Author: Makes Rain Woman (makes_rain

Author: Makes Rain Woman (makes_rain_woman@hotmail.com)

Title: House Arrest; this is chapter 3.

Fandom and Genre: X-Men romantic slash

Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel Entertainment Group and 20th

Century Fox, not me! I'm not making any money, just having fun. No

Pairing: Wolverine/Gambit

Rating: NC-17 (We're getting closer, I swear!)

Summary: Wolverine and Gambit are kicked off the team and Cyclops

sentences

them to stay home while the X-Men are on a mission. Bet he

never thought

this would happen...

Feedback: is very nice! :)

Archive: Please ask me first! :)

I highly recommend purchasing a recording of Holst's "The Planets"

and

listening to "Venus, the Bringer of Peace" during a rainstorm (or

at least

while imagining rain). It's really quite amazing. :)

A low rumble of thunder roused Logan awake. The patter of raindrops against the window was steady and rapid, yet gentle. / Just a heavy rainer, no hail, / he thought. / Not much wind, either. /

The sound of falling rain was something Logan had always found soothing.

His sensitive hearing gave him a different perspective,

and he found an

almost musical quality to it. The faint rush of the

water falling through

the air made for very subtle percussion, and

sound of the drops on impact,

varying with size, created a soft

melody. If there was a strong wind the

effect was pretty much

ruined, but right now the conditions were perfect.

The slow steady breathing from the warm body still snug against his

back

added a nice bass line to the song of the rain. Logan couldn't

help but

smile when Remy let out a very soft snore. He could get

used to this,

waking up with a long, lean Cajun spooning him and

breathing warmly into

his ear. Their bodies seemed to curve

perfectly together for this position,

and Logan loved being on the

inside of it, being the one who was cuddled

and protected. Funny,

just last night he had been the one wanting to protect

Remy; when had

their roles reversed? He didn't know...and didn't care.

Remy sighed dreamily and shifted in his sleep, nestling even closer

Logan as if to never let him go. Logan's body tingled at the

sensations

of Remy's stubble-roughened chin nuzzling his shoulder,

taut chest rubbing

against his back, one strong arm wrapped tightly

about his waist...and

hard cock pressed firmly against his buttocks.

That in particular felt

very nice, intimate, yet cozy. He knew he

probably had nothing to do with

Remy's erection (the Morning Wood

Fairy had visited him as well), but it

was exciting none the less.

Logan had yet to open his eyes, preferring to start the day by taking

the sounds and scents around him. And there were some wonderful

new aromas

in his room this morning. As teammates he had always

noticed Remy's unique

smell; the first time they'd been in the Danger

Room together he'd had

to make a conscious effort to ignore it. In

this close proximity, it was

even more tantalizing. Logan let his

olfactory nerves pick the different

fragrances apart, pushing aside

the remaining traces of yesterday's aftershave

and shampoo to get

down to the pure essence of Remy LeBeau. It was such

a wonderful

bouquet, spicy and masculine. Logan inhaled deeply, reveling

in how

the aroma made every muscle in his body relax further than he had

ever imagined possible. In his mind he had to laugh. Wouldn't it be

ironic

if this wild-child thief ended up being the calming force in

his life?

While this was a perfect morning already, he was beginning to feel a

little

selfish enjoying the rain while Remy slept unaware, and he was

eager to

begin their first full day together. Logan reached down and

plucked Remy's

hand from where it lay splayed across his stomach, and

brought it to his

lips with the intentions of just kissing the palm.

The first taste of

flesh wasn't enough, and he slowly began to lick

each finger, loving the

thief's sweet, sweet flavor.

"Mmmmm?" Remy stirred in response, inadvertently grinding harder

against

Logan's ass. Logan could almost hear the smile forming on

the Cajun's

lips as he became aware of his

surroundings. "Mmmm...mornin', cher. Dis

is a nice way t' wake up,

non?" He pulled his hand back, bringing Logan's

with him, and began

to suck on Logan's pinky.

Logan could barely respond now that Remy was setting his body on

fire.

"Uh...yeah, is sure is. Ya sleep well?"

Remy released Logan's hand. "Mais oui, tres bien. Et toi?"

"Good. Real good," Logan realized. "Didn't wake up once."

"Bien," Remy sighed. He fell silent for a moment and Logan deduced

from

the shift of weight on the pillow that Remy had lifted his head

to listen

to the sounds around them. "Il pleut?"

Logan was glad he had picked up

some French during his time in

Canada. / Gonna need a dictionary pretty

soon, though. / "Yeah,

it's rainin'. Started just a little while ago.

Little thunder an'

lightnin' but nothin' too serious."

"Bien. J'adore la pluie." Remy listened for a while longer before

settling

back into the warm bed. "'Venus', je pense."

"What?" Logan rolled beneath Remy's arm to face him, opening his

eyes

for the first time. Remy's face still held the peaceful facade

of sleep,

his roguish features rendered angelic. Logan felt his

heart swell in his

chest as he lifted a hand to brush the thick bangs

away from those beautiful

eyes. He could not imagine a more perfect

sight to be his first of the

day.

Remy yawned, then regarded Logan with sleepy eyes. "Y' heard of

Gustav

Holst?"

"O' course. He wrote `The Planets'..." Logan trailed off and began

listening

to the rain again, trying to recollect the piece of music

well enough to

play it in his head.

He didn't have to. The Acadian's eyes closed again as he began to

hum

the main melody line of the piece...and it blended perfectly with

the rush

of the rain. Logan watched, spellbound, as Remy rolled onto

his back and

lifted both hands to conduct, directing the violins to

crescendo and the

tympanis to decrescendo and the clarinets to get

ready for their entrance.

He was glad the blinds were drawn; he

really wasn't sure if he wanted to

turn and possibly find the rain

glowing pink under Remy's influence. Did

his control of the kinetic

field extend that far?

He wasn't at all surprised that Remy was familiar with Holst's work;

not

every CD in his extensive collection could be New Orleans jazz

and blues.

Remy's obvious proficiency at conducting was unexpected,

but after last

night Logan knew better than to underestimate the

thief's academic prowess.

Hell, he was probably the best educated of

the whole team. But the fact

that he had isolated the speech of the

angels within the downburst in the

first place without enhanced

hearing...that was fascinating. He hated

to interrupt but his

curiosity got the best of him. "Remy? How can ya

hear it?"

Before replying Remy let his hands fall slowly back to the sheets and

lowered

his him in volume until it faded to nothing, the orchestra

falling silent.

He rolled toward Logan again and opened his eyes

ever so slightly, gazing

at his new lover from beneath long auburn

lashes. When he finally spoke,

he almost sounded shy. "Can' hear it

so much as I *feel* it, cher."

Logan's eyes grew wide in genuine surprise. He'd learned some time

ago

that Remy could sense a person's movement, but raindrops? "Ya

can sense

somethin' that small?"

"Oui. Jus' have t' pay closer attention. Dat's never a problem wit'

rain, though. J'adore de rhythm."

"Anyone else know `bout this?" Logan got his answer when Remy

lowered

his eyes and dropped his chin. "C'mon, Cajun. Why are ya

always so `fraid

ta let people know how powerful ya are? Ya could

kick my ass if ya wanted

ta, couldn't ya?"

Remy shrugged. "Mebbe. My powers have caused me so much trouble in

past, cher. Not t' mention de oders always been so damn

skittish `roun

me as it is. Don' want t' make it worse by lettin' on

I've got some more

powers. Y' don' know how lucky y' are t' have

quiet mutations, cher."

"But hell, Remy, mine are so borin' compared ta yours!" Logan cupped

Remy's

chin and forced the younger man to meet his eyes. "Yeah, I

can hear or

smell th' enemy comin', but you can feel `em. An' that

time delay you

can put on yer charges now...that really is

incredible, Remy." His tone

softened. "I know yer empathy's been a

hell of a burden, but I bet from

time ta time it's real nice."

"C'est vrai," Remy acquiesced, smiling. "Feels real good right now,

cher.

Y' do wonders for dis t'ief's ego."

Logan grinned. "Just don't go an' get all over-confident now. I've

still

got th' healin' factor, an' that's better than just about

anythin' th'

rest o' ya got."

Remy's musical laughter harmonized with the pouring rain. "Fuck you,

Logan!"

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Logan let a hand trail slowly down

Remy's

flank to his waist and then followed the curve of his hipbone

until reaching

the waistband of his shorts.

"Both," Remy purred, arching into Logan's touch like a cat wanting to

petted. "An' it's gonna end up happenin' sooner dan we want if y'

keep

teasin' me, cher!"

"Trust me, Cajun, I haven't even begun to tease," Logan growled, but

none

the less pulled back his hand. It wasn't time yet. / Even if

it were,

th' virgin probably shouldn't be th' one initiatin'. /

Remy let out a sigh of relief. "Damn, cher, y' have no idea what y'

t' me." He let a single fingertip trace the outline of Logan's

lower lip.

That gentle graze sent a shiver up and down Logan's spine. "Could

say

th' same ta you, Remy," he grinned, giving the digit a soft nip

with his

teeth. Remy only chuckled and then rolled onto his back

again to stretch.

Logan was more than content to watch. The Cajun's

body was a wonder of

nature, sinewy muscle stretched tautly over a

perfectly sculpted frame.

Logan's eyes followed the pattern of

Remy's chest hair, which was the same

shiny auburn as his mane, and

looked equally soft to the touch. The silken

strands were fairly

sparse across Remy's pecs, but gradually grew thicker

as one moved

down the center of his washboard stomach. Remy's shorts had

slid

down just enough to reveal a hint of the coarser, more unruly hair

beyond his belly button. Good God. Logan knew he was gawking and

that

Remy had surely noticed by now, but what the hell.

Logan lifted his head at the sound of Remy's sigh, expecting to see

the

Cajun's lips quirking into a devilish grin and laughter in those

bejeweled

eyes. But instead he found Remy's eyes roaming over his

body in a similar

fashion. "Mon Dieu, Logan. I could jus' stay in

bed an' look at y' all

day long."

A slight flush rose to Logan's cheeks. He'd never really considered

himself

much to look at, but if Remy thought so he wasn't about to

argue. Still,

he was a little embarrassed. "Yeah, well. I reckon

we've putzed away

enough o' th' day just starin' at each other, eh?

Must be gettin' on eight

o'clock or so."

Remy lifted his head and squinted to make out the digital display of

the

alarm clock. "'Bout five after ten."

"FIVE AFTER TEN?!" Logan tried to roll over and get out of the bed

but

ended up tangled in the sheets. "Flamin' hell, we've slept

through th'

whole mornin'! We've gotta..."

The rest of his complaint died in his throat when he suddenly found

himself

pinned, his arms held out at his sides and a perfectly

chiseled Cajun straddling

his hips. Remy certainly deserved his

title of Grand Master Thief; he

moved so quick and silently that

Logan hadn't realized he was under attack

until he'd been defeated.

And he decided that his heart had officially

been stolen.

"Now, cher," Remy admonished, "what y' got t' do today dat's do damn

important

dat y' can' afford t' sleep in a little wit' Remy?"

Remy held an excellent poker face (one had to with a name like

Gambit),

but Logan could tell from the tone of his voice that he

wasn't anywhere

near as pissed as he looked. That was a very good

thing; he'd always respected

Remy's combat abilities enough to never

want to be on his bad side. He

was speaking in the third person

though, so he truly was a little bit torked.

Logan knew an answer to

the question was expected, but it was damn hard

to think straight

with the heat from Remy's body seeping into his very

soul...and

something else was getting damn hard as well. He finally found

his

voice. "Well...there's th' usual stuff that need ta be done `round

the mansion..."

"Merde!" Remy laughed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. For a

split

second only his black whites showed, and Logan found the sight

darkly erotic.

"Cher, it's Saturday. It's rainin'. An' dere ain't

anoder X-Man `roun

f'r miles t' get all pissy if we don' bring in de

mail!" He tossed his

head back to flip his hair out of his eyes;

Logan had to bite back a moan

at the unintentional sexiness that just

oozed from Remy's pores with each

and every movement. "It's high

time dat Wolverine learned a lesson in

laziness!"

Logan arched one eyebrow. "An' what if I refuse?" He was far from

being

all work and no play, but being a bum just didn't suit him.

A wicked Cheshire cat grin split Remy's face. He leaned forward,

letting

his dark red tresses fall down about him, brushing feather-

light against Logan's face and neck. "Remy knows ways t' punish,

cher,"

he purred, red eyes glinting hot.

"No fair!" Logan protested shakily, all the while thinking that

punishment

from Remy might not be so bad. Just being held down like

this was surprisingly

arousing.

"Never claimed t' be playin' fair, Logan!" Remy laughed. His

expression

grew incredibly soft as he lightly kissed Logan's

mouth. "But I am playin'

f'r keeps."

"So am I," Logan stammered, his eyes misting over as he tenderly

returned

the kiss. He suddenly wanted nothing more to stay here and

kiss Remy all

day; this kind of lazy he could handle. But... "Remy,

that sweet ass

of yers is sittin' right atop my bladder." Stupid

bodily functions.

Remy found the situation tremendously funny. "Je suis desole!" he

apologized

through his laughter, quickly rolling aside and letting

Logan get out of

bed.

Logan tried to make quick work of his business in the bathroom, but

certain

body parts were a bit uncooperative. Once success was

finally attained,

he decided he might as well take the time to brush

his teeth. Going back

into his room he saw that Remy had opened the

blinds to let in the gray

light of day. Remy was standing in front

of Logan's bookcase, scanning

the titles, his hands clenched tightly

behind his back like a curious little

boy who'd been told to look,

but not touch. Logan could tell the urge

to pull out a couple

volumes and thumb through them was itching Remy something

awful.

/ But he won't do it. / Remy was always very respectful of other

people's

possessions, so respectful that he rarely ever went as far

to visit someone's

room. Many of the X-Men had been overly cautious

around the Cajun, for

some reason worried that he couldn't resist the

thrill of stealing. That

had always frustrated Logan to no end, and

he had voiced his opinion on

several occasions. Remy wasn't a

kleptomaniac. Thievery had been his

job. Bobby didn't go around

balancing people's checkbooks for fun, Piotr

didn't try to break and

farm every piece of land he came across, Hank didn't

perform medical

tests on a whim (well, sometimes) – why would Remy lift

his friends'

things? But as usual, Logan's perfectly logical explanation

had

fallen on deaf ears, ears that couldn't seem to listen past the cigar

between his teeth and the beer in his hand.

Logan smiled broadly at the sound of an excited gasp of surprise.

Remy

was now crouched down, looking at the bottom shelf, his eyes

glued to a

set of four leather-bound books. "Cher! Are dese what I

t'ink dey are?"

"Yup. An' ya don't need my permission ta look at `em, Remy," he

assured

as he walked over and took a seat on the floor before the

case.

Remy didn't need to be told twice. He immediately curled up Indian

style

beside Logan and gingerly pulled J. R. R. Tolkien's "The

Hobbit" from the

shelf, leaving the Lord of the Rings trilogy

behind. He ran his hand reverently

over the cover. "Dese are old,

cher. First full printin' once de whole

series was complete,

sometime in de 40s." He sighed happily. "Dese have

always been my

favorite books."

"Mine too," Logan said, putting an arm around Remy's waist and

resting

his head against the smooth broad shoulder. "Must've

read `em a hundred

times by now."

"Moi aussi," Remy nodded, and Logan was surprised to hear tears in

his

voice. "When I was jus' a li'l scamp, on de streets," he began

softly,

"I barely knew how t' read. Had picked up a little somehow,

enough t'

get by. Den one day, I'm diggin' t'rough dis dumpster f'r

somet'in t'

eat, an' I find a beat-up copy of De Hobbit. At dis

point I'm t'inkin

rich rich folk are mighty dumb, first dey

t'row `way perfectly good food,

now perfectly good books. I decided

t' keep it. Books were somet'in smart

people had, people who didn't

have t' live on de street. T'ought mebbe

I could read it an' be

smart too.

"It was hard, cher. I realized den dat I didn't know as much as I

t'ought

I did. But I was as stubborn den as I am now, an' I kept at

it. Took

me forever! Sometimes struggled all day wit' one big

word. But I did,

I read de whole t'ing. An' f'r de first time I

could remember, I was proud

of myself. An' I got so excited, I went

right back t' page one an' started

it again!"

Remy paused to wipe a tear from his eye, and Logan felt his own eyes

stinging

as well. "Still had dat dog-eared paperback when Poppa took

me in, an'

I held onto it f'r dear life. I'd been dere a couple

mont's, I t'ink,

when he took me into his library, said he had to

show me somet'in. I didn't

know what t' t'ink, hardly anyone ever

got t' go in dere." He sniffled,

then tapped the book resting in his

lap. "He had a set of dese, had bought

`em new in London in de 40s.

I didn't know dere were more books! If I'd

had de capacity t' hug or

smile back den, I really could have shown him

how happy I was, but he

seemed t' understand when I jus' plopped my scrawny

ass down an'

started readin'. Dat was de first time Mattie ever had to

call me

twice f'r supper. I read `em over an' over an' over. Always told

myself I'd get my own set when I got older."

"Why don't ya have one?" Logan asked softly. He knew this first

printing

set was becoming rare, but little was so rare that Remy

couldn't afford

it.

"I've never had de luck t' find a set f'r sale," he

shrugged. "Almost

did lift me a set once when I was on a heist f'r

somet'in else. Had `em

in hand before I `membered de guy I was

stealin' from had a couple kids,

mebbe eight, ten years old. Got t'

t'inkin', mebbe dose books meant as

much t' dem as dey did t' me.

Dey wouldn't miss deir poppa's Faberge egg

none, but dey'd cry if dey

woke up an' deir books were gone. So I put

dem back. Figure I'll

find me some, someday."

Logan gently kissed the curve of Remy's shoulder. "Ya just did,

Remy."

Remy shook his head, the action causing his bangs to fall over his

eyes.

"I'm jus' happy to read `em if you'll let me. I appreciate de

offer, cher,

but I can't take what's yours." He eased the tome back

into its place.

"Then they're ours. Just like everthin' else in this room is ours

now."

The Acadian slowly turned his head toward Logan. "Dat's a big step

dis

early on, cher. Y' sure?"

"Positive." Logan reached up and stroked Remy's cheek, the faint

beard

feeling like fine sandpaper under his fingers. "Were ya

serious when ya

said you were playin' for keeps?" Remy nodded, a

single tear running down

his face. Logan wiped it away. "Good. So

was I. Look, we've both been

miserable a damn long time. You were

alone even when you were with Rogue,

and hell, I've been completely

alone. An' I'm sick of it. I want there

ta be someone waitin' for

me at th' end of th' day, someone to share things

with. An' that's

where you come in. I know it's probably way too soon

ta even think

about this lastin' forever, but be damned if I won't try."

He fell

silent then, hoping he hadn't said too much, too soon.

"Logan...cher..." Remy clearly wanted to say more, but the words

weren't

cooperating. So he resorted to other ways of speaking. He

caressed Logan's

face with his hands, tracing every line, every

curve. Remy smiled upon

hearing the low growl rumbling from Logan's

throat and replaced his fingers

with his lips, slowly exploring and

tasting Logan's weathered, yet ageless

skin. His hands trailed down

Logan's neck to eventually tangle in the

rich black chest hair, and

once there immediately discovered arousal-hardened

nipples. He

scraped them gently with his thumbnails.

"God, Remy..." Logan hungrily claimed the Cajun's sweet mouth,

demanding

entry with his tongue. He let one hand tangle in Remy's

luxurious hair

while the other ran up and down his smooth, strong

back. Remy slid his

hands down Logan's flanks and gripped his hips,

pulling him closer until

the shorter man sat in his lap.

Logan took advantage of the closeness and let his chest rub up

against

Remy's, drawing a blissful moan from the younger man. Logan

released Remy's

mouth and kissed along his jaw, gently pulling the

thief's head back to

expose the tender flesh beneath the right ear.

When his tongue swept across

that sensitive spot, Remy's rapid

shallow breathing gave way to a beautiful

hybrid of French and

English. One didn't need to be able to understand

the words to hear

the raw emotion behind them. Pleased with the effect

he was having,

Logan continued slowly down Remy's long, graceful neck,

randomly

kissing, licking, and biting. He suckled the flesh over Remy's

pulse, and the Cajun shuddered. When his mouth finally reached the

hollow

above Remy's collarbone, Remy groaned. "Mon Dieu, cher," he

murmured,

letting his head fall forward enough to capture Logan's

earlobe between

his teeth.

That one tiny action proved to be Logan's complete undoing, and he

felt

as if he were melting in Remy's embrace. He couldn't hold back

an aching

moan of pleasure, and he heard a very satisfied chuckle

from the Cajun

in the same instant that a wet, hot tongue darted into

his ear. "Jesus

Christ, Remy!" All of his synapses began to fire at

once as Remy's tongue

outlined every contour of his ear, and the

sensation of Remy's breath across

his damp skin drove him to the

brink of insanity. He was dimly aware that

he was saying something,

making some sort of sound, but he had no idea

what. When Remy ceased

his assault an endless minute later, it a long

moment passed before

Logan returned to his senses enough to speak. "Rem...fuck...what

th'

hell was that?"

"I like t' call it `aural sex', cher," the Acadian grinned, planting

quick peck on Logan's lips. He held Logan's face between his

hands, and

looked deeply into the soft blue eyes. "T'ank you, cher."

Logan blinked. "Fer what?"

"F'r trusting de t'ief no one else trusts, wit' your heart, no less,"

smiled. He then squirmed a little. "Damn, never realized

adamantium was

dis heavy!"

"Sorry," Logan laughed, reluctantly getting up from Remy's lap and

helping

the Cajun to his feet as well. "So, is stuff like showerin'

an' dressin'

permitted on lazy Saturdays?"

"Mais oui," Remy assured, refusing to drop Logan's hands even though

had gained his own footing. "Meet y' in de kitchen in a half

hour?"

"Perfect," Logan agreed, and he rose up on his tiptoes to give Remy a

kiss.

"Whatcha makin' me fer breakfast?"

"Pffttt. Who said Remy was cookin'?"

"Last one there has ta cook?"

Remy laughed; he always loved a race. "Tres bien!" He gave Logan

one

last smooch before taking off.

Logan knew he should hurry and shower so he could get back to being

with

Remy, but he found himself drawn to the window, beyond which the

rain still

fell. He listened closely again, and the same melody was

still there.

Venus. The Bringer of Peace.

He had found peace with Remy.

"Thanks, Venus."

He then rushed for the shower, determined that Remy would not beat

him

to the kitchen.