Ultimate Encounter
by
Paxnirvana


Archive: Eiluned, take it, it's yours! Anyone else, ask please.

Author's Note: This is in response to Eiluned's challenge on X-Fiction for: "an extremely smutty story with at least two of our dear X-Men (preferably three or more, LOL) a bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup, a dog collar with a little jingly bell on it, a box of matches, a hairbrush and a pair of high heels." The woman needs her smut! And this story went waayy too long. . . LOL!

Disclaimer: Everything X belongs to Marvel - this is just therapy. No money made here.

---

Jean Grey stood on a darkened New York City street corner, hands crossed over her chest, high-heeled foot tapping impatiently as she scanned the scantily populated street with her telepathy. Where the hell had that lousy bastard disappeared to now? And what was he doing here on Central Park West?

She'd taken it upon herself to keep an eye - and a mind-touch - on their resident reluctant recruit, Wolverine, ever since he'd announced his imminent departure from their happy little group to pursue questions surrounding his murky past. A murky past that had made his pathetic little macho-man mind so difficult to probe. God knew she'd tried after his stupid post-coital confession to her that he'd come to Westchester with the express intent of killing Professor Charles Xavier. Then the man had had the balls to try to convince her that he'd changed his mind because of her. What did he think, that she was stupid? Even if he had been instrumental in taking down Magneto, it was obvious to her that he was working some angle. And she was going to find out what it was.

She wasn't gullible enough to believe it was all over her. No sir. Not this girl. So that was why she was here, wandering around late at night in a part of New York that was way out of even her league.

She'd been following him through the city, at a discreet distance she thought, her touch on his mind light and constant. Then, his mind had flared with a surge of bristling hostility mingled with sharp anticipation and something like pleased recognition just before the contact was lost. Reading emotions wasn't really her strong point. Neither was reading thoughts, but she was working on it. And his strangely configured mind behaved that way sometimes - strong emotion would drive her telepathic touch right out.

Her last impression from his mind had been of the looming facade of one of the ritzy apartment buildings along this street. The problem was figuring out which one.

She cast her gaze impatiently up and down the street again, ignoring the tall figure in a long black duster that was approaching. From somewhere came the sound of a tiny, tinkling bell. Wolverine had disappeared completely. Frustrated, she decided to risk a quick telepathic scan of the nearly-empty street.

//lust//amusement//anticipation//appreciation//desire//

The emotions slammed into her mind, making her stagger back against the trash container beside her. She raised her hands to her head, shaking it to clear it as she yanked her shields back up. What the hell had that been? Not Wolverine. The emotions had the texture of a stranger. The sound of the bell came closer and the tall shape paused beside her. It was a man. A man with long dark hair pulled back in a sleek queue and wearing stylish wraparound sunglasses at night.

"You okay, chere?" he asked in a husky, strangely accented voice. Amusement lurked in his tone, as well as a kind of raw sexuality. She glanced into his face, startled. What she could see of it around the glasses - and she was used to scoping a guy in glasses out from hanging around Scott Summers so long - was mouth-wateringly gorgeous. Like a male model. Polished, yet somehow still rugged.

"Excuse me?" she said, blinking at this Adonis stupidly. This was New York City. Nobody stopped to help anyone else - unless they wanted something. She straightened up and gave him a hostile, back-off kind of glare, "I'm fine."

He just shook his head, his lips pursing in a thoughtful moue. "Y' don' look fine t' me, chere," he commented, a brow rising over the rim of his glasses. "Mais plus belle, c'est vrai." As he spoke, he drew a long, graceful hand came out of a coat pocket and gestured elegantly toward her. The sound of the little bell was loud now. Her eyes narrowed in puzzled confusion.

"Do you hear a bell?" she demanded of the French-spouting stranger. A secretive smile touched those perfect male lips, making her pulse jump momentarily. Then he shot the cuff back on his leather duster. Streetlight fractured and tiny rainbows glittered off a gaudy pink leather strap set with rhinestones that he wore around his wrist. A little silver bell and a small bone-shaped tag hung from the wide ring set on one side of the strap. It looked for all the world like a dog collar. One of those tacky ones for toy poodles or other inbred, nasty, yapping little lap dogs. And it looked shockingly out of place around his strong, male wrist.

"Y' mean dis bell, petite?" he said, mouth curling higher. "Makes a nice sound, non?"

She took a wary step back from him. What a strange man. He smiled wider as if amused by her caution. Okay, maybe a nutcase.

"Riight," she said, putting a fake smile on her face in return and taking another tentative step away from him. She readied herself to give him a psychic blasting if necessary.

"Where y' goin', petite?" the stranger said, a broad smile on his face now. He was watching her closely from behind those glasses, she could sense, more of that Scott Summers Experience. "No need t' be 'fraid of Remy. We share a mutual friend."

"Mutual friend?" she repeated, stupidly, suddenly even more concerned. He laughed softly, the sound intimate and seductive, sending a shiver of reluctant desire through her body. Christ, he was beautiful, she thought. Why were all the creepy guys beautiful?

"Mais oui, chere. Logan."

* * * * *

The stranger, Remy by name apparently, had led her back up the street and into the lobby of a painfully elegant apartment building. The doorman hadn't even blinked as the tall man in the black duster ushered her scruffy self into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor with a flourish.

"So, Logan's here, huh?" she said, glaring at him from the far side of the car. She wasn't sure if she trusted this guy but was fairly certain she could handle him if he decided to get frisky. Of course, she might be the one to get frisky first, she thought with a mental shrug. He was certainly good looking enough. Inside, in the warm light, she could see his hair wasn't dark, but was actually a rich auburn color, deep but with highlights of fire in it. He was tall and lean, moving with a grace and control that could have seemed feminine on anyone else but on him was simply dangerous and feline.

He nodded as the elevator came to a stop on the top floor, the doors sliding open silently. He gestured her to precede him gallantly, the tiny bell ringing incongruously on his wrist.

The door opened into a lobby that had only two doors off of it, one clearly marked "Fire Exit" the other a heavy door painted a deep red flanked by two elegant stained glass re-lights done in abstract shades of dark red and brown that somehow evoked thoughts of wicked nights and depraved sins.

"Whose place is this?" she demanded as she tripped awkwardly out of the elevator, her high heels catching on the edge of the rich rug that overlaid the polished black marble floor. A strong hand closed around her elbow, steadying her, and she felt a shock of something like concentrated desire shoot through her. Heat rushed to her loins and her legs trembled. What the hell? Her breath hissed in and she yanked her elbow out of his grasp. He gave a low chuckle, apparently amused rather than offended.

"Mine, of course," he answered quietly. She balked then, coming to an abrupt halt and glaring at him.

"I'm not that kind of girl," she snapped at him. Amusement crossed over his handsome face. She wished he'd remove his sunglasses so she could see his eyes.

"I never t'ought y' were, chere," he said quietly, reaching beyond her to open the door, not bothering with a key. The door was apparently unlocked as it swung open obediently at his touch.

"Quit givin' the man crap, Jeannie, and get yer ass in here," a harsh voice said from inside. She whirled, green eyes widening in shock and indignation.

"Logan!" she snapped, then stalked inside, forgetting all about the other man in her outrage. Sure enough, her erstwhile target was lounging inside, butt parked on the back of a low couch, a tall dark bottle clutched in his hand.

But then the interior registered and she stumbled to a halt, staring dumbly around. There was no foyer, you just walked straight into the most incredibly breathtaking main living area. White carpet and white walls. Black marble and pale wood accents. It was stark and masculine without being cold. The room was two stories tall with a huge sunken seating area covered in black leather - the same couch Logan had his arrogant ass perched on the back of - facing a wide swath of tall narrow windows that overlooked a darkened patio. Beyond was an incredible view of Central Park and the glittering Manhattan skyline. A huge alcove with a black marble dining table took up part of the right side of the room, a kitchen pass-through beyond it. To the left, a curving open stairwell led up to a recessed loft-like area separated from the room below by graceful ironwork and that contained what appeared to be a huge bed covered in black satin. Elegant art adorned the walls everywhere, discreetly illuminated. Exotic statuary and fantastic art glass gleamed on black pillars around the room. And she knew just enough to recognize that they were all probably originals.

Her stunned gaze finally came to rest on Logan's smirking face. The other man had apparently taken the time to dispose of his long coat somewhere, since he appeared at Logan's side wearing just an elegant red silk shirt and wickedly tailored black slacks. The pink dog collar was still around his wrist. He'd joined Logan in leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her from dark, amused eyes.

"I've seen this place before - in a magazine or something," she gasped, waving a hand at the room. The tall man shrugged in an elegantly casual way.

"Vraiment, one or two. Had to change most of de art for de photos, however," he said with a wicked sidelong glance at Logan. Logan gave a snort and lifted the bottle of beer to his mouth. He took a deep drink, watching her intently.

"All right, just who the hell are you, anyway?" Jean demanded, hands fisting on hips.

"Je suis desole, did I not introduce myself?" the auburn-haired man said in mock chagrin, belled hand rising to touch his lean chest before he swept her a charming little half-bow, staring deeply into her eyes. "Remy Etienne LeBeau, at your service mademoiselle."

She froze then as his eyes finally registered. They were black where they should be white. And the iris were red. Not bloodshot or injured, but honest, true red. They were eerie. They were strange. They were incredibly sexy. She found herself staring into those alien eyes, feeling the heat rising in her face yet being unable to look away. A wry, knowing smile curved his lips and she could sense his patience and underlying amusement.

"You're a mutant," she said suddenly - the only thing she could think of - the tone almost an accusation. He gave another of those elegant shrugs, the smile still firmly fixed on his lips. Logan rolled his eyes at her over his beer bottle but didn't deign to remove it from his mouth. The fathead.

"And so are you, chere," Remy LeBeau said mildly. "An' mon ami Logan. No surprises dere, henh?"

"Are you French?" she asked, shrugging off her astonishment. He straightened up and came toward her, gesturing her toward the opening in the low circle of the couch. She moved past him, shooting a glare at Logan who just smirked back at her.

"Dis an interrogation, petite? Remy prefers a little mystery in life, chere, don't you?" She took a seat on that incredible couch watching warily as Remy settled down beside her, leaning back and somehow becoming instantly and gracefully comfortable, like a cat. Logan finally stirred and stumped down into the seating area, plopping himself roughly down on the other side of her in marked contrast to LeBeau's inbred elegance.

"He's Louisiana Cajun, Red. Haven't you ever been outside New York?" The Wolverine's tone somehow managed to imply that New Yorkers were the worst kind of naive. Her hackles rose.

"What's going on here, Logan?" she demanded, suddenly fed up. Logan glanced at Remy and shrugged. Something passed between them, something intent and hot that shocked the hell out of her. If she was reading it right. Could she be? Logan?

"Since I'm livin' 'round here nowadays, thought I'd look up an old friend," Logan said, lifting the beer again. It was almost gone already. "Why, is it 'gainst the Prof's rules ta have friends?"

"Never knew you had any friends, Logan," she spat back, annoyed and feeling out of her depth suddenly. Remy laughed.

"Y' right, Logan, she a fiery one," he said, his tone dropping back down into that husky register he'd used earlier. "An' very beautiful too. I see what y' like 'bout her." The same tone that had sent sparks of desire shooting through her before did it again this time. And he was a mutant.

"Stop it, damn it," she growled, swiveling around to glare at the lounging man. "Is that your mutant power, LeBeau? Inciting lust?" He threw his head back and laughed, the sound charming and sincerely amused. Then he leveled his strange red-on-black gaze on her again and she shivered, feeling that strange, erotic pull once again.

"Non, petite," he said, voice low. He shifted forward slightly and reached into a pocket of his slacks. He pulled out what appeared to be a business card and held it between two fingers. The card began to glow with a pinkish kind of energy. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed it away, high into the air. With a sound like a firecracker, the piece of paper exploded over that lake of white carpet, just a skiff of ash left to flutter down slowly. Logan growled at him, shaking his head over the noise.

"Dat's my mutant power," the Cajun said. Then added with a mischievous grin for Logan, "Sorry, mon ami."

"S'okay," Logan grunted, shooting her an amused look, a feral grin on his face. "Incitin' lust as a mutant power, huh, Jeannie? That's good. So he does it for you, eh?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," she said, trying hopelessly to recover from her blunder. But she knew Logan wouldn't let her live it down, the jerk. Then she glanced at him curiously. He was normally a right jealous bastard. Why didn't her admitting some kind of attraction for this Remy guy bother him? "Wait, what the hell are you really doing here, Logan?"

Logan and Remy exchanged looks; Remy's was outright amused, Logan's annoyed. After a long, tense moment Logan finally shrugged.

"I'm here to fuck him, Red," he said baldly. She almost felt her jaw hit that incredible carpet.

"You. . . fuck him?" she gasped. Remy laughed outright then, the tone rich with genuine amusement.

"Oh, must be dat manly air of yours, Logan. She just can't see it. . ."

"Shut up, Cajun," Logan said with a growl. But not a serious growl. "Yer walkin' a fine line. . ."

"Oooh, y' scaring Remy now, mon ami," the other man said with a husky laugh, obviously not overly concerned about the Wolverine's famous temper. Jean leaped to her feet and glared at the both of them, hands on her hips again.

"Are you shitting me?" she demanded of Logan with a glare. He surged suddenly to his feet and caught her in his arms, mouth hard and hungry on hers all at once. Muffled sounds came from her as she tried to protest, but they were half-hearted at best. She was always hot for him. Even when she was mad at him. Especially when she was mad at him.

Her arms slid around his neck and she plastered herself against his hard body, savoring the heat and raw passion that emanated from him. But then he pulled back and turned to the side, ignoring her pathetic little sounds of protest. Remy had risen to his feet as well and come up beside them while Wolverine kissed her senseless. To her shock, Logan grabbed the other man and proceeded to kiss him senseless too. She could only stare at them, her heart pounding in her chest, her loins stirring strangely at the sight of the two men kissing passionately.

"T'ought y' came here tonight for me, mon ami," Remy said when they broke apart for air, those incredible eyes staring deep into Logan's steely gray. "Y' ready t' share?"

"I get ya both, one way or another," Logan shrugged and shot a hot, possessive look between the two of them. He did everything but lick his chops. The pig.

"Hey!" Jean snapped, annoyed by his assumption. Remy raised an amused brow at him, then glanced at Jean.

"He's an arrogant bastard, ain't he, chere?" he said coolly, then extended a hand to her with exaggerated politeness. "Would you care to join me upstairs in de bedroom, m'selle?"

She swallowed hard, thinking fast. Logan she wanted. Remy was incredible to look at, and smooth and sexy in a way completely different from Logan's rough appeal. And apparently interested in her as well. But she hardly knew him. She could do a quick scan of him, but there was never any assurance she could get a clear read on a new mutant, especially an energy converter like he was. Logan knew him. Had even called him an old friend. And, shocking as it seemed, had apparently been fucking him for a while too. That did it. If Logan could fuck this incredibly beautiful man, then she could too. She reached out and took his hand. All that contemplation had taken only the barest instant, but she knew Remy had followed it all in her eyes, mutant power or no. He gave her a reassuring, conspiratorial smile as he led her toward the stairwell.

An annoyed growl came from behind them.

"Wait a second. . ." Logan said, stalking after them. With astonishing strength, Remy swept her up in his arms and dashed for the stairs, taking them recklessly two at a time. The little bell on his wrist rang wildly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling uncontrollably from a crazy combination of lust and anticipation and fear. What if he dropped her? Or slipped? Or Logan caught them? But none of it happened and she laughed out loud as Remy cleared the last step and leaped for the bed, bouncing on his back onto the slick, wide surface with her held securely in his arms. She looked up, still giggling, to see a glowering Logan pause at the head of the stairs, hot on their heels.

"Oh, Logan, glad y' could join us, mon ami. . ." Remy said with a smirk, locking gazes with the other man. Remy wasn't even breathing that hard after their little dash up the stairs. Logan, however, was puffing. But not from the run, she knew; he was probably just pissed off. Jean smiled smugly at the glowering Wolverine too, then abruptly reared up as a thought struck her - pulling out of Remy arms, she started to frantically undo his shirt. He glanced down at her tugging fingers with a long-suffering expression on his handsome face.

"Easy dere, chere, dat's silk. . ." he murmured, amused.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," she said, giving him a sharp, hot glance. Then she was tugging the opened shirt free of his slacks, spreading the fabric wide, pushing it off his shoulders. Oh, it was so good to be right. His body was lean and hard and toned. He had to be an athlete or something to keep in that kind of shape. She chewed on her lip as she stroked down his well-defined chest to his sleekly rippled abs with a deep sigh of contentment, pausing to admire the contrast between her pale fingers and his golden-tan skin.

"God, what a fabulous body you have," she all but whimpered. She heard a growl behind her.

"Yeah, and I saw it first, babe," Logan said as one hand closed mercilessly in her short hair, tipping her head back so he could cover her mouth with a searing kiss. She felt nimble hands on her low-slung jeans then, parting the snap, sliding the zipper down to the music of the tiny bell. At the same time she felt a rough hand cupping her breast through the tight leather vest she wore. So many hands! She felt possessed and enveloped. It was wonderful.

Then Logan lifted her into the air and Remy's hands stripped her pants away after shaking her high heels off her feet. Or at least one of them, the other seemed to have gone missing earlier. Bare from the waist down, she gave a small shiver as they set her down on the cool satin cover. Logan kissing her hungrily the entire time.

The other man's hands moved from her body to Logan's giving him the same treatment, deftly opening and stripping away his pants while maneuvering around the both of them, liberally applying his own mouth to whatever body part he could reach. She shivered with delight. Then clever hands were on her, straightening her out, arranging her against Logan. Who seemed determined to weld his mouth to her own, fencing tongues with her fiercely. Finally she wrenched her mouth away to gasp for breath, her fingers clenching tightly in his wiry black hair.

"Air!" she groaned, then tipped her head back and nearly shrieked as knowing hands found her hot center and stroked her, flicking over her slick, swollen clit so suddenly and surely that she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Sensitive already, chere?" a rich voice purred. "Tsk, tsk, won't last long dat way."

"You surprised me," she murmured, mildly embarrassed. Logan grinned at her wickedly as a long hand cupped her chin and turned her face around.

"Best we get acquainted den, chere," that liquid voice murmured near her ear. Then a mink-soft fall of auburn hair caressed her face as clever lips slid firmly over her own. She sighed in delight as Remy's mouth teased and taunted her own, moving with skill and delicacy to coax a response from her where Logan's mouth was a fiery force that demanded one. Both fine reactions, but both very different. She squirmed away from Logan, turning to wrap her arms around Remy's shoulders, pressing herself up against him, eager to sample more of the taller man's skill.

And at some point while Logan had been all over her and their clothes were mostly disappearing, Remy had managed to remove his own clothes as well. And the little bell too. He was smooth warm skin to Logan's wiry hairiness. Lean and supple, like a cat indeed. Her small, high breasts strained against the confines of her leather vest and she rubbed against him like a cat herself. An amused chuckle came from the bed beside them and she darted a look over to see Logan lying on his side, head propped in one hand, grinning at the two of them like a loon.

"Hey, I just noticed, yer both red-heads."

She pulled her mouth briefly away from the heaven of Remy's to say, "Asshole." Then went right back to kissing that fabulous mouth. Her hands slid up under that fall of sleek hair, savoring it's smooth texture. A hand was sliding the hooks on her vest free, slipping inside to stroke her gently. She sighed into Remy's mouth, squirming against him. Then another hard hand was pulling her away again, drawing her down onto a familiar hairy chest. The vest she left behind, caught by a ruefully chuckling Remy.

"Hey, I wasn't done. . ." she protested weakly before Logan's mouth closed over hers again. He licked at her, tasting her, tasting the other man on her. A low growl started in his throat, then he was pushing her down, down toward his hard, hot erection. She smiled in delight, hands reaching out to cup him. "Well, why didn't you just say so. . . " she said as she stroked him eagerly. Logan groaned, eyes closing, hips thrusting up insistently into her grasp. So she bent over and took him deep into her mouth, tongue swirling around teasingly.

But as she worked on Logan, hands were caressing her. Logan's hard on her back and shoulders and neck, accompanied by little grunts of pleasure. His usual. But the other hands were gentler, more knowing, as they explored her, stroked her. She squirmed, losing her concentration on the task at hand when those amazing fingers found their way to her center, tenderly stroking the heat and moisture they found there. She heard softly muttered words in some patois behind her, then the shifting of the bed. She could see Remy bending over and kissing Logan again from the corner of her eye, even as he stroked her to near madness.

Jean tried to re-focus on Logan, her breath coming in hard gasps, her hands doing most of the work, stroking and teasing. Logan's hands fell away giving her more range. She used it well, bobbing and stroking energetically, trying to get into rhythm with her own torment. So she let out a moan around Logan's cock when the other man's hands suddenly stopped stroking her. She looked around in dismay, trying to discover why. He hadn't gone far. She could barely make out Remy standing beside the bed in all his naked glory, shaking a box of matches thoughtfully. Heavy clouds had rolled in outside, darkening the glow of the city lights through the high windows and shrouding the loft in deep shadow. For the first time she really looked around the bedroom, ignoring Logan's impatient growl below her. A single row of long, narrow shelves circled the three solid walls of the loft. And most of them were lined with candles. Candles of all sizes and colors and shapes, in holders and on saucers or in jars; burned and new. Apparently satisfied that there were enough, he opened the box, struck one and began lighting the candles.

Jean, enthralled by the idea of candlelight, left Logan gasping, his head falling back on the bed with a heavy thump, as she jumped out of bed and snatched the box from Remy's hand. He smiled down at her mischievously as she struck a match of her own and started lighting the candles on the other end of the shelf. They met in the middle, matches burned low, and lit new ones for each other, grinning at each other like children. They finally got all the candles lit, no thanks to Logan who rose from the bed, impatient with the delay, and began to fondle both of them, but Jean mostly, his hands urgent.

"Get the hell back in bed," he growled at her. "Finish what ya started, woman."

"Wait, wait, they aren't all lit," she laughed waving her arm at the other shelves, then shrieking softly as Logan scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed. Dropping her down on the slick cover he followed her down, his erection poking insistently at her thigh as he leaned over her from the side. Logan shot Remy a dark look in the new light.

"Just light 'em the usual way, Cajun," he ordered with a growl, "an' get yer skinny ass back here too."

Jean, intrigued by that comment, peered over Logan's shoulder trying to watch Remy. With a growl, Logan lowered his head to her breast, sucking hard on a nipple. She clawed at his back, his shoulders, eyes rolling wildly.

"Not fair!" she cried. Then she caught sight of Remy walking slowly along, trailing his fingertip over the wick of each candle. They gave little snapping sparks then began to burn merrily. "Oh," she said eyes wide with astonishment. She gave a half-hearted smack at Logan's back as he continued to torment her breast. "What a cool power."

"Good practice fo' control," Remy said as he finished his circuit of the room, approaching the bed from the far side, a grin tugging at his lovely mouth as he slid onto the bed. "An' I wanted t' properly appreciate dis night wit' candlelight for de lady fair . . ."

"Oooh, do you hear that, Logan? Sweet talk," she said, her tone only half teasing. He lifted his dark head and sneered at her, then reached over and ran his thumb hard over Remy's mouth.

"Better give ya something else ta do with that mouth besides yap," Logan said with a sharp grin, then curled his hand around the other man's neck and pushed him down toward Jean's thighs. She yelped as she felt first hot breath, then a clever, seeking tongue pushing between her swollen lips. Logan grinned madly at her, hand hard on the back of the other man's head, keeping him in place even though Remy showed no signs of trying to escape. His clever hands slid up her thighs, thumbs brushing lightly across the springy hair of her mons as he worked on her, making her breath stutter and catch. Glory and fire swept through her.

"Shut both of ya up," Logan grinned in satisfaction, then resumed his tormenting of her nipple. The dual approach, one mouth between her legs, the other above on her breasts made her writhe in torment, sensation spiraling out of control. She felt a rippling tremor begin at the point of contact between her legs, then the hard pulse of a deep orgasm seized her, making her arch up against the tormenting mouth. Breath froze in her throat. Hands gripped her bottom, holding her against that amazing mouth and tongue as she shivered endlessly with her release, finally falling limp and spent against those hands, drawing breath in great ragged gasps.

Both of them drew slowly away from her, Logan giving a hard snort of disgust.

"Wimp," he said. She peeled an eye open and glared at him.

"I'll get you for that," she breathed harshly. "In a minute." Remy laughed and shook his head, reaching out to trail a hand suggestively down Logan's chest.

"De femmes, dey had de advantage, mon ami," he said wryly. "More dan one in a row."

"Speak for yourself," Logan growled. Remy rolled his eyes at him, moving carefully across Jean's still trembling body to press himself against Logan. Logan wrapped a burly arm around the other man, looking deep into those strange eyes. "But nobody fucks you like I do, right Cajun?"

"Non, Logan," Remy replied huskily. He lifted his hand to Logan's face. Catching Jean's scent on that hand, Logan caught it in his mouth, sucking on those long fingers, savoring her taste overlying Remy's own. Remy groaned at the sensation, his cock pulsing between his legs, bouncing against Logan's. Logan let the long fingers slide out of his mouth, and brows lowered, he looked hard into Remy's eyes.

"Later," he promised darkly, "but first we're gonna do this little girl here until she can't stand up." Remy's lips curled in an anticipatory way and they both glanced down at the watching Jean. She felt a shiver of delicious anticipation roll through her. Uh-oh, trouble.

"Just what do you have in mind?" she murmured, staring at Logan as Remy moved purposefully toward her. Clever hands slid up her legs, lifting and spreading them wide, exposing her to the air and his touch. Her eyes fluttered closed as he stroked her carefully, testing her sensitivity. She moaned, bit her lip and ground her hips back into the bed in delight, her knees rising to cradle him. His finger swirled through her dampness, then slid lower, crossing her perineum and circling the spasming hole below.

"Gonna need some lube," Remy breathed against her raised knee. Her eyes flashed open in mild alarm. This wasn't something she'd done before, and it startled her. But Remy met her concerned gaze with his own, reassuring her somehow. "Remy never hurt y' petite. Only wanna make y' feel good. . ." She fell into that exotic gaze, entranced by his words, his husky voice and that soothing, searching finger. She felt herself relaxing, allowing him to push against her gently. She moaned out loud at the strange pressure, shifting under him restlessly. It felt surprisingly good. Better than good. Wonderful.

"Yes," she hissed, caught in his eyes, craving more. He smiled slightly, darting a look over at Logan who was watching them hungrily. He nodded, then Logan slid away. Jean moaned in dismay, wanting both of their hands on her again.

"Easy, petite," he murmured. "He be right back" His hands stroked her wetness, teasing her. They heard an angry mutter, several rattles and they looked over to see Logan pawing through the low nightstand beside the bed, searching recklessly and tossing items aside as he did so: a stiff-bristled hairbrush, a long scarlet ribbon, an emerald-green opera glove. But a plastic bottle of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup he held up with a bemused lift of an eyebrow.

"Too sticky, mon ami," Remy chuckled and shook his head, his hands warm on her thighs, keeping them spread wide. "Keep looking, it's dere." She moaned wildly, tossing her head from side to side.

"God, Logan, hurry up!" she said. With a grunt, Logan tossed a tube of lube and a small box of condoms on the bed beside her head. Remy leaned forward to retrieve them, his hard cock brushing against her thighs, making her squirm and whimper with need. She wanted someone, anyone inside her now or she was going to go mad. Her hands lifted to close on him, but were intercepted. Logan caught her, as he slid onto the bed beside them, rolling her neatly on top of him and out from under Remy. His mouth met hers again, lips harsh and devouring, hand pressed to the back of her head. She gasped and groaned at the feel of him under her, his cock between her legs rubbing at her teasingly.

Hands moved them both, pushing against her writhing. It was odd to be orchestrated, but Remy seemed to have an uncanny awareness of the exact right places to touch, to rub, to persuade. She felt his hands between Logan's and her legs, busy with something. Then she felt herself lifted and Logan's now sheathed cock guided slowly inside her pulsing heat by a sure hand. They both groaned into each other's mouths as he entered her, Remy's hands stroking each of them in turn, building them to a fever pitch of excitement without a single thrust by Logan. He just held himself still inside her, pulsing slightly. Her hands wound in Logan's wiry hair, Logan's hands hard on her neck, around her waist as they lost themselves in each other.

Jean stiffened slightly when Remy's hands returned to her rear, slick and cool. His long finger probed her tight hole carefully again, sliding in easily. She moaned. Full, she was so full. Logan already inside her, hard and firm, and now Remy's finger stretching her further. She lifted her mouth off Logan's to cry out desperately in lusty abandon. Overwhelmed. Another finger joined the first, increasing the pressure but not in a bad way. No, her mind whirled, it was good. Filled. They were filling all her empty places. The only place free was her mouth. She wanted something in there too, but there was only Logan's mouth. So she welded hers over his again, sucking desperately on his tongue.

Remy pulled his fingers slowly free and gave a low, rich laugh at the raw sound of disappointment she made.

"Want dis, petite?" he leaned over her to whisper, voice like silk, his hard sheathed cock rubbing against the back of her thighs like a taunt. She shuddered and ground herself over Logan, who caught her hips to hold her still with a deep growl. She tore her mouth away to cry out again, but unable to speak coherently, she sent a wild thought straight into Remy's mind.

//yes yes fuck me do it yes oh god yes both of you yes//

Another husky laugh, and the slick fingers returned, rubbing more lube into her, teasing her, dropping down to briefly stroke Logan's balls as well. They both moaned, Logan's thighs tensing like iron. Then there was a hard pressure against her ass, a brief spasm of fear that she wouldn't be able to stretch enough, that it would hurt horribly but it never quite did, then a slow, easy, glorious slide inside of her that made her cry out in guttural satisfaction. Deep and hard and full, both of them. Pierced and penetrated completely, she moaned wildly. Her hands clutching hard at Logan's face she savaged his mouth, tasting blood as she ground herself down on him desperately.

Remy was bent over her, his sleek hips flush against her bottom, arms over them both. Filling her, stretching her, making her wild. Logan thrust up once and she exploded into release, her body rippling uncontrollably as she tore her mouth away from his and screamed loud and long. Logan thrust again, growling and groaning, the motion sliding Remy in her as well. Too much. She screamed again, feeling the harsh pulse from Logan as he came hard too, a hand clamped on her hip, the other locked around Remy's arm.

Limp, she collapsed down on Logan, cradled in his arms, Remy still hard inside her.

"Easy, petite," he murmured, leaning over her, lips gentle on her shoulder, her back. Now that Logan had come, he was softer and the sensation less intense, but only slightly. Remy pulled out, then thrust carefully back. She groaned, clutching at Logan's shoulders as, unbelievably, she felt herself slowly spiral back up, even while her body still trembled from the last explosive release. She moaned. But he was relentless, moving steadily and firmly into her, pushing her over Logan, building a rhythm that soon sent her gasping and shaking again into ecstasy.

Then he froze, crying out as he came hard, pushed deep into her. She came yet again when she felt the throbbing pressure inside, but weakly, her body already spent and drained from earlier pleasure. Her mind whirled; sated, exhausted, just plain blown. Remy held a moment longer in her, then slid a hand down between them, making certain the condom didn't slip off as he pulled himself gently free. She hissed, stinging slightly from the unfamiliar use of her body, but content. Logan chuckled under her, the sound deep and comforting. They were both hot and sweaty and stuck together in several places. It felt nice, she thought blearily as she nestled her face on his chest.

"Good, ain't he?" Logan said smugly. Jean made a weak raspberry sound - little more than air blown past throbbing lips, and a wide, stupid smile plastered itself on her face.

"No, not good at all," she protested with a sigh. "Fabulous, maybe, incredible, amazing. . .oh, hell, get a dictionary."

"Why t'ank you, chere," Remy said in his honey-smooth voice, sliding his arm around her as he settled himself down beside the two of them, propped on one arm so that he could look at them both. Logan turned his head to stare into the other man's eyes possessively. Remy smiled back, his hand stroking lightly down the back of the woman held in Logan's arms, his eyes glittering with promise.

And Jean, sated, satisfied and secure, slipped into exhausted sleep, cradled between both men, oblivious for now to their hungry stares.

* * * * *

"T'encule moi!" The harshly spoken words woke Jean from the light doze she'd fallen into. She blinked sleepily at the two men where they were now crouched over the end of the bed, Remy pressed underneath Logan, lean, masculine bodies gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

"God, I hate it when ya talk French," Logan snarled, leaning over the other man, crushing him hard into the edge of the bed. His movements were harsh, his touch ungentle as she knew he couldn't be with her. He manhandled Remy, who rose easily to the challenge. They were both feral and savage and beautiful she thought with an inward surge of awe; Logan in his borderline-berserker way, Remy like a great cat only thinly domesticated. The demonic gaze that flashed hotly over a shoulder at Logan was filled with need and frustration and just a hint of indulgence.

"I said, 'fuck me' an' y' know it, bastard," Remy panted, eyes narrowing as he ground his lean hips back toward Logan.

With a savage smile Logan positioned himself against the other man's ass with one hand then pushed firmly and relentlessly inside. Remy groaned deeply; his eyes fluttered shut and those incredibly skilled hands of his clenched hard on the rumpled satin spread in front of him. He let out a short cry when Logan seated himself all the way and held deep inside him, giving him a moment to adjust. Then Remy took a gasping breath, and began to moan; as if on cue the long, supple body began to slowly writhe, fucking itself on the other man. Logan groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he savored the motion of the man under him. Then he stroked his hands down Remy's sides, to his ass and around to his front, grabbing his straining erection and stroking it hard.

"All ya had ta do was say so, Cajun," Logan leaned forward to purr against Remy's ear. The younger man shuddered under him, groaning as Logan stroked him again with a hard hand. "In English, then I'm glad ta oblige." Then Logan began to move, hips thrusting hard and firm in a rhythm she recognized, feeling an answering pulse start inside her just to witness it. He could keep that up for a long time, she knew. It looked as if Remy was familiar with it too. He writhed and groaned and sweated with abandon underneath the straining Logan, face flushed, body trembling as Logan so obligingly fucked him.

Jean lay near the head of the bed, pleasantly exhausted, watching them, feeling her once-sated desire stir again. Why watching them was so much fun she wasn't prepared to analyze right then. Logan was a cheating bastard, after all. Even cheating with another man of all things. But she was feeling so amazingly lazy and satisfied and turned on that there wasn't anything short of a Sentinel attack that could ruin her good mood right then.

And maybe later, when she got her strength back, she'd join in again.

They did have all the rest of the night.



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