X-Men comics, Wolverine/Gambit, card tricks; "Fold," part 1 of 2
Fold (part 1 of 2)
Gambit couldn't believe it. He was playing poker, *strip* poker, with *Wolverine*... and he was losing. And every trick he'd tried had netted him a raised eyebrow, or an annoyed look--or worse. Admittedly, there hadn't been many--the *snikt* of claws after the third one sort of nipped that in the bud.
So he was losing. At cards. Badly. And about to lose even worse.
Logan still wore his jeans and tank top; Remy was down to his briefs. Which, given the truly spectacularly awful hand he had, were about to go, as well. Sighing, he tossed the cards in.
"I fold."
"You sure of that, Gumbo? Not like you have much left to forfeit."
Wordlessly, Remy flipped his cards upward. A seven of clubs, a three of spades, a two of hearts, and a queen and four of diamonds.
Logan grinned. "Yeah, okay, I see your point. One more hand?"
Remy skinned out of his briefs and spread his arms. "In case you hadn't noticed, mon ami, I don't have *anything* left to forfeit." He sat back on his knees... not the most comfortable position, but they were sitting on tatami mats on Logan's floor, and cross-legged would have been worse. Of course, neither pose left much to the imagination.
Especially now. Logan was watching him with a speculative gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his face... and Remy could feel that look over his whole body, some parts more than others. Remy snarled inwardly at his body--this was *not* the time, dammit. But as usual, it didn't listen. Remy had long ago stopped blushing... but feeling his prick fill and harden under Logan's gaze made him uncomfortably warm.
So he did what he did best--he bluffed. "One more hand--and all or nothing, neh? I win, you forfeit, you win, I do."
Logan nodded. "Fair enough," and shuffled and dealt the hand.
Remy picked up his cards and stifled a groan. He didn't think it was possible to have a worse hand than the last one, but yep, this was it. He picked his two worst (although that was tough, since they were all about equally bad) and tossed them in. Logan handed him two more... and his hand failed to improve. Mentally, Remy pounded his head against the nice heavy wood coffee table. Lady Luck, what've I done to you, huh? I thought you were on *my* side!. A deep breath, and he tossed down his hand.
"I fold, Logan, I got nothing."
That one word seemed to release Logan like a spring... he was up off his knees and had his (heavy!) hand on the back of Remy's neck within a blink. He pressed Remy forward, implacably but not painfully, until Remy's forehead met the floor... and Remy figured there was a reason, so he didn't fight, just relaxed into the posture. It wasn't that different from yoga, after all.