non-consent t' pain."

"And if Scott pays up, ya up fer a threesome?"

Remy stared out the window for so long a time that Logan thought he'd fallen asleep. "I suppose. Don't promise not t' pick with him though. It's fun. And I like fightin'."

"Ya can fight with Scooter anytime ya like, just not tonight."

"Y' really t'ink y' can talk Fearless around that quick?" Remy's brows rose. "Y' must have some pull."

"I do. I know what he wants from life. And I know what he likes. It ain't a problem. I'll get him to agree. You go on and cancel any other plans ya might have fer the night. My room. Eight o'clock."

"Y' sure of y'self ain't y', homme." Remy grinned at him. "Fine. Wit' bells on I suppose."

"Jeans'll do. Get some rest, boy. Yer in fer one hell of a night."


"Here's the deal Cyke. I'm gonna torture the boy with sex. Yer invited. Only catch is that he won't do it unless ya guarantee three months without a Danger Room session before ten."

Scott considered the deal. "Three months?"

"Three months."

"After that we'll make up for it with a vengeance. Three months I can do. It's a deal."


Remy leaned against the wall outside Logan's room, counting off seconds until eight. He didn't want to be early, but he made it a matter of pride not to be late -- unless he was trying to piss off Scott of course. Logan opened the door and looked out at him with a question in his eyes. "Ain't eight yet, homme."

Logan snorted. He grabbed the Cajun by his ponytail and pulled him into the room. "It's eight." The thief grinned at him and winked.

"What ever y' say, mon ami."

"And don't ya ferget it, boy." Logan looked the young man up and down. Remy had changed from his usual knock around the house clothes into a fresh pair of tight black jeans and a tee-shirt that still smelled faintly of Sabretooth. Logan growled. "Get that fuckin' shirt out of my room." Remy blinked innocently at the Canadian.

"What's wrong wit' it?"

"It smells like shit. Get it off or I'll cut it off."

Remy crossed his arms. "Try." The Cajun was quick enough to get away from Wolverine's snatch, but not fast enough to avoid Scott who was just coming out of the bathroom. He caught the Cajun around the neck. "Teamin' up on po' Remy?"

"You bet," Scott said. His voice slithered along Remy's back making him a little more nervous than he'd believed Scott could make him feel. He reminded himself that it was just Cyke and not Riptide. Then, Logan's claws were flicking against his skin. He held very still as the tee-shirt slipped away from his body. Logan caught a shred on the tip of his claw.

"This is what happens to things that piss me off," Logan stated. His eyes were icy-blue. Remy's eyes widened. "Ya ain't that stupid, are ya, Cajun?" Remy shook his head. Scott's arm was still around his throat and he could feel the soft cotton of his long-sleeved tee against his chin as he moved. "Good boy." Logan kicked the scraps aside and moved closer. He ran a hand up the Cajun's exposed side. "These scars are interestin'."

"Non, they ain't. Real borin'." Remy put one hand onto Scott's wrist and tried to budge the arm under his chin. It didn't work.

"Just relax and do what you're told," Scott hissed into the ear that was so conveniently placed by his mouth. He bit at the lobe. "Don't fight and you'll be just fine."

"Bon Dieu," Remy whispered as Logan started to tongue the space between the parallel scars of Sabretooth's claws on Remy's side. Logan caught the young man's hand before it could dissuade him from the object of his focus.

"Gonna have to do somethin' about yer hands," Logan said, finally moving away from the flushed skin. He picked up a strip of tee-shirt material and tested it for strength. Satisfied he grinned at Scott. "No holds barred, kid," Logan reminded. The red and black eyes closed. He held out his wrists. Logan bound them quickly and efficiently. Scott's brows raised.

"Get a lot of practice, hmm?" Scott asked.

"Wouldn't ya like to know."

"That would be why I asked the question."

"Shut up, Cyke. Hold these fer me." He handed Cyke the strip of fabric he'd made into a leash for the Cajun's hands. Despite the resistance, Scott held the thief's hands up and out of Logan's way. Logan stroked each scar on the Cajun's chest, following with gentle lips and tongue. Remy's head fell back to rest on Scott's shoulder. Scott smirked. His cock was pressing against the front of his jeans already. If he hadn't had his hands full of Cajun he'd have adjusted or even freed it by then. Logan reached behind the Cajun with one hand to stroke Scott's erection. Scott bit back a moan. Logan had forgotten to mention that he'd be torturing the field leader too.

Gambit tugged against the soft bonds on his wrist. He wanted to stroke through Logan's hair and encourage the attention of that mouth towards his cock. The grip remained firm against his wrists, soft cotton that felt as unyielding as steel. It wouldn't mark, but it would hold. Then, Scott shifted, pushing his thigh between the Cajun's, forcing them further apart, as he pulled back. Remy's balance was good, but he couldn't deal with the sensation of Logan's sideburns against his stomach, the leg between his, the cotton on his wrists and the arm across his neck all pulling in different directions. He gave in and let Scott support him. He realized that the older man was leaning against the wall behind him.

Scott wet his lips as the Cajun stopped fighting and relaxed back into his grip. He pulled the wrist leash tight around his fist and moved his arm from the Cajun's throat for the first time. His fingers stroked down the lean chest. He played with one nipple while Logan sucked at the other. He heard the Cajun's breathing speed and felt the flex of his muscles as he tried to move into the touch. "Dieu, mes amis, sil tu plait. . ."

"Please what?" Logan growled when the voice trailed off into a soft moan.

Remy swallowed. "Either do more or let m' move. Make it real good f' bot' of y' if'n y' let m'."

"Got a whole night in front of us, kiddo. First, I wanna see ya come. Then, we'll take care of us."

"Scotty?" Remy whimpered as the field leader's hand strayed down to the button fly.

"Shut up or I'll have him gag you."

Remy bit his lip. This was a lot more than he'd been expecting. He'd been expecting a quick fuck and maybe a blowjob, him on the giving side, not this slow, creeping pace. Scott ran his finger along the side of the fly. The Cajun trembled. Logan looked up at his sometimes-lover and grinned. He'd never guessed the boy would be quite so responsive. He cocked his head to the side. Scott nodded. He eased the thief back onto his own feet and moved to get a good view of the front of the thief's head. Eye wide and dilated, even teeth embedded in his lip, bangs falling over his face in uneven clumps he looked far too appealing to let go. Scott pulled on the leash gently. The red eyes glinted. Remy wasn't that far gone. He wasn't going to give into Scott without a fight. He felt Logan's claw brush down his side and decided not to push it. He followed the silent direction towards the bed. Scott pushed him down and back. Then, the thief's clever hands were secured to the headboard. Remy pulled against the fabric. He arched up, knowing it would show off his build.

Logan slowly undid the black button-fly pants while Scott indulged himself with petting and stroking along the restrained arms. "Sil tu plait?" Remy begged softly. He looked at Scott with pleading eyes. "Make him stop teasin'?"

Scott laughed. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the Cajun's mouth. Surprised, Remy opened up for the tongue that lapped at his lips. Remy tasted sweet, not spicy and Scott cataloged the flavor slowly, making sure to find all of its nuances. Logan took his time stripping away the denim. He investigated every scar he found and the thief definitely had plenty. He frowned at the location of one particularly nasty one. He wanted to know how close the boy had come to dying from the slash in his thigh. He looked up to find Scott engaged in his favorite past-time of kissing and smiled. It was a smile he never let anyone see on his face -- soft and indulgent. Then, Logan peeled the black jeans completely off of Remy's long legs. He took care of his own clothes, then went back to cataloging scars with his mouth. He worked his way up the muscled thighs. His sideburns brushed against the stiff cock. Remy arched his hips trying to get more stimulation.

Logan circled around Remy's groin, nipping and licking and sucking. Remy mewled into Scott's mouth. Finally, the field leader pulled away. Any longer and he wasn't going to be able to hold out for what he wanted to do. "Please, Logan, stop teasin'?" The Cajun's voice was soft and sweet. Logan lapped at the weeping head. Then, he took the boy fully into his mouth. Remy arched up with a wordless cry. Scott stroked Remy's bangs as he watched Logan work.

"Come in his mouth. He likes it," Scott whispered. The red eyes were glazed as they blinked in Scott's direction. Suddenly, Logan pushed one finger into Remy's ass, finding his prostate and sending the boy over the edge.

In the languor after the orgasm, Remy was limp on the bed. He watched with dazed eyes as Scott stripped. Scott kissed Logan with the passion that drove him to seek out the Canadian's bed every few weeks. Logan groaned, his cock ready for action. "Let's go then, Slim."

"No, we want him aware. Give him a second to settle back down to Earth, then I'll fuck you're tight little ass until you scream."

Logan licked his lips. Scott smiled at him. It was a sly little smile, that showed just a hint of teeth. Logan always thought it would be fitting in the man had fangs. At least it would warn the unwary not to fall for his pretty Boy Scout act. Logan prepped the Cajun's ass as a way to distract himself from Scott's gaze. The field leader kissed the back of Logan's throat gently, then stroked down the length of Logan's spine with delicate fingers until he reached the dip in the hollow of Logan's back. He sucked and licked and bit until he created a short lived bruise there. Logan whimpered in the back of his throat. "Sweet Jesus, Slim, I'm already hot enough."

"So?" Scott didn't see the problem with that. Logan had incredible stamina and regularly came more than once a night. Remy's eyes were closed, but he was definitely not asleep. He was trying to drive himself down on the fingers that were fucking him and driving him wild. He pulled against the restrains on his wrists.

"Let po' Remy touch y'?"

"No," Scott said firmly before Logan could weaken at the soft, sweet drawl. Scott wasn't immune, but he knew his tolerance was higher. Logan smirked over his shoulder. Then, he was pressing into Remy's ass, stretching him and bending his slender body up, the long legs over his shoulders. Logan didn't move when he was hilted in the Cajun's body. Instead he focused on the incredible pressure of Scott's cock filling his body and the teeth that fastened onto his shoulder as Scott fought not to come immediately. Slowly, Logan began to move, fucking and being fucked. His teeth and lips roamed over the lithe body beneath him, just as Scott's hands toyed with his nipples and investigated the joining between him and the Cajun. Remy's eyes closed as he was overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the thrusts and the building pleasure that pressed against his shields. He thought longingly of the days when he wouldn't have given dropping his shields a second thought, but with Xavier around, he couldn't allow it to happen for even an instant. The press and stroke of Logan's cock was good, Dieu, more than good, but it wasn't the mind-bending pleasure it could have been, had they been somewhere safe. He mourned the missed opportunity, even as he felt Scott's fingers brush over his mouth. He opened to suck at the digits.

Logan bit hard on the Cajun's shoulder, muffling his wail as he came. Scott's orgasm caught him a moment later, as Logan's body spasmed around him. Remy came for the second time and fell promptly into a light doze. Millennia later, Scott slipped free of Logan's body and flopped onto the bed. He stroked Remy idly as he watched Logan get up to get a damp cloth to clean them all up. Three months was definitely worth it. Maybe they could find another form of payment the Cajun would allow? He didn't pursue the thought any further, but rather, closed his eyes and laid down his head.

Logan cleaned up the younger men, then found a space on the bed. He dragged the covers up over all three of them and drifted into sleep.