Amoral

A X-Men FanFiction

Written by RogueMoon (Kanky)

::: :::

Awakening

::: :::

It was right.

Held against the operating table, ankles and wrists in metal clamps. Every inch of skin exposed to the cool air. Head free to turn, lights dimmed low. Monitor wires stuck to his skin, over the lungs and heart.

No where to move.

No reason to fight.

No hesitation.

A fantasy come true.

The snap of a sterile plastic glove as it was pulled over pale fingers. Eyes that were nothing more than a field of red looked down at him.

The hands, the gloved hands, ghosted over his skin. Teasing his nipples and brushing lightly against the base of his erection. Leaving his skin burning it their wake.

He moaned out a long, low sigh of utter need, red on black eyes shutting.

The lack of sight only made the touch burn more.

He shuddered, pulse pounding, every nerve on fire. The rubber covered fingers kept moving. Monitor beeping in time with his heart. Going faster.

Another moan. Losing control.

The hand slowed, the beeping did too. The hand moved, the beeping increased.

A chuckle, soft baritone as the hands separated and moved over his chest, massaging him. Making his back arch and forcing another moan to escape his lips.

"So sensitive, LeBeau."

He shuddered again, feet trying to find purchase enough to push his hips toward the sound. Straps on his ankles making that impossible.

The hands left him. He groaned in frustration.

He opened his eyes. The doctor's face was inches from him. Filled his vision. Skin unnaturally white, hair as black as oil and just as slick, diamond of blood in the center of his forehead, artful soul-patch at the chin. His breath hitched. The beeping increased ten fold.

The doctor smiled, a shark given human form.

The gloved hand came into view, rested lightly on his cheek, cupped his chin, thumb sliding lightly over his lower lip. Intense pools of crimson watching as his tongue flicked out, grazing the rubber encased digit. Licking it like a man desperate for water, trying to suck it in. Demanding the right to taste it.

His eyes fluttered shut as the thumb conceded to his wishes and pressed itself inside his mouth. Lips pulling on it, tongue licking it, feathery kisses and gentle sucking. He couldn't taste the rubber now. It tasted like him and he wanted it as much as he wanted the hands on his body.

Another chuckle. Amusement as the finger left his mouth, trailed wetly down his chin to the base of his neck. A trail of fire.

He had no control. He couldn't move. Wouldn't fight.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, do try to be honest," the doctor spoke quietly, script taken from his mind. The hand moved from his neck past his chest and came to rest on his stomach. "How does that make you feel?"

He liked it when the doctor played along. It was fun. "Horny."

"So crude."

"Ya said ta be honest."

That rumbling chuckle and then warm air against his ear. The nip of teeth on skin, wetness of a tongue, "And this?"

He moaned.

"Good answer, LeBeau." Barely a whisper in his ear.

The gloved hand slid lower, fingers playing in the the curly hair at the base of his erection, tugging gently at the skin. A second hand, rubber encased and agile as only a surgeon's could be, trailed up the outside of one thigh. The first returning to his mouth and plunging inward, demanding. He obeyed the silent command, sucking, licking, wetting them.

They left him. His eyes opened. All he could see was the ceiling.

His legs were already spread, ankles cuffed to the outside of the table. The wet fingers slid lightly up the inside of his thighs to press against his asshole, push inside. Make his hips buck in pain and pleasure as they scissored inside, lengthening and pressing against his prostrate. Shapeshifter taking advantage of his natural advantages.

The other hand finally gripped his cock, tugging upward, pressing down. Black lips he could only see in his mind pressing kisses down his chest, across his stomach, his tip wet with pre-cum. Tongue spreading it slowly, flicking down his length.

Pulling away to lean over his body and whisper with hot breath against his ear. Telling him how good he tasted before going back down. Back to his erection and taking it inside that mouth. Black lips and shark teeth that never seemed to scratch him. Only heat and suction. Pulling at him, bringing him to the brink and leaving him quivering for more. Silently begging for the promised release.

The doctor got on the table with him, hand moving slowly over him, teasing just enough to keep his interest in what was going on between his legs. The fingers in his ass slid out and he could hear the rubber glove snap as it was removed. The hand on his dick left long enough to pull a new one on before going back to its ministrations.

Those fields of red hovered in front of his face, naked chest pressed against naked chest. The baritone whisper against his neck, black lips feathering over the artery. Sharp teeth scraping over skin.

"Tell me what you want, LeBeau."

He lifted his hips as best he could, hard length encased in a rubber gloved hand pressing against the stomach over him, "I want you."

"You want me... what? You have to tell me properly, LeBeau."

He brought his lips against the pale temple, licked along the brow line presented to him, lingering over the diamond, murmuring against it, "I want you, maƮtre."

It was in french, he couldn't bring himself to say it in English. He didn't know why, but it got intended reaction all the same. His master pressed their lips together and pushed inside him, rocking their hips together in time with the beeping of the machines. Rhythm kept with his heartbeat as they bucked and thrust against and inside each other. The clamps on his ankles making the most pleasurable angle difficult to keep. A challenge his master enjoyed meeting.

The doctor wasn't even upset when they both reached the point that made the room decidedly not sterile for several hours afterwards.

::: :::

He leaned against the wall, heavy lidded eyes watching Sinister as he worked, a hard on forming between his legs as those rubber gloved hands so clinically cleaned the wound the scalpel had created. He licked his lips and shuffled his cards, mostly paying attention to the orders he was receiving, the rest of him thinking back to what they had done on that very same table only the day before.

His master was frowning at him, pausing in his speech as the line of his thoughts floated through the mental air of the room, no effort put to stop them. Sinister cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at him, received a smirk and a wink, but the thoughts were corralled and the doctor was able to continue.

Xavier had disbanded the X-Men and while his master was curious as to why, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by just to investigate further. He wanted Cyclops and Jean brought to him. He needed them relatively unharmed and unconscious so he could harvest a new batch of genetic material from them. Secondary targets consisted of Storm and Colossus.

Gambit was to do this on his own. He could find his way into their confidence easily, Sinister would give him additional mental shielding for the task, just in case. His master was not yet ready for the X-Men to know of his new affiliations.

His master wanted to test him. Sinister never said that, but the intentions behind the assignments he had been given since making the contract were clear. The doctor was keeping his end of the bargain, but Gambit was still a wild card and not to be trusted completely. Not yet.

He was upset about that, but this mistrust, was at least, understandable. Gambit didn't exactly have a track record for responding well to the missions he was given by Sinister in the past. He expected to be given the orders to lead another massacre any day now. He wasn't sure he was ready for it and perhaps the doctor knew that.

The missions so far were leading up to the final test. If he passed, he would have the complete trust of his chosen master. He had the complete acceptance. Never had to work for that. Now he just had to prove he wasn't going to back out when it was important.

The Marauders didn't trust him, but that was their nature and they didn't matter. Only Sinister did. They received other orders.

He wanted them to know about his position. To know Sinister's body belonged to him. He wanted to go over to the doctor and wrap his arms around him, run his hands over that chest and fuck him long and hard over the body he was torturing or examining or whatever he was doing to the poor soul while the Marauders watched in horror. He licked his lips as he let that picture drift through the mental ether to his master and had the distinct pleasure of seeing the man pause in his speech, his actions. Then turn ever so slowly to face him, both eyebrows raised and head tilted with a smirk that hovered half between annoyance and amusement. The gloved hands lifted and snapped the rubber against the skin, blood coating the fingers of the thin green plastic. A promise.

Sabertooth's nostrils flared and he snorted, sniffing the air and looking nervously between Sinister and Gambit. The Cajun chuckled and turned his head to meet the feral mutants' eyes. He licked his lips again and tilted his head back against the steel wall, eyes half lidded and letting his lust feed his arousal. His scent.

Creed's eyes widened and he stepped back, looking over at Sinister once more, only to find their master back at his task and continuing with his words as if there had been no interruption. Gambit skipped down the steps and out the door while the others got the rest of their assignments, Sabertooth's eyes following him out in confusion.

His fantasy could wait until he got his job done.

::: :::

"Remy!" Jean looked at him with a mixed expression of shock and joy as she answered the door. She pushed the door all the way open and flung her arms around his neck with a laugh, "Where have you been? You left all of a sudden and even Cerebro couldn't track you properly. First you were in Seattle, then you were in Madripoor then somehow in Scotland! You didn't even say goodbye! I should be so mad at you!"

He grinned, a genuine one, he was happy to see her again. She had tried. So he wrapped his arms around her and joked, "You keep touchin' me dis way, people, dey goin' talk."

"Let them talk!" she laughed back and pulled away, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside the house. "Scott's at the store. How did you find us?"

"Heard Chuckles broke ya up, so I asked around and about de only place ya two would go after gettin' kicked out was ya parent's or Alaska. Ya weren't at ya parents, so Alaska it was," he replied honestly. No need to lie yet and she hadn't seemed to notice that he didn't answer her earlier questions. He backed away and took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips before presenting a small gift box with his other hand. "Ya can't open dat 'til Scooter gets back. Its for de both o' ya."

She laughed and pushed him towards the couch, ever the mothering type, "Take your coat off! You're staying for dinner aren't you?"

"Only if I can cook it," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear and let her respond with a slap to the back of his head.

"My cooking is just fine and you know it."

"Oui, if ya want it bland an' wit'out any flavor."

She slapped his head again with a laugh and took his coat, which he had shrugged off, carrying it to the closet as he got comfortable on the couch. She wandered into the kitchen, calling back to him, "Want a drink?"

"Got a beer?" he called back as he kicked his feet up and pushed his boots off. No need to make this go any faster than it had to. She'd hate him soon enough.

::: :::

They were on their third six pack and she was laying drunkenly on his chest giggling at whatever black and white movie was on television when Scott walked in the door. Gambit had only had two of the beers, feeding the rest subtly to Jean with little pushes of his charm. She hadn't noticed anything and after the first four beers he didn't have to do anything except put a new can in her hand.

Scott didn't need to know that, so when Jean waved haphazardly to her husband, Remy did the same, mirroring her grin and the wobbly way her arm moved. They giggled in chorus and he whispered over loudly, "I think he sees us!"

"I think so too," she whispered back and attempted to stand, doing a fair job all things considered. She put a finger to her lip and sush'ed her husband before talking in a loud whisper to him, "Scott... Remy came for a visit... He made dinner... its spicy." This was, apparently, very funny to her as she fell backwards onto Gambit once more, giggling as she curled into a ball on his stomach. Remy snickered along with her lifting a can to his mouth and looking confused when it was empty.

Scott rolled his eyes and came over to help Jean stand up properly, frowning at Remy, but otherwise not upset.

Jean held tight to her husband and shrieked at him in excitement, "Remy brought a present! But he wouldn't let me open it!"

"Why not?" Scott asked, indulging her as he maneuvered her to the Lazy Boy.

"Because you weren't home! It's for both of us!" She clapped her hands and bounced in her seat as Remy sat up, a bit wobbly and nodding along.

"Oui... present... somewhere round here," he let his hands sweep wide, disjointedly, as if he really were as drunk as Jean. Scott didn't seem to think he was faking it as he moved items to the side and picked up the gift box that had fallen off the table.

"That's it!" Jean jumped up and grabbed it, twirling around and landing on the couch next to Remy. She leaned against him and held it in front of his face, "Can we open it now?"

Gambit stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and slowly focused his eyes on the box before letting a big grin spread over his face, "Oui, ma chere!"

Jean attempted to open it, tugging ineffectually at the ribbons until Scott took it from her, "I'll open it. You just sit tight, okay?"

She clapped and grabbed Remy's arm, as eager as a child on Christmas.

The ribbon and tissue paper fell away and Scott lifted the lid. Inside was a small candle.

Remy giggled, "Its scented! Light it!"

Jean clapped again, "Yes! Let's light it!"

Scott shook his head, finally laughing as he found a pack of matches and lit the candle. The scent was heavy and pungent and rather disgusting. Jean's hand went to her mouth and she looked like she was about to retch.

Scott pinched his nose and glared at Remy, "You have horrible tastes."

Remy stood up, wobbling still and pointed at Scott, "Non! I have excellent taste! It's a votive!" He acted as if that declaration would make everything clear.

Jean passed out, falling on her side and onto the floor. Scott was nearly gagging now as he tried to stand and go to Jean, only to pass out over the coffee table.

Remy was sober and snuffed out the candle, slipping thin inhibitor collars around the necks of his friends. He really didn't want to hurt them, but it was better for the X-Men in the long run. Xavier would call them back eventually and he wouldn't be there to put a wedge between them.

He opened a window to let the fumes out. After a minute of the air clearing, he pulled the nasal blocks from his nose. They had made breathing hard, but kept him from passing out when the candle was lit. The tiny balls of spongy protection exploded as he flicked them away.

He tapped his watch and a tesseract appeared next to him. Sinister stepped through and looked over the two objects of his obsession while Gambit lit a cigarette, leaning against the couch. His master pulled out two syringes and in short order had fresh blood samples from them both. The doctor removed the collars and took them back with him as he left through the portal.

Gambit tossed his cigarette out the window, the pop of it exploding like a firecracker bringing a smile to his face before he closed the glass and went back to the couch. He plopped down and let himself fall bonelessly into whatever position came naturally. Then he let himself fall asleep. When the Summers woke up, so would he and they wouldn't be any wiser to what he had just put them through.

::: :::

He left their company the next day, apologizing profusely for picking such a horrible candle as a gift. He assured them the candle had been a joke. Playing on them being a proper, normal couple with a house and a white picket fence. He just didn't realize the candled smelled so badly. They believed him as he 'helped' dispose of it by tossing it as far as possible before having it explode midair.

Jean had cheered at the impromptu fireworks and even Scott had laughed at it before handing him a CD of boy bands that Jean liked and asking if he could discreetly get rid of it. Jean took the CD back before Remy could get his hands on it and the three of them spent the rest of the evening eating a proper Cajun meal and talking about what had happened since they last saw each other.

Gambit finally told them he had been staying with a friend since leaving the X-Men. He blushed when asked about the friend and let some of his arousal and more sexual thoughts rumble close to the edge of his shields where Jean was sure to pick them up, "Jus' an old friend from way back... Someone I can trust."

Jean stopped Scott when he tried to keep prying, thoughts passing back and forth and he got the message that this friend was the kind with benefits. The kind that made Remy happy like he hadn't been for a long time.

Scott stopped prying and they talked about other things.

"Joseph left. He and Rogue broke up and then he just kind of disappeared after a confrontation with Magneto," Jean said as she kicked her feet up and into Remy's lap, the rest of her legs laying across Scott's lap. The three were sharing the couch, she on one end, Remy on the other and Scott in the middle. Remy took the hint and started rubbing her feet while Scott leaned back and put on a football game.

Scooter lifted a beer and took a drink, "More cloning. Not sure who did this one on Magsy. Wasn't the usual suspect though, clone wasn't good enough to be Sinister's. Anyway, Rogue's been looking around for you."

"Not very hard..."

Scott shrugged, "Hard enough to drive the rest of us insane with her mood swings. First she hates you, then she's looking all over for you. Seriously, you did a number on her or something."

"She be de one dat did a number on me, homme," Remy replied, frowning as toenail polish floated over to him. He leaned forward over the feet and raised an eyebrow at Jean.

She grinned, "Think of it as payback for that candle you brought."

"Better you than me," Scott laughed.

Remy shook his head and took the polish, forehead crinkling, "Passion pink? Come on, at least pick somet'ing original. Ya should go wit' orange."

"I don't have orange. I want my toes pink," she replied and wiggled the little digits.

Scott leaned forward and got fresh beer from the table before leaning back again, "So anyway, yeah... Rogue's been looking for you."

"Don't care anymore, Scooter," Remy said deadpan, opening the bottle and beginning to carefully paint the toes in front of him. "Don't want or need her anymore. Got better."

Scott nodded and raised a beer to him, "As long as you're happy."

Gambit smiled, "Oui. More dan I ever been."

"You realize you're going to have to introduce us to this friend of yours eventually," Jean murmured, laying her head back against the armrest. "You keep talking about her like that-"

"It's a guy."

The silence in the room following that statement could have crushed Magneto. Scott turned his head to look at him slowly, and Jeans' jaw dropped.

Remy met their eyes and nodded, "Not joking, mes amis. I know. Hard ta believe. De man who can have any woman he wants fallin' fa some homme. But de world, it be a strange place." He shrugged and went back to painting the toes in his lap.

"So..." Scott said slowly, "You're gay now?"

"Looks like."

"Does that mean you've always been...?"

"Non. An' before ya ask, non, I ain't never check ya out. Dis homme... its not about him bein' a guy. I'm not attracted ta other men. Jus' him. Its..."

"Its because you trust him," Jean finished, blushing. "Sorry. Its... your mind was kind of screaming that. Couldn't get an image of him, but trust... Just this boundless depth of trust in him, like I trust Scott."

He nodded and smiled, "Oui."

Scott relaxed, "Well, okay then. Just as long as you aren't going to be hitting on all the men at the mansion now. It was bad enough when you were doing it to all the women."

"Speaking of women, how's my Stormy?"

"She's upset at you. You left without saying goodbye. We had rain for two weeks straight because of you."

"Sorry 'bout dat."

"You felt you had to leave, I understand that. You should probably call her or something. I really don't want to deal with the weather that will come when she finds out you visited us without saying hello to her."

"I'll take ya advice inta consideration, oh fearless leader. But ya should know, I ain't comin' back ta de X-Men. Not my place anymore, if it ever was."

Jean tossed a pillow at his head, "Don't talk like that. You're an X-Man as much as me or Scott."

Remy ducked the projectile and shook his head, "Nah. I'm not. It's okay though. I find a place for myself already."

"Is it with him?"

"My thoughts leakin' out again?"

"A little."

He laughed, "Oui. It be wit' him."

"Well, don't be a stranger. You're still our friend."

Remy finished the last toe and pushed her feet off, setting the closed bottle on the table. He leaned against the armrest and kicked his own legs up and lay them across Scott's lap to settle his feet on Jean's thighs, "I want fire engine red."

The rest of the night was filled with the laughter. He didn't have to be their enemy yet. It was a good night.

::: :::

His master was waiting for him when he returned. Fingers steepled in front of his chin as he lounged in his throne. The Marauders were absent. It was just the two of them. His master looked pleased. Already had the gloves on.

He licked his lips and let his hand trail idly over his chest as he approached. Just barely skirting the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping over the button and zipper, but not undoing them. He stopped when his knees bumped the edge of the seat between his masters' spread knees.

A single gloved hand reached out slowly and traced a line from his waist upwards. Fields of red, pulsing and burning into red and black eyes. Both sets hazy with desire.

He leaned forward, hands on the armrests to either side of his master. Lips capturing lips, tongues fighting for dominance of each others' mouth. Gloved hands lifting his shirt, dipping into his waistband and pulling him closer.

He knelt on the edge of the seat, his master's knees lifting. Legs wrapping around his hips, giving them both better purchase as those gloved hands unzipped his fly and wrapped around his quickly hardening erection. Lips never leaving the other.

He sat there, teetering on the edge of the seat, doing nothing but kiss his master while the doctor's hands worshiped him. Gripped him and tugged and sneak up under his shirt to tease his nipples. Moved up and down over him, faster and faster. Fingers spreading his pre-cum to make his hands slide more easily. Making him come with a muffled shout.

Sticky white seed spilling over his master's body. White on dark blue and blood red.

The gloved hands tucked him back into his pants. Zipped him up, pulled his shirt down. A tongue flicking over black lips bruised from constant friction. Fields of red that watched him as he licked the evidence off that blue body suit, off the red belt and diamond over his masters' heart.

Then he was standing, shuffling his cards and leaning against a wall. The gloves were pulled off and disposed of with a thought and a light touch of telekinesis. The Marauders began returning from their missions. Sabertooth was the first.

::: :::

Creed's nostrils flared as he entered, eyes darting around the room. Confusion evident as he tried to figure out where the smell of fresh sex was coming from. Sinister had never done anything like that, so far as he knew, in all the time he had served the man.

Gumbo was standing to one side, leaning against the wall and shuffling those damn cards. The sex smelled like him and was coming from the chair Sinister sat in. Had the Cajun actually jacked off on the boss's throne?

Creed found it hard to believe, but his nose didn't lie.

He grinned as he gave his report. He waited while the other Marauder's shuffled in and gave their own reports. Some had been successful, some had not. Creed didn't care about that. He cared about the fact that he now had blackmail on the Cajun.

Sinister was pleased with Gumbo and displeased with Sabertooth. Wolverine had gotten away from him yet again. But Creed now knew something that would get the Cajun in trouble with the boss. Sinister hated his things becoming unnecessarily unsanitary. And Gumbo jerking off in his chair was bound to piss him off more than Sabertooth failing to bring Wolverine in. It wasn't like he wouldn't have another opportunity to do that.

Once the others were done reporting and Sinister was about to dismiss them, Sabertooth stepped forward and eyed Gambit, "You makin' it a habit ta fuck off where ever you please, Gumbo?"

Getting him in trouble in front of the other Marauder's would be fun.

Sinister raised an eyebrow and looked at Creed with a mild expression while Gambit gave him an innocent look.

Sabertooth pointed at the Cajun, "He was jerkin' off in ya chair, boss. Recently. I can smell it."

Gambit laughed outright and Creed growled, flexing his claws. Gumbo wasn't supposed to be acting like that. Sabertooth looked to Sinister for orders, as did the others who shifted their stances, ready to attack Gambit as soon as their master told them too.

The doctor looked amused as he leaned forward in his chair and met Victor's eyes, "You are mistaken Mr. Creed. Gambit was doing nothing of the sort."

Sabertooth growled lower, not at all liking that Sinister was taking Gumbo's side without even questioning the man. The triumphant smile that Gambit gave Creed as he walked out was enough for Sabertooth to make a silent promise that the Cajun would be gutted over this as soon as he got the chance.

::: :::

End Awakening