Boundaries of the Imagination
 
 

Remy crossed his arms, frowning at the field leader. "Just answer the
question. Why the Hell are y' keepin' po' Remy locked up like a
housecat?"

"Because you're a target. I'm not going to have you disappear on me."
Scott leaned back in his chair while the Cajun started to pace. Remy
was looking less and less like a street-rat these days. Logan liked
seeing him in nice things, so he'd cut down on the number of old tees
he wore. Today, for instance, he was wearing an Irish fisherman's
sweater with brown Dockers. The dark leather on his wrist drew
attention to the other touches of brown -- his boots, and a doeskin
collar that everyone else seemed to classify as a choker. His hair
was free for once and the thief couldn't help but play with it as he
paced.

"I understand y' not wantin' me out on the town. Logan don' like it
much neither, but why ain't y' takin' m' on missions, homme? There
been least two missions recently where y' could've done wit' m'
skills. And y' knew from the start that breakin' in was necessary.
But y' went and left m' behind. Tell y' true, Scotty, it's startin'
t' look like y' don' trust m'. Either that or Logan asked y' t' keep
m' outta the fire. Don't like neither of those options, me."

"I trust you. But I also think you have a lot to deal with right now.
Your aunt is ill. One of your friends has gone missing. You're
fighting with your father about. . . *that man*. Storm has been
fighting with Logan and you're playing peace-keeper. Rogue's been
trying to get closer with you as a friend and Bobby is getting
jealous, also forcing you into peace-maker mode."

"Stormy's pissed at m' because she thinks Logan's takin' advantage of
m' history. She don' understand why I'm int' what I'm int'. That's
the big problem on that front. Bobby ain't jealous, he's horny and he
t'inks I got the secret t' crackin' Rogue. And ain't none of it
anyt'in' that'll keep m' from performin' in the field. Y' let m' work
in the Danger Room, but when the good stuff comes, it's 'Gambit's on
security.'"

"I don't want you in the field right now."

"Why not?" Remy pressed. He leaned over Scott's desk. The field
leader arched a brow. It wasn't like the Cajun to be this aggressive.

"You aren't stable."

"I ain't never been stable. What's the real reason, Cyke?"

"You're in danger. My gut says it's real and close. I'm not putting
you at unnecessary risk until it passes."

Remy's brows furled. "Y' got a pre-cog somewhere?"

Scott thanked God for small favors. The mirrored shades he had to
wear kept him from meeting Remy's eyes. "Yes."

"Liar. I been good f' a month, but this is it, cher. Y' don't put m'
in the field or let m' out of this house, I'm gone. And ain't no one
here good 'nough t' find m'."

"You won't leave Logan."

Remy snorted. "Cher, y' don' got a clue 'bout Remy."

"You love him."

"Can't help it. He loves me. Still, I got t' look out f' m'self. I
can't live like a house-pet. I'm more feral than Logan ever been. Y'
either trust m' let m' hunt some, or I'm out."

Remy turned away. He headed for the door. "How long will you give me
to decide?"

"Y' got 24-hours."

"72?"

"48 and not a second mo'."

Remy closed the door carefully behind him and headed for his room. It
was the last place anyone would look for him. He had arrangements to
make.

****

Logan came back to an empty room. He'd been hoping his pet would be
there. Scott was in a cranky mood and the last mission had been a
waste of time. He hadn't found out shit. He growled low in his
throat, someone had been messing around in their room. His eyes
narrowed. Not one thing of his had been touched, but several pieces
of Remy's were missing.

He stalked down to Remy's room just in time to catch the tail-end of
a fight.

"I don' care, Stormy. Y' want t' hold t' y'r prejudice, I ain't gonna
be able t' change y'r mind, not wit'out charmin' y'. Y' either deal
wit' the fact that I ain't givin' up m' kinks or not. I jus' don'
care no mo'."

"Remy, brother, please understand, this is for your own good. Charles
assures me that. . ."

"Y' went t' Xavier?" Remy's voice was cold.

"I was worried. The professor has always. . ."

"Y' went t' Xavier."

"Yes."

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out of m' room, woman. Y' broke y' trust. Get out."

Stunned, Storm left the room. It wasn't until she reached her loft
that the nausea settled in her stomach.

Logan entered the ordered room. He noted the missing artwork. "Yer
plannin' on bunkin'?"

"Y' know I can't stand bein' useless. The longer Cyke keeps m'
trapped here, the more useless I become."

"Let's talk."

"I gave him 48-hours. He don't t'ink I'll leave."

Logan's jaw twitched. He shut the door. "Were ya gonna warn me?"

"I ain't sure." Remy shrugged.

Logan sat on the bed. "I'm gonna try not to get mad at ya, kid, but
it's gonna be real hard fer me."

Remy looked at his lover. His eyes were cold. "I love y', cher. I do.
But I can't promise y' not'in'. Y' can't leave here because of y'r
honor. An' Remy, if t'ings keep goin' on like this, his honor won't
let him stay."

Logan's jaw twitched. "48 hours, huh?"

"Oui."

"Where would ya go?"

"If I leave y'all won't be able t' find me. I'll drop y' a line t'
let y' know I'm still alive."

"Better be more'n a line or I will hunt ya. We got some of the same
friends."

Remy leaned against the wall. "This ain't gonna be easy."

"Not if I can change yer mind."

"Then maybe I ought t' move back here."

Logan shook his head. "If we got 48 hours, let's use 'em, Darlin'."

"Mais, cher, closer t' 40 hours now. Yelled at him this mornin' me."

"I would've paid to see that."

The Cajun laughed, a smile finally lighting his face. "Oh, cher, don'
know how y' do that."

"Do what?"

"Make m' spirit sing."

Logan held out a hand. Remy did him one better and straddled his lap
to give him a kiss. Logan wrapped his fist into the long free hair.
It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was flame and passion and fear. They broke
apart for a moment.

"Please don' ask m' t' stay, Logan. Y' own m' heart. Y' know I won'
say 'no' t' y'. Don' use it against me."

"Give ya my word, Darlin'. I won't ask ya to stay. Will ya do one
thing fer me though?"

"What?"

Logan tugged gently on Remy's left arm until the wrist was in his
palm. "I want ya to wear this. Even if we ain't. . . together. Take
it off when ya stop lovin' me."

Remy nodded. "Y' talk like y're sure Cyke ain't gonna come around."

"This is Cyke. He thinks he's right."

"Y' known him longer."

"Yep. Now, it's after dinner and yer in here not our room. Got me
wonderin' if yer interested in playin'."

"I don' know, cher. Can I trust y'?"

"Probably not."

Remy snickered. "Give m' somet'in' t' remember y' by?"

"Thought ya weren't into pain?"

"I ain't really. Just. . . Y' need it sometimes." He bit Logan's
earlobe.

Logan's smile revealed more teeth than necessary. "Yer in a temper
ain't ya, pet? Gonna have to do somethin' about that."

Remy squirmed against Logan's crotch as the thick arms circled his
waist. "What y' mean, boss?"

Logan bit firmly at the base of Remy's throat where it met his collar
bone. He drew blood accompanied by a startled gasp from Remy's lips.
He felt his pet's breathing turn rapid. He sucked to draw a dark
bruise to the surface. Remy arched into the warm mouth, eyes
dilating. Logan inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he eased his
grip. Remy rubbed his cheek against Logan's shoulder. "Go wait fer
me."

Remy slipped down the hall to Logan. . . their room still, he
supposed. He knelt just inside the door after removing his boots. He
glanced at the bed and saw Logan's bag. He unpacked it carefully and
was folding away the last shirt when Logan arrived with a plate of
fruit, a glass and a bottle of wine. Remy offered to take them, but
Logan merely stared at him until he dropped to his knees. Logan
busied himself opening the wine. He left it to breathe for the moment
and turned his attention to his pet. The first step was to change his
pet's collar to the leather encased metal one. His pet shivered as it
locked shut. "Strip."

Once naked, Remy returned to his knees, hands behind his head. The
bruise was dark on his throat. Logan took his time, savoring the
power he'd been given over this fallen angel. The red eyes were
downcast, but the rest of his body was just as readily made for sin.
The ball-splitter, cock-ring combination had its usual effect and a
delicate flush started up Remy's body.

Logan adjusted himself before carefully pulling Remy's wrists to the
small of his back. He crossed them there and proceeded to tie them
with a silk cord. The result was frustratingly comfortable. Remy
twisted, but his fingers couldn't reach the knot on the top. Logan
laughed, then taped Remy's hands into fists. Defeated, the Cajun
huffed out a breath. The gag that pressed against his lips startled
him. Logan used it almost exclusively as a punishment. "Bo. . ." The
pressure forced his jaw open. Soon, he was tightly muzzled. Logan
left him there as he went to pour himself a glass of wine. He turned
on the news. A rush of shame filled Remy's eyes. How could he not
have to Logan his plans? It was cruel. He never could have gotten
this far if he had, however, or so he consoled himself.

Logan knew it would take his boy awhile to get into the right
mindset, so he had an evening snack as he watched CNN. He toyed with
the idea of caging his pet for awhile, but discarded it. Better for
the boy's mindset if he knew he was being ignored, not stored.

Remy's jaw started to ache first, then his shoulders, then his knees.
He wanted attention, good, bad, indifferent, he didn't care. He
listened to the news, but he couldn't watch it. It was angled away
from where he was and he wasn't allowed to look anywhere but at the
floor or his boss. He whined behind his gag, knowing it would do no
good to relieve his frustration. An eternity later the television
shut off.

At the end of the half-hour review, Logan shut off the TV and glanced
at his pet. His mewling had quieted a few minutes ago. He was
shifting minutely to try to relieve his knees. Logan went to the
bathroom and brushed his teeth. He was well-fortified against his
boy's tricks and he was in control of the raging anger in his
stomach.

Logan looked at his pet. The dark slash of black at his throat and
dark straps defining his cock were sharp counter-points to the
delicately flushed skin. The bruise at his throat was deep blue-
purple. Logan snapped his fingers and pointed down. Remy pressed his
forehead to the floor.

With its inch and a half width, the metal and leather collar around
Remy's neck wasn't cruel, but it wasn't comfortable either. The
collar was unrelenting. Even the widest of his collars, his red on,
was more forgiving. The least stretched. As he pressed himself to the
floorboards, Remy felt the collar bite into his skin. Logan pushed a
foot against the inside of one knee. Remy spread them further apart.

He listened as Logan looked through the toy box. His mind raced with
possibilities, none of which included him coming, despite the
pressure in his cock. He felt one finger prodding his ass, then two,
then three, then four. He squealed into his gag as Logan's cock
replaced his fingers. Logan used him roughly, taking his frustration
out on the tight channel. Remy could sense the anger and frustration
as well as love and sadness and lust. He'd been a bastard for not
warning his lover about his intentions. The guilt curled up in his
stomach. For once, he knew he deserved punishment for something
completely real. It would please Logan and cleanse him. If only he
weren't wearing the damned gag, he'd beg for a spanking, or even
more.

Logan arched into his boy, striking deep. Remy's choked cry fanned
the flames of his anger, he didn't know why, even as he exploded in
pleasure. "Ya need some hard lessons, pet," he growled as he slipped
free. He replaced the hold left by his cock with a plug held in by a
leather harness. Remy wriggled, adjusting quickly to the intrusion.
Silk cording swiftly bound his ankles and knees. Then, his arms were
re-arranged and bound at wrists and elbows, pulling back his
shoulders. Logan pulled him up to his knees. A leather blindfold hid
remorseful eyes. He'd give the boy something to remember that was for
sure. He picked Remy up and placed him face down on the bed,
listening carefully for his breathing.

He trickled the ends of a leather strap along the graceful arches and
the back of Remy's legs, watching the muscles twitch. The sensation
was intense with Remy's world pared down to touch and hearing. The
first smack across his ass wasn't a strap, or the flat of a hand. He
couldn't figure out what had caused the burning, stinging imprint. He
tried to wiggle away, knowing the futility. He needed punishing and
Logan meant to do it. At least it wasn't a whip.

Logan grinned. His pet wasn't panicking. There was nothing glowing,
no stop signal at all. He trailed the leather across the slim hips,
then gave the taut ass another smack with his paddle. The procedure
continued, with Remy trying to rub himself against he coverlet, even
as he tried to get away from the paddling. The paddle continued its
rhythm though, until Remy was sobbing in a confusion of pleasure and
pain. Unable to come, unable to beg, he was trapped in the dark spell
of his emotions. Logan played with the plug for a moment, then
resumed paddling. Eventually, he jerked off into the Cajun's bangs.

He rubbed the boy's bruised ass gently, then pulled him to his feet.
He fisted the desperate cock, then laughed. "Yer not comin' tonight,
pet. Here blow yer nose." Remy complied, feeling even ore acutely
helpless. Logan settled him on his knees in the corner. "Don't go
away. I'll be back."

Remy sighed. His hips moved convulsively, seeking stimulation. His
ass clenched against the heartless plug.

Logan returned after closing up the wine. He released the silk
binding and the blindfold. He settled his pet into bed, then
refastened his hands, this time in front.

Finally, the hated gag was gone. Only, Remy found his words were gone
too. He curled close to his master, whimpering. Logan kissed his
forehead. "Settle down, pet."

FIN