Title: Watching and Waiting
Author: Chris (teufelce@aol.co)
Website: none
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Watching and Waiting 2
By Chris
Logan lay awake for the remainder of the night - lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying in vain to sort out what he was thinking. What he was feeling... The welter of emotions that broiled away inside of him were unfamiliar and unsettling in the least. Fear. Fear and uncertainty - those were easy enough to identify. Fear of what he had never expected, and the ensuing uncertainty over what might follow. God knew he'd had his fair share of romantic liaisons and one-night stands over the years, and he'd been content with that. He'd been confident, always in control, and that had been enough. But now... now he found himself wanting something more. Something real. Something more substantial. But with Remy? Oh, the passion and desire in the Cajun's touch, in his kiss, had been undeniable. Even now, the memory of it all made his breath quicken, and his muscles twitch. Yet, Remy's track record in the solid relationship department wasn't exactly sterling lately and that had his stomach twisting itself into knots. He didn't want to be just another conquest, something to be pursued and, once captured, discarded for the next thrill. No, he wanted more...
Which brought him to the emotion that coloured every single thought, that lay over everything in him like a blanket. Desire. God help him, he wanted the man... Wanted him so badly that he could taste it still in the back of his mouth. Could feel it singing through every nerve ending, sending a rush of heated blood to the surface of his skin and a shiver down his spine. It wasn't the emotion itself that unnerved him, it was the sheer strength of it. Yeah, he'd found the taller man attractive but he had never dwelt on it. Hadn't let himself dwell on it. After all, the Cajun and Rogue had been an item and that was something he'd always respected. But now, now that was in the past. He closed his eyes at the memory of those nimble fingers twining themselves in his hair... demanding submission from *him*, the Wolverine. The man who'd never, *ever* submitted to *anyone*. And there he'd been - willingly offering up his throat to the searing kisses of the man who held him. A shudder ran through him and he could feel a tightening in his groin, as his eyes slid closed and he recalled the sensation of those soft, sweet lips suckling at the tender flesh of his neck. Of that whiskered chin scraping across his skin... A man could lose himself in that.
The thought brought his eyes open again with a snap, a growl threatening to burst from tensed throat muscles. Losing himself. That frightened him more than anything, more than he wanted to admit, and he ruthlessly pushed the memories deep down inside as he climbed from the bed. Dawn was already lightening the horizon and he still hadn't slept. Walking with more than a little discomfort to the bathroom, he turned the tap on full and climbed in. Let the cold water drown out all thought while he struggled to get himself under control again. Forced his traitorous body to forget about anything but the stinging of the fine needle spray of ice water burning into his skin...
~~~~~~
Scott, Jean and Ororo looked up from the kitchen table in shock when he walked in. Logan was most certainly not a morning person and his appearance before the sun had barely cleared the horizon had them speechless. Jean recovered first, a smile quickly replacing the stunned look on her face.
"Good morning, Logan." He grunted in reply, grabbing a plate and mechanically filling it from the assorted foods laid out on the counter top. His eyes unfocused as he fought against the memories that threatened to undo him. Filling a mug with black coffee, he put his plate down at the other end of the table, taking a long sip of the steaming liquid and closing his eyes as it began to chase away some of the exhaustion he felt. He'd expected the conversation he'd walked in on to resume once he'd made it clear he wasn't about to be social, but the continued silence got his attention. Glaring at them from across the rim of his cup, he raised a silent eyebrow in question.
"Logan," Ororo began. "Are you feeling alright?" He was about to ask her what the hell she was talking about, when Jean joined in.
"Yes, is everything okay?" /What the fuck?!/ was the only thought he managed before it sank in that all three of them were staring at his plate. Letting his gaze drift down, his mouth dropped open. Rather than the eggs and sausage he'd intended to grab, on his plate were three bran muffins, a slice of toast, and a large helping of fresh fruit. A groan escaped his lips and he felt his cheeks begin to flush.
"I'm fine," he muttered, pushing at the offending food with a fork and taking another hurried swallow of coffee. It was at precisely that moment that a cheerful, whistling Remy strolled into the kitchen. Grabbing his own cup of coffee, he exchanged a few pleasantries with the others, before making his way down the table to where Logan sat hunched over his plate. Logan glanced up quickly, in time to catch the raised eyebrow and sly grin spreading across the Cajun's face.
"Light breakfast today, eh, homme?" Mirth was thick in the thief's voice and he had to bite down on an answering growl. Ignoring the question, and trying like hell to ignore the effect the other man was having on him, Logan lifted his mug to his mouth and sent up a silent prayer for the earth to swallow him up. And that's when he felt the Cajun's fingers trail lightly across his back, as he squeezed between his chair and the wall to a seat on the other side. Electricity shot through him like a bolt of lightning, and he choked on his coffee. Slamming the cup down on the table, he shoved his chair back and stood. He could feel his face colouring at the open shock on the faces around him, at the amusement dancing in Remy's eyes, and the kitchen suddenly seemed far too small for all of them.
"I'm not hungry. Think I'll go use the gym..." he mumbled, before turning and all but fleeing the room. He heard Scott asking Jean if she had any idea what had gotten into him, and then the door was mercifully slamming shut behind him.
~~~~~~
The second simulation he'd run through wound down, the broken and dismembered bodies of a dozen Sentinels disappeared. Leaving a sweaty and winded Logan hunched over, hands on his knees, as he fought to regain his breath. The tension that had been crashing through his body when he'd first entered the Danger Room had finally bled off enough for him to think more clearly. As his breathing slowed and settled, his senses picked up the scent of another person in the room with him. Just as his brain identified the owner of that unique scent, his eyes lifted to see Remy leaning propped up against the open door. The initial disgust he felt at himself for being too focused on venting his frustrations to notice the arrival of the other man quickly vanished, however. To be replaced by a white hot mix of panic and anticipation, as Remy slowly straightened and pressed the button to close the doors. Effectively sealing them off from the rest of the mansion's residents. Logan felt a shiver run down his spine at the indecipherable look on the tall thief's face when he began to casually walk about the room in slowly narrowing circles. Each pass bringing him closer and closer...
"What the hell are you doing, Remy?" His own voice sounded low and hoarse in his ears. The Cajun smiled at him, that same sly grin he'd given him in the kitchen earlier that morning.
"Remy jus' makin' sure we have some privacy, cher..." was the softly spoken reply from behind him. Logan suppressed another shiver at how close that voice sounded and fought to find his voice again.
"Privacy for what?" The sensation of long fingers trailing themselves up his back sent shockwaves through his body and every muscle froze. Every ounce of awareness focused on on the slow, torturous path of those fingers until they came to rest on the back of his neck. Felt the heat given off by the taller man as Remy leaned in closer to him. Felt his breath leave his lungs in a hiss at the soft breath of air that tickled his ear when the thief finally whispered into his ear.
"Remy t'ought maybe we finish what we started last night..." Then those lips - those god damned, unbelievably soft lipps - were kissing the back of his neck and Logan swayed on his feet, a low groan tearing itself from his throat. The palm of one roughened hand burned like a brand against his bare skin, as it slid up inside the sweat dampened t-shirt he still wore, to knead at the muscles of his stomach. Logan moaned again, louder this time, and leaned into the stimulation. A tiny spark of reservation struggled past his addled senses and he fought to make it heard.
"Remy..."
"Oui, cher..." the Cajun murmured against his neck, the feeling of hot breath across damp skin sending another wild thrill cascading through Logan's body.
"I don't know what game you're playing, but -" The words had barely left his mouth, before all movement ceased. He found himself being whirled around and thrust up against the wall. A very angry looking thief in his face.
"Game? Is dat what you t'ink dis is - Remy playin' a game?!" Logan stared into the taller man's eyes, dazed by the depth of anger and pain he saw flashing there. Then he felt the knee being pressed between his leg, the hip that slowly ground against his groin, and his eyes rolled back as his head thrust backwards into the wall. Fingers tightened on the back of his neck as a low, heated voice continued to whisper in his ear. "Dat feel like a 'game', cher? Hmm?" A tongue flicked out against the pulse in his neck, the other man's hard erection pressed into his own hip, and Logan's knees felt suddenly weak. Then the Cajun stopped moving and he could feel his warm breath hovering inches from his lips. Forcing his own eyes open, Logan stared at the shuttered face before him.
"Remy not playin' any 'games', cher. He already said he knows what *he* wants. When you figure out what you want, you come talk to him..." The thief let go of the front of his shirt with a slight shove and was out the door before Logan could find his voice again. He lifted a shaking hand to wipe the beaded sweat from his brow, before slumping against the wall.
"Way to go, asshole..." he muttered into the stifling silence of the empty room. /Way to go.../