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At Your Own Risk

Chapter 2

 

Remy woke to feel Logan pulling him close, erection poking his back. It was morning, early by the glare and Remy peered through slitted eyes at the narrow strip of gold sunrise sneaking past his heavy curtains with a scowl. "Too early, cher."

Logan only grunted and nipped the nape of his neck, grinding his morning hard-on against the small of Remy's back. He groaned pleasurably at the prick of teeth in his skin and the determined slide of Logan's hand over his belly and down to stroke his stirring cock. "Ehh - gowd-awful early an Remy still got more words den you."

"I ain't here t'talk." Logan muttered. "Y'wanna talk - go talk to Cyke."

Remy squirmed, arching back and wrapping a hand around Logan's to encourage him to stroke. "Dat one screwed up homme."

"Uh-hu." Logan breathed. "Looked pretty damn fine to me - whimpering and pumping into you. Fucked up and fuckable."

"Got cum in m'hair." Remy mock whined, earning a harder bite and a low, excited growl.

"Y'smell like me -"

He could feel the warm trickle of moisture against his back as Logan thrust, fisting his cock at the same time. Logan shifted, hooking a leg over him to hold him in place and Remy scratched his nails over the heavy thigh pinning him down. Logan bucked and he wiggled, beginning to pant as Logan's hand squeezed his cock with just the right tightness. "Scotty - he smell like you now, ouai. Cock taste like oranges -"

Remy lost track of what he was saying for a moment as Logan's lust sharpened, blurring his sense of self in pleasure - his - Logan's - theirs. Managed to go on, between pants. "Remy wanted to suck him all night. Get Scotty up again, 'till he was passed out - take him all - make him jus feel. Nothing but good feelings - he want you bad, cher. Watching you jerk off made de man come for us - ah - ah - cher!"

Logan groaned loudly in his ear, coming in a hot rush up his back. Crushed, breathless, Remy followed - riding the mutual release. Logan's limbs relaxed around him and Remy's eyes drifted shut.

"Don be thinking Remy gonna wear your cum all day, homme."

Logan's arms tightened again.


Jean's hands were shaking as she put her hair up. "I can't believe you did that."

There was pain as much as anger in her voice - and a healthy dose of disgust. Scott was sitting on the edge of their bed - where he'd come in late at night and they'd lain there, backs to each other. He'd read somewhere that it wasn't healthy for a couple to go to bed angry but there was very little about their relationship that was healthy.

"I - it - wasn't what I'd planned." His voice was dull. He'd planned to find the right kind of bar, the right kind of booze and the right kind of man to give him the right kind of mindless, anonymous sex. Then come home, shower then sleep and put the night from his mind. It was what he always did. It was the way they'd planned it.

"Planned it - " Jean muttered under her breath. "Planned it - now what? How am I supposed to sit across the table from them, knowing what you did?"

How am I? Scott thought. He had no appetite and the idea of food made his stomach lurch. Skipping breakfast looked like the best option for everyone. "We could go out, just the two of us."

Jean's profile was sharp and cold and the faint hope Scott felt died before he even registered it. "I can't - not - not today."

He swallowed and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Jean." He said to his hands, locked together between his knees, knuckles white. They ached, like his jaw ached, like his back ached. The memory of Remy's hands flashed through Scott and he rubbed his face, unconsciously echoing the thief's skilled touch. God, to be able to relax like that -.

"So am I."

Jean's voice pulled him back and Scott dropped his hands. He didn't deserve that kind of relief - not Remy's hands and certainly not his mouth. He ruthlessly crushed the whisper of desire that stole through him at the thought of Remy's mouth.

"I - just feel like you did this intentionally." Jean whispered, swinging around to face him, eyes swimming with tears. Heart wrenching, Scott went over to cradle her face in his hands, warm salt trailed over his thumb.

"No - Jean, no. Never - never."

"But Scott - Logan - the only man I'd ever wanted - like - like that."

Jean's words were like an unintentional knife. The only man she'd ever wanted. Not him - but he'd known that when they started all this, years ago, just like she'd known his own weaknesses. Sometimes it was almost funny - neither of them quite what they looked, neither of them quite whole. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Jean - I love you. No matter what. There's no one else -"

"But there is." She whispered, desolate.

"I can't help that Jean."

"I know - I know but - why our friends? You said - you promised - never anyone I knew. Never anyone either of us knew." Jean's voice faded, caught, then struggled on. "I know you're - bisexual - I accept that. But is it so much to ask that you keep it out of our home? Our - our family?"

"It was an accident. They were - "

"I don't want to know where they were! I don't want to know where you were! I don't want to know any of this!"

"Of course not!" Scott heard himself snap, unable to stop his bitter words. "That's all you ask isn't it? Don't ask, don't tell. Don't touch, don't - don't - don't! That's all you want!"

"Oh, god! Don't you think I want to love you? Don't you think I want to make love? Stop being - so - so dammed uptight? Don't you think I'm sick of it too?"

"For god's sake, Jean, it's been years! How long am I supposed to wait? How long are you going to be my untouchable fiancée?"

"I'm not making you wait!" Jean yelled and the litter of brushes and perfume bottles on her dresser rattled dangerously. "God knows you're not waiting!"

"No, I get to take my dick out of the closet every now and then, brush off the dust and take it for a walk - just not in your neighborhood! So long as it isn't anyone I know - anyone I like - anyone -" I really want. Scott choked back the words before they escaped. They were too much, more than Jean could bear, more than he wanted to think about. Jean was staring at him, tear streaked and wide eyed with anguish - the same misery and frustration and pain that Scott knew was on his face. He straightened up, shut his mouth and clenched his hands behind his back.

"You - you told me it was alright." Jean whispered. "That it was what you wanted."

"It is." Scott lied. "I just - lost my temper. That's all. You're the one I love. The one I want."

Jean put her face in her hands and sobbed. The sound tore at him, Scott was sure he was going to shatter if he had to listen to another word, watch another tear fall. Stiff legged, precariously balanced over his frustration, he walked out, shutting the door quietly behind himself.


Logan wanted a smoke. Mostly, what he wanted was out. Jean reeked, so did Scott and he was getting sick of it. Sick of the misery and pain and bullshit the two of them wallowed in behind all those smiles and careful make-up jobs.

Scott had been more honest - more himself - naked and writhing on Remy's bed than Logan had seen him any other time. Yeah, Cyke loved Jeannie but so did Logan and he wasn't fucking her - either. Snorting, Logan shouldered open the front door and headed out across the lawn, ignoring the fall drizzle. He hadn't yet smelled sex on either of them. He caught scent of Scott before he saw him sitting slumped on the damp steps of the gazebo. Not much liking the set of his shoulders - he looked like he was ready to break - or the stink of despair, Logan splashed through the developing puddles and leaned on one of the white painted pillars.

"Go away."

"Y'sound like a brat."

Scott's fist clenched as he bowed his head. Logan concentrated on getting his cigar lit as he watched the tremor in Scott's shoulders.

"I can't even get you to leave me alone." He muttered mournfully. Logan snorted smoke out of his nose and waited. The man wanted to talk, just didn't know it. The rain was beginning to come down for real, white noise outside the sheltering roof of the gazebo and the air blew across them, damp and cool.

"I can't get - anything - " Scott's face was nearly to his knees as he hunched up like a little boy. "anything I want."

Logan studied the glowing end of his cigar. "Sure y'can Cyke, if ya ever figure out what it is."

"I know what I want!" He snapped, head jerking up to stare out at the curtain of water. "I want Jean, a life - a real life! I want to mean something, have something that will last. Something real."

"An if Jeannie's what y'want, how come you're here wallowin? How come the two of you can hardly stand the sight of each other? How come we found you in a dirty bar lookin fer dirty men to do ya good and dirty?" Logan went on, cruelly, because he was not a kind man. He didn't think kindness was doing Scott a damn bit of good. "How come you ain't fuckin' her right now?"

Scott jumped to his feet, rage burning away the misery in his scent. Logan only gave him a sharp grin. Rage, he knew what to do with. He could feel it himself, listening to Scott whine, listening to the garbage he'd picked up somewhere and believed. "Mind your own damn business!"

"Ain't I?" Logan snapped. "When you and Jeannie are rubbin' it in my faces - and half the kids in there too?"

Scott blanched.

"Y'got a housefull of baby teeps and a couple with noses like mine - think they don't know all ain't right behind that white picket fence?"

"I hate this goddam place!" Scott yelled, spinning around to slam a fist against a wooden pillar with a dull smack. "Hate it!"

Smack.

- hate -

Smack

- this -

Smack

- hate -

Smack

- her -

Smack

- hate -

Smack

- me - !

Logan caught his hand, spun Scott around, slammed him against the blood spattered pillar. The blood was nothing, a bit of a turn on and a hell of a relief to hear Scott yelling - finally letting it out - letting go. If it took a some throwing the scenery around, Logan understood that. He felt Scott tighten up again and slammed him against the pillar until his teeth rattled.

"Fuck you Logan!" Scott yelled.

"Maybe later."

Shouting, red faced, Scott lunged at him. They struggled on the edge of the rain, snarls, elbows and knees and training - Logan holding back and grunting as Scott landed a good one because he wasn't. Finally, he had Scott pinned against the pillar again, sweat dampening the fine brown hair - the pungent smell of anger and lust so heavy in the damp air that Logan could taste it.

"Hate this do ya?" He hissed, grinding his hips against Scott, his hard cock rubbing against the equally hard cock trapped in Scott's conservative khakis. "I don't think so. I think ya love it."

Scott surged against him, panic creeping into his expression.

"I think ya love it. Love it when ya got a cock in yer ass." Logan ground on, ignoring the look in Scott's face - the naked fear, like he was stripping the man of everything he had. He had to ignore it - had to get past the bullshit. Had to get Scott to open his eyes and take a look around. "Love it when a guy looks at y'like y'the main dish. Love the way a cock feels, and looks and tastes -"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

The high note of pain and fear wrung him but Logan didn't let go. Remy was better at this shit but he wasn't here and Logan was going with his gut. The instinct that told him not to let go, not to let up, not to let Scott look away this time. "You think you ain't a faggot? Think y'doing Jeannie a favor? Think again, Cyke - I bet when you close your eyes it ain't Jeannie you dream of."

"Get off me!"

Scott shoved Logan back with a sob. "I'm not going to live my life in dirty alleys, feeling up little boys! I'm no queer! I want a family, a life, a future and there isn't anything that's going to take it away! I'm going to be normal, dammit!"

Logan sobered, hearing the past in Scott's voice, fears from years ago and hadn't been put to rest yet. Crap he could guess at and wished Remy were here - he'd been there, done that and gotten over it. "Y'already living half your life in dirty alleys, Scott. Isn't that where you were headed that night? Sex in an alley - all the shit you're afraid of - right there. Look at yourself, Scott! Look at what you're doin."

Scott was pale, shaking his head. "I love her. I love her!"

"You love Jeannie? You ain't doin' her favors pretending to be somethin yer not. She ain't what y'want and you know it. You ain't doin yourself no favors either."

Logan paused then went on, best to cut it out now. "You think the guy who did you back then was married? Maybe had a wife t'go home to and was just - getting his ich scratched in an back alley with a desperate boy he didn't know? What are y'gonna be like ten years from now, Cyke?"

He knew Scott couldn't shed tears but the sound he made cut at him as Scott gave a raw sob.

"Shut up, shut up!" He whispered, choking. "That's not me - that's not - not - what I am."

"Na, it ain't" Logan said, rubbing his hands on his jeans to keep from reaching for him. He didn't think Scott would be too fond of a man's hands just now. "And it don't never have to be. But being bent don't mean you gotta be a fuckin' molester and it don't mean you gotta punish yourself."

Scott sagged against the rail, rain spattering over his shirt like the tears he couldn't shed. "I don't want to be like this! Logan - I don't want to want this!"

"Yeah, I know but there ain't no changing what we are. Ain't that what the professor always says? Mutant, human - queer, straight. There ain't no wishing it away."

Shaking, Scott bowed his head and Logan couldn't stand it. He looked broken and maybe the stick-up-the-ass pose pissed him off but this was - just wrong. It hurt to watch. Logan stepped forward, trying to be gentle, not wanting to stir up nothing as put his hands on those trembling shoulders. Scott turned into his arms and Logan, swallowing hard, tightened his grip.


"What do I do? What - do I do?" Scott whispered, over and over. "God, what do I do?"

Logan smoothed his hands down Scott's back. "Get out of the fuckin' alley, Scott. Y'don't have to live there."

TBC