Boundaries of the Imagination



Remy crossed his arms, frowning at the field leader. "Just answer the question. Why the Hell are y' keepin' po' Remy locked up like a housecat?"

"Because you're a target. I'm not going to have you disappear on me." Scott leaned back in his chair while the Cajun started to pace. Remy was looking less and less like a street-rat these days. Logan liked seeing him in nice things, so he'd cut down on the number of old tees he wore. Today, for instance, he was wearing an Irish fisherman's sweater with brown Dockers. The dark leather on his wrist drew attention to the other touches of brown -- his boots, and a doeskin collar that everyone else seemed to classify as a choker. His hair was free for once and the thief couldn't help but play with it as he paced.

"I understand y' not wantin' me out on the town. Logan don' like it much neither, but why ain't y' takin' m' on missions, homme? There been least two missions recently where y' could've done wit' m' skills. And y' knew from the start that breakin' in was necessary. But y' went and left m' behind. Tell y' true, Scotty, it's startin' t' look like y' don' trust m'. Either that or Logan asked y' t' keep m' outta the fire. Don't like neither of those options, me."

"I trust you. But I also think you have a lot to deal with right now. Your aunt is ill. One of your friends has gone missing. You're fighting with your father about. . . *that man*. Storm has been fighting with Logan and you're playing peace-keeper. Rogue's been trying to get closer with you as a friend and Bobby is getting jealous, also forcing you into peace-maker mode."

"Stormy's pissed at m' because she thinks Logan's takin' advantage of m' history. She don' understand why I'm int' what I'm int'. That's the big problem on that front. Bobby ain't jealous, he's horny and he t'inks I got the secret t' crackin' Rogue. And ain't none of it anyt'in' that'll keep m' from performin' in the field. Y' let m' work in the Danger Room, but when the good stuff comes, it's 'Gambit's on security.'"

"I don't want you in the field right now."

"Why not?" Remy pressed. He leaned over Scott's desk. The field leader arched a brow. It wasn't like the Cajun to be this aggressive.

"You aren't stable."

"I ain't never been stable. What's the real reason, Cyke?"

"You're in danger. My gut says it's real and close. I'm not putting you at unnecessary risk until it passes."

Remy's brows furled. "Y' got a pre-cog somewhere?"

Scott thanked God for small favors. The mirrored shades he had to wear kept him from meeting Remy's eyes. "Yes."

"Liar. I been good f' a month, but this is it, cher. Y' don't put m' in the field or let m' out of this house, I'm gone. And ain't no one here good 'nough t' find m'."

"You won't leave Logan."

Remy snorted. "Cher, y' don' got a clue 'bout Remy."

"You love him."

"Can't help it. He loves me. Still, I got t' look out f' m'self. I can't live like a house-pet. I'm more feral than Logan ever been. Y' either trust m' let m' hunt some, or I’m out."

Remy turned away. He headed for the door. "How long will you give me to decide?"

"Y' got 24-hours."

"72?"

"48 and not a second mo'."

Remy closed the door carefully behind him and headed for his room. It was the last place anyone would look for him. He had arrangements to make.

****

Logan came back to an empty room. He'd been hoping his pet would be there. Scott was in a cranky mood and the last mission had been a waste of time. He hadn't found out shit. He growled low in his throat, someone had been messing around in their room. His eyes narrowed. Not one thing of his had been touched, but several pieces of Remy's were missing.

He stalked down to Remy's room just in time to catch the tail-end of a fight.

"I don' care, Stormy. Y' want t' hold t' y'r prejudice, I ain't gonna be able t' change y'r mind, not wit'out charmin' y'. Y' either deal wit' the fact that I ain't givin' up m' kinks or not. I jus' don' care no mo'."

"Remy, brother, please understand, this is for your own good. Charles assures me that. . ."

"Y' went t' Xavier?" Remy's voice was cold.

"I was worried. The professor has always. . ."

"Y' went t' Xavier."

"Yes."

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out of m' room, woman. Y' broke y' trust. Get out."

Stunned, Storm left the room. It wasn't until she reached her loft that the nausea settled in her stomach.

Logan entered the ordered room. He noted the missing artwork. "Yer plannin' on bunkin'?"

"Y' know I can't stand bein' useless. The longer Cyke keeps m' trapped here, the more useless I become."

"Let's talk."

"I gave him 48-hours. He don't t'ink I'll leave."

Logan's jaw twitched. He shut the door. "Were ya gonna warn me?"

"I ain't sure." Remy shrugged.

Logan sat on the bed. "I'm gonna try not to get mad at ya, kid, but it's gonna be real hard fer me."

Remy looked at his lover. His eyes were cold. "I love y', cher. I do. But I can't promise y' not'in'. Y' can't leave here because of y'r honor. An' Remy, if t'ings keep goin' on like this, his honor won't let him stay."

Logan's jaw twitched. "48 hours, huh?"

"Oui."

"Where would ya go?"

"If I leave y'all won't be able t' find me. I'll drop y' a line t' let y' know I'm still alive."

"Better be more'n a line or I will hunt ya. We got some of the same friends."

Remy leaned against the wall. "This ain't gonna be easy."

"Not if I can change yer mind."

"Then maybe I ought t' move back here."

Logan shook his head. "If we got 48 hours, let's use 'em, Darlin'."

"Mais, cher, closer t' 40 hours now. Yelled at him this mornin' me."

"I would've paid to see that."

The Cajun laughed, a smile finally lighting his face. "Oh, cher, don' know how y' do that."

"Do what?"

"Make m' spirit sing."

Logan held out a hand. Remy did him one better and straddled his lap to give him a kiss. Logan wrapped his fist into the long free hair. It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was flame and passion and fear. They broke apart for a moment.

"Please don' ask m' t' stay, Logan. Y' own m' heart. Y' know I won' say 'no' t' y'. Don' use it against me."

"Give ya my word, Darlin'. I won't ask ya to stay. Will ya do one thing fer me though?"

"What?"

Logan tugged gently on Remy's left arm until the wrist was in his palm. "I want ya to wear this. Even if we ain't. . . together. Take it off when ya stop lovin' me."

Remy nodded. "Y' talk like y're sure Cyke ain't gonna come around."

"This is Cyke. He thinks he's right."

"Y' known him longer."

"Yep. Now, it's after dinner and yer in here not our room. Got me wonderin' if yer interested in playin'."

"I don' know, cher. Can I trust y'?"

"Probably not."

Remy snickered. "Give m' somet'in' t' remember y' by?"

"Thought ya weren't into pain?"

"I ain't really. Just. . . Y' need it sometimes." He bit Logan's earlobe.

Logan's smile revealed more teeth than necessary. "Yer in a temper ain't ya, pet? Gonna have to do somethin' about that."

Remy squirmed against Logan's crotch as the thick arms circled his waist. "What y' mean, boss?"

Logan bit firmly at the base of Remy's throat where it met his collar bone. He drew blood accompanied by a startled gasp from Remy's lips. He felt his pet's breathing turn rapid. He sucked to draw a dark bruise to the surface. Remy arched into the warm mouth, eyes dilating. Logan inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he eased his grip. Remy rubbed his cheek against Logan's shoulder. "Go wait fer me."

Remy slipped down the hall to Logan. . . their room still, he supposed. He knelt just inside the door after removing his boots. He glanced at the bed and saw Logan's bag. He unpacked it carefully and was folding away the last shirt when Logan arrived with a plate of fruit, a glass and a bottle of wine. Remy offered to take them, but Logan merely stared at him until he dropped to his knees. Logan busied himself opening the wine. He left it to breathe for the moment and turned his attention to his pet. The first step was to change his pet's collar to the leather encased metal one. His pet shivered as it locked shut. "Strip."

Once naked, Remy returned to his knees, hands behind his head. The bruise was dark on his throat. Logan took his time, savoring the power he'd been given over this fallen angel. The red eyes were downcast, but the rest of his body was just as readily made for sin. The ball-splitter, cock-ring combination had its usual effect and a delicate flush started up Remy's body.

Logan adjusted himself before carefully pulling Remy's wrists to the small of his back. He crossed them there and proceeded to tie them with a silk cord. The result was frustratingly comfortable. Remy twisted, but his fingers couldn't reach the knot on the top. Logan laughed, then taped Remy's hands into fists. Defeated, the Cajun huffed out a breath. The gag that pressed against his lips startled him. Logan used it almost exclusively as a punishment. "Bo. . ." The pressure forced his jaw open. Soon, he was tightly muzzled. Logan left him there as he went to pour himself a glass of wine. He turned on the news. A rush of shame filled Remy's eyes. How could he not have to Logan his plans? It was cruel. He never could have gotten this far if he had, however, or so he consoled himself.

Logan knew it would take his boy awhile to get into the right mindset, so he had an evening snack as he watched CNN. He toyed with the idea of caging his pet for awhile, but discarded it. Better for the boy's mindset if he knew he was being ignored, not stored.

Remy's jaw started to ache first, then his shoulders, then his knees. He wanted attention, good, bad, indifferent, he didn't care. He listened to the news, but he couldn't watch it. It was angled away from where he was and he wasn't allowed to look anywhere but at the floor or his boss. He whined behind his gag, knowing it would do no good to relieve his frustration. An eternity later the television shut off.

At the end of the half-hour review, Logan shut off the TV and glanced at his pet. His mewling had quieted a few minutes ago. He was shifting minutely to try to relieve his knees. Logan went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He was well-fortified against his boy's tricks and he was in control of the raging anger in his stomach.

Logan looked at his pet. The dark slash of black at his throat and dark straps defining his cock were sharp counter-points to the delicately flushed skin. The bruise at his throat was deep blue-purple. Logan snapped his fingers and pointed down. Remy pressed his forehead to the floor.

With its inch and a half width, the metal and leather collar around Remy's neck wasn't cruel, but it wasn’t comfortable either. The collar was unrelenting. Even the widest of his collars, his red on, was more forgiving. The least stretched. As he pressed himself to the floorboards, Remy felt the collar bite into his skin. Logan pushed a foot against the inside of one knee. Remy spread them further apart.

He listened as Logan looked through the toy box. His mind raced with possibilities, none of which included him coming, despite the pressure in his cock. He felt one finger prodding his ass, then two, then three, then four. He squealed into his gag as Logan's cock replaced his fingers. Logan used him roughly, taking his frustration out on the tight channel. Remy could sense the anger and frustration as well as love and sadness and lust. He'd been a bastard for not warning his lover about his intentions. The guilt curled up in his stomach. For once, he knew he deserved punishment for something completely real. It would please Logan and cleanse him. If only he weren't wearing the damned gag, he'd beg for a spanking, or even more.

Logan arched into his boy, striking deep. Remy's choked cry fanned the flames of his anger, he didn't know why, even as he exploded in pleasure. "Ya need some hard lessons, pet," he growled as he slipped free. He replaced the hold left by his cock with a plug held in by a leather harness. Remy wriggled, adjusting quickly to the intrusion. Silk cording swiftly bound his ankles and knees. Then, his arms were re-arranged and bound at wrists and elbows, pulling back his shoulders. Logan pulled him up to his knees. A leather blindfold hid remorseful eyes. He'd give the boy something to remember that was for sure. He picked Remy up and placed him face down on the bed, listening carefully for his breathing.

He trickled the ends of a leather strap along the graceful arches and the back of Remy's legs, watching the muscles twitch. The sensation was intense with Remy's world pared down to touch and hearing. The first smack across his ass wasn't a strap, or the flat of a hand. He couldn't figure out what had caused the burning, stinging imprint. He tried to wiggle away, knowing the futility. He needed punishing and Logan meant to do it. At least it wasn't a whip.

Logan grinned. His pet wasn't panicking. There was nothing glowing, no stop signal at all. He trailed the leather across the slim hips, then gave the taut ass another smack with his paddle. The procedure continued, with Remy trying to rub himself against he coverlet, even as he tried to get away from the paddling. The paddle continued its rhythm though, until Remy was sobbing in a confusion of pleasure and pain. Unable to come, unable to beg, he was trapped in the dark spell of his emotions. Logan played with the plug for a moment, then resumed paddling. Eventually, he jerked off into the Cajun's bangs.

He rubbed the boy's bruised ass gently, then pulled him to his feet. He fisted the desperate cock, then laughed. "Yer not comin' tonight, pet. Here blow yer nose." Remy complied, feeling even ore acutely helpless. Logan settled him on his knees in the corner. "Don't go away. I'll be back."

Remy sighed. His hips moved convulsively, seeking stimulation. His ass clenched against the heartless plug.

Logan returned after closing up the wine. He released the silk binding and the blindfold. He settled his pet into bed, then refastened his hands, this time in front.

Finally, the hated gag was gone. Only, Remy found his words were gone too. He curled close to his master, whimpering. Logan kissed his forehead. "Settle down, pet."

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