Part 3
"Ousssh," Logan hissed when he crashed into the wall. Again. He bit
his bleeding lower lip and slipped down.
"Get up, ya swamp rat!"
The blonde man lazily came to the corner where Logan was laying
breathing hard.
"Get up I said!"
The man kicked Logan on his stomach. Once again. Logan clenched his
teeth and tried to rise but he couldn't.
His entire body was in pain, all covered with bruises and scratches.
He could hardly remember the day he felt such pain. His body - his
*own* body - was a painkiller itself, as his mutant talant was the
healing factor. He got used to the fact that pain usually went away
in a second or two, and the bruises followed it. More serios injuries
needed more time to heal but the process was, of course, faster than
usual man's.
But this body hadn't such an ability. All the injuries he got
during the tormention that already lasted for several hours hurt
hard, and Logan was sure that they would't stop hurting soon. And
also his tormentor was going to add new injuries.
Logan knew this men pretty well to know what to wait from him. The
name of his tormentor was Victor Creed. They met long ago in the
police academy and the man already had the nickname 'Sabertooth'
that fully revealed his physical features and his character either.
Creed was a mutant and had the unhuman speed, strength... and
cruelty. This last thing was the main difference between Logan and
Creed. They two had the healing factor, the claws and something that
Logan usually called for himself "the inner beast". But as long as
Logan tried to tame the beast, Creed developed his animalistic
features.
Soon after their meeting Creed had to go away from the academy as
fast as he could to save his ass from the arrest and prison, and
Logan was the reason for that. He was sure that even if Creed will
learn who his captive really was he would be only glad to torment
him.
"Hey boy," Creed said with the evil grin interrupting the seria of
kicks. "Ya still don't wonna tell me 'bout th' diskette?"
Logan shook his head.
"Ya're fool," Creed grinned wider, and new hard kicks pounced upon
Logan.
One of them fitted his temple, and Logan felt into salutary
unconsiousness.
* * *
In the flat, when Scott was sure that everything is ok and went away
in the end, Remy looked around. The flat was decorated in Japanese
style, a few pieces of furniture and laconic decorations. ~De man has
a taste~, he thought. He noticed the sword on the wall: as a
conoisser he could say that it was a real katana and cost a lot. Remy
took the weapon from the wall and touched the metall as tender as a
skin of beloved. His fingertips slid to the edge, and he hissed
briefly looking at the red line of cut. But next second the cut
disappeared, and only few drops if blood were on his fingers. Remy
stared at it puzzled. The he pressed his palm to the edge. The deep
cut healed in a moment. Remy whistled, carefully cleaned the sword
with a piece of silk which he found on the shelf near the place where
the weapon hung and put it on it's place.
Then he sank on the sofa and studied the contents of his pockets. The
keys, the wallet - nothing special. Looking through the contents of
the wallet he found the hidden small picture of that women, Jean. ~I
was sure she is Scott's sweetheart...~
He moved to the desk. The wide grin appeared on his face when he
found the folder titled 'Gambit'. He listed the documents. ~Uh-huh...
uh-huh... How did he learn it? And this one...~
Remy spent more then an hour looking through the papers in the desk.
He felt sleepy but forced himself to keep awake. In the end he sighed
and headed to the bedroom.
There was a large bed not similar to the asketic design of the whole
flat. ~Ha... I'd love t' spend some plesant time in dis bed. Not
alone, of course... Don' even dream, Remy. De only company y'll have
dis night will be y'r nigh'mares.~ He shook his head to get rid of
the thoughts and opened the wardrobe.
The clothes in the wardrobe made him burst out of laughing: most of
them were flannel, and all looked the same. ~Dis man doesn't like de
diversity, as for de dressing.~
After getting the short shower, Remy pulled himself to the bed. To
his surprise, the blankets weren't flannel, they were satin and felt
very pleasant. Remy curled on his side and fell to sleep...
* * *
He stood on the bridge. The long wide bridge like Bruklin's one began
from under his feet and disappeared in the fog far away from him.
There was nothing else besides the bridge and the grey fog
everywhere. Remy turned and found out that the grey fog was behind
him, too.
He wasn't afraid. This dream wasn't similar to his usual dreams, yet
it was better for the present. There was nothing like those images
from his past he hoped to forget which returned to him every night.
Remy went forward. He didn't know how long he was moving when he
stopped on the verge of gulf. The end of the bridge wasn't covered
with the fog as it seemed to him first: it just didn't exist.
He was still near the gulf when the surface trembled under his feet
and then the grey fog in front of him dissipated. There was the
second part of the bridge separated from him by the gulf. And there
was a man. The distance was great but Remy could see the features of
the man as well as if the man was right near him.
"Hi... Logan", Remy said slowly.
"Hi, LeBeau." The man frowned. He was surrounded with the limpid
pearl walls. Logan rose his hand, and the wall moved, giving him
the room. "What is it?"
"Don' know," Remy shrugged. "Stop... y'r now in my body, right?"
"Yeah, and ye'r in mine?"
Remy nodded.
"T'ink I know what it is. 'Tis my psi-shields. Y're lucky dey were
up when y' got in my body, homme."
"Psi-shields?"
"Oui, very useful t'ing when y're a t'ief... and an empat'."
"Empath? Ya're an empath, LeBeau?" The cope was more than surprised.
"And y' t'ought y' know everyt'ing 'bout Gambit, don' y'?" Remy
grinned. "Ok, homme, let's stop chatting. I can' say y'r body is bad
yet I wan' my native one back. T'ink y' wan' it, too."
"Yeah, as soon as possible, and better get it back before this son of
a bitch Creed kicked me to death."
"What?" Gambit looked upset. "Y' said Creed?"
"Ya know him?" Logan asked but that moment he began to shine frome
inside. In a second he was in centre of aura of reddish light, and a
few long protuberances tore itself away from the beaming aureole,
going through the pearl walls easily.
"What the hell?" "Merde!" two men yelled at the same time.
"What about that, LeBeau? One else of yer powers I don't know
'bout?"
"Oui, very problematic one. 'Tis called 'charming power'."
"And how does it work?"
But Remy hadn't a chance to answer. Without any signs to it Logan
disappeared. Next moment Gambit found himself in the bed staring into
the darkness.
Part 4
Logan opened his eyes and shut them again. His head was under
the water, and strong hand held him in this position. He struggled,
but minutes seemed to pass before the hand got a tight grisp in his
hair and pulled him up.
"Good mornin'," Creed said looking at Logan's wet face and dipped
him into the bucket full of water yet again.
Logan's lungs were in pain and his mind swam due to the lack of
oxygen. At the end, when Creed finally let him go, Logan fell on the floor
gasping for air as a fish on the sand, coughing out the water and gaining the pathetic look from Creed.
That time he felt that strange warmth inside his chest which was there in his dream, when the red
protuberances appeared. ~How did this LeBeau call it? Charm power?
What th' hell does it mean?~
Creed still had this feral grin on his face. This redhead was a
pretty boy-for-beating... if he was a bit more responsive and not a half-conscious heap he was by now. Still, this
beaten up freak held on, he didn't even screamed. Kinda disappointing, since that meant he wasn’t broken to the limit he wanted him to. Shit…
Sabertooth looked at the long lean frame of his captive: so fragilely built he tempted to squeeze him in embrace and hear his bone snapping under the pressure. Nice hair, soft like auburn silk, matching the blood on the temple by color. Thin arms, long legs, firm buttocks… ~The boy
Might not just be made fer beating but might as well be a great fuck-toy,~ Creed thought and the bare thought made his jeans feel tight. He was hard.
Painfully hard.
He paced to the captive slowly, savoring the waves of uneasiness from him. uneasiness? Nope, that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted fear. Deadly fear, so the kid will scream and whirl in his hands. He traced thin kid’s chest with his claw, drawing the red line on the pale soft skin, so soft that it made him want to trace it again, to draw blood and watch crimson drops trace over the tender velvet. The kid squirmed and it send a new wave of butterflies to Sabertooth’s groin, where his trapped member was already screaming for attention.
Logan glared at his tormentor. He was ready to whatever new cruelties the man had for him... or at least he thought he was ready. Yet
the expression he saw in Creed's feral green eyes frightened him. The rage and insanity still were there, mixed with urge for violence – yet there was once more thing there, that frightened him more than all tortures he had already went through. Lust.
Creed grinned at the smell of fear rolling off the kid in waves. In one fast movement he torn the jeans off that small butt, tossing them into a corner in a pile of useless rags. He loved tortures, all kinds of them – the sweet mixture of fear and pain were driving his crazy. Still what was gonna come was better than anything else – especially with this boy. He looked slutty, but weirdly untouched, and the thought made Creed lick his lips.
The boy was beautifully built, and those red
bleeding lines looked good on his pale skin covered with purple and
blue bruises – a true piece of art, the one he already craved to feel from the inside. He thought for a while about
adding few more strokes to this picture of unknown... duh, known very
well! - artist, but his cock throbbed in his pants, and protested against anything that delayed the pleasure.
With one single twist of strong arms Creed rolled the kid over on his stomach and purred at the sight - just as pleasant as from the front. The redhead had the small
firm buttocks. Without a second thought Creed slapped one of them, leaving red marks on the skin. "On all fours," he ordered.
Logan stayed put, partially out of shock that froze him, partially out of bits of dignity he still struggled to put together. He laid still on the floor, one cheek
pressed to the cold wet surface, one arm aching mercilessly - he was almost sure it was broken. But all that didn't matter, not now. The only thing he
could think about was Creed hovering above him with a toothy menacing grin he could feel with his back, ready to… Logan knew
perfectly well what exactly. The bastard would rape him.
Logan had never been raped. Never by a man, never been with one at all. had never been forced into sex. Always on opt, dominant as he was, strong as he was… as he had been, until he got trapped into this pretty, fragile and oh so damn fuckable body…
~Easy, Logan, this isn’t even your body!~ he chided himself, yet the other part of his mind yelled ~But it’s your dignity, your pride ye’r gonna loose in seconds! And to whom – to some fuckin’ bastard!~
"On all fours," Creed repeated irritated. No answer. No movement.
He snapped Logan’s head back by his hair and stared into his face. Those
exotic red-on-black eyes he was surprised by earlier were shut tightly but
he knew by the way the lashes trembled that the kid was conscious.
Ok. The submission was just a small part of pleasure anyway. On the other hand, the more fighting – the better.
He jammed a hand under the kid's stomach and dragged his hips up. His
claws dug into soft flesh. Holding the boy with one hand, he unzipped
his pants with the other setting his hard cock free.
Logan clenched his teeth for not to scream. Oh God. No. It can’t be happening. Not with him. Oh...
He couldn't help the strangled cry that escaped his lips when Creed entered him
with one rough thrust, opening him, scrapping him innards. He felt like he was torn apart, like his innards turned into bloody mess and his hipbones were gonna crash under the pressure of the huge shaft. Yet it was nothing compared to the fire in his lower abdomen, when Creed started to move, pumping into him like an engine, following the sick rhythm.
There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t fight, he could barely move. All he could do was not to scream, to rob the bastard at least of the pleasure to hear his cries. Biting his lips, drawing blood time and time again, he held on.
Creed panted for air, a sneer claiming his face. This boy was made for fucking: so tight and hot and those muscles seemed to spasm in just right places to drive him over the edge. And the way he screamed the first time he thrust, the way he whirled on his cock, like a butterfly on a pin… In and out, in and out, all the way, until the blond curls press to the firm blood soaked buttocks of the kid… what? Damn, the boy stopped screaming. Bad enough, he loved this small addition to the waves of pain. Yet he knew how to make him scream. In and out, harder every time, rougher, tearing him, going so deep it seems his cock will soon show out of this nice throat…
It didn’t take long for him to come. He waited until the last shudders of orgasm faded, and stood up from over the half-crashed panting boy and kicked him into the side.
"Hey ya," he said. The demon-like eyes glared at him trough the
lowered lashes. The red line of blood oozed from the bitten lip.
Creed grinned. "I'm a mutant. But my mutation isn't only this," he
pointed at his eyes and teeth, "and this," he waved his
fingers in front of captive’s face , letting him observe the blood covered claws. "One else part of my mutation is healing factor. Do ya know
what does it mean?"
Logan hardly escaped the moan. He knew...