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Right Kind of Sinner

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter ?

::: :::

Thunder crashed in warning, the rain falling like knives against him. Lightning struck the ground inches from him as she screamed, "Tell me! Is he alive! Do you have him! Answer me Sinister!"

His steps paused briefly before he continued on his path, walking through the tesseract and disappearing from sight. Never once looking at the woman. He imagined he heard a strangled sob and scream of primal rage as the portal closed behind him.

He was soaked to the bone. The costume, body armor really, designed to keep a body warm and dry even in a hurricane, simply couldn't stand up to the fury of a woman who could control the weather. The rain was her tears and they slipped past his collar, invading the space between his skin and the armor. Chilling him.

He hated leaving her like that, deceiving her, but he couldn't face her after seeing the grave. The unmarked grave at the very back of the small memorial garden. Just as Sinister had said it was. A marble stone with a carved circle X. No name. No indication it was for him. Except the Queen of Hearts tucked under a pretty glass paperweight just in front of it.

Sinister had been so angry. Said he deserved better. Almost destroyed the stone. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he knew Remy wouldn't believe him. Would want to see for himself.

He felt so numb. He felt like crying. He didn't cry. Gambit didn't cry. Gambit buried his pain in the body of whatever willing woman was at hand. He needed to get laid. Bury his pain under the sex.

But the only women in the base were Vertigo and Arclight. And he wasn't going to fuck either of them. Couldn't trust them. Didn't feel safe with them.

He'd change and go out. Paris or Rio, maybe Vegas. Find a one night stand or three. He'd have to return Sinister's costume first.

Remy didn't really think about where he was going. He didn't need to. He knew the base blind. He wandered slowly to the central control room. Essex had his private rooms attached. It was the only entrance to them.

The door opened and he paused, eyes taking in the sight of the Marauders standing before him and Sinister above them, at the top of the short set of stairs that led to the computer banks. He stood there for a long minute, staring blankly at the doctor. The others were inconsequential as he pushed past them, not even noticing the shocked looks they gave him.

He stopped in front of Sinister, looked up the man. He was only a couple inches taller than Gambit, but the Cajun suddenly felt like the man was so much taller than that. Almost a giant.

"I..." his head dropped. Not really knowing what to say. What he wanted to say. He moved past the doctor, shoulder brushing the other as his hand found the control for the door to Sinister's rooms. "I'm goin' go change."

Change his clothes. That's what he would do. The door opened and he kept walking. Autopilot. He needed to get out. Get laid. It was so hard to hold back the tears, but Gambit didn't cry.

He began stripping, slowly peeling the soaked fabric and metal material from his body as he walked towards the bathroom. He'd leave the uniform in the tub to dry. That would be less of an inconvenience. The sodden mess fell into the tiled vessel like a body into a grave. Heavy. Hard. Final.

A shuddered breath wracked him and threatened to break the control he had. He needed to get out. Get laid. Bury the pain. They hadn't even put his name on it.

He left the bathroom and found Sinister waiting for him. He didn't know how to classify the look on the mans face. Didn't try.

Didn't think as he approached the other and wrapped his arms around the thick waist, lips pressing into the corded neck. Insistant and needy. He didn't know what he was doing. Autopilot.

"Remy? What are you doing?" The deep voice, edged with wary concern cut into his mind, removing some of the numbing cobwebs that entangled his thoughts. But the doctor hadn't pulled away.

Gambit's hands ran up the muscled back, gripping shoulder blades with a fevered touch. "I need dis," he heard himself reply. Raw emotion forcing the truth from him between frantic kisses across a covered collarbone. "Need ta touch. Someone I can trust. And you be de closest t'ing to dat I have."

Strong hands gripped his shoulders firmly and pushed him back, breaking the press of their chests against each other. Gambit bit back the painful cry at the loss, desperate eyes finding the doctor's.

Sinister's hand's didn't release him. Just held him at arms length while he studied Remy's face. Slowly his hands moved, sliding to the long neck and upwards to cup the sculpted cheeks. The doctor's head tilted and leaned forward, capturing Gambit's lips in a gentle kiss. Soft and welcoming. Slow.

The Cajun could feel the ripple along the doctor's skin as he shifted his body. Removed the costume as only a shapeshifter could. And then his naked chest was pressed against the other. Hands caressing downward, over his chest and around his waist to grip his back, agonizingly slow.

A long, low moan left Remy as the tender lips pressed into his neck, sucking lightly. Lovingly. He didn't even notice that he was being moved. Pushed backwards. Tumbled into the bed.

He thought he needed to get laid. To bury his pain in raw, meaningless sex. He was sure thats all he had needed.

Now he wasn't so sure. He burned for the slow, gentle touch that felt so out of character for the devil above him. Pressing against him. Giving him the feel of flesh against flesh far more intimately than sex had ever been.

There was no penetration. No frantic gasping for air or screaming of names. No sweaty, tangled legs.

There was only a slow build and a soft crash that released more than just bodily fluids. The doctor was flaccid the whole time. But he was there. Giving Remy what he needed, not what he thought he wanted.

When it was over, Essex sat against the headboard, one hand rubbing Gambit's back in a soothing motion. The Cajun's head resting on a muscled thigh, arms loosely wrapped around the thick waist. Both silent. Neither looking at the other.

They stayed like that for at least an hour. Remy was the one to break the strange spell, hands releasing the other man and pulling away to lay on his back. Staring up at the ceiling. His voice a whisper, "Why?"

Sinister slid off the bed, "You must understand that I have no morals, Remy. Nothing like a conscience to keep me from doing what so many classify as wrong. I have advanced beyond the need to be driven by such petty concerns. However I am, on occasion, beset by the emotions that define the human condition."

He sat down again, facing Remy properly and bringing a hand up to brush some stray hair off the Cajun's cheek. His eyes were soft, kind, almost wistful, "I tell you this because you must understand. Understand that for the first time since he was stolen from me, my son reached out for me. Told me I was the only one who could give him what he needed. And I simply couldn't find it in my heart to tell you no."

He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the center of Remy's forehead, then stood and exited into the bathroom. Leaving the other man in stunned silence as the full meaning of the words sunk into his very bones.

::: :::

Gambit lay there for hours. Sinister having showered and left the room long before. He lay there just thinking. Really thinking. Sorting his thoughts and emotions and trying to figure out exactly how he felt. What he felt.

Sinister was his father.

Sure, he could have been lying. Remy doubted it. Sinister wasn't the greatest actor in the world. He could be decent at it, but Sinister rarely lied unless he felt it would be to his advantage. And Gambit simply couldn't figure out how lying about being his father would be to the doctor's advantage. Especially after fucking his own son.

And not gloating about it. Sinister always gloated when he thought he had an advantage.

Remy wasn't sure how he felt about it now. He had never been attracted to men. Still wasn't. Quite sure of that. He had needed a body though. Needed a body he could trust. And he had gone to Sinister.

To his father.

He contemplated that thought for a bit. Was surprised he didn't feel disgusted by it. Even after the fact. Incest was one of the bigger taboos of society. He once had an intense hatred for Julien because the man was in love with his own sister. He didn't think anything came of it, didn't believe that the man acted on it and Belladonna certainly wasn't interested.

So why wasn't he disgusted with himself for the same thing? It wasn't exactly the same thing. Both he and Sinister had been willing. And he didn't know the doctor was his father at the time. That could be part of it.

Sinister had known. But by his own admission, he didn't have the morals to care.

Remy finally rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom. The uniform was gone. Sinister had to have moved it for his shower. Probably did something with it then.

His shower was a quick one. Just cleaning himself off, removing the now dried evidence of what they had done. What he had done.

Maybe he was just too emotionally drained and shell shocked to care right now. Maybe he'd get upset later, the disgust and self hate that should be there hit him full force. He sighed and shook his head, dismissing those what if's as laughable. He wasn't going to get upset about it later. He was fine.

He toweled himself dry and went back into the bedroom, heading to the closet to borrow some clothes until he got back to his room. He paused, hand touching the fabric of a silk button up. He looked back at the bed.

Licking his lips he pulled the shirt and a dark pair of pants out of the wardrobe and put them on.

Sinister wasn't at the computers when he left the room, padding barefoot across the cold steel. He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked over the blinking panels. Tried to make sense of the numbers and letters and images displayed, decipher some clue at to where the doctor was.

Frowning and sighing in frustration, he eventually gave up and headed to the operating theater. Chances were good that Sinister was in there working.

::: :::

The doctor was in the operating room. He was bent over the eviscerated body of a still living orange mutant. Remy only knew that because the man was somehow still conscious. The Marauders were there as well, being given instructions for a new mission. Another specimen Sinister was interested in.

Gray Crow was the only one that glanced his way as Remy entered. The others too cowed by years of service and conditioning via modified cloning to be the doctor's pets. Crow nodded at him and then returned his attention to what Sinister was saying.

Gambit listened, only half of him interested in the words as he weaved through the small press of bodies to the other side of the room. Past the doctor, even. There were no chairs in the operating theater. But there were glass and metal coffins with bodies floating in green liquid. Suspended animation. The Cajun sat on the edge of one of these, bare feet hanging inches above the floor, hands clasped loosely between his relaxed knees.

Some of the others dared to glance is way now. He noticed the flicking of their eyes through the wet clumps of his still drying bangs. Sinister paid him no heed, kept speaking as if nothing was out of place. Kept cutting into the orange man.

The orange man looked at him, eyes desperate and pleading as another moan tore from his throat. It was probably raw from screaming.

Remy met his eyes and just looked at him. Bored. Uncaring. He had his own problems. The orange man could deal with being cut open on his own.

Eventually the Marauders were dismissed, sent on their way to retrieve a couple new specimens. Kidnap innocent mutants for experimentation and study. He should have been disgusted with it. He couldn't bring himself to care. He had fucked his own father, the pain of innocents just didn't seem to hold much weight after that.

"Is there something you need, Remy?" Sinister asked, still not looking up from his project.

Gambit shrugged, a reaction that wasn't actually for anyone's benefit, "Jus' thinking. Wanted ta ask ya somet'ing. Bout what ya said. If ya ain't too busy."

The doctor pulled a length of the man's intestines out, laying it out of the way, "I am not terribly busy."

"Jus' dat... How? Who... Why didn' ya... Why now?" He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask, so many questions and they all seemed to fall out at once.

"I wasn't allowed to tell you unless you came to me willingly. Apocalypse was the one who arranged your kidnapping. Alerted the Guilds to the location of a child who fit the description in their prophecy. The hospital you were told you were stolen from was actually one of my labs," he replied in a tone that sounded slightly bored, relaying the facts. "You have no mother. You were grown in a gestation chamber. A genetic clone of my base human DNA modified with the energy conversion potential harvested from the genes of Scott Summers."

The orange man looked as shocked as he had been hours before.

"Would ya do it again?" his voice was quiet, barely a whisper.

Sinister straightened and turned to look at him, studying his son before nodding in understanding, "Yes."


The doctor turned back to his project.

"Why ain't he unconscious?"

"His mutation prevents him from falling asleep or blacking out."

"He do anyt'ing else?"

"Not that I am aware of and he has been less than forthcoming with such information."

Silence interspersed with moans from the orange man filled the room as Sinister continued his work and Gambit sat there unsure of what to do with himself. Thinking things over. Finally, he pushed himself off the holding tank, bare feet padding silently across the metal floor as he went to leave the room. He paused at the door, "Goin' out fa a bit. Be in Milan if ya need me."


"Fashion week. Need somet'ing more dan de oh, so generous four pairs of jeans and white t-shirts you supplied me wit'."

"Will you be paying?" It was better than asking if he needed money.

Gambit grinned and looked over his shoulder, "Thought maybe I'd try my hand at maxing out Daddy's credit cards."

The doctor glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. A smirk so like his own mirrored there, "I suppose that means you've already found them." It wasn't a no.

Remy lifted his hand and gave a two fingered salute, then left his father to the further dissection of the orange man. Genuinely pleased at the idea of spending his long lost daddy's money. Mostly because of the long lost daddy part.

Sure, the man was a monster. But his son was the devil's own.

::: :::


AN: I actually don't know if I'm going to continue this. I like where its going, but I also like it as is.

There is a NON-SLASH VERSION of this fic by peppymint. I am very pleased and tickled by her (think its a her) editing and the changes she has made while still keeping the core of the fiction.

If you enjoyed this, please do take a look at "Born That Way".

(Remove spaces:) www. Fanfiction. net/s/5183892/1/Born_That_Way