AUTHOR: SisterWine
RATING: NC-17 (STRONG SEX, HEAVY VIOLENCE, BAD LANGUAGE).
PAIRING: LOGAN/REMY SLASH
SUMMARY: Louisiana, late 1920s. Remy finds out that there is more to
Logan than
meets the eye. A full view of what happened between the realities of
"Only In My Dreams" and "I Need You Near Me".
WARNING: SLIGHT RAPE AND ABUSE.
DISCLAIMER: THE X-MEN DO NOT BELONG TO ME. THEY ARE THE PROPERTY OF
MARVEL COMICS AND 20th CENTURY FOX. THE ONLY CHARACTERS THAT ARE MINE,
ARE THE TOWN'S PEOPLE IN THE STORY. NO MONEY EXCHANGED, JUST
FOR FUN.
PART ONE
1928
Panting. Moaning. Smiling. Remy was on all fours, in the middle of the
plush sofa. In front of him,
sat a middle-aged man who moaned and watched Remy's luscious mouth
swallow his erection. And behind him, a younger man was kneeling and thrusting
himself in and out of Remy's tight entrance. Remy had been the only one
who was completely naked. The other two were still somewhat dressed, to
a degree.
The older man was mainly naked, save his tan cotton shirt and navy pants,
and made a habit of gripping the back of Remy's head and pushing the mouth
down onto him. So far, he had
managed to release hot liquid down Remy's throat at least twice. His
left arm was resting itself on the tall arm of the sofa, and his right
hand played with the soft, auburn locks of the beautiful young man who
was loving the man's firm length.
The younger man, behind Remy, was thrusting himself easily in and out
of Remy. The man's pants were pooling around his bent knees, and his white
shirt was spread open. His hands
gripped Remy's slender hips and his head was thrown back, his eyes
were closed, as he drove himself deep into Remy and cried out as he came.
He leaned forward and reached around, with
his right hand, to the front of Remy and began stroking the beauty's
length. He jumped, slightly,
as Remy's left hand came to rest over his right and helped him stroke.
A growl came from the doorway, low and unruly. Logan had come home to find his boy was playing around, and he wasn't liking it. Logan growled again, louder.
Remy's head shot up and pulled away from the two men, who had also noticed. He had been in a position that faced the doorway, and he was wishing he wasn't. He curled onto the middle cusion.His right leg came up to shield his chest, while his thin arms were tightly wrapped around it. He shuttered as Logan sneered and stepped into the room.
The middle-aged man stood up and stepped infront of Remy. "Who de fuck a'e you, homme?"
Logan focused on the man. "I'm just a man who thinks yer fuckin with
the wrong boy, bub." He growled and released his claws, while continuing
to slowly step towards them. "And, just who
are you?"
The man who had stood up, reached for his coat, that had been draped over the back of the sofa, and pulled out a small pistol. His shaggy grey hair curled about his round face. His slightly muscular build was cushioned by a thin layer of body fat and grey fuzz that trickled down his chest and stomach. He aimed the pistol at Logan and blurted his answer. "De boy is mine, Monsieur. 'e do wha'ever de fuck I say, non? Y' best jus si'down an' wait, mon ami. Remy be done, shor'ly." The man steadied the pistol at Logan's chest. He smiled to himself and started to turn back to Remy.
Remy jumped up and grabbed the cold barrell with his right hand. His
left arm was now snaked
around the man's shoulders. "Non, Michel. Y' don' wan' t' do dat, cher.
Logan save Remy's life from Jaques. 'e de one I tell y' 'bout. Sil vouz
plait, mon cher, put it down?" Remy pushed gently on the barrel with his
palm. He smiled as the gun was lowered.
The young man, who had stayed quiet, pulled his pants up into place and retrieved his gun from the end table behind him. He came to stand on the other side of Remy, also pointing his gun at Logan. His left hand grabbed at LeBeau's arm, and tried to pull him back and out of the way. He glared at Logan, who had come to stop in front of Michel and raised his claws in a defensive manner.
Remy broke away from them and pressed his body against Logan's, wrapping
his arms around
the older man's neck. His forehead rest on Logan's shoulder. "Don'
do dis, mon amour. Remy sorry, cher. Please, go upstairs, mon cher. I be
up soon, oui?" He kissed Logan's right cheek and waited to hear Logan's
claws go back in. "Merci, cher."
Logan stood there for a moment, and then backed away and sat down in
a chair, across from the
sofa. His low slouch and mean scowl gave Remy shivers. "I aint movin
until I see these two leave." Logan glared at Michel, who in turn quirked
a sly smile. Logan rest his elbows on the brown arms of the chair and clasped
his fingers together, in front of him.
"Y' like t' watch, monsieur?" Michel smirked and grabbed Remy by his left arm. Spinning the boy around, he pushed Remy to his knees before him. His eyes darted from Remy to Logan. Cupping the boy's chin, he shoved his recovering erection back into Remy's mouth. He focused his attention on Logan, who was watching with nonchalant interest.
Remy started sucking and making soft throaty noises. He looked up to
Michel, who was staring
at Logan and playing with Remy's auburn locks. Remy kept his hands
braced on Michel's outer thighs and tried to keep his mind on his work.
His eyes darted to his left and watched as the
guard still had his gun pointed at Logan, ready to pull the trigger
at any movement. His empathy reached out and brushed against Logan. He
knew Logan wasn't happy with the sight, yet he was...... turned on?
"Ah, Monsieur, he good, non? Remy is one o' my bes' boys." Michel grunted,
rocked back onto his heels and closed his eyes. He smiled as Remy choked
a bit, but managed to swallow the amount.
After a moment, he opened his eyes to see Logan raise an eyebrow at
the scene. "Y' see, cher? De
boy enjoy sex so much, he can' stay wit' jus' one. Remy owe me eve't'ing,
mon brave. He give me some ass an' suck, I let 'im live." Michel smirked,
triumphantly, before removing himself, and turning to look at Remy, who
was still kneeling before him. "We d' business 'gain, chile." He bent over
and forced himself against Remy's lips. When he stood again, he refocused
on Logan as he dressed and motioned to his partner that they were done.
Remy hung his head and gathered his clothes that had been piled on the
floor, in front of the sofa. He dressed himself and then stood to walk
Michel and his partner to the door. When he turned back to
see Logan still slouching in the arm chair, he sighed and headed for
the staircase.
"Thought you were done with this shit." Logan grumbled, but didn't look
at Remy. He'd said it
just loud enough so that Remy could understand.
"I am, cher. Dat's why Michel was 'ere. Sil vous plait Logan, drop it.
I go clean up for y', non?"
Remy reached for the bannister with his left hand and pulled himself
up onto the first step.
Logan stood up and took long strides to the doorway of the livingroom. "That aint what I saw, kid. When yer done, yer done. You don't fuck people for old time's sake. You move on, Remy!" He growled and glared at the obviously humiliated young man on the step.
Remy stopped and turned around. He moved to stand in front of Logan,
at a safe distance, and explained. "M'sieur, dis is my house. I do business
de way I wan' to, in my house. Like Michel
tol' y', Remy owe him his life, cher. He taught Remy how t' survive,
dat's all. Remy is done." He turned and went back up the stairs.
Catching Remy in the middle of the staricase, Logan shot back. "You
just make sure you are, kid. Act like an adult, Rem. Don't dance on the
edge of the flames." He saw that his point was made
as Remy dipped his head and whimpered, slightly, but continued up the
steps.
***************************
The afternoon had faded into early evening, and Remy was still in bed.
His head hurt and his stomach churned with every movement he made. He kicked
the covers off of his naked and glistening body. Sweat lightly shining
on his stomach as he panted heavily and moaned in pain.
He lay on his back and sprawled himself over the wide mattress.
It had been the day after Michel had visited him. He had been hoping
the visit wouldn't last as
long as it did, and that Logan would stay at the pub until after they
were gone.
Logan came into the room and wiped Remy's body down with a cool cloth. He was hot to the touch and glistening with sweat no matter how many times he wiped the beautiful tan skin. "Feel better, any?" He whispered.
"Shhh, non." Remy let tears fall into his hair.
Logan ran the cloth over Remy's chest. "You always get a headache after him?"
Remy nodded. "Oui, cher. He take so much cocaine dat it t'rows Remy off balance." He sobbed and whispered. His tongue wet his dry lips as he rolled towards Logan's form that sat on the side of the bed.
"How long has this been goin on, kid?" Logan raised his voice slightly,
causing Remy to sit up
and place a trembling finger to his lips.
"Sshhh, mon cher. Please, we talk bout dis later, when Remy feels better,
bien? Hur's too much,
now, cher. I explain later, oui?" Remy's pained expression was more
than enough to convince Logan to wait for later.
Logan nodded and took Remy's hand away as he kissed Remy ever so gently.
Laying the boy
back down, he reached to the end of the bed and pulled the sheet loose
from the blanket, and covered the glistening body. "An empty stomach aint
good for a headache. I'll bring ya somethin to eat in a
bit."
Remy closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly, hoping the pain would just go away. He whimpered and cried into the empty room. Wrapping his pillow about his head, he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and took a ragged breath as the light in the hall spilled in through the open door.
"Hey," A soft whisper startled him. "Sit up. I got some fruit for ya."
Logan did his best to keep
the whisper.
He was being gently pulled to a sitting position and turned to lean
against Logan's firm shoulder. The pillow was removed from his grasp and
his hands were placed in his lap. His forehead rested into Logan's cool
neck and heated it, rapidly. His eyes didn't open, even after something
cool and sweet was nudging his lips apart. He chewed, slowly, and swallowed.
Canteloupe? Mmm, it
tasted so good and cool.
Logan slipped him another piece and moaned quietly as Remy accepted
it and then sucked on the tip
of his index finger that had accompanied the fruit into his mouth.
He pulled away after a minute and reached for another piece of the fruit
that was piled onto a plate, in his lap. His right arm held Remy against
him, as his left fed the boy the fruit. "Good boy. A few more?" Logan asked
and patted
Remy's right arm to let Remy know he had acknowledged the nod.
When he was finished eating, he was laid back down as Logan kissed his
cheek before leaving
the room again.
************************
A short while later, Remy had become so nauscious that he leapt up,
out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Dropping to his knees, he leaned over
the bowl of the toilet and heaved. Letting the
contents of his stomach exit his body, his breath was ragged and short,
in between vomiting. When the fits were over, he flushed and crawled to
the sink to rinse his mouth out, followed by thoroughly brushing his teeth.
"No more, Rem. I aint gonna stand for it. It's either me, or the streets.
Pick one." Logan said as
he leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom.
Remy spit the water from his mouth, into the sink, and shut off the
tap. He straightened from his hunched position and looked over to the doorway.
"Logan, I try har' t' stay wit' you, cher. You
de only one who stay wit' Remy dis long. Remy not try t' be a whore
an'more."
"Try, huh?" Logan came closer to him and grabbed his arms. "Look at yerself, kid. Swallowin come from a high dealer and pimp aint livin the sweet life, Cajun. Not to mention, sellin that hot little ass to whoever he wants you to." Logan had started emphasizing his words by shaking Remy, firmly. "You aint usin, too, are ya?"
Remy glared. "Don' be stupid! Course not!"
"Stupid?" Logan backhanded Remy hard, sending the kid sprawling to the
floor. "I aint the one who's
a goddamned whore, Remy! Grow up, kid! You just might spare yerself
a bodybag."
Staring up at Logan, in shock, Remy rubbed his right cheek. "Remy is grown up, cher. But he do wha'ever he can t' survive! Remy need sex t' live. Need t' feel loved. Be loved."
Logan opened his eyes wide at the words. "Loved? You think you can get
love from bein a
whore? I can treat ya like a whore, Remy. Is that what you want? Huh?
You want me not to
care if you have a headache, or not in the mood? Should I just bend
ya over whenever I want,
and fuck ya like the slut you are?? Maybe I should just lay ya down
and fuck ya right here, is
that it?" Logan knelt down and pushed Remy back to lay on the cold
tiled floor, and started to undo
his belt.
"Non! Please!" Remy grabbed Logan's hand and did his best to stop him from removing his belt. His eyes pleaded with Logan.
"Yer right. Whores prefer the bed, don't they?" Logan growled and tossed
Remy over his
shoulder and carried him back to the bedroom.
Walking into the room, Logan turned and roughly threw Remy onto the
bed. He watched Remy land on his back and scoot backwards in a shallow
attempt to get away from him. Logan merely grabbed
at the kid's thin ankles and pulled him back, towards him, while he
undid his belt and pants. Pushing them down, and pulling on his manhood,
he spread the wiry legs apart and bent over him. He grabbed the back of
Remy's head and pushed his mouth towards his erection.
"Spit." He hissed.
Remy whimpered, but obeyed. As his fingers rubbed the saliva over the tip, he was shoved gruffly, back to the bed. His eyes stared up as Logan loomed over him with a twisted and determined grin.
Logan didn't wait for Remy to be ready, or get comfortable. He forced
himself in and started
thrusting in and out, violently. When he felt Remy's arms wrap around
him, Logan forced their lips together and pried open Remy's mouth with
his tongue, mint playing on his senses like aphrodisiac. After awhile,
he slowed and deepened the kiss, growling into the kid's velvety mouth.
Remy gasped and cried out as he broke the kiss and held on even tighter as Logan became forceful again. He hadn't had time to reach his orgasm when Logan froze and held himself deep into Remy, filling the tight entrance with white hot lust.
When Logan finally pulled back, and looked down at Remy, he growled. "Now, I'll be hard again in about a minute or so, shall we do this again, or have I made my point?"
"Non, cher." Remy panted. "Point made, mon amour. I love only you, Logan." He whisped and looked up at the older man with a sorry expression.
Logan pulled out and stood up. He tucked himself back into his pants and glared down at the younger man. "I need a drink." He snorted, and stalked out of the room and down the stairs.
***********************
A few weeks later, Remy pulled the car into the huge circle drive and
parked. He got out and shut the door, looking over the tall ragtop, to
the big white building that stood before him. He sighed and
tugged nervously at the cuffs of his gray jacket. Bringing himself
to walk up the seven stone steps, he stopped and stared at the guard in
front of the door.
"Remy LeBeau, here to see Michel de Corte." He announced.
The guard nodded and opened the door, motioning for Remy to follow him. He led Remy straight, down a long corridor to a door, and told him to wait. The guard opened the door and stepped in, promptly closing it after him. He came out again and patted Remy down before showing him into the room.
"Ah, Remy. Had a change of hear', petit?" Michel smiled and sipped at
his brandy in a crystal shotglass. He had been sitting on a plush grass
green sofa, to Remy's right, staring into the eyes
of a young girl.
Remy had guessed the girl was younger than he was.
The girl had been lounging in her underclothes and giggling, drunkenly,
to Michel's lusty
whispers. She gave Remy a once-over before glaring slyly at him. Her
soft red curls had hung down
to her shoulders and her boots squeaker and clicked with every movement
she made.
"I wan' t' talk, Michel." Remy said, clearing his throat and directing his attention to Michel alone.
"So, talk, chile." Michel laughed, softly.
Remy looked at the girl. "Alone."
Michel's smile faded and he shifted in his seat with a grunt. He turned to the girl and told her to leave, rather rudely.
The girl stood up and huffed, bumping into Remy as she left.
"Now dat we alone, chile, what y' wan'? You come f'r some more o' me?
Where's y' lover,
petit?" Michel smirked and set his glass down, on a small round table
in front of him. He stood
up and made his way to an overstuffed, white oak desk that sat in front
of the huge windows, before Remy.
Remy swallowed and pushed himself forward. "Non. I'm 'ere t' tell y'
I quit. Michel, Remy don' wan'
t' do dis an'more."
Michel looked up from his chair, and scowled at the boy. "Did he tell y' to come 'ere an' tell me dis? Hey? You mine, Remy. I own you." Michel stood up and briskly made his way to stand in front of Remy, grabbing him by the arms. "Y' were nothin til me, chile. Y' live in dat nice house wit' HIM b'cause o' me." He forced Remy to look at him.
"I-I- I know, Michel. But, Remy wan' t' be wit' him. Sil vouz plait,
cher? He love Remy, an'
Remy love him. Wan' t' be wit' him. Tire' of bein a whore, mon cher."
Remy raised his hands, defensively, in front of him.
The older man was boiling. He shoved Remy to the carpeted floor and
screamed obscenities at him in French. Michel kicked and swatted at the
cringing boy that curled himself into a ball. Forcing himself ontop of
Remy, Michel began stripping both of their clothes away with one hand,
while the other held Remy's wrists tightly above the boy's head. Ignoring
pleas to stop, Michel assaulted Remy's now bare chest and neck with his
mouth. "I tol' y', chile, y' belong t' me. No
one else. Y' know y' can' live wit'out it. He don' know wha' y' need,
Remy. Hol' still, boy, dis gonna feel good."
When it was over, Michel stood up and harshly kicked Remy in the side,
calling for his guards who happened to be standing just outside of the
door. "Take de boy f'r a ride. Make sure, he don' f'get
who he is." The man tucked in his shirt and smoothed back his hair
while sneering at the bruised and barely conscious Remy.
The two guards smirked and grinned, evily, at each other before each
grabbing an arm and dragging Remy out of the room. They dragged him out
to his own car and stuffed him into the backseat. Climbing into the front
seat, one of them filled the other in on a plan to drive Remy to where
he can have a slight "accident". The other agreed and glanced at Remy's
sleeping form that was sprawled across the seat.
To Be Contined...........