Companion piece/follow-up to Out All Night. Takes place a few years later, some things never change.
There was an almost startled jolt of recognition as introductions were being made, but Remy had gotten good at hiding that sort of thing over the years. Logan was equally surprised, and he had decades more practice at hiding reactions than Remy had, which was why when he met the other man’s eyes he just nodded a greeting.
Honestly he’d thought he’d imagined the whisper of scent that stirred up memories of Indian summer, a game of pool and a chance meeting with a young man who had the devil’s eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was relieved that he hadn’t imagined, or what exactly he should think.
It wasn’t until later, when Remy was out in the orchard going through staff forms, almost a kata, that Logan said anything. And he didn’t actually say anything, just watched Remy move. He couldn’t help the brief flare of some strange, fierce pride when he saw the faded scar, almost invisible, against Remy’s shoulder.
The Thief finished his movement before leaning against his staff, arching a brow at his audience, “Somethin’ I can help you with mon ami?” Logan remembered that feeling, that what the Cajun said and what he meant didn’t quite match up, “Maybe. Depends what you’re thinking of.”
Remy’s smile went crooked, scratching at his neck a moment, almost idly, fingers gracing over the faint scar on his shoulder as he lowered his hand again, “Don’ know. Maybe jus’ some catchin’ up.” There he went again, saying one thing and meaning another. Logan’s brow arched, just eying the younger man for a long moment. Finally he nodded, “Catching up could be good.”
Remy smiled further then, slow and easy, almost hungry, and his brow arched in turn, “You’re goin’ have t’catch me first.” He lit off through the trees then, laughing. Logan was surprised by that, but grinned a moment later, following in Remy’s wake, moving at a more sedate pace, planning on just letting the Thief wear himself out with the chase.
Whatever it was that had put Logan on edge around the other man all those years ago had only gotten stronger, and he found himself growling faintly as he dragged his fingers along a tree trunk where Remy had rested briefly. He could almost believe that it was accidental, that Remy had just leaned there a moment to catch his breath, but he’d seen how the other man held himself, how he moved, just how aware of his surroundings Remy was. In short: He knew that he was being led on and he didn’t care.
It wasn’t long before the orchard gave way to the thicker forest bordering the school grounds. The chase was more of a challenge here, in among the sounds and scents of the myriad of forest-creatures. A challenge, yes, but not impossible. Logan’s smile was half-feral as he caught Remy’s trail again, moving quietly himself, senses on high alert.
“I’m waitin’ homme.” The younger man called, voice bouncing through the trees, making distance and direction difficult to guess, but Logan was good at tracking and Remy wanted to be caught, so it wasn’t long before Logan started moving again, following the still warm trail of Remy’s scent.
Suddenly there he was, leaning against a tree, smiling that crooked, reckless smile, “Was wonderin’ when you’d catch up.” Logan’s own smile was almost dangerous, padding closer, closing the space between them, almost predatory, “Waiting for you to wear out.”
There was barely a handbreadth between them at that point, and Remy could feel the heat rolling off the other man, easing himself back, leaning against the tree more fully. Logan took this as an invitation, moving that last half step closer, one hand snaking up to catch roughly against the nape of Remy’s neck, pulling him down into a hungry kiss, firm and demanding and not letting up.
Remy replied in kind, finding himself mildly surprised that they hadn’t done any damage when they finally broke apart. Remy could feel individual corners of bark pressing against his bare back, trying to catch his breath. He’d almost forgotten just how thoroughly the other man managed to take it away. Almost, but not quite, because no one else had managed to do the same in all the years since.
Remy’s voice was low, already rough at the edges, “Y’sure you want t’do this here mon ami?” Logan pressed close once more, hand still tangled in Remy’s hair, voice little more than a growl, “Yes.” He wasn’t sure, really, how the Cajun managed to sprawl like that, even while upright, but damn if it wasn’t just the near side of perfect, made it easy for Logan to keep him pinned.
Remy made a soft sound in the back of his throat, hips rolling forward against the weight of the other man, smile going smug at the almost startled huff of breath the movement elicited. Logan growled again, the next kiss was rougher, more biting, and Remy practically melted into it, his own hands sliding down the other man’s back, growling himself right then, his own side of the kiss gone biting as well, one nimble hand working at Logan’s belt, already tired of stalling.
This was just fine with Logan, finally pulling away from the kiss, tugging none-too-gently at the other man’s lower lip as he did so, teeth scraping against delicate skin. That tug dragged another low sound from Remy’s throat, eyes fluttering closed, hips shifting forward again reflexively. One hand dropped once he’d gotten Logan’s pants open, tugging at his own, stopping short at the growled, “Leave it.” From Logan.
Remy’s eyes flicked open again to study the shorter man, deciding that he liked the predatory, dangerous, darkness behind Logan’s eyes. The older man’s brow lifted, nudging Remy’s fingers out of the way, tugging his belt open, fingers firm against the growing swell beneath the worn denim. He was badly tempted to use his claws, but held off for the time being, finally tugging the other man’s pants open, stroking once before working Remy’s pants down over his narrow hips, using the hand in his hair to pull him away from the tree, turning him around firmly and pressing him right back against it again, grinning at the not-quite pained sound that Remy made.
Logan stroked the Thief again, slowly, enjoying the restless shifting of his hips. Remy knew that he was going to be scraped all to hell before they were done, probably full of splinters as well, but he couldn’t make himself care, it was well worth it, or would be soon enough. He kept himself braced on one arm so as not to scrape himself up too badly, his other hand dropped to dig in his pocket a moment, coming up with a vial of oil, it wasn’t much, but it would do.
Logan’s growl slipped to an almost amused purr at that, taking the vial when it was offered. He pressed a hand between Remy’s shoulders with a rough: “Stay.” The Thief was happy enough to comply, another needy sound escaping his throat.
The preparation was quick, almost rudimentary, but it worked, mostly because neither of them could wait any longer. The first thrust pulled another one of those almost pained noises from the Thief, almost pained and utterly wanton, his fingers curling tightly against the tree for a moment. Logan’s fingers dug into Remy’s hips, pulling him back into the next thrust with a low growl.
It wasn’t long before they’d settled into something resembling a steady rhythm, Remy rolling himself back against the shorter man with each thrust, wanting to urge him deeper, trying to spur him into letting go, trying to get him to stop holding back.
Finally Logan snarled, hips jolting forward, moving firmly enough that Remy’s bracing arm slipped, landing him heavily against his shoulder, yelping like a startled cat before snarling and levering himself up again, breathing already ragged and shallow, hot in his throat.
His head dropped, groaning breathlessly as Logan jerked forward again, fingers tightening against the younger man’s hips, gripping tightly enough to bruise, the tension enough to cause his claws to slip free finally, the warm metal edging along Remy’s stomach, not close enough to do any damage, but still enough to cause Remy’s breath to catch again, tightening reflexively drawing another low growl from Logan, his grasp shifting just enough to keep the edges of the blades pressed against the flat of the Thief’s belly.
The sensation sent a thrill of danger skidding down Remy’s spine, causing his cock to twitch, swaying upward and brushing against the blades, which only caused him to tense again. There was no fear, not in the slightest, just excitement and eagerness. Honestly if things kept up in the same vein he knew he’d go off without even being touched. Logan had just caught onto this fact, grin going sharp, he leaned in, teeth sinking against the other man’s shoulder, finding the scar there easily enough, not even making a show of being gentle about it, breaking skin almost instantly.
That was enough for Remy, he yelped again, the sound dissolving into a moan, head dipping once more, bearing down and arching back against the other man. Logan growled, rolling against Remy in turn, the rhythm finally falling apart, hips bucking against the younger man a handful of times before reaching his own peak, withdrawing once the shuddering had passed, feeling the brunette sag once he did so.
Logan took some sort of grim satisfaction in knowing that he’d been the one to sap the Thief’s cocky attitude so thoroughly. He licked at the marred skin of Remy’s shoulder before he stood up, “Welcome to the team.”