Title: Black Magick
Authors: Spirit Melody (kat@lsak.fsnet.co.uk) and Firesong (firesong@ukonline.co.uk)
Archive: Quite probably, but please ask both of ours permission.
Disclaimer: We do not own the characters of Logan, Remy, the X-Men or any other Marvel creations featured in this story. Marvel does. We are merely borrowing them for our playtime.
Rating: NC-17 all the way :)
Category: Wolverine/Gambit
Notes and warnings: Extreme violence, non-consensual sex (i.e rape), consensual graphic sex and bucketloads of angst. A lot of bad stuff happens to Remy in this. That for ppl like us means yay!
Feedback: Yes please!! Always welcomed, all writers thrive on feedback. More feedback = more stories.
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Black Magick - part one
 
Most the corridors seemed endless.  He ran and ran, but he just wasn't fast enough.  The shadows themselves seemed to trip him up.  His usual cat like agility seemed lost to him.  The figures behind him followed closely.  He could almost feel their breath on his skin, their hands on his clothes, their desires wanting to rip the clothing from his body.  Just like they had so many times already.  He had tried to do what they wanted him to do.  Anything, just to let him go!  The promises of freedom they whispered in his ear as they sated themselves only served to give him a glimmer of hope, before being snatched away.  Finally they'd kept their promise.  But now they were chasing him.  He could hear their laughter, as they mocked him.  Oh yeah, they let him go.  Only so they could hunt their pet down again, and punish him for daring to run away.
 
Again Remy stumbled. His hip giving away underneath him, causing him to land harshly on his hand.  His wrist made a sickening crunching sound as pain exploded up his arm.  His fingers now immobile.  He still struggled to his feet, and continued his efforts.
 
"Why me?  It's not fair!"  He screamed to himself.
 
"It never was." A voice seemed to echo back.  With his charm, his power, his speed...  It all meant... nothing.  Came to... nothing. That's all he had ever been told; that he himself was nothing.  He kept up his pace, but again, another dead end.  His heart beat wildly in his chest, as he contemplated having to backtrack on himself.  It was literally walking into his enemies clutches.  Remy's spirit broke, and he crumpled to the floor in sobs, hiding his head under ruby red locks of hair.  His body hurt from the strain of running for so long, and the ministrations those animals kept forcing on him.  His chest hurt from lack of oxygen, as the cries wracking his body prevented him from breathing properly.  Then from his view on the floor, he saw feet.  Twelve feet walking towards him, their maniacal laughter tearing away any courage he tried to muster.  Hands grasped him hard, around the wrists, in his hair, around his waist.  Cold steel bit his wrists, so tight, the broken bones in his wrist ground together.  His cries of despair deepened.  What little clothing he wore was soon torn from him, as the chain attached to the manacles was thrown over one of the over hanging pipes.  He was strung up.  Hot tears trickled down his face.  The chain was pulled hard, lifting the Cajun till only his toes touched the floor.
 
The leader ran his claws down the Cajun's already scarred back, as he pulled the Cajun's unwilling body closer to own.  "Please don' do dis."  Remy begged, knowing all too well that his pleas would go unanswered.  Still, he had learned that if he didn't beg, the pain, agony, torture and humiliation would be far, far worse.  The leader rubbed his aching shaft against Remy's bare backside, begging for satisfaction.  He caressed his way from Remy's broad shoulders, over his small waist and hand-shaped bruised hips, before parting the perfectly formed buttocks.  He, most of all enjoyed hearing the man's cries for mercy, but his most satisfying scream was yet to come.  He forced himself all the way to the hilt in one quick thrust.  His whole body quivered as warm blood trickled down the Cajun's leg.  There was his scream.
 
Remy sat bolt upright, a scream on his lips that would not come.  His body covered in sweat, his face wet with tears.  His heart pounding so hard, it was almost out of his chest.  He looked round, trying desperately to calm himself.  "It's only de boathouse.  It's only de boathouse."  He told himself, as he pulled his slender, silk covered knees up to his chest.  He wasn't in that horrible place anymore.  He was on the mansion grounds.  Safe.  He kept repeating this to himself over and over until his heart began to calm, and his rapid breathing eased.  Gently he rocked to and fro, listening to the storm outside.  The rain, and bitterly cold winds were something he remembered well from his miserable childhood on the streets.
 
His skin felt cold and clammy.  The silk sheets were damp with sweat, and his hands and knees shook uncontrollably.  He felt sick to his stomach.  "It's all over Remy.  It's all over."  He ran a quivering hand through his waist length tresses, pulling out the knots with his fingers, until he felt the fear slowly die away.  Taking a deep breath he got shakily to his feet, trying hard to push the nightmare from his mind.
 
He opened the cupboard under the stairs, to pull out fresh linen.  He couldn't sleep in those damp sheets now.  He walked back into the bedroom and started to change the sheets, before heading into the kitchen to make himself a hot milky coffee.  It helped him sleep, but the sedatives in the bathroom closet worked better.  Maybe, he'd take one before heading back to bed, if he even dared to take the risk of returning to that nightmare world; thing is - they weren't really nightmares. For Remy, they were merely memories. Memories more terrifying than any nightmare his unconscious imagination could throw together.
 
Mansion Woods
 
Piercing blue eyes watched the smoke ring from his cigar slowly fade away.  He enjoyed listening to the sounds of the storm raging through the forest.  Trees rustling, the wind howling.  The occasional scutter of the wildlife.  Another smoke ring, another clap of thunder.  Deep drag of the cigar.  Another smoke ring, another flash of lightening.  Oh yeah, he really loved night duty.
 
He thought of doing another circuit of the grounds, but even the most fool hardy bad guy, wouldn't come out in this.  This was seriously hard weather.  He looked at his watch, and growled.  4:30. Meaning end of his shift.  Shame, he wasn't all that tired, and he had a danger room session booked with Gumbo at 7:00.  "Aw hell, It's not as if I need the beauty sleep."  Smirking, he remembered the last time he'd said that out loud, and had been given two remarks.  Bobby's was something like "It don't matter how much sleep you take Wolverine, you're still gonna look like that."  The other...
"Damn handsome non?"
 
Logan smirked and headed inside.  That Cajun could charm the birds from the trees given half a chance.  His face curled up in a scowl as he heard Scott talking to the professor about the Cajun.  How he shouldn't be allowed on the grounds, let alone stay there... unguarded.  It seriously pissed Logan off at the way Remy had been treated by the others.  If he had been there at the trial, he would have stopped the whole damned farce.  Logan growled deep in his chest as he entered the kitchen, taking great delight in stabbing the cooked goose in the fridge, and dumping it on the kitchen table.  His thoughts deepened.  He may not seem a deep thinker to the others, but he had a strong sense on honour and justice, and the way Remy had been treated by the team was far beyond wrong. And besides the Cajun, though he'd never admit, was a real friend to Logan. The poor Cajun and been forced to face issues that he wasn't yet ready to deal with, before being kicked off the team that should have been supporting him, and then left to die in a cold wasteland.  Logan ripped more meat off the bird.  The kid even found his way back to the team, to be forced into the boathouse on his own.  Which for someone like Remy who craved human contact was inhumane.  Logan ripped the carcass in two, and took a deep bite of the flesh, before dumping the whole thing in the trash.  He settled for a couple of beers and a long soak in the tub.  He's sort this mess out one way or the other, coz as far as he was concerned, Remy had proved his intentions time and again, and now Logan was going to prove it too.
 
Danger Room *7am*
 
Scott paced the Danger Room, checking is watch every 20 seconds, swearing repeatedly.
 
The doors opened behind him with a quiet swish; turning he saw Logan enter.  A gruff look on his face, but that was nothing unusual.
 
"Logan."  Cyke nodded, but Logan just shot him a look that just said 'Die' before sitting in a chair.  Silence ensued before Logan finally asked where the Cajun was.
 
"I don't know."  One-eye answered before returning to his pacing.  It was almost 10 past seven.  'Come on Gambit, don't do this to me.'  He willed.  As if on cue the doors opened, and the Cajun entered, still pulling the last of his armour into place.  He leaned against the wall and smiled a champion grin.
 
"'ello ladies."  His long reddish hair seemed to be fighting to get out of his headband.  "You waitin' for someone special??"
 
"I'd hardly call you special Gambit."  Scott scolded.
 
"Aww t'anks.  I guess you're right, I'm much more dan special non?"  Scott sighed and fought the urge not to rise to the bait.  Logan remained seated, a large wolfish grin on his face.  Great.  Gumbo's in a real push it mood. Just what I could do with today.
 
"Maybe next time you'll be a bit more precise Gambit."  Cyke continued.  "The enemy are not going to wait for you to be ready."
 
"An' de enemy aren't goin' to 'ave you bleatin' at de time keepin'."  Remy shot back.   Logan laughed and stepped between then.  "The kid's here now Cyke, so quit belly-achin' and get up to the ops deck.  Me an' the Cajun wanna train sometime this century."
 
"You just wanna get your 'ands on me right homme?"  Remy walked towards Logan.  His hips swung provocatively, and his charm was set just enough to make Logan feel a little warm and fuzzy.  Logan flashed him a wicked grin.
 
"Maybe...  Maybe not."
 
Cyclops sighed and head up the observation deck.  It was too early for this.