Remy was in the den watching television. Logan sat in his room, trying to read. The kid�s prescence was like an itch somewhere in the back of his mind. He would wait ten minutes and then go down, it would look casual. Maybe it would be better to wait fifteen minutes.
In the end he waited an entire forty-five. Remy barely glanced up as the older man entered, leaving Logan feeling a little foolish. All the hours he spent, planning these casual rendevous, all the nights he spent obsessing about the Cajun, they were really meaningless. Remy had no idea.
Which was fine, exactly how Logan wanted it in fact. He could only imagine Remy�s reaction if the young man learned about Logan�s tendre. Remy wouldn�t tease, he was kinder than that, and classy, but somewhere in the back of his mind he would pity Logan, old, battle scarred and repressed.
That was what Logan feared. Let everyone think he had no interest in other people. Let them think he was satisfied to be alone. It was preferable to be thought isolated and unpleasant than to be consumed with dreams utterly beyond his reach.
The Harrowing 1
There was a new drug out on the streets, one that was playing for keeps. But this one wasn�t a drug that anyone would inject willingly. It was called Aphrodisiac, and it was exactly that, a drug that would turn its victims sex crazed and insentient.
The traffickers in Aphrodisiac sold it to pimps and the owners of bordellos, mostly those catering to a clientele that liked boys and young men. The pimps loved it. It made their whores mad for sex, kept their customers coming back for more. It saved money to. Who would give a whore a cut when you could have a slave for free?
That�s all the boys were good for, after they�d been injected. Incapable of thought, incapable of most speech, except for mindless whimpers and the occasional grunted word. They didn�t last long, after they�d been exposed. The strongest managed a few months. Their owners used them hard and that sort of pounding took its toll on the body.
Whoever made the drug was very sly. They never dealt in any sex trafficking themselves, so even as house after house was busted, the cops could come no closer to getting the dealers. And with huge profits to be won, for every pimp that went down there were dozens clamoring to take his place.
The X-men had managed to get their hands on a few of the drug�s victims. Hank worked through night after night trying to find a cure. When he had finally determined that that was impossible, he dedicated himself to learning as much about the drug as possible, hoping that some scrap of information would lead them to the source.
Meanwhile Scott and the Professor locked themselves in their offices for hours, trying to come up with a decisive strategy to find those responsible for Aphrodisiac and put it off the market for good. The rest of the X-men waited, biding their time. It wasn�t easy under the soulless, crazed eyes of their new med-lab residents, but until they learned what could be done they tried to go about their business as usual.
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The bar was too hot. It was too hot, and the cigarette smoke, which usually didn�t bother him was stinging his eyes. Remy suddenly realized that he didn�t want to be there. He wanted to be at home in bed. Alone.
��scuse me.� He rose and pushed himself away from the bar, nodding at the men he�d been letting chat him up. It took him a second to locate the door, which direction had he come in? Then finally he felt the knob beneath his fingers and broke free into the cold night air.
After the heat of the bar, the calm quiet of the parking lot soothed him. He looked around for his bike. Damn he was tired. He could hardly remember ever being this tired. He fumbled with the keys and tried to fit them in the ignition, grasping at the handle bars for support.
His hand missed the grip and closed on empty air.
Remy frowned. This wasn�t right. Two bikes danced in front of his eyes, weaving back and forth. He felt himself sway. This wasn�t right at all. What the hell was going on?
�Hey man, leaving so soon?�
Remy turned. It was the men from the bar, all three of them, already circling, leering at him. The pieces slipped into place in his groggy mind. He reached for his bike again and missed. Shit.
�What did you put in my drink?� Remy asked, trying to buy himself some time to think. Even to his own ears he could hear the slur in his voice. This was not good. Damn. He knew what came next.
He�d been here many, many times before.
The tallest of the men, the ringleader, stepped forward. The others stepped back, taking their cues from him. Remy swung at him, but the punch was wildly off, and the effort over balanced him. As he stumbled the man hit him hard in the jaw. Remy tumbled back against the wall, glaring.
�This is going to be fun.� The tall man grinned. Remy lunged, charging a card as he went, but the man caught his wrist and banged him up hard against the brick wall of the bar. Remy�s head slammed back against the concrete, he fought not to lose consciousness.
�Drop it, freak.� He began fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. �McNally, cut off his clothes.
Remy began to struggle with the desperate, helpless scratches and kicks of a boy. <Not again. God, not again.> He�d promised himself. He�d sworn he would never be taken like this again. The man just laughed and back handed him. Remy�s head cracked against the wall again. Bile rose in his throat. Maybe he would have the satisfaction of vomiting on his attackers, it might be the only resistance he could make.
He felt a hand reach roughly into his trousers and felt the rending of material. Hard hands were on his penis, twisting it painfully. He grit his teeth, refusing to cry out. His head swam. Suddenly he was nine years old again, back in the streets of N�Orelans.
<�You want a Snickers, kid?>
The man before him pulled out his cock.
�How about a warm up boys? Get him on his knees.�
His two hench-men pushed Remy to the ground, holding up his sagging head. He shoved at them weakly, trying not to black out from the blows to his head. Everything he saw had a strange slow quality, at odds with the racing of his pulse.
<Fuck you all. I will find you. I will make you pay. I promised myself�.>
�Open wide.� Said the leader. He waved his cock inches from Remy�s face. Remy tried to back away, but he had nowhere to go. The man brought himself down towards Remy�s clenched teeth�..
Then suddenly he was gone, swallowed into the darkness. Remy heard a crash off to his right like trash cans being knocked over. The hands on his shoulders loosened abruptly and he flopped onto the ground listening to the sounds of a struggle he couldn�t see. From what he could hear, his attackers were getting the worst of it. He heard shouts and then two pairs of feet running across the parking lot. The henchmen were apparently leaving their hapless leader to his fate.
Suddenly a shadow passed over his face. He opened his eyes. Someone was standing over him.
�Cajun?� came a rough voice.
Remy closed his eyes and wished for death. Just when he thought that life couldn�t get any worse, God had granted him this final humiliation. �Remy�s fine mon ami.�
�Right,� the voice sounded amused at his groundless bravado. �You look great. Fit as a fucking fiddle.�
�I be okay. You just give me a second to get my legs back and Remy won�t trouble you anymore.�
Instead he felt strong arms lift him gently. �I have a better idea.� Logan said. �Let�s blow this joint.�
The kid was out most of the way back. A bitter smell hung on his breath. Whatever those monkeys had slipped in his drink had been strong. Logan stifled a curse. When he�d joined the X-men he�d made a promise never to kill again. But some nights, like tonight, that promise was harder to keep than others.
The image of Remy being forced to his knees, drugged, helpless, flashed through his mind once more. He growled. Death was too good for some people. He would ask Scott what the team position on castration was. Maybe there was some room to play there. A blunt, rusty knife sounded about right.
The kid whimpered, and pushed himself closer against Logan�s chest. Logan glanced down. Remy was pretty out of it. An ugly bruise was forming across his cheek bone. He�d have a black eye by morning. Logan growled again and ran a protective hand through the silky hair.
He parked the bike in the yard. Scott would have a fit, but he�d move it in the morning. He gingerly pulled the kid back into his arms and crept up the stairs with him cradled to his chest.
Remy didn�t awaken until Logan laid him out on the bed and began checking his injuries. �Ow.� He opened his eyes and tried to bat at Logan�s hand. �That hurts.�
�Lie still.�
�What happened?�
�You got jumped by a couple of guys in the parking lot.�
�Remy got taken down by some high school thugs?�
�They slipped something in your drink.�
�Oh.� Remy ran a hand through his hair. �That�s comforting.� He said dryly. He paused. �You saved me.�
�Yeah, well. I wasn�t going to stand by and watch them wail on you was I?�
�It was a good thing you happened by.�
�Uh, yeah.� Logan lowered his head and pretended to concentrate more closely on his examination.
�I think you happen by very often, non? It seems almost every night I am out, you are happening by. Just watching.�
Logan actually felt his face begin to burn. <Shit. Shit. Shit.> He�d worn a hat, sat in the back of the bars. He hadn�t known Remy had seen him. �I�ll stop.�
�Non, don�t stop. I like your watching. It makes me feel safe. My own cigar smoking guardian angel, non? Of course some time you could actually come have a drink. Mix a little pleasure with the business.�
Logan grunted and stood. �I think you�re all right.� But the kid had laid his head back and appeared to be sleeping. Well, Logan could tell he didn�t have a concussion, it looked like he was going to be fine.
Logan sighed and turned towards the door. He almost had his hand on the knob when Remy spoke again.
�I�m never going to escape it.� He whispered, his speech slurred by the drugs. �I�m never going to live it down.�
He looked up at Logan and his eyes, glazed though they were, looked haunted. �I try. I try. But it�s always the same. Remy the hustler, non? Remy the whore. It�s bone deep, who I am. I can�t fight it. Even when I�m not that to myself, no one else sees me any different. Why should they? It�s only myself I be foolin� and even then, not most of the time.�
�Remy,� Logan was stunned by the bitterness of the younger man�s words. �You were drugged. It could have happened to anyone�.�
�Bullshit! It didn�t happen to you. It didn�t happen to Kurt or Bobby or Rogue. It happened to me, always me. I ask for it, huh? It�s me, I�ll never be anything more.�
�God, Remy.� Logan went down on his knees by the bed. His hand hovered inched from Remy�s face, afraid to touch. �You�re crazy. You�re so much more. If you knew, if you knew- � But he broke himself off, afraid of saying something he�d regret.
Remy was out again anyway. His head fell back, exposing his slender neck. Even in sleep, his eyes were strangely sad.
Gently Logan brushed a hand over Remy�s hair. So close. Close enough to feel Remy�s breath on his cheek, Logan had never felt farther from anyone in his life.
Carefully, Logan allowed himself to do what he�d never dared think about before. He gathered the thin Cajun into his arms, and held him as Remy slept.