"I take it Scott's spending the night in *your* room," Warren said, watching

the Cajun come back from the boathouse.

        "Oui," Gambit said.

        "Why?"

        "He can' go back t' de boathouse wit'out Jeannie t' tell him what's happenin'

here. He can' sleep in Logan's room wit'out dinkin' about him in de labs. He

can't sleep in his ole room wit'out dinkin' of Jeannie." Remy shrugged.

"Gambit, he don' care where he sleep. Crash wit' Stormy. Or wit' Roguie's

animals."

        Warren had to admit to the logic in that argument. He felt off-kilter himself

without Jean in the house. It had to be worse for Scott. He looked at Logan's

hat on the kitchen table. "Take this too," Warren said handing it to the thief.

A flash of something like grief passed over Gambit's face. It wasn't until the

Cajun had left that Warren remembered that Gambit and Wolverine were friends.

        Scott rubbed his hair fairly dry. He looked at the neatly laid out clothes.

"Thanks." Remy shrugged.

        "Turnabout." The Cajun was curled up at the head of the bed. Logan's hat hung

off the edge of the desk chair. Cyclops' battle-visor and sleeping goggles were

next to the bed. On the side of the bed he usually took at the boathouse. He

fingered the visor. "An' dis is when Scotty gets int' bed like a good boy."

        Scott snorted, but slid between the satin sheets, letting Remy take the towel

from him. Gambit pulled the velvet coverlet up to Scott's chin. Scott's eyes

closed, enjoying the cool slither of the sheets against his skin. He heard the

soft click of the lights shutting off as he changed into his still-hated

goggles. The bed shifted. A kiss ghosted over his forehead. "Be back in a

second, cher," the Cajun promised.

        "Better be." Scott opened his eyes to watch Remy move around the room. He

watched as he poured a measure of whiskey into what appeared to be a red glass

and set it in front of a lighted candle. Remy murmured something, then set a

glass hurricane over the candle. "That's not safe."

        "Dat's what de glass is for. Keeps de flame from leavin' de holder. De base is

metal. Sometimes, y' need t' ask f' help."

        "I never thought of you as religious." Scott snuggled closer as Remy spooned

behind him. The thief draped an arm over Scott's stomach before responding.

        "I ain' really. I believe, oui. But I don' practice dat much. Don' seem t' be

wort' it, non? But I know dat dere ain' never been not'in' bad come from

prayin'." Scott rubbed the silver tag between his fingers.

        "I've never prayed. I never believed that there was someone listening."

        "S'okay, cher. Dey believe in y'," Remy teased. "An' so do I," he added more

seriously. He kissed the back of Scott's neck. "We get dem back, mon amour."

        Scott turned to face his newest lover. He traced the high cheekbone with a

single finger. He kissed Remy gently, exploring his mouth, savoring the taste

of him beneath the mint of the toothpaste. He nipped lightly at the thief's

lower lip as he pulled back.

        Gambit's lips stayed parted asking for another kiss. Cyclops obliged. It was

reassuringly real to be kissing. He settled into Gambit's hard grasping hug and

let himself be tucked in safely. "It's so quiet in my head right now," Scott

whispered. Gently, resolutely, his shields were wrapped in the silken threads

of protectiveness.

        "Ain' a crime t' cry," Remy whispered. "Y'r scared, cher. Dat's normal. Let it

go." Scott wrapped his arms around Gambit's torso and let himself be held as

the emotions coursed through him. There were no tears. There never would be, if

Scott had anything to say about it. In the light of day, he would and had,

forced the emotions down with activity. He'd been able to forget about the

link. But Jean wasn't *there*. The link had a vacant, echoing feeling and his

thoughts doubled back on themselves, swirling in eddies through his brain.

        It was so much easier when she helped him sort through things. They had a

mental shorthand. She filled the empty parts of his mind, kept him from

brooding. He lowered his shields and soaked in soft, airy light, gentle,

cushioning pressure, and sharp, hot spice. "Thanks," Scott whispered.

        "D'Accord. Remy keep y' safe, cher. Sleep, Scotty," he commanded, voice

dropping into a whiskey whisper that vibrated through Scott's mind. His eyes

slipped shut and he slept. 

        Morning came far too early. Scott woke quickly, as usual. But he didn't move.

He felt a hand stroking through his hair. It felt nice. So did the steady

heartbeat under his ear. "Mornin', cher," Remy whispered. "Y' sleep okay?"

        "Fine, Rem." He looked up at the thief and smiled as the stroking changed to

his cheek. "Didn't you shave that off last night?" he asked poking at the

bristles on Gambit's cheeks.

        "Oui. Grows fast. Have t' shave at least t'ree times a day t' keep it smooth.

If dat's what y' like." Scott was startled. 

        "It doesn't matter to me," he replied. Remy nodded. 

        "D'Accord."

        "Rem, did you sleep at all last night?"

        "It's still night, cher," Remy told him, rolling his eyes. He shook his head.

"I'm nocturnal. M' eyes like de dark better'n de sun. I told y' I'd watch over

y'," he added in exasperation.

        "Oh, Sweets, you didn't have to stay up for me." Scott said stroking Remy's

hand where it was settled on his stomach.

        "I promised, cher. I said I'd keep y' safe. Dat means keepin' watch. Ain' like

it's gonna hurt m'. I catch a nap once y' ready t' get up."

        "What if I don't want to get up?" Scott asked 

        "Den I stay here, non? Cuddle f' awhile. Den, we go pester de pup about what

happened durin' de overnight. Y' take y' rotation at noon. An' Remy takes his

at four." Scott rolled his eyes. He sat up.   

        "You aren't supposed to be responsible." Remy grinned.

        "Well, y' don' need t' be in charge all de time, cher." Scott sighed. 

        "Brat."

        "Prick."

        "So, we're back where we started how many months ago?" Scott said, brows

raised. Remy snickered.

        "Well, I weren't dinkin' about sleepin' next t' y' at de time. Oh, Ange is

gonna ask y' about why y' stayed here. I tol' him it was t' get away from

memories and dat I could crash somewhere else."

        "Could?" Scott grinned. "Well, if he asks, we tell him the truth. I don't give

a fuck what they think, Rem. You're ours remember?" He pulled on the collar.

"And I really don't care how the rest of the team feels about it. I think they

need to know, but I'm not putting my love life through a committee. And I want

you to get some sleep." Scott sat up and kissed Gambit's palm. "I'll call you

for lunch, okay?"

        "Oui, cher. Got get 'em."

        Scott made pancakes. Bobby stared at him in wonder. "My God. Jean trained you

to cook. I'm impressed."

        "Only some things. And according to certain people, I'm still not allowed to

touch the coffee pot or the meat," he glared at Warren who smiled blandly at

him. Betsy looked him up and down. 

        "Just tell me there's coffee made."

        "It's in the pot. Bishop made it before he went off shift."

        "Thank goodness," Betsy sighed and made herself a cup. "I have to put my vote

in with Gambit, Bishop, and Warren. You are *not* allowed to touch the pot."

        "It's not that bad. Jean and Logan drink it," he pointed out, without thinking.

        "Yeah, but you're screwing them senseless," Betsy shot back, not falling into

the silence that had descended on the rest of the part at the table. Scott

grinned at her and sent a thought to her mind. She choked on her coffee. She

fell into a coughing fit. 

        "Bloody hell. Warn me!"

        "Where's the fun in that?" Scott asked in wonder.

        //Did you really?// she asked. //Jean wouldn't tell me.//

        //Hell yes.// 

        //I am not worthy, Master,// Betsy told him, eyes wide. //I want details.//

        //Later.//

        //Bet on it.// Scott smirked smugly at her. Warren glared at him.

        "What have you done to my girlfriend?"

        "Not a thing," Scott said. "Food?"

        "Please. Make some up for Hank and I'll take it down to him. I don't think

he's eaten yet today. He's preparing for casualties."

        "Hopefully, there won't be any." Scott served up a plate for Warren and then

the rest of the team that was gathering around the table. Storm settled in her

chair. He looked at her for a second too long. "I need to talk to you later,

Ro."

        "Of course, Scott."

        "Thank you. Pancakes?"

        "Yes, please."

        The group was startled out of their discussion when Remy barreled by and down

to the med-lab. Scott looked startled. "Did I just see…"

        "Yes," Storm answered. "Should I?"

        "No, I'll go. I've already finished. Bobby, you get clean up."

        "Ten-four, Scotty. Warren's still down there."

        "Oh, shit." Scott sped out of the room. The enmity between the two men was

growing legendary. He skidded to a stop beside a bewildered Warren who had just

been thrown out of the lab. He was holding his plate protectively. "I'll find

out what's going on. Go up and finish your breakfast."

        "Okay. What is up with Gambit lately?"

        "A lot more than you know," Scott said. He went into the lab. Hank was huddled

in conference with Remy. The blue doctor nodded. He looked up.

        "Yes, Slim?"

        "What's going on?" he asked, looking at Remy.

        "Just remembered somet'in' I need le docteur t' check on f' moi."

        "And what would this be?" Scott asked as he stepped closer and stroked down

the silky hair Gambit hadn't pulled back yet. Remy leaned into the touch.

        "Don' want t' get y'r hopes up. In case it don't work."

        "It's okay. It's not like anything else is working either." Remy leaned his

head against Scott's hip as the man continued to pet him.

        "Well, it seems t' me dat if le docteur put so many trackers in m' leg, dat

mebbe dey work on different frequencies. Like one f' each lab or somet'in'.

Even if dey don' I was dinkin' dat dey don' just broadcast all de time.

Dey'd've been picked up by someone else before now. So what if dey respond t' a

call. An' if so, we could backtrack it like a cell phone. Figure he don' know I

told anyone 'bout what happened." Remy pressed closer. "An' after runnin' int'

m' in Seattle he's probably watchin' now."

        "That makes… After you broke up with Rogue?"

        "Oui." Scott held him for a moment.

        "We need to talk about secrets, Rem."

        "Oui, Scotty," Gambit said softly. Scott fingered the earring Remy still wore

and the thief shivered at the absentminded gesture. He felt a rush of sensation

as the field leader continued to trace the shell of his ear.

        "It's logical. Hank, can you let me have one of those trackers I know you

haven't disabled yet?" Hank sighed and turned over one of the samples.

        "An' why haven' y' destroyed dose dings yet?" Remy asked, frowning.

        "I didn't want to alert Sinister before having a chance to examine them while

they were still functional."

        Scott grinned. "That's our resident mad scientist for you. Come, have some

breakfast before you go to bed." Hank looked carefully at Gambit, but he saw no

indication that he was tired.

        "Oui, Scott," was all the Cajun replied.

        Logan paced the length of the holding cell. He couldn't keep from growling

almost constantly. The metal half-gloves wouldn't let him pop his claws, or

bend his wrists. He could smell Jean, but he couldn't see her or hear her.

        Scalphunter came with the oatmeal that was breakfast, as opposed to the rice

cereal that had constituted dinner. The Marauder looked him up and down. Logan

cursed his height. The man shoved the bowl through the slot. "How's the punk?"

Logan looked at him in confusion. Scalphunter shook his head. "Gambit?" Logan

blinked.

        "Fine. Last time I saw him," Logan answered. He took the bowl up carefully.

        "The bitch didn't do anything permanent? Got a message she passed through town

with red on black eyes." Logan grimaced.

        "That faded when he woke up. Why're ya so interested?"

        "Vested interest." Scalphunter shrugged. "Enjoy your gruel." Wolverine shook

his head. The kid chose the weirdest friends. Of course, the man *had* been his

boss. Cyke would have asked too.

        Angel watched in fascination as Storm and Gambit proceeded to have a complete

conversation with eyes, shrugs and cocks of the head. Telepathy had nothing on

that. Storm suddenly looked a question at Cyclops. The filed leader nodded

before setting down a glass of orange juice in front of Gambit.

        The thief poked suspiciously at the pancakes. He looked up at Scott. Then, he

looked back down at the plate. Without a word, Cyclops took the fork from

Gambit, cut off a bite and held it to the Cajun's lips with a challenging

smile. Gambit obediently opened his mouth and chewed at the pancake. Scott set

down the fork with a warning look.

        Okay, Angel decided. The thief had *reason* to be suspicious of anything

*Scott* cooked. But for Slim to be so forward was unusual. He wasn't sure what

had caused the change. And he didn't think he liked how cozy the two were

becoming. Gambit wasn't eating still. He was looking for a way to distract

Scott. Scott was watching very carefully. Finally, he surrendered and ate

breakfast for the first time in over two years.

        Remy curled up for a few hours' rest between Scott scented sheets. He

half-awoke when Scott sat next to him with a stack of files and a headache. The

soothing stroked of Scott's fingers urged him into a deep sleep. They missed

lunch, which prompted Storm to seek them out. "Scott?" she said quietly. "You

have security duty."

        "It's all ready noon? I'll be right there. Make sure he eats something."

        Storm found Gambit in the Danger Room a few minutes later. He was working

through an obstacle course of high wires and rafters. From the control room,

she watched him get into his rhythm and start jumping form one to the next with

ease. His mouth was a frown of concentration and she wondered what else he'd

programmed in.

        The first scrabble of metal legs made her eyes widen. Mechanical bugs swarmed

along the floors and up the walls. She looked down at the read-out. "Laser grid

active." So there were alarms, no unusual. She looked up when Bobby entered.

        "I wondered who was in here." He glanced over the program specs. "He can see

lasers?"

        "Yes."

        "Cool. Why isn't he just blasting them?"

        "No powers on a job. It's against his principles. If you use your powers

indiscriminately, you are too easy to track."

        "He's gonna get caught on that wire. The bug's following him." Gambit flipped

over it. The wire vibrated and the bug fell off. It was immediately attacked by

the other bugs. Gambit leapt for a high hand-hold, twisting in mid-air when he

sighted a bug. He caught on a level lower.

        "Slim, what's going on between you and Gambit?" Angel asked.

        "Jean, Logan, and I are screwing him." Warren laughed. 

        "No, seriously."

        "I am being serious, Warren. We've brought him into the relationship."

        "But he's…"

        "If the words 'slut,' 'whore,' or 'guy' pass your lips, I'll hit you."

        "Gambit! I can't believe you're doing *him*."

        "Just because you don't like him, is no reason for me not to. Grow up, Wings.

You don't like Logan either."

        "I could understand sharing Jean with Logan, but…"

        Scott shook his head. "You don't understand. Logan and I play with each other,

just as much as with Jean." That stopped Warren's thoughts.

        "I never saw you as gay."

        "I'm bi, War. Always have been. I just wasn't interested in sex with one of

those Barbie-doll girls you wanted me to like. I'm attracted to people not

equipment."

        "But even given that, Gambit?"

        "As Jean put it, 'those eyes,' 'that hair,' 'the accent.'" Scott grinned. "But

he isn't what you think of him. Even at his worst."

        "He's a thief."

        "So is Storm."

        "He's disrespectful."

        "He has his reasons. I understand that now."

        "He sleeps around."

        "No, he flirts. He plays, but he doesn't give it away. Not since he and Rogue

got serious. Logan's nose if *very* handy. He gets wild every once and awhile,

but he loved her more than he should have."

        "And how are you planning to explain this to Rogue?"

        "Rogue dumped him. He's fair game."

        "Four at once?'

        "Yes."

        "I need some time."

        "I thought you might."

        "Who else knows?"

        "Hank, Prof X, Ro."

        "Bobby doesn't know?"

        "No."

        "Well, at least I made fourth on the list."

        Gambit landed on his feet and braced for the alarm and lights. The spotlights

were blinding and he had to shut his eyes against them. He cursed himself and

went over the mistake in his head. "End sim," he called after a minute.

        He cautiously opened an eye. Everything was washed out in a lingering red

glow. He tried to blink it away and realized it would have to fade on its own.

It should only take a few minutes, he told himself as he stretched to cool down.

        "Why do you insist on punishing yourself for small mistakes?" Storm asked when

he emerged from the locker room, ready to take over the security shift. He

rolled his eyes.

        "If dere ain't a punishment f' gettin' it wrong I don' learn. De lights remind

m', but don' do not'in' permanent. Better'n goin' t' jail or gettin' a whippin'

from Mattie."

        "I have more questions, Gambit. May I join you on watch?"

        "Of course, chere."

        Logan tried the bars on the cage. But without his claws he couldn't break

them. Scalphunter returned with dinner. "Where's Phoenix?"

        "In Arizona," the Marauder replied. "Oh, the girl. She's with the doc. Just

eat your dinner and shut up."

        "What's he doin' to her?"

        "Do I look like a fucking lab tech?" the merc demanded.

        "Never know around here," Wolverine shot back.

        "If you shut up, I'll get you a beer."

        Hank emerged triumphantly. "Come, my Cajun lab rat, we have work to do." He

physically picked the thief up from the couch, despite Scott's protests, and

put him over his shoulder.

        "Hey!" Remy snapped. "Put po' Remy down, Henri!"

        "No." Gambit pouted as Hank settled him on the exam table. He fiddled with a

few controls. Remy was starting to get nervous. Hank wrapped a modified blood

pressure cuff around the young man's let. He squirmed.

        "Y' sure 'bout dis, homme?"

        "Completely. Just lie back and relax."

        "Funny, M. Bete. Very funny."

        "Scott, where is that list of sites Gambit and Storm created?" Scott handed it

over to Hank. "Splendid." The doctor returned to his lab. Scott followed him.

Remy was sitting with his knees drawn up. He didn't look up when they entered

the room. Scott went to his side. He offered his arms and Remy curled up into

the embrace, careful not to tangle the wires of Hank's invention. Scott held

him firmly. He glared at Hank, who ignored him.

        "This is science, Scott. It cannot be hurried." Scott brushed a kiss over

Remy's hair. Gambit had settled in for the mind-numbing wait. He was trying his

best not to let the room get to him. The strength of Scott's possessive

protectiveness surprised him. He let the older man take his weight and closed

his eyes. He eased the tension from Scott's headache. He was used to absorbing

pain. Scott rested his cheek against the wild auburn bangs.

        "Arizona!" Hank exclaimed. "The exact location, however, is still a mystery."

        "I'll have Betsy tighten the scans." 

        "Dat all y' need?" Remy asked softly.

        "Yes. Allow me to remove the cuff and you will be free to go on about your

business."

        "Merci," Remy murmured.

        Logan knew he'd been heavily drugged. He could feel the last of the drug

leaving his system. He couldn't move. His arms and legs were pinned down. He

growled. Dispassionate red eyes studied him.

        "While I do not understand Gambit's attempts at rational thought, I know that

you will be a most useful specimen. If you do not fight, your woman will be

returned unharmed. Do you understand?" Sinister asked.

        Logan growled more fully. "I hear ya, bub," he snarled. "Ya hurt Red and I'll

kill ya."

        Sinister bared his rows of fangs in a cold smile. "Do not be so foolish as to

threaten me, Wolverine." He fitted the muzzle over the man's head. He'd

designed if for treating his more recalcitrant subjects. The Grey woman was

still under sedation.

        Remy kissed Scott almost feverishly. He needed to feel wanted. Scott carefully

took control of the kiss, ignoring the application of the Cajun's "charm". He

pressed Remy to the wall outside of the med-lab. "Y' be wit' Remy t'night?"

Remy begged.

        "Yes," Scott kissed him once more. "Hush. No more talking. Go up to your room,

okay?" Remy nodded, adrenaline begging to leave his limbs. Scott tracked down

Betsy. "Psylocke, scan Arizona specifically for any trace of them. Then, check

the records for any recent crimes." 

        "Certainly, but…"

        "I'll explain after we get confirmation of the results."

        "Very well." She leaned forward and ran a hand down his cheek. //Go fuck him

through the mattress.//

        //Betsy!// She winked.

        //Give him a kiss for me.// Scott flushed as red as his glasses at the

accompanying picture. //It'll do you both good.//

        Bobby Drake, king of the pranksters, knew he should feel guilty for playing

"Quake" on Scott's computer. He knew he should feel even guiltier for reading

his private reports. But, truth was, he didn't. There wasn't one speck of guilt

in his head. That's why he knew before anyone else that Gambit was sleeping

with the Summers trio. That's why he knew about Gambit's connection to Sinister.

        So, when he opened the file labeled Gambit, he was expecting something a

little less clinical than the usual team member profiles. What he found shocked

him.

        "Remy Etienne LeBeau. Codename: Gambit Age: Unknown Family: Father Jean-Luc

(adoptive), Wife Belladonna Boudreaux. Weaknesses: Fond of children. Prone to

rash action. No regard for personal safety. Possible death wish."

        That was all the file contained. Bobby blinked. He must have missed something.

The file must be located elsewhere. He started to search the computer.

        Gambit was waiting patiently for Scott. He sat on the edge of the bed,

stripped to just his faded and torn jeans. He looked up through his bangs when

Cyclops came in. Scott shut the door carefully. He turned to his lover and was

hit by the wave of needy lust. He caught Gambit's mouth in a rough kiss, very

different from the tenderness he'd been feeling most of the day.

        He looked Remy firmly in the eyes. He knew his eyes were glowing because he

could feel the pressure building behind his glasses. "I will *not* loose you

too. Is that understood? I don't care if I have to lock you up. You will be

staying here when we go after them."

        "Non! I'm comin'," Remy snapped back. "Y' de one Sinny been watchin' since he

was a pup!"

        "And until Hank makes a portable jammer for those tracers, you'll be a

liability fighting the Marauders. You will stay here with Charles. He's

vulnerable when he's providing a communications net." Scott kissed the Cajun

again.

        "Dat's like tellin' Jubilee t' guard de Mansion," Remy panted when his lips

were released.

        "He's the closest thing I have to a father. You will watch him for me, won't

you?" he asked, with a sweet kiss. "He can't read you, so you won't be a

distraction. Besides, who else will be able to break in and save our asses if

we get caught?" He added one more kiss for good measure.

        "Okay. Point t' y'. Remy'll be good." Scott kissed him once more, then caress

his cock through his jeans. Gambit's hips rose. His fingers tangled in Scott's

hair and pulled him into a hungry kiss. "Don' y' dare get hurt," Remy warned.

"Or lose m' Stormy in de lab. She don' do so well in does places." Scott sucked

at "his" spot until he drew a sharp whimper. "Oh, Saints! Scotty please." Remy

squirmed.

        Scott's mouth kissed each rib carefully. Remy whimpered at each touch. "Damn

you're responsive," Scott whispered. "I like it." The muscles of Remy's stomach

trembled. Remy's clever fingers stroked through Scott's shock of brown hair.

Scott's mouth moved back up to fasten over Remy's once more. Gambit's lips

opened eagerly.

        "Please, cher. More," Remy begged. He pulled as Scott's belt, sliding it free.

Scott grinned.

        "Impatient."

        "Tres. T'encule moi," Remy demanded.

        "I don't speak French, Sweets. Tell me what you want."

        "Dieu," Remy murmured eyes nearly full black. He tugged at Scott's shirt.

        "Tell me," Cyclops ordered, steel in his voice, as he pulled off the Cajun's

faded jeans.

        "I want y' t' fuck m', cher. Make m' y'rs. I need t' feel y' in m'. Need t'

know y're real and hard and hot. Need t' be filled and held. Need y'r cock

buried so deep dat I can' hide away from it or pretend y' ain't dere. Need t'

feel y' fingers on m' skin. Need t' make dis ache disappear f' a lil bit. Warm

me, cher. Own m'." Scott caught his mouth once more. He'd stripped off the rest

of his clothes.

        "Drawer?" he questioned. Remy nodded as he was pressed down against the clean

silk sheets. Scott found the lube easily. "And I'm accused of being a neat

freak," he murmured. He lapped along Remy's collarbone, tasting the sweet

sweat. He settled his mouth firmly over Remy's, swallowing the whimper of need

when he stroked along the edge of the tight sphincter with the cool gel. He

deepened the kiss and pressed for entrance. He captured the sob as Remy fucked

himself on the questing fingertip.

        He settled himself between Remy's legs, the knees spread wide for him. He

pushed in slowly. "More, sil vous plait, cher," Remy begged. "Deeper." Scott

took his time, imprinted every cry on his memory, just in case. When words

failed, Remy opened a link and gave back every inching motion with the

desperate need to relieve fear with sensation, to loose emotion through

physical contact, to cherish and hold fast to loving memories. Scott nearly

wept at the combination of emotion and the sensation of being filled and

filling at the same time. He slowed down to savor it more.

        Remy's fingers clutched at Scott's shoulders. He tilted his hips for more

contact. Scott wet a finger and drew it over one sensitized nipple. Scott

couldn't help but notice the helpless shudder. Logan was never this passive.

Remy's fingers traced over the muscles of Scott's chest and over the fine scars

that occasionally ran against them. Just as he was fully seated, Remy's eyes

closed. He bit his lip as he adjusted to the feeling of the thickness fully in

him.

        The low moan tingled along Scott's nerve endings. "Sil vous plait," Remy

whispered. "Move."

        "Soon," Scott soothed. He stroked the trembling thighs. Remy's cock was hard

and leaking. Scott stroked it once and Remy's hips bucked, seeking more

stimulation.

        "Bon Dieu. Y' gonna drive m' insane, cher. Move." Scott pulled out most of the

way, then slammed home. Starbursts of pleasure flashed behind Remy's lowered

lids and through the link. Scott set an almost painfully slow pace at first.

Gradually, he sped up. He lost himself in dual sensations and heat. He thrust

more harshly. The heat and grip was too much and Scott came, holding tightly to

Remy's body as the empath let himself be dragged along. The spasms of his body

milked the last of Scott's cum from him.

        Scott pushed back the damp bangs and watched Remy's dazed eyes gradually come

aware again as they stared up at him adoringly. "Merci," Gambit whispered. He

sighed in satisfaction as Scott's mouth slanted over his for a deep kiss. Scott

bit the Cajun's bruised lips, drawing a small drop of blood. "Gonna have t'

change de sheets again." Scott laughed. He cleaned them up and settled down for

the night.

        "I'll have Hank and Betsy with you as back up."

        "Won' y' need Bets t' scan?"

        "Not with the professor."

        "Y' dink y' can find de place or do y' need more direction? Ain' never been t'

dat lab," Remy added worried.

        "We'll find it. We'll get them back."

        "Oui, cher. Dat we will."

--