PART ONE Who: Remy LeBeau & Logan When: June 29 Where: The library, then the garage What: Resume what was previously interrupted by Kurt
(This is part one, because if we posted it all together, it would be the Tag That Ate NWO. Part two to be posted... as soon as we finish it. *facepalm*)
Libraries were, for Remy, a thing of the past. He'd slept in one a couple of times when he was on the run in New Orleans, and his adopted father had crammed a bunch of novels into one room of his mansion and called it a library, but other than that Remy was not particularly acquainted with the places. He'd never been much of a reader; there hadn't been time during his childhood to learn anything more than rudimentary skills. He still stumbled over long, unfamiliar words, and the intricacies of the English language eluded him entirely.
So he wasn't entirely sure what had drawn him to the library in Xavier's mansion, other than that it was quiet and relatively secluded. Every once in a while, someone would pop in, grab a book, and wander off again, but he was the only one actually occupying the room. It was beginning to creep him out a little; the place smelled like dust and he would have sworn that he could hear the dry pages rustling to themselves.
Still, it was the only really quiet place in the mansion, and he needed some time to himself.
Logan'd seen the kid duck in there a while back, while he was on his way past to raid the kitchen for whatever meaty leftovers he could wrangle. He'd found chicken wings and Coke, cursed loudly when he realized they were out of beer and scared a bunch of kids into skittering back out into the hall. Then he'd headed out to smoke, muttering under his breath about it being as much his home as any-damn-one and why should he have to smoke out-goddamn-side. And a couple of minutes later, he wandered past the library window.
The kid was still in there. He maybe should've left well enough alone, he guessed, but twenty minutes later when the kid was still there, he just sighed and shook his head and walked on in. He plucked a book off of a shelf, not paying much attention to what it was, and took a seat. "Enjoyin' the dustiest room in the place?" he asked, propping his head up on one hand, elbow on the tabletop.
Remy, who had been staring blankly at the wall, had utterly failed to register Logan's entry, and he gave a start at the sound of his voice. A brief, filthy curse slipped out and he flushed slightly, glad that Logan didn't speak Cajun French. "Sorry," he muttered, forcing a smile. It wasn't as hard as he'd anticipated. "Didn't notice you come in, mon ami."
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, eyeing Logan nervously. There was nothing in his face but bland interest, and Remy sighed. Some people were so easy to read, and he had to go and get buddy-buddy with one of the ones who wasn't. "I was just thinkin'," he continued. "Got a little homesick, I suppose."
He flipped open the book, groaning as he noted the thing was in German - not his favorite language - but went ahead and read the first couple of paragraphs anyway. "Fuckin' Nietzsche," he cursed, under his breath, and shook his head, then glanced back over at the kid with an almost amused kinda look on his face. "Homesick for a library? Big reader, are ya?"
Remy snorted and pushed an errant book across the table with one finger. "Non. I can barely read at all. I just came here cause it was quiet." He kicked back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table and shooting Logan a rueful look. "Y'know, you're the first one that's tried to talk to me all day." He wasn't sure if that said something about the other students, or if it was just that he had been successfully projecting an aura of Fuck Off up until Logan showed.
"Always quiet in here, far as I can see," he said, glancing around the place. It was quiet, except for a couple of twelve-year-olds snickering over an anatomy textbook at the other side of the room, and a stiff glare in their direction sent them running for the hills in a hurry. "And yeah, well, that look you had I can believe it." He leafed through the first few pages, pretty sure he'd read this before in a fit of true, deep fucking boredom. "Good thing I don't scare easy."
"Is it?" Remy was moving away from sullenness and into a bemused sort of pleasure. He found it hard to believe that Logan cared enough to come disrupt his sulking, but it seemed the evidence pointed to the contrary. Remy wasn't sure whether to be flattered by that or not. "My conversation that stimulating? You just couldn't go the rest of the day without talking to good ol' Remy, eh?" He swung his feet down, kicked Logan under the table. "Bullshit."
Logan smirked, resisting the urge to kick back and just tossed the book at him over the table instead, no real power behind it. He just figured he got all the German he needed in his life from Kurt without sinking into dead philosophers. "Maybe I just hate thinkin' I'm the only one miserable here," he said. "So I gotta break up your quiet time and spread it around some."
"You miserable too?" Remy asked, arching an eyebrow. The beginnings of laughter twisted the corners of his mouth; somehow it was very difficult for him to imagine Logan moping over anything. "What for? Seems like you got it pretty good." His foot snaked out again, this time running teasingly up the inside of Logan's calf. "Or were you just lookin' to continue on from the other day?" He tipped Logan a wink, only half teasing. Hell, even if nothing came of it, a little flirting always made him feel better.
"People keep knockin' on my door, askin' me to pitch in and help the kids," he told him, though he didn't manage to sound really irritated. Fact was, he didn't mind helping out - made him feel useful and considering how he had no damn clue what everyone was there for, what Xavier wasn't telling them, useful was good. He just didn't feel like too much useful. Wouldn't be right, letting them get used to having him around.
He chuckled, quirking a brow in response to that question. He could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon, that was for damn sure, even if he could swear, cross his heart and hope to die, he could still smell sulfur in the air. Probably not just 'cause Kurt thought he was headed straight to hell. "Might liven this place up some," he said, with a slight shrug of one broad shoulder. "But I'm enjoyin' my book." He stood for a second, leaning over the table to retrieve said book, pausing a second to give the kid's shirt a teasing tug before he settled back down.
"Your book," Remy laughed, turning his head and pretending to spit. "Promise you, cher, I'm a hundred times more fascinating than that book..." An image entered his head unbidden of himself, crouched on the floor beneath the table with Logan's thick fingers twining through his hair, pushing his head down...
Remy shivered and clucked his tongue at himself, shaking away the daydream and snorting. No good imagining shit like that. If they'd been interrupted in Logan's own room, they certainly would be interrupted in the library. He leaned across the table, hands spidering across its surface, reaching for Logan. "How much trouble'll I get in if I smoke in here?"
"Kid, they got me goin' outside to smoke. That's how much trouble you'll get in if you smoke in here." He chuckled lowly, leaning forward in his chair and making a very poor show of reading - he opened the book on the tabletop and stopped at that. He was right, he was pretty sure - he didn't need to know Nietzsche to know Remy LeBeau right here and now beat the hell outta the übermensch. "Last time I lit up inside, you'd think someone'd fuckin' died the fuss they made."
"If we're both doing it, what're they gonna say?" Remy asked, but it was a rhetorical question. He had it pretty good here, there was no sense fucking it up for a convenient cigarette break. Sighing, he propped his chin on his hands and looked down at Logan's book. He had a bad enough time reading normally, but upside down it was like another language. Frowning, he reached out and flipped the book around. "The hell is this?"
He let the book go - not like he was attached to the thing anyhow, considering how German was about his fifth language. Sixth? Who the hell knew anymore, he sure didn't. "If we're both doin' it I guess there'd be two free beds right after." Exaggeration, but half the time it was like the smoking nazis were out in force around the mansion. Like everything else he did it was frowned on, but someone, hell if he knew who, had decided it was corrupting the kids. Like seeing him smoke'd raise them to be a legion of nicotine-addicted X-Men slinking off from the fights to smoke behind the bike sheds.
"That's German. Als Zarathustra dreissig Jahr alt war, verliess er seine Heimat und den See seiner Heimat und ging in das Gebirge, right?"
"Sure thing," Remy said dubiously, flipping the book around and pushing it back towards Logan. "How many languages you speak anyway?" He stared across the table at Logan, a smile twitching his lips. Seemed that everyone around here had their secrets. Logan didn't look old enough or... well, he didn't look educated enough to know more than English, but Remy was slowly learning that there was a lot more to him than met the eye.
He took the book back with a kind of amused, lopsided smile and left it open on the table even if he had no intention of even looking at it again. "Honest? I don't remember." He shrugged, then glanced away around the room. Chuck'd obviously spent a fortune on the place, all those books, old books, new books, books in ten, fifteen different languages or more. Logan probably understood a hell of a lot of it, even if that same low, rough tone followed him through every language he spoke. "English, a'course. German, ja. Russian. Español, claro." He flicked his gaze back over to settle on him, sitting back in his chair. "Et français, bien sûr."
"Oh no, no," Remy laughed, holding up a hand. "Don't you start speakin' French to me. I don't understand a lick of it if you speak it proper." It was only half a lie. He understood French well enough, he just didn't like it much. It all sounded very affected to his ear, very fancy and frilly. His brand of dirty gutter French was hardly the panty-dropper that the actual language was purported to be. "Gotta mix it up, throw in a couple other languages for flavor," he teased, stretching his legs out and planting his feet firmly in Logan's lap.
"Don't worry, I'll lay off the French. I like English better anyhow, always sound like some fuckin' dandy with all the messieurs-dames and s'il vous fuckin' plaîts." He raised his brows, still somehow amused when he found himself with a lapful of not-quite-stranger's feet. He shifted a hand, rubbing a bit at one of the kid's calves instead of just shoving them back down to the floor. "I know what you're thinkin'."
"Bet you do." Remy slid further down in the chair, giving Logan access to more leg. His eyebrows quirked suggestively. "Cause you're thinkin' the same thing." Damned if that wouldn't liven his day up a bit, keep him from moping over his old friends and worrying about his old enemies. He just had to get it through his skull that there was nothing in New Orleans for him anymore, and that he was safe here at the mansion. It was hard to accept, but it was the truth. He was sure of that much, at least.
Logan smirked. "That's not what I was talkin' about," he said, pulling his chair forward toward the table, hand running up to Remy's knee. "But now ya mention it, that too." He prodded at the book with his free hand. "You're thinkin' I never looked that smart."
Remy sighed, rolled his eyes. "Wasn't," he argued, pulling his feet away long enough to kick off his shoes, then replacing them in Logan's lap. "I just thought you didn't look like the scholarly type." He winked teasingly, working his toes down between Logan's legs and rubbing insistently at his jeans. If he wasn't wearing socks, he was sure he could have unzipped them successfully with his toes.
"S'far as you know, kid, I could be the physics professor." The problem with that was he couldn't say it and keep a straight face. "Sure, so I'm not." He might've inched his legs a bit wider apart, not that he was admitting it, fingers hooking under the back of the kid's knee. "But I coulda been."
"Mmhmm, and I teach English," he retorted. His toes squirmed for better purchase, but Logan's jeans were fairly tight and he didn't have much luck. He made a face and kicked lightly at Logan's thigh. "Get those damn things off. I'm bored as hell and it's your job to entertain me." He didn't bother to elaborate on what would happen if Logan took his jeans off. He figured Logan had a good enough imagination on his own.
"I'm pretty damn sure that's not somethin' I'm s'posed to do in the library," he said, capturing one of Remy's feet in one hand. He gave it a quick, teasing tickle then rubbed at the sole with his thumb. "And I didn't realize I'm your entertainer. Shoulda mentioned that before, I'da gotten you outta here 'steada readin' you German."
"Who's gonna see?" Remy teased, pulling his feet out of Logan's grip. He planted his hands on the table, lifting himself up onto its surface. His back arched slightly as he crawled across to Logan and lowered himself onto his elbows. If anyone walked in now, he'd be in shit up to his neck, but as always, his appetites overpowered his good sense. "Least you could do is gimme a kiss, eh?"
Logan had to admit, of all the ways he could've gotten himself thrown out on his ass, this one actually seemed pretty tempting. Of course, Kurt probably would've pointed out he was headed to hell in a handbasket, and any second there was the possibility of a dozen students coming in to study for a math test or whatever it was they were torturing their young with these days. But damn, it was tempting.
He leaned forward, one side of his prickly jaw brushing against the kid's cheek as he rested his head on his hand. "I'm pretty sure the least I could do's walkin' out," he said, and turned his head, mouth brushing almost accidentally against the hinge of Remy's jaw.
"But you wouldn't do that," Remy purred, twisting slightly to capture the lobe of Logan's ear in his mouth. He nipped at it, relishing the taste of Logan's skin, then shifted further south. He bit a short trail down the side of Logan's thick neck and turned his face expectantly, lips parted in anticipation. "You like me too much." He was well aware of his own stupidity; after all, a quick fuck wasn't worth getting thrown out on his ass. There was something about Logan, though, a kind of controlled wildness in his manner that appealed to Remy.
He chuckled, lowly, and brought up one hand to slip over the kid's shoulders to the back of his neck, brushing his hair out of the way so his nails could play over the nape. "An' they say I've got an ego." It lacked any real sting, though, maybe 'cause he knew the kid was right, at least in a way - he was the most interesting thing to walk through those doors in a hell of a long time and Logan liked that. "Maybe I don't teach physics but I ain't a fool," he went on, regretting what he was saying already. "but we're not doin' this here."
Rolling his eyes and shaking off Logan's hand, Remy collapsed onto the table and flipped onto his back. "You're ruining my afternoon, cher," he moaned, staring up at Logan. He looked weird upside down. Hairier, if that was possible. "You just come in here to tease me or something?"
"Your afternoon of starin' at the wall? That's somethin' I can live with spoilin'." He stood then, planting a hand either side of Remy's shoulders and looking down at him upside down and almost too close. "But I ain't teasin'." Trusting all his heightened senses like an early warning system against a perpetually overzealous student body, he leaned down, kissed him quickly at the awkward angle a bare brush of his mouth on Remy's before he pulled himself up straight and sat himself down on the table next to him.
"I busted the sensors in my room," he said then, planting a hand on the center of the kid's chest, tugging idly at the fabric. "You can smoke up there."
"I dunno," Remy laughed, reaching up and idly dragging his finger across Logan's lower lip. "Last time we went to your room it didn't turn out so good." He frowned a little, thinking of the fuzzy blue guy that had interrupted them. He kind of resented him, even if he'd seemed like a decent enough guy. When he spoke again, there was an undercurrent of annoyance to his voice. "You ever find that friend of yours?"
"Yeah, I found him." He let his hand wander up some, fingers tracing ribs before settling over his collarbone. He liked Kurt, in spite of everything, even if he couldn't've chosen a worse time to step in if he'd tried. "Think we all would'a had a better night if he'd hit the kitchen like he meant to 'steada my room. He sure as hell won't be comin' back 'less he's lookin' to save your soul."
"Bit too late for that," Remy answered. There was no teasing in his tone, a fact which he seemed to realize a second too late. He sat up abruptly and turned to face Logan, a disarming smile on his face. "C'mon, let's go do something. This place is too dusty and quiet." He was up and moving before he'd finished speaking, drawing out his cigarettes and popping one into his mouth with lazy grace.
Interesting - from the look of things that'd been a touch more serious than the kid'd been hoping for. He filed it away for later, probably some inopportune moment, and after that, well. All he could do was hop down off the table and follow. After all, he agreed completely - the place was so dusty all he wanted to do was sneeze and so quiet it was almost disturbing, even for him.
Remy stepped outside and squinted up into the sun. It was late afternoon by the look of the light, much longer than he'd intended to spend in the library. Grimacing, he lit his cigarette and turned to look for Logan. He had to remind himself not to reach out to him or lean on him or something stupid like that. There were actually people around now, and he couldn't imagine that Logan wanted to be seen with him, not like that anyway.
"So," he said, grinning a little as smoke poured out of the sides of his mouth. "How's your day been?"
"Long," he replied, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and regretting the fact that his jacket and its stashed cigars were hanging from a bedpost back up in his room. He took a deep breath, breathing in fresh air like it was the best thing he'd ever smelled and compared to the stuffy, dusty, musty library it kinda was. "Ran outta beer last night, some dick ate the leftover pizza and the kids in the TV room wanted to watch some goddamn soccer match." He nudged him in the side with one elbow, pretty impressively subtle about it. "How you likin' the place?"
"It's good," Remy answered, surprised to find that he really meant it. Sure, it was a bit quiet for his tastes, but hell. It was about time he got a little relaxation in, right? Although once his training started, he got the feeling he would be reduced to a whining mess. Remy was used to working for his living, sure, but to hear everyone else talk about it, you'd think the training they dished out at this place was a new, exquisite form of torture.
"Get as much food as I want and a warm bed." He shrugged eloquently. "Can't go wrong with that."
"I hear ya." He gave a curt sort of nod of agreement, then rubbed at the back of his neck. He hated small-talk but he did agree - there'd been times he'd never known where the next meal was coming from and leftover chicken blitzed in the microwave would've been a godsend. "Didn't get away from the roommate, did ya?"
"Not yet." Remy scuffed his bare foot in the grass and sighed. If there weren't people everywhere, he'd strip down now and fuck Logan right here on the lawn. There was certainly something to be said for the smell of crushed grass in your nostrils. Reliving several pleasant memories, he smiled faintly and - forgetting his earlier caution - held his cigarette up to Logan's lips. "Have a drag?"
To be honest, he was having visions of the kid's unnamed roommate getting mysteriously disemboweled in the night - he guessed that was the problem with a place like this, too many people too many powers. He was still conjuring up increasingly more elaborate schemes for death-by-Cajun when the cigarette neared his lips; that didn't stop him reaching up to wrap one hand around the kid's wrist, holding it in place while he did, in fact, take a drag. He wasn't a big fan of cigarettes, he always preferred cigars. But the thud of the kid's pulse under Logan's fingers wiped that all from his mind.
He might've held on a second longer than necessary, suggestive, even as a bunch of kids he knew from the soccer match walked by. "Thanks," he said, gaze flicking from Remy's wrist to his face before he let it go in the end.
"You're welcome," Remy murmured, and his voice was more a purr than anything else. He decided that he liked the way Logan's hand felt around his wrist, and entertained himself briefly with imagining what it would feel like to be pinned to the bed by them. A little shudder crawled down his spine and he shifted closer. Maybe they should have just gone straight up to Logan's room after all. The mood he was in, no one would have had time to interrupt them.
Of course, the mood he was in, a bedroom just wouldn't do.
Biting his lower lip, he leaned close to murmur in Logan's ear, very conscious of his body language as he did so. He didn't want anyone watching to know what he was saying. Lord knew if there were any more moralizing weirdoes lurking around in the shadows. "Don't suppose there's anywhere around here we can get some privacy, eh?"
"Privacy?" Logan shrugged, taking a tiny half-step closer, close enough he could feel the warmth coming off him. For the time being the soccer kids were the only one in the general vicinity and they were obviously engrossed in their... well, soccer - he almost felt like jabbing a claw straight through the damn ball for putting him through the evil of a European soccer tournament. They were the only ones nearby and he'd hear anyone else coming. Of course, there was always the threat of Kurt, but Kurt at least wouldn't be shocked even if he got that damn judgmental look on his face. They were safe for a moment - he reached over and tucked his fingers down under the waist of the kids' pants and gave a bit of a tug.
"Sure there is," he told him, lingering there just a second longer before he stepped back, stepped away, then looked back over his shoulder. He had a place in mind, even if it wasn't exactly gonna be comfortable - still, he had a feeling that wasn't going to matter. "You comin'?" he asked, with a hint of a smile.
"I'll follow you anywhere, cher," Remy leered, eyes fixed on Logan's ass. Had he been pissed earlier about how tight Logan's jeans were? Hah! He tucked his hands into his pockets and enjoyed the view as they made their way across the grounds. Idly, he wondered where Logan was taking him, then dismissed the thought as unimportant. Wherever they were going, Remy was sure it was going to be worth the walk. Hell, he'd nearly managed to push his worries out of his mind. They were always there, of course, three faces in particular, but he had learned to live with them. It just sometimes got to be too much. Which, he reflected happily, was what a good fuck-buddy like Logan was for.
The mansion was one of the weirder places Logan had ever lived, he thought, not only for the fact it was a freaking honest-to-God mansion, but for the fact it was also a school and therefore constantly full of kids of all ages and a full complement of teaching staff. Which meant, oddly enough, that pretty much everywhere he went on school grounds there was bound to be someone there, somewhere, never any privacy except for locking himself in his room. And it looked like his room wasn't exactly safe from intrusion, either.
Still, he led on, around the side of the place, past a tennis court he was pretty sure he'd never seen anyone use and round to the end of the mansion's long driveway. He glanced back over his shoulder, gave the kid a look that clearly said you'd better be coming after meand ducked into the garage. The place was full of cars, a couple of motorcycles, smelled like motor oil and was completely, blissfully empty of people. He guessed that was what happened when all the X-Men came home to roost - once they were in, no one was going anywhere by regular transport. There'd be too many costumes involved for that.
"Private enough for ya?"
Laughing, Remy wandered through the garage, dragging his fingers across the sides and hoods of various cars. There were some really nice ones in here; off in the corner he saw a forest green Mustang, and his palm rested enviously on a powder blue '69 Camaro. It reminded him of a car that he'd stolen out in Arizona. She'd been a beauty, and he'd had to ditch her in California to avoid the cops. Shame. He settled himself on the hood of his replacement baby, glancing back over his shoulder. Four on the floor. Perfect.
"Who owns this one?" he asked, crossing his legs at the ankle. Part of him hoped that Logan would disregard the question, tear off his clothes, and fuck him up against the hood. He bit his lip and shivered. This was one of those times when it would have been handy to have some telepathic ability.
Logan watched him move amongst the cars, himself just leaning back against a workbench up against a wall by the door that led through into the house. He leaned over and turned the key in the lock, leaving it there so the only way in or out was through the front - he didn't think they'd got much chance of being walked in on right then but reducing the chances couldn't be a bad thing.
One of the cars was his own, parked right in back, a battered old Chevy no one was going to give a second look and he guessed that was why he'd picked it up. Most times he was bigger on motorcycles than cars anyhow but he'd gone and wrecked his last bike somewhere north of the border and his cash on hand when the professor'd called him back hadn't run to a new one. He guessed if he needed one he was just going to have to walk out with Scott's. He and Rogue'd already finished off all the guy's beer, he probably couldn't get that much more pissed.
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly at the Camaro the kid'd stopped next to. "You really care?" he asked. "Pretty sure I didn't bring you in here to talk engines, kid."
"I just wanna know who's gonna come after me if I take her for a spin," Remy answered, a big grin splitting his features. Being currently without a vehicle, Remy had a deep interest in procuring one without actually paying for it. As much as he enjoyed the mansion and the security it provided, it seemed to him that he would enjoy it that much more if he had a way to escape it every once in a while.
"But if you wanna talk about other things, I surely won't say no." He hoisted himself up on the car, spreading his legs slightly and winking. "Better come over here to do it, though. I'm a bit hard of hearing."
Logan chuckled and pushed himself away from the bench, made his way over as he looked over the small sea of vehicles tucked into the palatial garage - he guessed with the number of people living there, the kids old enough to drive as well as the X-Men, it kinda needed to be huge. "When you wanna get outta here, come see me. I'll point ya to Scott's car, s'long as ya bring it back he'll get over it." He smirked, coming closer, nudging the kid's knees apart a bit further so he could stand between them, his own pressed up to the bumper. He rested his hands over the kid's thighs, looking up at him. "But I get the feelin' you really don't wanna talk cars right now."
Remy thought about arguing that it was this car that he wanted, not whatever piece of junk Scott Summers drove, and then Logan was settling between his legs and it didn't seem to matter all that much any more. Grinning, he leaned forward, elbows propped on Logan's shoulders. "You think so?" His fingers went automatically to the short hairs at the back of Logan's neck, tangling in them and tugging gently. He didn't know why they fascinated him so much, but Logan seemed to like it well enough. "Maybe I like talkin' about cars..."
“Yeah, I think so." He gave one of the kid's thighs a quick squeeze asif to punctuate this point, then proceeded to trace the inseam of his pants with the pad of his thumb, just the right side of subtlety to be thoroughly suggestive. "I'm guessin' I don't bring out some deep desire in you to do some talkin'." He shrugged, shifting one hand up, rubbing for a moment at the small of Remy's back before slipping to the back of his neck, resting it there over his nape. "Tell me I'm wrong, I'll tell you who's got the keys to the Camaro."
"Unfair," Remy managed, arching his back and raking his nails across Logan's shoulders. The Camaro was a beautiful car, but it was starting to seem hugely insignificant. Remy bent forward, nipping Logan's lower lip and growling softly, understandably eager to get things started. After their failed attempt the other day, it had been increasingly difficult to think of anything but Logan and it was beginning to annoy him. "Tell me later..."
Logan thought about responding, but only for a second or two before he decided that as usual, actions would speak louder than words - he leaned forward slightly and planted one hand on the hood of the Camaro, the fingers of the other twisting tight into the kid's long hair as he tugged him into a kiss. It was far from soft or gentle - Logan had a tough time being either and besides which, he had a feeling Remy wouldn't be sitting there in the garage with the guy who looked like he could break a man in half if that was what he wanted. Then again, the kid really had no idea what Logan could do; maybe it shouldn't've been such a damn turn-on knowing how much they didn't know about each other, but there it was.
He dropped his mouth down to the crook of the kid's neck, biting down not entirely innocently at the juncture of neck and shoulder with a low growl. He pushed him down, went with him, sucking at that spot -damnit, the kid even tasted good. All he could think was they'd damn well better not be interrupted this time.
Remy moaned softly as Logan pressed him down, long legs tightening to draw his hips up. He rubbed against Logan, calmer than last time but no less eager for sensation. It already felt as though Logan was crushing the air out of his lungs, like the guy was twice as heavy as he looked. It shouldn't have quickened his pulse, feeling all that weight press down on him, but there was a willing helplessness that Logan drew out of him that he'd thought was lost forever. His fingers moved gently, dancing down the line of Logan's spine.
There was really something about the kid that Logan found completely intriguing if not irresistible - he told himself as he was pressing him down, as he was tugging aside the collar of his shirt to expose a stretch of collarbone for his mouth to come down to, probably bruising but hell if either of them seemed to care about that considering he could still see where he'd marked him before, that if he wanted to he could've walked away right then. And that wasn't just because there was still a completely fucking ridiculous nagging doubt in the back of his head, thanks to a fuzzy blue friend of his. But he chose to stay. Of course he did.
One hand came down, the other propping himself up on the hood of the car and yeah, maybe it was a dumb idea, maybe he knew he was resting too much of his weight against the kid considering all the acres of metal he had in him but he figured he'd know it was enough if he tried to shove him away or he just... passed out or something. One hand came down, shoving at the hem of Remy's shirt, pushing it up just farenough to get his fingers underneath. The feel of warm skin against his palm really wasn't going to do anything but push him on - he brought his mouth back to Remy's sucking roughly at his bottom lip as his fingers headed down, pushing just a couple of inches under his waistband. Somehow they were just a couple of unbuttoned belts away from as far as they'd gotten last time. It'd take more than Kurt looking like he needed a whole lot of brain bleach to yank him away from it this time, that was for damn sure.