TITLE: The Newlyweds

AUTHOR: Scorpio


PAIRING: Logan/Remy

RATING: NC-17 / Adult / Mature Audience

WARNING: Misuse of mutant powers, Furries, slash, bad language, violence.

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men is owned by Stan Lee and Marvel Entertainment Group.

SUMMARY: While chasing Mastermind II to retrieve a stolen piece of tech, Gambit and Wolverine find themselves victims to her telepathic illusions. They awake to find their circumstances changed.

The Newlyweds

by Scorpio

Martinique Jason sighed and flipped her long blond hair back over her shoulder and adjusted the strap of her messenger bag. Checking to make sure she had everything, she opened the door of her room and stepped into the hall.

She was tired, annoyed, and more than a little nervous.

Martinique, who called herself Mastermind II in the mutant community, was a powerful telepath and illusionist. She wasn't a thief, and yet she'd somehow managed to let herself get talked into teaming up with the Reaver Reese to steal a newly designed, military grade power source for an energy converter.

Not the worst job she'd ever taken, but it had one huge downside. Her contractor had enemies.

So, she and Reese had found themselves pursued by Wolverine, Gambit, Jubilee and X-23. That was no one's idea of a fun time.

Then Reese had the idea to split up. Both Wolverine and Gambit were highly trained and experienced operatives, so they would also have to split up, each one taking one of the younger and less experienced girls with them.

Only, that's not what happened.

By some random chance of fortune, they'd run across Tabitha "Boom Boom" Smith and Samuel "Cannonball" Guthrie. Boom Boom and Cannonball were experienced operatives trained by Cable himself…and most likely they would call the man down for any help or needed extraction at a moment's notice.

That changed the odds quite a bit.

So, Wolverine and Gambit had chased after her, while Cannonball, Jubilee, X-23, and Boom Boom chased after her partner Reese.

Not fun. Not fun in the least.

Still, she lost them in the maze that was Las Vegas and that was a bigger relief than she was comfortable admitting. But truthfully, she had been tired, dirty, and jumpy as all hell. So she'd rented a room for the night under a false name and indulged in some much needed sleep.

Now…she just had to bide her time until her flight to Los Angeles was ready to leave. That meant food, which was good, and several hours of avoiding Gambit and Wolverine. Which was harder than it sounded.

Sighing, and secretly wishing that she'd either never taken this assignment or that it would miraculously be over right this instant, Martinique stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. It was a bit of a slow ride and then the doors opened up and she stepped out into the main lobby.

And stopped in her tracks, eyes wide in amused confusion.

It appeared the hotel was hosting a convention…of furries. Men and women of all shapes and sizes were wandering around dressing in head to toe animal costumes. Complete with full face masks, tails, and outfits for their animal persona.

It was probably the most bizarre thing she'd ever seen…and as a mutant mercenary, that said a lot.

Gaping, she was just about to push through the crowd of revelers and into the harsh Nevada heat when she saw Gambit and Wolverine stride through the front doors. Obviously they had tracked her down, but she watched as they had the same reaction to the furries as she had.

Then one of them pinched Gambit on the ass and the tall red haired man yelped and slid around to hide behind a chuckling Wolverine, his red eyes glowing with shock.

That's when Martinique had a most wonderful, naughty, and deliciously cruel idea. She needed to keep those two distracted and helpless while she waited out the time before she could catch her plane. And she was Mastermind II; the worlds greatest illusionist, the Princess of Mindgames.

And she was about to pull the biggest mindgame the world has ever seen; on Gambit and Wolverine.

She shivered in pleasure at the thought of the humiliation they'd suffer and the accolades she'd win by pulling this off. But first, she needed a disguise. Looking around, she saw a cat suit that would fit her nicely.

Walking over, she linked her arm in the furry's and gently led the person away and to a public restroom. Her telepathy had the person ambling along like a puppet even as she pulled all the information on the convention from her victim's mind. Then, once they were out of sight from everyone else, Martinique knocked the furry out with a well placed psi-bolt.

Gambit followed Wolverine into the gaudily decorated lobby of the mid-price hotel as the man sniffed and scented the air to test the faint trail of perfume he was tracking.

Remy wasn't normally one to hit femmes, but he wanted to smack Mastermind II upside the head just for being annoying and forcing them to trek halfway across the southwestern United States. She herself wasn't a big deal to the two men, but they couldn't let her deliver that power source to Donald Pierce.

The man just didn't need that kind of power at his fingertips. He'd use it to take over the Reavers…or possibly the Hellfire Club.

Then the door was swung open and they stepped inside.

They came to a jarring halt as they stared in amazement at a whole room full of people dressed up in animal costumes. And these were costumes that ol' Walt Disney would have keeled over in a dead faint if he'd seen them.

"…mon dieu…" he whispered softly as he gazed around.

A man in what seemed to be an aqua blue teddy-bear suit wearing a white and red striped speedo sauntered by. Then a short fat moose with big wide antlers and sunglasses danced past with a light pink cat wearing a bikini top and a short frilly skirt hanging on his arm.

"Hey Gumbo…did I crack my skull open an' ya forgot ta tell me?"


Remy looked over and saw a man in a dog costume, complete with collar and leash get hit on the nose with a rolled up bit of paper by a woman in a leopard costume. The leopard was wearing a ball gown and tiara.

"Mais, Gambit t'inks he be havin' a psychotic break wit' reality."

A hard sharp pain pinched his derrière and Remy yelped and spun to see a tall thin man in a white rabbit suit complete with waistcoat, bowtie, and top hat.

"Hey there good looking? No costume, huh? That's okay. I don't mind. Interested in a little bunny loving?"

Eyes wide and feeling completely out of his element, Remy didn't even think about it. He just stepped back and slid in behind Logan, peering up at the rabbit over the other man's shoulder.

"Uh…" he swallowed and said the first thing that came to mind. " Je suis desole. Remy already have a date."

Remy gave Logan a little push to keep the shorter man between himself and the rabbit guy.

"He wit' le Wolverine."

Logan turned slightly to look up and over his shoulder at Remy. Logan's expression was one of stunned amusement.

"What's that ya said, bub?"

Remy glared down at him swiftly and poked him in the back. Hard.

"Oui. He be Remy's loupgarou. No need f' any ot'er animal in Remy's life."

Logan jerked one arm back and his elbow connected to Remy's ribs. The taller man let out a little oof of breath and poked Logan again.

"Watch who ya callin' a werewolf, Cajun."

Remy straightened himself up and stepped back a bit from Logan. Not much in case he got pinched again, just enough to be out of elbow range. Then he grinned shakily at the rabbit guy and made a shooing motion.

"So, y' best be gettin' on wit' y'rself before Logan done decide on hasenpfeffer f' dinner."

The rabbit paused a moment and then blew him a kiss before he turned to shuffle off. Remy slumped slightly even as he gusted out a breath in a sigh of relief.

Logan gave a low rumbling chuckle and grinned up at Remy.

"This really freaks you out, huh?"

Just then, a lime green cat wearing a thick baby diaper, a bib around its neck and sucking on a pacifier skipped by them. Remy just gave the cat a pointed look and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh no. Dis be perfectly normal. Jus' like Mardi Gras, oui?" The sarcasm was thick in his voice and Logan chuckled again.

Sighing, Remy scanned the room. He just wanted to find Martinique and get out of here.

Then in-between one heartbeat and the next, he felt warm. Warm like he was back outside in the heat instead of inside the air conditioning. The scent of burnt cinnamon wafted past his nose and he shook his head as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

There was something important he was supposed to do. What was it?

"Hey! Congratulations!"

A man in a fuzzy panda bear suit handed over a champaign flute to Logan and then to him.


Remy nodded his head in agreement with Logan's confusion, but simply sipped at his drink. He was thirsty and the bubbly looked good.

The scent of burnt cinnamon was back and his vision softened as he looked around. Colors and sounds seemed a tiny bit muted and everything seemed to sparkle on the edges. Very pretty effect, but it didn't worry him.

Instead, he could feel the tension melting out of his shoulders and back. Things were starting to make sense in a senseless sort of way and Remy was half convinced he was dreaming this. A sort of bemused acceptance of the surreality of the situation washed over him in warm waves.

He finished his champaign and grinned when another flute was pressed into his hands.

A woman in a cat suit with a full face mask walked over and Remy had the odd idea that she really was a real cat, cocktail dress and all.

"Are you ready for the big event?" she purred as burnt cinnamon swirled around him in thickening waves.

"Heh?" he murmured in confusion. "Wha' event, Mademoiselle Chatton?"

"Your wedding, of course!" the cat exclaimed.

Logan and Remy both blinked and then looked at each other. Remy opened his mouth to say something, but a mild dizzy spell had him busy swaying on his feet.

"Uh," Logan muttered, "I think I'm forgetting something here…something important."

Remy agreed and sipped at his champaign to think. His vision washed even softer and he nearly hummed with passivity.

"Maybe the rings?" the cat asked.

Remy surprised himself by saying, "Logan can't wear rings, chere Chatton. He sometimes run 'bout on all fours, oui? Dat'd ruin de ring an' hurt his hand."

Logan blinked owlishly, a confused expression on his face.

"Is that what I forgot? 'Cause I don't know…"

Burnt cinnamon was thick in the air that sparkled and flowed like a watercolor painting. Remy blinked slowly and hummed tunelessly in his throat.

"That's okay," said the cat. "We can arrange to have you two married off with matching bracelets instead."

Logan frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Remy just nodded.

"Remy likes jewelry. 'specially gold." He beamed a smile around at no one in particular. "Wit' diamonds an' garnets, oui?"

The cat shuffled them off to the front counter in a swirl of cinnamon, sparkles and brightly colored animals laughing and dancing around. Then the cat leaned towards the manager and gestured him over.

"These two gentlemen would like to get married here at the convention. If you could arrange to have someone bring a sample of matching bracelets for them to chose from and perhaps a minister to marry them?"


Logan's eyes were dilated wide and a dazed look was on his face.

"If ya gettin' married in Vegas, it's gotta be done by Elvis."

Remy blinked at him and drank his champaign. This dream was strange, but he went along with it because that seemed like the right thing to do. So he smiled and nodded in agreement.

The manager lifted one eyebrow before his face smoothed out to blankness and he picked up a phone.

A long line of animals began to come up to them one by one and congratulate them on their nuptials and thanked them for letting the convention goers witness it. Remy bemusedly shook hands…er, paws, with several cats, dogs, bears, and even a llama.

Another champaign flute was pressed into his hands and a warm dizzy spell the scent of burnt cinnamon had him turning to look at a tray of gold bracelets. They were beautiful as they gleamed under the light and he hummed in his throat lightly.

Logan pointed to a matching pair that was thick with big heavy links. There was a plate on the front with a space for an engraving and had a nice diamond on the corner. Ginning, Remy nodded and gestured vaguely at them.

"Could put our names on dem, ami."

The jeweler nodded and pulled those two aside while he packed up the others.

"What are your names? For the engraving."

Logan shrugged. "Logan."

The jeweler blinked at the brevity of the answer and then looked over at Remy. Grinning, Remy sketched a graceful bow.

"Remy LeBeau, at y'r service, si'l vous plait."

There was a brief bit of confused bemusement where Remy was asked to pay for it all and he pulled out a credit card. He wondered which of his alias' it was listed under for a moment before he shrugged unconcerned.

He filled out the form for engraving as Logan and Remy LeBeau.

It all made sense in this surreal dream world and he sipped his drink some more. The world seemed to be painted in watercolor as everything ran together in a blurry and soft sort of way. Burnt cinnamon surrounded him and he was warm and slightly dizzy. Everything was okay and soft and he just couldn't worry about a thing.

There was a flurry of activity in a side room and he swayed on his feet as sparkles drifted past his eyes. Then he and Logan were ushered into the side room by the cat and a string of laughing and dancing animals followed in their wake.

Elvis stood up in front of them in a sparkling rhinestone jumpsuit. He talked loudly in a profound voice in-between bits of song and music. Bright flashes of lights blinded Remy in turns as someone took pictures and he grinned at it all.

Elvis asked him if he was willing to take Logan as his husband and he shrugged. He'd never had a husband before and hadn't thought he'd wanted one…but if he had to have one, Logan was a good enough choice, he supposed.

"Oui, Remy take him. Er…mean, I do."

"And do you Logan, take this man, Remy LeBeau, as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Logan, his eyes wide with dreamy contentment, nodded and shrugged as his mouth curled up in a small smile.

"Sure. Why the hell not."

Elvis gave a sneer and a hip wiggle as he reached up to adjust his collar with a flick of his wrists, said, "Then by the power invested in me by the State of Nevada, I pronounce you husband and husband."

Another flashy dance move, this time with a twirl.

"You may now kiss."

Remy was staring down in bemusement at the gold bracelet on his wrist that read Remy LeBeau in fancy script when both of Logan's big hands reached up and grabbed him by his duster's lapels. He was then dragged down into a rough kiss.

Unexpected, but nice.

So, with burnt cinnamon swirling in his nose and a warm dizziness pressing on his mind, Remy relaxed into the kiss and enjoyed it. The crowd of animals whooped and hollered in delight in the background.

Martinique sighed with relief as she sat down in her seat and waited for her flight to get underway. Reaching over, she pulled the shade down on her window and turned off her overhead light. Then, buckling herself in, she tilted her seat back and tried to relax.

Her head was pounding.

The illusion she'd created for Gambit and Wolverine was a simple enough one and it would've been easy enough to hold on a pair of flatscans. With those two it had been a whole lot harder.

Wolverine's enhanced scenes were extremely difficult to fool simply because she didn't experience the world the same way he did. That made it hard to craft the illusion to him and make it believable. It was even more challenging to keep his temper tamed down.

You could never tell how ferals would react to things. They either slid into acceptance easy or they fought it all the way.

Then there was Gambit. He was easier to fool with her illusions, but she ended up battling his psi-shields all night. Those damn oscillating shields had been biting and nipping at her mind any time her attention wavered in the slightest.

Not only that, once she had been inside his head she had briefly touched something that was so black, cold, and soulless that she'd nearly lost all control of her illusions. Mentally shuddering, she had slowly backed away from the deeply buried persona hidden in Gambit's mind and was careful to avoid it from then on.

Not an easy task while fighting his shields and it had left her with a screaming headache. She felt like her eyes were throbbing from the pain.

But she'd done it. And she'd gotten away with it.

Moaning at the pain in his skull, Remy brought a hand up and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. God, he hurt.

His head was aching with a hangover as if he'd drunk way too much and his psi-shields felt battered. Shifting slightly let him know that wasn't the only thing aching. His body felt like he'd had a rough workout or a good fight. Sore muscles were interspersed with what felt like scratches and bite marks.

To top it all off, his backside felt as if it had been plowed for hours by a very well endowed man.

What the hell had he done last night?

Cracking open one eye, he turned his head to face his bed partner and groaned again.

Apparently, what he'd done last night included having sex with Logan. He'd never wanted that to happen.

Not that Remy had anything against male lovers, he didn't. And it wasn't that the man wasn't sexy, he was. It was more that he and Logan had taken a long time to even become friends, let alone anything else. He had the older man's respect and trust, and that was far more important than a simple roll in the sack.


"Stop fidgetin' darlin' an' let me sleep."

Logan's voice was a rumbling grumble of tired grumpiness. Joy.

"Je suis desole, Logan." He muttered.

There was a long tense pause and then one big blue eye opened to stare in confusion at Remy.

"The hell?"

Then he groaned and lifted a hand to his head for a moment and snarled.

"My psi-shields are a mess, kid. How 'bout yours?"

Remy snorted.

"Gambit's hung over, got battered shields, is bruised all over and…" he paused and slid a sideways look at the other man, "he don't know how well he gonna be able t' walk t'day."

Logan frowned in mild confusion and concern.

"Ya hurt or something?"

Remy blushed. He couldn't believe that he was still capable of doing so, but there you go.

"Ah…not hurt, exactly." He hedged. "Wha' y' remember 'bout last night?"

Logan's eyes unfocused as his frown deepened. Remy held still and waited for the other man's memories to catch up with them. Then, Logan slowly turned his head to look at the gold bracelet on his wrist with the name Logan LeBeau engraved onto it.

A look of shamed horror washed over his features and with a yell, Logan leapt out of the bed. He dashed over to the small side table and found a bunch of papers. He flipped through it until he found what he was looking for and held it up.

It was a marriage certificate for Logan and Remy LeBeau.

"That evil fucking bitch!" Logan growled. "She messed with our heads an' had us married off!"

Remy nodded.

"By an Elvis impersonator, oui."

Logan growled at him and then riffled through the papers until he found an envelop full of pictures. He grimaced at the image of him and Remy kissing in front of Elvis with a room full of people dressed up like animals. He shoved the pictures back in the envelop and tossed it on the table with the marriage certificate.

"I can't believe I finally end up married an' it's ta ya. Ya aren't exactly my idea o' the perfect wife."

"Hey," Remy scowled. "I ain't de wife! Y' de wife, Logan. Y' de one done took my name Monsieur Logan LeBeau."

Logan growled at him and stalked over to the bed. Remy went to move, but then flinched and stilled. Logan froze in place, a wash of guilt flashing over his face before he sighed and shook his head.

"The marriage is one thing. Embarrassing, yeah…but something easy enough ta undo. But then we came back up here an' I…" a pained look twisted his face, "…hurt ya."

Remy sighed and rolled his eyes even as he carefully shifted so he was sitting up. Or at least leaning up on one hip in a reasonable facsimile.

"Non, don't get all martyred on m'. Y' didn't do anyt'ing dat Remy didn't want…didn't beg y' t' do."

He chuckled ruefully.

"B'sides…not like y' deflowered an innocent virgin here, Logan. Gambit knows f' a fact dat he gave as good as he got. It's just he don't have a healing factor, oui?"

Logan's eyes unfocused and he blushed lightly as he obviously remembered a bit more about last night. Finally, he sighed and nodded.

"Fair enough."

Sighing, Remy pushed himself up out of the bed and carefully stretched his tight and slightly abused muscles. He definitely needed a shower…and perhaps a soak in the tub.

"Look, way Gambit sees it, we got two choices. One, we can call Jubilee an' tell her we lost de trail an' den get dis marriage annulled. Or two, we can figure out where Martinique ran off t' an' thank her personally f' arrangin' our weddin'."

Logan flashed a smile that was all fangs and smoldering eyes.

"Oh…I wanna thank her in person."

His claws slashed out before slowly retracting back into his arms.

Remy nodded.


Then he slowly limped to the bathroom.

"Gonna shower, me. Y' order up some breakfast from room service, eh husband?"

Remy got the bathroom door shut before whatever Logan flung at him hit it.

Remy took a quick shower just to get clean. Then he filled the tub with hot water and soaked for about half an hour. That did wonders for his strained muscles and ravaged ass.

Of course, relaxing his body just allowed his mind to relax and wander as well. And it wanted to wander back to last night. He was completely ashamed of himself and would kick his own ass if it didn't already throb in the shape of Logan's penis.

He prided himself on being able to keep telepaths out of his head. That was one of his more irritating and confusing character traits according to both Jean Grey and Charles Xavier. And if Remy could keep them out…he should be able to keep anyone out.

Yet Martinique Jason had damaged his shields painfully and then twisted his mind around a neat little fantasy world. And he'd cheerfully gone along with it…thinking it was some strange dream. He was ashamed at his weakness…and a bit afraid it would happen again.

He didn't like telepaths. And he had real reasons for that; Sinister and the Shadow King both being high on that list.

So…how did she do it? Was it because she'd wrapped her telepathic commands inside of an illusion? Was it the champaign he kept swilling down?

Then there was the whole mess with Logan.

He didn't know who would kill him first for getting married to the man; Bella, Rogue, or le Wolverine himself. Although, if he was being truthful and willing to admit it, it wasn't the marriage itself that bothered him. That was just one of Martinique's headgames and easy enough to undo, if a bit embarrassing.

No…it was what had come afterwards.

He and Logan had had sex.

Great sex. Sweaty athletic sex. Violent and primal sex filled with domination and pain and blood. The kind of sex that makes a man find god while seeped in darkest sin as he prays that it never ever ends.

And he'd found that with Logan.

The Wolverine.


Remy reached up and scratched at the heavy stubble along his jaw.

"Now how de hell I's supposed t' look him in de eyes again?"

Finally he decided that he had hid in the bathroom as long as he could get away with. Sighing, he got out of the tub, dried off and got dressed.

Then he went to switch places with Logan.

There was a brief moment when he was walking into the main bedroom and Logan was walking into the bathroom when Remy's eyes wandered up his new husband's body. He took in those acres of muscle and all that hairy skin and he remembered running his fingertips along those shoulders as Logan held him down, pressed tightly to the bed before leaning forward and nipping his sharp teeth all along Remy's ribcage.

It was a powerful memory; one filled with touch and sound and scent. A wave of arousal washed over Remy and his cock twitched in his pants.

Logan paused on his way through the doorway and turned to glance over at him, his nose twitching. Then the big bastard smirked before turning and walking on through.


A soft chuckle behind the closed door was his only answer until the shower came on.

As the older man showered, Remy sat down at the small side table and devoured a plate full of hot and filling room service food. While there, he glanced through the paperwork on their marriage and realized at once that it was legitimate and legal.

If word of this ever got out, he was sure that Cyclops, Bobby and l'Ange would laugh themselves silly at the thought of the womanizing Cajun finding himself a husband. Especially since his husband was the biggest butchest badass around. The pictures with them kissing in front of Elvis and the Furries would only make it funnier for the team.

With a sigh, he tucked everything away again.

Once his stomach was filled, Remy did a bit of stretching just to make sure his muscles wouldn't lock up on him during a fight. If he had an injury to protect, he needed to know ahead of time so he could adjust his fighting style. Thankfully, the soak had done a lot of good and loosened up his previously tight muscles. He was still a bit sore, but nothing that would hinder him if the shit hit the fan.

Then it was time to hunt.

Logan was done in the bathroom and dressed, so they packed up their stuff, including all the paperwork for their unexpected marriage and left the hotel room. They both had contacts in the city and they planned to spend a bit of time chasing them down.

First they headed off to a strip club to see Echo.

"So," Remy asked as he pulled his motorcycle to a stop next to Logan's. "Who's dis Echo person, heh?"

Logan grunted and shut off his bike. Remy followed suit.

"Let's just say Echo's an old protégé of mine."

Remy nodded.

"Let m' guess, oui? She a femme, she's pretty, an' y' taught her t' fight?"

Logan lifted an eyebrow at him, but didn't argue. Remy grinned smugly and shrugged.

"Wha' can I say? Y' predictable ol' man, an' Gambit knows his husband."

Logan growled lightly at him.

"Quit it with the husband shit, Gumbo."

Remy's red eyes twinkled with mischief. He didn't want word of their marriage to get out either, but it was fun to tweak Wolverine's nose once in awhile.

"So…Gambit shouldn't be spreadin' de good news t' y' old student, den?"

Logan rolled his eyes and swung his leg off his bike.

"Echo's deaf, Cajun. But don't think that means she ain't dangerous. She learns fightin' moves faster than anyone I ever met before an' she never forgets a thing."

Remy chuckled and followed Logan into the club. Half naked women were dancing up on the stage even at this time of the day and the air was thick with smoke. Logan nodded towards a pretty Native American woman in a shadowy corner. Gambit peered over his glasses at her and then hissed. Logan looked up at him in confusion.

"Y' taken m' t' see t' Kingpin's adopted daughter? Are y' mad?"

His accent thickened up with irritation.


Remy rolled his eyes behind his shades.

"Dat's Maya Crazy-Horse Fisk, de Kingpin's daughter. Met her a few times when we both just pups an' our pere's be doin' business toget'er."

"Huh…" Logan tilted his head. "Wonder why she tried ta kill him, then?"

Logan shook his head and gave Remy a gentle shove in her direction.

"She ain't workin' for the Kingpin, so quit your bellyachin'. She's done work for the Avengers in the past an' she's on current assignment with Moon Knight…I think."

"…great…tres bon…" Remy muttered under his breath.

Still, he followed Logan over to the table and she nodded in silent hello to him. It was a…surprisingly calm meeting since the last time they'd met she's threatened to have him thrashed because he pushed her into a fountain on her father's estate. He'd only been twelve at the time…so maybe she'd forgiven him.

Still, just to be on the safe side, he stayed out of their conversation and just looked around the club for a while. Echo didn't react negatively to him, but the whole time they were there Remy had trouble keeping his head in the game. He would glance at Echo and remember his childhood in the Guild. Or he'd glance over at Logan and a memory of their wedding night would play back in his head.

Like the moment right before Logan spilled into his mouth. Remy had been on his knees, sucking on that deliciously thick cock like he couldn't get enough. Logan's strong hands had fisted themselves in his hair, pulling almost painfully before the older man thrust deep down his throat and pulsed out jets of hot semen. And Remy had swallowed it all.

Logan broke off the conversation and just growled softly at him before he reached up to smack the back of his head.

"Pay attention, Gumbo."

Remy bared his teeth at the man with a hiss and then slumped back and rolled his eyes, but he'd managed to focus on the conversation again instead of the images flitting through his mind.

It seems that Maya didn't know Martinique was in town at all, but she'd heard that her contractor, Donald Pierce, had set up a Reavers' base for himself on the west coast.

After they left Maya and her club behind, Remy took Logan to a man he knew so he could hack a few computer systems. Martin Trousseau was a member of the Las Vegas Thieves Guild. Remy'd used his services before when looking for information. He was short, weedy, and purely human, but he was a first class hacker and knew the ins and outs of all the most common and even the least common systems.

Martin had waved Remy in with a grin until he spied a look at Logan. Then he stiffened up and shifted to place Remy directly between them before he curled in on himself a little bit.

"So…who's your enforcer? He one of them assassin boys from the bayou?"

Logan had grinned a mouth full of fangs and flexed his muscles, clearly enjoying scaring the hacker. Martin whimpered softly at the display and shifted back just a touch

"Ain't no assassin, boy." He jerked a thumb at Remy. "I'm this one's husband."

Martin's eyes went comically wide behind his glasses and he paled a little. Remy just reached up with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.


He was saying that a lot, lately. Logan just looked smug. He was getting far too much enjoyment outta this.

"Ah…uh…um, okay." Martin stuttered helplessly.

Then he offered up a shaky grin at Remy.

"Oh, um…congratulations." Then his smile firmed up even though he continued to eye Logan nervously. "You always did like the dangerous ones, huh?"

Remy rolled his eyes.

"Merci beaucoup. An' dat's 'cause Gambit's obviously warped in de head."

Logan chuckled.

"I'd be insulted if I didn't agree with ya darlin'."

Remy looked up and beseeched the ceiling.

"Oh mon Dieu…Remy's been a good boy lately. Why y' do dis t' po' Remy for?"

Logan and Martin both snorted in amusement…even if for different reasons.

"Look, let's jus' get down t' bus'ness, oui?"

Logan grinned, but Martin straightened up and shifted over to his computer. It was a mass of tangled wires, multiple drives, monitors and servers. He sat down in front of one of three keyboards.

"Okay…what'cha got for me?"

Remy gave him all the information they had on Martinique and then stood back to watch the man work. Remy himself was a good hacker. Trained by the Guild and skilled to the level of Master Thief, it was impossible not to be good at it. But this was Martin's specialty and he cracked open protected systems the way Gambit could crack a building's security…with easy grace and a deep felt joy.

It didn't take long for Martin to have the information they needed and for Gambit to lighten his load one big glittering gemstone.

Martinique had skipped town and fled to L.A.

Remy rode his motorcycle alongside of Logan's as they sped down I-15 across the great expanse of desert.

Normally, Remy liked riding with Logan. This wasn't one of those times.

It was hotter than the inside of an oven. Dust choked the air, filling his lungs, coating his skin, everything he wore, and his bike as well. The sun beat down on them, baking their skin, heating the wind, and burned into his eyes. The scenery was barren, desolate, stark. Dead.

Oh, and it was hot. Did he mention it was hot? Because it was. Hot, that is.

Forget marrying him off to Logan. He could forgive that just for the great night of sex it'd gotten him. He was going to kick Martinique's ass just for making him ride through the Mojave Desert from Las Vegas to Los Angeles.

People would probably be surprised that he didn't like it, southern boy like him.

It was true, though. The Louisiana bayou was filled with water, unlike this scorched hell he was riding through. New Orleans was practically overflowing with rivers and creeks and swamp lands. Fish and birds and flowering plants flourished everywhere while the throngs of people enjoyed great music, great food, and great bourbon.

And yeah, it was hot…but it was the kind of heat that made you want to melt into the world and become a part of it.

The desert was nothing but rock and sand and lonely emptiness. It didn't fill you up with its warmth; instead it hollowed you out and burned you up from the inside out.

Of course, he'd learned how to ignore all that crap when he'd lived in Arizona with Old Crow long before he'd ruined the guy's life by introducing him to Sinister and convincing him to join the Marauders. But that was then and this was now.

Part of the reason he hated the desert was because of those memories. He could recall how Old Crow used to be and compare him to the homicidal lunatic called Scalphunter that he'd become under Sinister's thumb. Guilt, thy name is Remy LeBeau.

Another part of the reason it was bothering him today in particular, was because the wide open spaces and lack of traffic gave him too much time to think. It was never a good idea to let him sink into his own mind, but today was playing merry hell on him since he kept trying to replay his memories of last night.

His wedding night.

To Logan.

The sun glinting brilliantly off the bracelet on Logan's wrist pulled his mind back to the ceremony itself. Even in his memory, it felt like moving through a watercolor painting with soft blurry edges and muted colors. Still, he could remember snapping it onto Logan's wrist just before the one he wore was snapped onto his own by the older man.

But why was Logan still wearing it?

Remy knew why he himself was. He'd wear it until the marriage was annulled or they got divorced no matter that they were tricked into it. He was old fashioned that way. And even after he no longer wore it, he'd still keep it.

Just like he still had his wedding ring from when he married Bella. And like he still had the necklace Rogue had given him when they first seriously got back together after all that mess with his secrets coming out in Antarctica and her romance with Joseph. He and Bella were divorced and he and Rogue had finally come to the conclusion that they were better partners then lovers…even if they really did love each other.

So…after this whole mess was over and done with, Remy would take off the marriage bracelet and very carefully store it away with all his other most precious treasures.

But why did Logan still have his on?

It was something to ponder about, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to ask. He preferred Logan's claws on the outside of his guts after all and as hot as it was in this wasteland he wasn't volunteering to be ventilated.

Then between one eye blink and the next, a spot on the horizon separated itself from the landscape as a building and not another heat blasted rock. Their bikes thundered down the asphalt through heat shimmers and left mini dust storms swirled in their wake as they sped closer and closer. The building grew bigger and eventually resolved itself into a roadside gas station.

Remy glanced down at his fuel gauge and then glanced over at Logan. The older man was looking at him with an eyebrow raised in question. Remy simply nodded. Best top off the tanks while they had the chance.

Distances in the desert were deceiving. It seemed like they were speeding along forever and never getting closer when suddenly they were there and swerving off the road into the dust choked lot. Downshifting, they glided over to the pumps before pulling to a stop and letting the bikes idle. Finally, Remy turned off his bike and kicked down the center stand.

He swung his leg up and over and stood there for a moment stretching out his back. Then he got a good look at his bike. It was coated in a thick layer of dust and sand. He hissed.

"Gambit hate de desert, ami."

Logan snorted and turned to the pump to start the rig up even as he twisted the cap off his tank with his other hand.

"That so?"

Remy nodded even as he bent slightly to look over his engine.


He waved a hand in an elegant gesture towards the big machine.

"Look at Remy's po' baby. She all coated in dat nasty sand an' grit. Cloggin' her all up wit' dat stuff an' getting' in her gears."

Logan let out a little amused huff, but Remy saw him eyeing up his own bike closely. Remy knew that Logan was just as obsessed with his own bike as Remy was with his.

"Don't worry, Cajun. After this mess is all over we'll pull 'em both apart an' give 'em a little TLC."

Remy nodded absently even as he ran a hand along the tank and cooed softly at his bike.

Logan rolled his eyes and reached out to gently shove his shoulder.

"Go inside an' pay for the gas, Rem."

Remy looked up, one eyebrow arched up over the rim of his shades.

"An' get me a smoke an' some beer while you're at it."

Logan smirked up at his sardonic expression and lifted his arm to shake the bracelet on his wrist at Remy.

"Go on…be a good husband an' pay for my gas an' beer."

Remy snorted and rolled his eyes, but he took a step back and gave a sloppy salute before he turned and sauntered up to the ramshackle looking building baking in the heat. Figures Logan would realize that he's just old fashioned enough to take this whole husband stuff seriously. All the better to toy with him.

At least he could comfort himself that Logan wouldn't be nearly as ruthless as Bella nor as high maintenance as Rogue. If all the man wanted was to be supplied with gas, beer, and cigars…Remy'd call that an easy going relationship.

Stepping inside, Remy was awash in soft dim light that was soothing to his sensitive eyes even if it wasn't really any cooler than outside. An old man that was a thin bundle of wiry flesh under wrinkled sun baked skin was lounged in a beat up old chair. The old man eyed him up and down for a long moment then nodded once silently.

Remy nodded back and then glanced over the small store area. It didn't have much, but there was a refrigerated section in the back. He sauntered down the aisle of chips, beef jerky and various types of gum and candy.

At the small cooler, he peered through and saw bottled water, Gatorade, Pepsi and beer. He opened it and grabbed a six pack of Bud and turned back down the aisle. He grabbed up a pack of jerky and a pack of gum and shuffled up to the counter by the man. He put his stuff down and looked around.

He pulled two cigars out of a display case and nodded up to the cigarette rack.

"Pack a Marlboro's an' two tanks out front as well, homme."

The old man just looked at him for a moment and then he pushed himself up slowly. He glanced outside the dusty window and Remy turned to look too. Logan was out there by the bikes. The pump was now filling Remy's tank with Logan watching over it.

The old man turned away and grabbed up a pack of smokes from the rack and tossed it on the counter with Remy's other purchases. Then he shuffled over to an old fashioned register and slowly rang everything up.

Finally everything was rung up and Remy tossed some bills on the counter.

"Eh, keep de change, homme."

Scooping up his stuff, he sauntered back out into the blinding sun and burning heat. He scowled out at the desert around them and made his way over to Logan. He handed over the two cigars and then the beef jerky.

Logan lifted an eyebrow, but just took it with a soft grunt. One cigar got tucked down into the inside of his jacket and the other got opened. He bit off the end and spit it into the dust and stuffed it into the corner of his mouth before turning off the pump and disengaging it from Remy's tank.

Remy opened the six pack and tucked two beers into his saddlebag and then tucked two into Logan's. He cracked open one and took a long cool drink. Damn…that went down nice.

As soon as Logan turned away from the pumps, he held out the last beer towards him. Logan took it, opened it, and tipped it to his lips. He drank half of it in one solid go. Then he belched loudly.

"Damn…that hits the spot."

Remy nodded and grinned.

"Sure do. Wash out all dat dust in m' t'roat."

Logan tipped back his beer and drained the rest of the can even as Remy rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Ain't right t' be draggin' a po' boy from de wetlands t'rough dis barren desert."

Logan snorted and crushed his empty beer can in one big fist before turning and throwing it into the trash bin.

"Aw…quit your bellyachin', bub. I could drag ya lengthways through Hell itself an' you'd survive ta bitch an' whine again. A little bitty tame desert like the Mojave ain't gonna hurt ya."

Remy drained his beer and then tossed it into the trash before turning a hurt look on Logan.

"Not de point, cher. Remy don't like de desert, so he gonna bitch 'bout it. An' as y' be Remy's husband, its y'r duty t' listen t' him complain."

Logan ripped open the beef jerky pack and slid a long smoked piece of meat out and pointed it at Remy.

"Don't make me knock ya out just ta shut ya up Gambit, or I'll stuff ya inta a box an' mail ya off ta Bella with a note sayin' she can have ya back."

Then Logan lifted the jerky to his mouth and bit into it with his teeth. Remy threw back his head and laughed.

"Lord, y' a mean one, Logan. T'reatenin' t' send m' off t' m' ex-wife like dat."

Grinning, he swung his leg over his bike and settled into the saddle before pulling out his cigarettes. He slid one out of the pack and chuckled.

"Gambit'd just end up killin' dat bastard Bandit an' den Bella'd put a new contract out on po' Remy's head."

Logan snorted in amusement and finished off his jerky stick and slid the rest of the pack into one of his saddlebags.

"Bandit, huh? That your wife's new flame?"

Remy shrugged and then nodded.

"Ex-wife, an' oui, dat's de idiot she hooked up wit'. Stupid fool ain't good 'nough for her, mais…"

Remy trailed off and shrugged. He didn't have a say in who she dated or who she slept with anymore. They were officially divorced even if they worked well enough together with the Guilds.

With a sigh, Remy once again tried not to wonder if his and Rogue's relationship might have gone better if she hadn't known that the only reason Remy pursued her seriously is because Bella had given the okay. A woman that he couldn't physically touch met Bella's standards for her husband's mistress. But Rogue had known…and had never been able to really get past the idea that she was forever 'the other woman' in Remy's life.

Scowling as he tried to push those thoughts away, Remy focused on the end of his smoke and it burst into flame with a small pop. It quickly settled down to a nice steady burn and he reached for his keys.


He looked over to see Logan looking at him pointedly with a cigar clamped between his teeth. Remy rolled his eyes, but focused enough to put a small charge on the end of Logan's cigar. His eyes glowed like embers behind his shades just before it burst into a small flame with a soft pop and Logan's eyebrows rose up in surprise even as he puffed on his smoke. Then he rolled it to the corner of his mouth and gave Remy an arch look.

"Didn't know ya could do that without touchin' it, bub."

Remy smirked.

"Man of mystery, me."

Logan scowled and then looked away to scan the desert for a moment before he swung his leg up and over his bike to sit in the saddle.

"Can it Cajun. I thought ya needed ta touch something ta charge it."

Remy nodded and shrugged.

"Anythin' bigger 'en a cigarette or button needs t' be touched. An' Remy can't do it if'n he can't see it, anyways."

Logan stared at him for a moment and then shrugged.

"Fine. Let's get outta here. We got a long ways ta go still."

And with that, both of them started up their bikes and pulled out of the gas station in a roar of engines.

Remy was hot, tired, hungry and feeling mighty cranky.

Riding that many hours in a row would have made him want to set back and relax with a good meal followed by a good nap anyway. However, when those hours were spent trekking across the Mojave, San Bernardino Valley and then across the Mountains to the coast, it just made him grumpy and pissed off.

He wanted to chug a gallon of water to wet his insides before standing in the shower for an hour to wet his outsides.

Instead he followed Logan into the lot of a seedy, dirty, and cheap motel that looked like the home of vagrants, hookers, and other various lowlifes. Not that they didn't fit right in, because they did. He just wondered how the hell Logan found places like this no matter where in the world he happened to be.

They parked side by side and Logan turned to him and opened his mouth. Remy cut him off and pointed his finger at Logan's nose.

"Non! Y' payin' for de room. Y' want Gambit t' pay den we're goin' someplace like de Days Inn where he know de carpet's been vacuumed an' de sheets are clean." He gave out a fairly good imitation of Logan's own growl. "An' don't give m' no lip, Gambit's t' tired an' cranky t' deal wit' it."

Logan had the nerve the chuckle at him.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, bub. We'll get ya fed an' watered an' you'll be right as rain again."

Remy let out a huff even as Logan climbed off his bike and sauntered into the office. Remy kicked down the center stand on his own bike, scooted down in the saddle and leaned back against the pack tied to his saddlebags. With his feet up on the pegs, he pulled out his pack of smokes and took out a cigarette. He lit it up and inhaled deeply.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, he wondered how Jubilee and Laura were doing. He wasn't too worried about them going up against Reese. The cyborg was dangerous, yes, but both girls could kick ass with the best of them and they had Cannonball and Boom Boom with them to help.

He was more worried about their emotional state. Neither girl had had an easy time of it and sometimes they just took things badly. Not that he could blame them. He'd had his own ups and downs too, so he knew what it was like to get lost in the bad stuff. After all, as much as he liked to think of himself as an X-Man, his time with the Marauders or as Death of the Horsemen was never far from his thoughts.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to call them and check in. Make sure they were okay and find out where they were at. Although, he wasn't sure what he and Logan should tell them about their situation.

It was private.

It was embarrassing.

And god, did he want another romp in the sheets. This time he wanted to be wide awake and not drunk out of his skull or whacked out on some telepath's mind-mojo.

Another thing he wasn't ready to admit to.

On the other hand, if they didn't say anything about it and it got out, the girls would give them hell. He'd had a belly full of being yelled at for keeping secrets, lack of trust and lying by omission to last a lifetime.

He heard Logan's boots crunching on the gravel as he walked over, but Remy just kept lying across his bike and brooding.

"Wake up Rem. We got the last room on the block."

Logan nodded his head down a long line of rooms off to the left. Sighing, Remy sat up and pushed his bike off the center stand and kicked it to a roaring start. Then he flicked his cigarette butt out into the air where it exploded in a small pop.

He walked his bike backward out of the slot and then drove slowly down the line of rooms until he hit the end. He pulled in to the space in front of it and Logan's bike pulled in right next to him.

Without speaking, they both shut off their bikes, climbed off and began to untie their packs and unstrap their saddlebags. This wasn't the kind of place that you could just leave them out even if you didn't need all the stuff in them.

Then Logan unlocked the door and they walked in.

The room was as cheap and dirty looking as Remy had expected. The carpet was probably installed sometime in the early 70's and was a matted mess. There was only one bed and a small chest of drawers and a small side table with two chairs huddled against the far wall. The bathroom was cramped and more mildewy than he liked, but it would do.

Remy dropped his pack on the bed, his saddlebags on the dresser and then pealed off his duster and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. Sitting in that same chair, he bent down and began to unstrap his boots.

"Wha'cha doing?"

He glared up at Logan.

"'m gettin' in de shower, homme. Need t' scrub off a pound a sand dat got int' places sand should never ever be."

Logan barked out a harsh laugh.

"Some o' it sifted down the crack o' your ass, huh? Well that explains your bright an' cheery mood."

Remy kept glaring at Logan while he began to strip down, but he didn't deny it. Amused, Logan just peeled off his jacket and then flopped down on the bed with his hands behind his head to enjoy the view. Remy bared his teeth in a hiss and peeled off his pants and shirt. Finally naked, he stomped off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him with a muttered, "connard"

"The show was good, but the soundtrack needs some work," Logan called through the door.