The Twelve Days of Christmas
Angyl and Orithain
Disclaimers: They belong to Marvel Comics, but don't you think they'd be much happier with us?
"Hey, Wolvie, wait up!" Jubilee Lee came barreling out of the front door of Xavier's School for Gifted Children, snapping her gum and pulling on her jacket. "I wanna go into town too, got some shoppin' to do, and this mall baby is missing her home turf!"
"Sorry, darlin', but this is a solo shoppin' spree. Stormy and the girls are heading to the mall this afternoon. I'm headin' to another part o' town. Wanna look at some bike parts and get a brew or somethin'," Logan replied as he pulled his cowboy hat lower over his brow and hopped into his jeep. "I promise t'take ya shopping next weekend tho', okay?"
Jubilee's eyes narrowed as she watched the jeep peel out of the driveway, hell bent for leather. "Ain't no way a carburetor is gonna get your guns off like that, Mr. Full-of-horse-pucky Logan. Wonder what her name is?" the teenager sighed as she chomped on her gum and went back inside. So much for a day out with her Wolvie, she thought glumly. Ah well, there was always next week.
Logan popped in a CD and gunned the engine, leaving Salem Center and Westchester, New York far behind. He had his own brand of shopping to do, and he knew just the area to do it in. However, for the sort of spree he had in mind, he had to be in Manhattan, and there was no way he was draggin' the kid to that area of town. If Charlie and the others didn't skin him, well, there was no way he'd do it, no way and no how. He'd helped raise too many young women not to know any better.
Which reminded him, he needed to pick up somethin' for Kitty too, it bein' the last day of Hanukah and all. His little punkin' had grown up just like he thought she would. A real lady, and one who could kick serious ass when she needed to. He'd done all right by her for sure. But that would be on his way back through Westchester, in a nice little store along a nice little street, or maybe even in Manhattan along 5th Avenue. He could even stop at FAO and get something for Jubilee to get her out of her pout. And then he had some wrappin' to do.
Heavy-eyed and in desperate need of his first cup of coffee of the day, Gambit strolled into the dining room of the mansion, wrapped in a silk robe and trailing smoke behind him. He woke quickly when he spotted a gaily-wrapped package at his usual place at the table, and forsaking his quest for caffeine, he headed straight for the mysterious box.
"Someone playin' wit' dis Cajun," he muttered even as a pleased smile quirked his lips.
Sitting down, he ripped the paper off, absently noting that someone had taken a bit of time and effort to wrap it as perfectly as any professional gift-wrapper in paper showing - what else? - a partridge in a pear tree. When he removed the top of the gold foil box, his eyes widened, and he slammed it closed again, looking around furtively to see if any of the younger X-men were nearby.
A cock ring! Someone had given him a cock ring!
Remy felt his body respond slightly to the idea behind the gift, and he bit back a soft moan. Whoever it was certainly had his attention!
Logan sauntered out of the kitchen wearing a pair of cut-off denims and a pair of sneakers. He was one of the few X-Men, the others being Stormy and Iceman, who didn't get cold easily. Storm had her own internal thermometer thanks to her weather-witch abilities, and Bobby, well, when he used his mutant ability, he turned into a human popsicle.
Logan just didn't feel the cold as intensely as everyone else, and he often wandered around in the dead of winter wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, even to go outside. Something to do with his mutant healing factor, he was sure. Hell, he slept naked every day of the year 'cause he got too hot otherwise, so it always amused him to see other folk, like the Cajun, chattering their teeth and turnin' blue. However, this morning the Cajun was a rather fiery shade of red.
Eyeing the young man he'd taken to defending and partnering up with more times than not, Wolverine smiled a rather feral smile. "Somethin' interestin' in that box, Gumbo? It's got ya lookin' as red as yer eyes. It's gotta be worth a looksee then," he continued as he made a grab for the ornately wrapped present.
Emitting a snarl worthy of Wolverine at his most feral, Remy snatched the box back out of reach, clutching it to his chest. "It's for Remy, not a nosy Wolverine," he snapped, rising from his chair to make his escape. Coffee would have to wait. This had to be put away before anyone else got too curious for Remy's own good.
"Fuck, what bit your butt this mornin', Gumbo?" Logan retorted, at the verbal attack. "Sheesh, I was just playin' with ya. Like I'd ever invade another person's privacy!" Offended, the Canadian stood up and stalked out of the room, muttering under his breath about rude-mannered Cajuns and that he was spending the day down in the Blackbird's hanger, overhauling its engine if anyone cared.
"Logan! Ah merde," Remy said feelingly. He would have to make it up to Logan later; he hadn't meant to be rude, but he didn't want to share this.
Glancing down at the box clutched to his chest, Gambit started to smile again. He could hardly wait till the next day to find out if there would be another gift... and maybe a clue to who sent it.
First though, he had to get dressed, get some coffee and go apologize to a cranky man with claws. Maybe two cups of coffee.
Logan looked up from where he was sitting at the table the next morning, in Remy's spot. Tossing the package up in the air one more time, he gave Gambit a toothy grin. "Looks like ya got an admirer in th' house, Cajun. Present number two, complete with turtledoves on th' paper. An' it rattles when it's tossed. Wonder what it could be."
This time fully dressed and in the dining room at an unprecedented early hour for him, Remy stood uneasily shifting from one foot to the other. He desperately wanted that package, wanted to know what was in it and if the giver had signed her name this time, but it didn't look like Logan was going to hand it over any time soon.
"If anyone likes this Cajun, it be news to Remy," he replied. "Just someone gettin' into the Christmas spirit, cher." He moved a little closer, hoping to be able to get the small box away without facing adamantium claws.
"Yeah? Seems ta' me you're the only one gettin' any. Christmas spirit, that is," Logan replied, standing up and tossing the box to the younger man in one smooth motion. "Later, this kid stuff is way too saccharine for me. Think I'll talk to Charlie about headin' up north for a while. Hate this time of year, way too... nice."
Heading out of the dining room towards Charles Xavier's study, Logan permitted himself one brief smile.
Not about to repeat yesterday's fiasco, Remy headed back to his room to open the package in private. Practically running upstairs, he ignored the startled expressions on various faces when the other X-men saw him up and about at this hour, not stopping until he was safely inside his room with the door locked.
He sat down on the bed and shook the package near his ear. Logan was right; it did rattle. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, he tore the wrappings off and opened the box.
This time he whimpered.
The verse might not scan right, and he didn't actually have another cock ring, but the sender's message was coming through loud and clear. Remy could hardly wait to find out who was behind this.
Logan sat in front of the security console in the heart of the underground and 'other' section of Xavier's school for gifted students, read mutants, a bottle of Molson Canadian cradled in one of his hands, and fiddled with the controls and various and sundry screens until he found what he was looking for.
The lower levels belonged to the Mutant 'superhero' team known as the X-Men, a team he belonged to, and housed all their equipment, toys, weapons, training facilities, medical bays, laboratories and, most importantly, Cerebro, the central brain of the facility, which only Charles Xavier and Jean Grey could use. A machine that augmented telepathic abilities and allowed the X-men a window to the world and a way to be alerted to potential problems. Problems such as the one that had arisen in the early hours of the morning and had sent half of the X-Men hurtling out of their beds, ready for action.
It was now well past midnight, and all the kiddies were sound asleep. Gold Team had just gotten back half an hour ago. He'd been grounded from this mission because Magneto had been spotted at the target zone, and everyone knew what the Master of Magnetism could do to his adamantium bones.
Instead he'd spent the day sparring in the Danger Room and tinkering with his jeep. Curiosity, however, had pulled him down to the monitoring room an hour ago, and he'd waited for the team to return, wanting to see what had happened and what the general mood was. Boy, did he get an eyeful. Now for the payoff. Putting his motorcycle boot-clad feet up and leaning back, the oft times feral mutant relaxed back in the chair to watch the show via live feed.
Remy headed straight for his room when the team returned to the mansion, his foul mood of the entire day charging the air around him and making everyone keep their distance. He couldn't believe how much it had bothered him when he hadn't received an anonymous gift that morning, but it seemed his secret admirer had had enough of the joke.
Snarling, Gambit slammed and locked the door behind himself, flicking a charged card at a small table in one corner. When the dust and splinters cleared, he glared at the spot. "Didn't like dat ole table nohow."
His fine features set in a pout, though he would deny it to his dying day, the Cajun started toward his bed and stopped dead. Sitting there, right in the center of the king-size bed, was another package, again wrapped in paper reflecting the appropriate day.
"Someone teasin' dis Cajun!" he grumbled. Still, the gift was there, and it would be a shame not to open it...
Pouncing, he ripped the paper off and opened the boxes, a wide smile splitting his face at the contents. Inside, nestled on their bed of festive tissue paper, were seven collars, ranging from a narrow leather one that could pass for a necklace to a wide band with spikes, a tag - blank! - and a D-ring for the leash that also lay in the box.
Grinning wickedly, Remy started to sing:
"On the seventh day of Christmas
Laughing, he sprawled on the bed with a box he pulled out of the nightstand drawer, examining the contents, which included all the previous gifts.
"Dis just keeps gettin' more interestin' every day."
Changing the monitor back to its original setting, Logan switched it off and stood up, only to run into Scott Summers as he entered the room.
"Something I can help you with, Wolverine?" Scott asked, eyebrow arching behind the ruby quartz glasses and his voice deceptively sweet. They were oil and a match, he and Summers, and while they had settled most of their differences long ago, there was still one major one. Summers thought Logan was still panting after his wife, Jean Grey Summers.
"Just makin' sure ya got in all right, Cyke, and checking out the damage I'm gonna have to repair," Logan replied congenially as he sidled past the team leader and sauntered down the hall, whistling a tune as he went.
Scott shook his head and took a seat at the monitor, wanting to run through his nightly routine of making sure the house was locked down and the perimeter armed, the tune Logan had been whistling playing over and over in his head, somehow familiar.
'It's The Twelve Days of Christmas, Scott. Now come to bed,' Jean admonished softly.
On the tenth day of Christmas, after adding edible body paint and nine rather large vibrators to his collection, Remy returned to his room after breakfast to find another box waiting for him on his bed. Not bothering to lock the door in his haste to get at it, he sat cross-legged beside the package and ripped it open.
Seeing the contents, his eyes widened and his body hardened. A string of ten anal beads. He picked them up, measuring the diameter of the balls with his fingers, and a tiny, hungry whimper escaped him. Taken all together, the gifts seemed to add up to a man, and Remy hoped he was right and that they meant what he thought they did.
"Hey, Gumbo, was wondering if you wanted t'work up a sweat in the Danger... What the fuck are those?" Logan asked, eyes wide as he took in the red and green balls linked together by a leather cord. "Y'know, on second thought I really don't wanna know. I think... I think I'm gonna go into town and grab a brew or somethin', see ya!"
Turning a bright scarlet, Remy appeared about to combust from pure embarrassment. "Dieu! Dat man has d'worst timin' dis Cajun ever saw!" Getting away from the mansion sounded like a very good idea to him just then, and he just hoped Logan didn't tell anyone about what he'd seen. He'd let Cyke know how to reach him if necessary and get away till morning; he had to be back to see the next gift. He smiled.
It had been a long-standing tradition in the X-Mansion that the adults opened their presents on Christmas Eve and let those teenagers who spent the holidays at the school, the orphans, the runaways, and those who, upon finding out they were mutants, found themselves without a family, open their presents in the morning. It had been a way to give everyone a sense of normalcy and being part of a real family.
The rec room was littered with paper, and the X-Men were surrounded by their presents and good cheer. It was one of those rare things in their world, a peaceful night, as if the mutants of the world both good and bad had declared an old-fashioned armistice for a night of joy.
Logan had his arm wrapped around Kitty Pryde, the first X-teen he'd helped mold into womanhood and was laughing as Nightcrawler 'bamfed' from woman to woman with a ball of mistletoe in his hand, stealing kisses where he could. Jean was curled in Scott's lap talking to the professor, and Peter Rasputin, Colossus, was busily sketching the couple. Over in another corner Storm and Rogue were comparing their outfits, and Bobby Drake, Iceman, and Cannonball, or Sam Gutherie, had teamed up to tackle Hank McCoy, aka Beast.
The only one who seemed a little off tonight was Remy. "Hey, Gumbo, thanks for the shirts, how'd ya know plaid was my favorite color?" he teased good-naturedly, his eyes dancing with humor and something indefinable.
Disappointed that the long-awaited twelfth gift hadn't been delivered yet, Remy still put a good face on the day. It wasn't the first time that his mysterious admirer had waited till late to present the gift, so he might yet find out who was behind the romantic campaign. And hopefully put the previous day's gift of flavored lubricants to good use!
"Not too hard, Wolvie, since dat's about all you ever wear," Remy smiled. "And t'anks for the cards, nice to see some I won't be t'rowin' at folks." He stood up gracefully.
"And it's past dis Cajun's bedtime, so g'night and merry christmas!"
The X-mansion was as still as the one in the Christmas poem this early in the morning, the younger members long asleep and the adults only recently gone. Dawn was a few hours away and with it the squealing of happy kids with their new gadgets and gizmos. However, there was still one more gift to be delivered before Christmas morning dawned.
The silent slide of a lock being disconnected and the swoosh of a door opening did not wake the form sound asleep on the bed. Not even when sheets were lifted off and another body slid in next to him did Remy stir from his sleep. It was only when a hard, male mouth covered his that those haunting red eyes snapped open.
"And on the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, twelve bone-melting orgasms," Logan purred, nudging the impressive length of his erect cock against Remy's hip.
He had to be asleep, dreaming! It was impossible that Wolverine, the most incredibly - deliciously - masculine man he'd ever met, wanted him.
"You... I..." the Cajun stuttered, blinking. Finally deciding that if Logan had kissed him, kissing him back had to be acceptable, Remy leaned in to give Wolverine a kiss that used every ounce of sensual skill he'd ever learned.
Long, breathless moments later, Logan pulled back and licked his lips hungrily, panting. "Y'seem surprised t'see me here, Gumbo. Expecting someone else, were ya? McCoy maybe? Didn't know ya had a thing for blue fur, or I woulda made sure the cuffs were lined with some."
A momentary mental image of the sweet but blue-furred man had Gambit doubled over with laughter. "Non, Remy don't got a t'ing for Hank," he finally gasped out. "Just never figured you for bein' interested in Remy." He moved closer. "Not complainin' dough."
"I sure as hell hope not since I wanna see you with each and every one of those gifts on you or in you at one point or another. Just not tonight. Still got the final present ta give ya, don't I? Twelve bone-melting orgasms," Logan purred before licking his way down Remy's chest and going down on the Cajun's cock like someone starved for meat.
Remy's back arched like a strung bow, and he yowled like a cat in heat when Logan's voracious mouth latched onto him. Sweet Lord, he's done this before! His fingers clenched in the bedding to prevent himself from ripping Logan's hair out in clumps. After the anticipation of the last twelve days, it took only a short time with that talented mouth on him for him to cry out as he came.
"Dat one," he panted, grinning wickedly.
"Countin' now, are we?" Logan chuckled, his voice huskier than usual. "So where'd ya stash the lube, Gumbo, that's one thing you are goin' ta be needin' tonight," the older mutant purred. Grabbing the first bottle he could after Remy had opened the night table drawer to reveal his eleven other gifts, Wolverine unsheathed a claw and summarily relieved the younger man of his sleep pants, enjoying the way Gambit quivered as the adamantium touched his flesh.
Getting an idea, Logan returned to the drawer and rummaged around until he found what he wanted. Unfastening the buckle, he slid the thin leather collar around his lover's throat and buckled it so that it was tight enough to make its presence constantly known but loose enough not to constrict. "Yer mine now, Gumbo," Logan growled softly. "When we wake up again, I'll have the tag engraved as it should be: Logan's pet."
"Remy nobody's pet!" the other mutant growled, half pulling away. "Not gonna be some toy for you to play wit' whenever you want!" Much as he wanted Logan, no way was Gambit going to make himself into some kind of submissive non-entity.
"My pet, my partner, my lover, my love, my other half, my friend, my heart, my soul, my angel, my devil, my saint, my sinner, my everything," Logan replied quietly, his heart visible in his eyes. "I don't want a slave, I don't want a toy - I want a partner and a lover. Someone I can play with. Someone who'll play with me. In other words, I want you and no other."
Eyes wide and jaw slack, Remy stared at the other man. "Oh." He blinked a few times, not knowing what to say, then smiled slowly. "Well, you gotta give dis Cajun some time to get up to speed, cher. Didn't let myself hope it was you. But Remy's glad it was." He kissed Logan hungrily, then leaned back to smile at him.
"Remy not going to be very scary to d'bad guys wearin' a tag dat says pet. How 'bout just 'Logan's'?"
"'Logan's'. Has a catchy ring, I like it," Logan grinned, tweaking the younger man's nipple playfully. "I'll just call ya pet in the bedroom, when I'm buried balls deep inside ya, fuckin' ya senseless, how about that?" the other man continued, bringing Remy's hand down and wrapping it around his erection. "So, ya think ya can take me, darlin'?" Logan continued, reaching for the bottle of lube, "Then get me wet for ya."
Remy eagerly took the lube from his lover, hungry to have Logan inside him. He sat up, pushing the covers down so he could see the other man, and his eyes widened when he saw just how well endowed the other mutant really was. "Quel homme!" Even more anxious, if that was possible, he hurriedly slicked Logan, then eyed him. "Dat mean you gonna get me ready?" he purred.
"In a manner of speakin'" Logan laughed, flipping the other man onto his stomach and raising his ass in the air. Spreading Remy's cheeks, Logan dove in and began lick and rim his lover hungrily, using a lifetime's worth of experience to drive his lover out of his mind and perhaps get Remy to orgasm just from having Logan's tongue buried in his ass.
Muffled wails were Remy's response to the mind-blowing pleasure of Logan rimming him, muffled only because he had a wrist shoved into his mouth to prevent the entire mansion from hearing him. He'd thought Logan'd been exaggerating with his talk of twelve orgasms, but considering that he hadn't even come yet and Remy was already trembling on the brink of the second... well, he was going to be one drained Cajun the next day!
Logan drove his tongue deeper, driving Remy higher and higher until the Cajun crashed over the edge of climax and, when the young man was still trembling in reaction, scythed into his tight wet heat, drawing Remy back against his chest so that he was straddling Logan's lap.
"Didja ever stop to wonder just what a mutant healing factor means when havin' sex?" he purred into his lover's ear, nipping at it then blowing softly. "It means ya got yerself a real life energizer Wolverine - I just keep fuckin' and fuckin' and fuckin' no matter how many times I come," he continued with a low chuckle. "Still wanna keep me around?" he asked, thrusting upwards slightly, letting Remy feel the thick length of Logan shift and move inside him.
A tiny whimper escaped the other man, and he leaned back against Logan, his hands clutching at Wolverine's heavy thighs. "Mon Dieu, you gonna kill dis Cajun wit' pleasure," he moaned. "You gonna have ta do d'work dis time, cher; you wore Remy out!" Despite his words, his inner muscles were rippling and clenching at the shaft impaling him.
"Darlin', this ain't nothin' compared t'how yer gonna be come mornin'," Logan replied, voice full of dark promise, as he began to thrust lazily, controlling his hunger for the moment. This first time when Remy was still adjusting to his width and his length, he'd go easy on his pet. But after Remy was used to the ride... Logan growled hungrily, his teeth snapping near Gambit's ear, reminding the younger man that there was a feral man-beast trapped just beneath the surface.
The sky outside Remy's window gradually began to get lighter and lighter. When dawn finally broke the horizon, the young man was clutching desperately at his headboard, face pressed into the pillows, his hair in disarray, sweat pouring off his body and his eyes flashing wildly. Behind him, Logan slammed into his body over and over, his hand wrapped around Remy's cock, milking it for one last, weak orgasm, the twelfth one of the night.
The room reeked of sweat and sex and lubricant and Remy's pheromones, and Logan was in heat. His mate, his to claim and mark and take and taste whenever and as often as he could. Bending, Logan nipped once more at Remy's shoulder, adding yet another lovebite to the dozens already peppered over the Cajun's back. Had it not been for Logan's healing factor, he too would have been covered with bite marks and scratches along his back, Remy having drawn blood on at least four separate occasions in his own passion to claim Logan as his mate.
"Tell me again, who do ya belong to, Remy, lemme hear you scream it when ya come."
His body spasming yet again, Remy did scream Logan's name as he came, shuddering with a sensation that was almost more pain than pleasure. He would never have believed he could come this many times in only a few hours, but Logan's healing factor did let him go forever, and he dragged his partner along with him. Not that Remy was complaining, no sir!
Weak and exhausted, he collapsed forward, facedown in the pillows. "Remy done, cher," he panted. "You want more, you gonna have to do it wit'out me."
Logan chuckled and gently rolled the spent, satiated, and totally wrecked man onto his back. Gone was the always stylish dandy who never had a hair out of place and looked like he'd just stepped out of GQ. Instead Remy looked like a wanton, reeked like a whore, and had never looked more beautiful to Logan's jaded eyes.
Lowering his head, the Canadian began to lick his way from Remy's neck down to his totally spent cock, cleaning his lover with his tongue before levering himself off the bed. "I'll be right back, darlin', I promise," he husked, padding into the bathroom and running Remy a jacuzzi bath complete with oil and bubbles.
Coming back to the bed, he picked his mate up and, returning to the bathroom, deposited the younger man into the tub. "You soak an' I'll change the sheets and leave a message for Charlie t'start the festivities without us, then come back an' join ya."
Later, both men scrubbed clean and tucked under the covers, Remy in the older man's arms and against his chest, Logan kissed the top of his lover's head. "Merry Christmas, darlin', just wait 'til you see what I've got planned for next year."
And for those who want to know what Remy got:
On the twelfth day of Christmas
~ Merry Christmas from Angel & Ori! ~