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Training, Day 6

Remy shuffled his cards, the king of hearts turned up, quickly followed by the queen, the jack and the ace. He shuffled the back in, turning up four more cards - still the suit of hearts. Remy sighed and threw the cards down disgustedly, sometimes his brain didn't know what his fingers were doing.

He was avoiding everyone on the train, tonight was the last night and traditionally the time for the formal dinner and dance. The other passengers had been tromping up and down the hallway for hours, arms full of rustling silk, creaking leather and jingling chains. The air practically hummed with anticipation and Remy was trying hard not to ride the feelings out there. It only made him want to go to the party.

If there was one thing a train full of freaks and perverts knew how to do, it was dress up and Remy wasn't about to show up in a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. Logan was hidden away in some back room with a cigar and some whisky and Remy didn't expect to see him until the train pulled in to Seattle. The Canadian wasn't exactly a dinner and dance kind of guy. Remy resigned himself to a night of cold food, cold company and listening to sleet rattle on the window.

The knock on the door distracted him from trying to build a house of cards on a moving train.

"Entre vous." He sat up and pulled on his glasses.

Lucinda came in with a smile and a bag. "I haven't seen much of you lately, child. Has Logan been keeping you occupied?"

"We find t'ings to do, mistress Lucinda. W'ats in the bag?"

Lucinda nudged him aside and dropped it onto the bench. "I don't think either you or Logan were thinking about the formal when you took this job."

"Non." Remy tossed over his shoulder, peering in curiously. Red. There was a lot of red and shiny in there. He pulled it out with much soft creaking and the jingles from the silver rings on the collar and cuffs. "Eh?"

Lucinda shrugged, with a wistful glance at the gear. "My husband isn't as thin as you but he's nearly as tall. This might fit."

"Ah, merci, cherie but -" Remy shook out the gear. It might have filled the bag, but as clothing - there wasn't much to it. Lucinda had brought a patent leather merry-widow, not a true corset because it didn't have boning, with matching wrist, ankle cuffs and a broad collar all decorated with shiny d-rings. All of it in glossy, eye-watering lipstick red and true patent leather, not the cheap plastic stuff. Maybe Lucinda's husband was his size in jeans but Remy knew very well that ill-fitting bondage gear was a nightmare - both to look at and to wear.

"I pretty sure it will fit, actually." She said with grin, tapping one shiny, black, high heeled boot. "And - there's champagne, the company of like minds, music and how often do you see people wearing these kinds of things in public anyway?"

Remy looked at the merry widow and thought immediately of Emma but didn’t say a word. He did not want his brain turned to oatmeal next time he saw the White Queen. He looked over the gear more closely. All the straps and bright buckles were for more than decoration, there was a certain amount of flexibility in size.

"Logan 'ave a fit if I go out wearing dis w'out him."

"Hmm." Lucinda said noncommittally. "Not for me to say but I thought you weren't a committed couple. Besides, I'm not suggesting you go home with anyone besides the big boss -"

Remy snorted.

"- and if you did, it would be with me, child." Lucinda's voice changed suddenly, smoky and dark and a little threatening. "Since I bought those clothes because I like the way they look - on my toys. Go on, get cleaned up and lets try it and see, shall we?"

Remy sighed, smiled finally and went to wash up and comb out his hair. It was all for the champagne - and his reputation would be ruined if anyone found out he'd missed a party.

Lucinda had to help him but it did - really - fit. The merry widow lay smooth and snug as a second skin from just below his nipples to barely above his hipbones. The cuffs jingled, and the wide collar fit over Logan's which he wasn't about to take off without his boss' permission. First rule of being a good sub; don't mess with the master's collar.

"Hold still, Remy." Lucinda said from behind him, tugging on the buckles in the back.

"Ye - ow!" He yelped and leapt as she yanked on the jock strap but quick and experienced, Lucinda had it tightened and buckled down before he could get away. Remy ran frantic fingers between his legs, struggling to adjust everything in the suddenly very snug pouch. "Das to tight!"

Lucinda patted his bare ass. "I don't think so, child."

Remy looked down at himself, there wasn't enough clothing here to hide a playing card in, let alone a weapon. There was only one imaginable place for the Bo-staff and Remy chuckled to himself. The cuffs chimed every time he moved. "Mais, Remy look like a fire-engine in dis."

Lucinda was sitting on the upholstered bench, looking him over. "You look delicious. Matches your eyes."

Remy frowned.

Lucinda clucked at him. "Come here and kneel. Let me fix your hair, pretty child."

Remy knelt between Lucinda's knees, squirming to settle the strap between his butt cheeks, and bowed his head. She pulled his wild hair back in some kind of miraculous smooth braid. Pulled a couple of wisps free to hang temptingly across his cheeks but left him nothing to hide behind. "No glasses, you hear me child?"

"Oui, mistress." Remy said meekly. Lucinda snorted and slapped his bare arm lightly, then ran her fingers over him.

"Lovely build you've got, child." She purred, patting him on the shoulder and standing up. "And I remember that sweet penis of yours. If Logan doesn't show up, I may just take my due from you."

Remy batted his eyelashes at her from down on his knees. "Remy pay his debts, mistress."

Lucinda shook her head with a slightly breathless laugh and left, telling him to stay until he was fetched.

It was Logan coming back and Remy glanced wildly once around the tiny room before sighing and sliding to his knees. He only hoped that Logan didn't laugh. The big man had never given a single hint that he was interested in fetish clothes or gear. Remy bowed his head as Logan opened the door.

"Well, that's something t'see." Logan rumbled above him.

Remy looked up then blinked, at a loss for words. "Boss, dat's - something too."

Logan smirked down at him. "Pass then, brat?"

"Ah - Oui." Impulsively, Remy slunk across the floor and rubbed his face against the black leather of Logan's pants. Soft as butter. They were nearly all that he was wearing. The leather pants rode dangerously low on Logan's hips, his chest was bare and dark curls tumbled down his broad chest, circled the exposed navel and disappeared under the waistband of his pants. The fly was closed with leather laces and Remy tugged on them with his teeth. The only other thing Logan was wearing were his boots and a thin leather strap wrapped twice around one big bicep - jewelry, if you wanted to call it that and never to Logan's face. Maybe he wasn't that interested in the party tonight after all. They could stay in and Remy could peel those pants off Logan an inch at a time. "Where'd you get dem?"

"Ordered them off the Internet and had a special ops friend of mine fly by and drop 'em onto the roof of the train car." Logan deadpanned, he swept Remy away from his crotch and clipped a shiny red leash to the red collar. Remy rose and smiled down into Logan's deceptively lazy expression. The Canadian was aroused, Remy could feel it and the sight of the Canadian revealed in all that black leather was making the red jock feel way to tight.

"Y'nearly butt naked, pet." Logan ran a hand up Remy's bare thigh, all the way to his hipbone. Remy shivered. "Y'okay going out with the rest o'the nuts? Only gonna ask y'once."

"Yes, boss."

"Okay. No shoes?"

"Mistress had some - heels - but her husband got small feet." Remy shrugged. "Remy be on his toes, eh?"

"You better be." Logan growled, dragged him close and kissed him. "Yer my pet on display and I don't want no trouble from you tonight."

Remy lowered his eyes and followed Logan demurely, his gaze on the powerful ripple of muscles down the other man's back and the way the passageway lights gleamed dully on the black leather stretched tight across Logan's ass. He bit his lip as his cock pressed uncomfortably against the patent leather pouch.


Logan headed to the noise and smell of the dinner, mouth watering. But not because of the food. It was Remy. He looked like - like candy. Cherry sweet, silky smooth. He was nearly naked, all bare tawny flesh, those beautiful shoulderblades, the slide of lean muscles under that wonderful skin. Scattered bruises and teeth marks made it clear who he belonged to. That appetizer was all Logan's.

Remy had been poured into the red corset and it clung like a kiss to his long torso. Straps wound around his waist and buckled in the back where the low cut back revealed the smooth dip of his spine. Wide red cuffs jingled on his wrists and ankles and he wore a matching collar. Even the barely big enough pouch on the jock was the same fire engine red. He'd stop traffic at midnight in a cave.

Logan snorted and grinned briefly. Lucinda had badgered him into this party and, seeing Remy, he was kind of looking forward to it. He wanted to see everyone drooling after his boy and he knew how vain the thief was. Remy was going to love it. Logan glanced out at the twilight landscape speeding by, less than twenty-four hours to the coast. There wasn't any harm in a little fun before the whole show was over.

Logan sat Remy on his lap and fed him dinner - generous with the champagne because he knew the thief loved it. He couldn't stand the stuff. The black and red eyes were full of heat and laughter, darting from one outrageous costume to the next.

The dining car was packed, hot and noisy. A buffet table went along one wall, the rest of the room was for dancing. Even Logan couldn't hear whatever pounding music everyone was supposed to be dancing to, looking at the mostly naked bodies sweating and jumping around, it obviously didn't matter.

The doms could be picked out by the black leather. The subs were dressed in a crazy assortment of feathers, silks, satins, chains, gags, clamps and hoods. Logan saw the slave Cole on his hands and knees, restrained and hooded, with his master's booted feet propped on the slave's welted back. Everyone was at the party, making the most out of the last hours before the end of the line.

"Dis party look like the last i'nternational conference on mutant/human cooperation the Professor hosted. Remember de t'ing that Mexican kid's lover was wearing?"

Logan inhaled his beer. "Christ, Remy. Go dance, y'gonna kill me."

"Dance wit me, boss?" Remy leaned back, with a subtle wiggle.

Logan's cock twitched under the pressure. Remy purred. "The only dancin' I do, pet, is horizontal. Go on. I know y'like t'dance."

Remy slid off his lap and Logan watched that naked ass, his breathing quickening as the thief began to dance. Remy flicked a glance over his shoulder, thew his arms up and seemed to sink into the crowd. Logan watched the tangle of arms and hands, the way that Remy was sliding along and around the other dancers. Remy was obviously flying on the champagne and the emotions of everyone around him. The boy was gonna kill him.

Logan drank beer and watched his boy flirt. When it started to go beyond flirting, his eyes narrowed dangerously. The thief was sinking fast, head thrown back as some woman with gilded nipples licked his neck, his hips rocking back to grind against the man behind him. Logan could scent the rising sex on the air. He could only imagine the what the thief was feeling with that empathy of his, packed against a dozen different people hungry to fuck. There wasn't any sign that the thief was even trying to fight it.

Dragging his feet off the opposite chair, Logan began to shove his way through the crowd to his pet. The heat and hot flesh pressing against him hit him like a blow. His cock spasamed painfully in his borrowed pants. Through the smell of sweat and pre-cum and whisky, Logan could sense the whisper of Remy's charm. It was everywhere - Logan hadn't known Remy could influence this many people. The thief was riding the lust all around him - and driving it to an explosive level. Logan suddenly couldn't think of anything beyond the ache in his cock and the red haze of anger at seeing his boy in someone else's hands. Threatening growl rumbling in his chest, Logan dragged the woman off of his property.

"This pet is mine!" Logan dragged Remy against him, shoving another man off the boy's back. Remy wrapped his arms around Logan's waist with a desperate whimper and ground his hips against him. The crowd pressed closer, wide, starving eyes. Heat and hunger and all focused on the slender body against him. Logan snarled, skin crawling at the press of the crowd.

"Boss - please - get Remy out a' here!" Remy moaned. His skin was sweat slick and his hair had been pulled loose into a tangle of sweaty strands clinging to face and neck. His shoulders were wet and bruised by someone else's kisses. "C-can't stand it. N-need. Need so bad, boss. Please! S'too much!"

Logan saw toothmarks that weren't his on the golden skin, heard the desperation in his boy's voice and lost his grip on his self control. With a snarl and a lunge, he thrust Remy out of the crowd, pushing the long slim body against a table. Grabbing a handful of hair, he dragged the boy's head back and bit his exposed throat. Remy wailed. His hips jerked against Logan's body. The Canadian thrust against him, bending the long torso over the table.

"Mine! Y'mine! Mine!" Logan growled against Remy's burning skin. He drew blood, sweet in his mouth, thrust and twisted to force the boy's legs apart. Remy didn't resist him, lifting his long legs to wrap them around Logan's waist. With that tight ass pressed against Logan's desperate cock and incomprehensible words pouring past his ears, Logan howled and ground against the thief's freely offered body. His pants were a painful barrier. He couldn't talk. Couldn't think. Just had to have what was his now. Now.

He dragged his fingers over the slick patent leather, snarling in frustration. Bit Remy's throat again, pulled and heard a buckle pop. Panting, Logan stared into Remy's eyes - they were so dilated that the red pupil was invisible, just the burning darkness. It was all Logan could feel. Logan thrust his tongue into the wet mouth, pulling frustratedly on the red leather that was keeping him from what he wanted.

The crowd was packed close and someone touched Logan, sliding a hand down his back to cup his ass. The Canadian's head snapped up and he twisted around to snarl, sharp teeth bared. Remy slid his hands to Logan's chest, pushing at him.

"Boss - Logan, s'v plait. Not here. Not here." He panted, rolling his head on the table among spilled champagne and strawberries. The thief was trembling, struggling to regain some control over his charm. "De cabin, boss. De bed. Private - s'v plait."

Logan turned back at the sound of Remy's voice, hypnotized by it but not quite able to follow what he was saying. He stared down at the thief, shook his head, licked his lips. The crowd around them was like a pressure, like the miserable pressure between his legs - urging him on. He wanted to fuck Remy now. Right now. But, this close to the thief, Logan could scent the fear in him. His boy was afraid. That wasn't right.

With a grunt, Logan dragged Remy off the table and out of the room. Needed to get someplace safe. Safe and then he'd show this boy who he belonged to.


Remy staggered, nearly falling, only the bruising grip on his arm keeping him upright. He was fighting the champagne haze and the overwhelming heat of a dozen different kinds of desire, fighting to regain some self control before his charm triggered an orgy or - since he knew Logan would never allow anyone else to touch him - a fight. He should never have gone to the party, he knew better, and certainly knew better than to get drunk. And that's exactly what he'd done. It was a miracle no one had gotten hurt.

Logan had heard him. Remy wasn't sure how - he could sense how lost the Canadian was in his lust. Remy could see sweat beading the other man's bare back and feel his hands shaking. He was grateful that Logan wasn't just going to fuck him on a table in front of a dozen strangers. He knew he was going to get fucked. He wanted to get fucked - ached for it. When they reached their cabin and Logan thrust him into the room, Remy crawled eagerly onto the bed. Logan's breath hitched as he watched the swing of Remy's ass and the gleam of red leather between his cheeks.

"Boss - boss." He murmured as Logan followed him, grabbing him and pinning him down with a wordless snarl. The Canadian's hands wrenched at the merrywidow and Remy could feel the rise of dangerous frustration. "W'ant you to, w'ant you so bad. Remy help you."

Remy rolled them over, straddling Logan's hips, the other man hissed and thrust up. The thief bent to lick a nipple, while Logan groaned and was distracted, Remy unbuckled the jockstrap from the rest of his clothes. There wasn't going to be time for anything else. Logan wasn't going to wait any longer. And is was so good to finally have his cock free of the confining red pouch. Remy threw the jock across the room with a breathless curse. He cock throbbed fiercely, rising up, tip beaded with pre-cum.

Logan grabbed his cock immediately, one hand squeezing Remy's ass brutally. He made a frustrated noise deep in his throat and Remy licked his way up Logan's neck murmuring soothingly. Kissing Logan, loving the sweet pain as the other man nipped him, Remy went to work unlacing the black leather pants Logan was wearing. His hands were shaking and Logan couldn't hold still, getting that rigid cock out took forever.

When Logan's cock was free, Remy rubbed against him, swallowing the other man's urgent moans. Hard fingers were spreading his ass cheeks, pressing against his anus. Logan dragged Remy up, positioning him over his straining cock. Remy lifted himself, knees spread wide around Logan's hips, staring down wide-eyed at Logan. This was going to hurt. This was going to feel so good.

He pushed down as Logan's hands tightened, crying out at the sharp burn and the sweet stretch. Logan forced him to take it all at once. Head thrashing on the mattress, Logan howled and began to fuck him. Remy braced himself on Logan's chest and rode the pumping hips. It was so good to be fucked like this. Filled like this, stretched over and over. Logan was panting under him, his hands like steel on Remy's hips. Good and fast and hard. Both of them loving it like this.

There wasn't anything in the world but Logan's cock slamming into him. A hard shuddering rhythm, Logan's was growling constantly now, voice rising to a howl. A big hand moved, grabbing Remy's bouncing cock and pumped him hard, twice. Remy yelled, body snapping like a whip, coming violently. Lost himself in the rush, spilling over Logan's fingers. Logan surged up under him, spilling deep into the sharp clench of Remy's ass. Remy cried out again, weakly, sharing Logan's violent pleasure, body quivering in response. He sagged atop the Logan's heaving chest, warm arms went around him, holding him tight. Still spread over Logan's hips, Logan's cock softening in his ass, Remy's head sagged against a sweaty shoulder and they both passed out.