I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

Logan’s deep, even breathing and warm breath fanning out over Remy’s neck eased him into a restful, peaceful sleep. He felt safe and sheltered with his boyfriend’s bulk pressed along his back, knees curled into his. Their night of passion fueled his dreams, filling his mind with visions that made him content, indeed.



The visions rolled out toward him from the fog of his subconscious, one by one, and he realized that they were memories of how his relationship with the burly feral began, and how it continued to blossom. He heard every word of their exchanges, remembered every smile, every frown when they argued, and relived the flushed, bleary expressions of pleasure and fulfillment that claimed Logan’s craggy features whenever they made love.



*



The scent of beer tickled his nostrils when he heard the caps pop off from two bottles. Remy thought he was the only one in the house, so he jerked in his seat. The sports page rattled in his grip as he spun around to see Logan smirking at him from the refrigerator.



“Jumpy, much?” he tsked. The feral was sneaky and quiet, even more than Remy himself.



“Jus’ deep in t’ought, mec.”



“Deep in the Knicks’ scores,” he countered. Automatically he handed Remy one of the beers and the stool he grabbed for himself scraped across the floor toward the kitchen island. He sat across from Remy and took a long, thirsty pull of his Molson and sighed in contentment.



“What’re ya doin’ home? T’ought ya’d be out raisin’ hell.”



“I could ask ya the same, Gumbo. Surprised the ladies ain’t blowin’ up yer phone.”



“S’unlisted,” Remy shrugged. His eyes were amused over the neck of his beer bottle as he took a gulp. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ stayin’ in.” Logan’s lips twitched.



“Didn’t say there was anything wrong with it, kid.” Remy sounded slightly defensive, and there was a hint of annoyance in his garnet red eyes. “Didn’t feel like sprucin’ up fer anyone myself.” Despite that confession, Logan actually looked fine. He wore his broken-in, faded Levi’s and a black wifebeater. His feet were comfortably bare, and his hair was tousled and damp from a shower. He looked fresh and relaxed; Remy approved. He was just as undressed in his black and green plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt.



“Jus’ get outta de Danger Room?”



“Yep.”



“Coulda told me. Wouldna minded a tumble.”



“Guess I assumed I was alone.” Logan sounded rueful. Remy cleared his throat and set down the paper, abandoning his stool.



“Ain’t gonna get in yer way.” As he turned, strong, warm fingers clapped around his wrist and halted his retreat. Remy jerked around and stared at him, confused by the odd mix of emotions he felt from his friend. Logan frowned.



“What’s yer rush?”



“Ya can have de sports page. M’done wit’ it.”



“I ain’t in any hurry ta read it.” Logan’s fingers tightened around him when Remy attempted to leave again. The contact between them made him tingle, suddenly, and he felt his cheeks flush hotly. Logan felt his pulse jump in his wrist.



So he hadn’t been off-base in his guess, after all.



“If ya wanna be alone, I won’ get in de way.” But Remy was reluctant to leave. As an empath, he craved the presence of human emotions around him, and now that he knew he had company, he felt more comfortable, particularly around the Wolverine. Call him a killer, call him a spy, call him a hard-ass and a Canucklehead, but Logan was genuine and the kind of friend Remy wanted in his corner. And Logan had always delivered.



Logan glanced down at their hands, and he released him, clearing his throat. “Where ya goin?”



“Dunno.”



“Get out the cards. Lemme beat ya at poker.”



“Go ya one betta. Let’s hit de pool table.” Logan grinned.



“Yer on.” Remy grinned back, pleased to have some company to fill his lonely hours instead of having to lull himself to sleep with late night talk shows or his iPod. They headed to the formal den and game room, and Remy grabbed them two cues, tossing Logan one. Logan racked up the balls neatly and let Remy break first. Remy bent over the table, lined up his shot using a knuckle rest, drew back his cue gracefully, and then sent the balls scattering across the table.



He felt Logan’s eyes on him as he took his second turn, since he’d sunk two balls. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered.



“If it makes ya feel any better, keep on believin’ dat.” Remy easily knocked the red striped ball into the left side pocket. He took two more turns before he scratched, which made him curse under his breath. Logan chuckled. It was a raspy, deep…yummy sound.



“Yer cocky, kid.”



“Been runnin’ de table since I wuz a kid, mec.”



“Hate ta ruin yer track record,” Logan shrugged, and he winked at him over his shoulder as he took his first shot. He made a pretty bank shot and knocked two balls into the right corner pocket. The cue ball wavered slightly before it paused obediently on the felt, perilously close to a scratch. Remy whistled.



“Smooth.”



“Like a baby’s butt.” Logan took over the table and won the game, and he fetched them two more beers before he gloated any further. Remy was already racking up another set and chalking his cue.



“Double or not’in’?”



“If ya wanna bet, I’m game.”



“Jus’ gonna take ya ta school. Show ya how a real pro uses his stick.”



Logan choked on his sip of beer, sputtering and coughing. Remy cackled and swept over to whack him soundly on the back. He felt solid, and his skin was hot. Remy’s smile faltered briefly and he backed off.



“Yer tryin’ ta kill me.”



“T’ink ya’ll heal, mec.” Logan’s brows beetled, but a hint of a smile toyed with the corner of his mouth. Logan went first this time, and Remy ignored his shot in favor of watching his form. Logan used a different grip, and he leaned down closer to the table when he sized up his shot. There was a strong look of concentration on his face, his blue eyes focused only on the ball. He knocked the ball cleanly into the triangular stack with a hard “CLACK!” and straightened up with satisfaction.



But not before Remy caught a glimpse of his ass while he was still bent over. The jeans were snug around his undercurves when he struck that pose, and he had to push down the frisson of arousal he felt, averting his eyes until Logan called his name.



“Ya gonna zone out on me? Am I borin’ ya, Rem?”



“Nah.” Logan took his next shot, and he paused a moment before he drew back his cue.



“See who gets a lesson in usin’ a stick,” he murmured, chuckling. He let the shot fly, but he drew up short when he caught a whiff of Remy’s scent.



It was rich with musky pheromones, and he could tell the kid was agitated, even hot and bothered. He bent to take his next shot, eyeing the solid green, but he paused again and caught Remy’s eyes guiltily swing away from their object of interest. “Cajun? Didja just look at my ass?”



Remy mumbled something unintelligible as he took a hasty gulp of his beer. “Take yer shot, mec.”



“I didn’t catch that last part.”



“Never mind. Wuzn’t important.”



“Guess I’ll take yer word for it. But if ya don’t mind my sayin’ so, at first glance, it looked like ya were givin’ me the eye.”



“Remy’s a gentleman. Keeps his eyes ta ‘imself, unless dere’s somet’in’ someone wants ‘im t’see.” Logan “hmphed” under his breath and took his next shot, but he felt like Remy’s eyes were at his back again. He scratched. “Crap.”



Remy was put out. He wanted to watch him bend over the table again, and he moistened his mouth with another sip of his Molson, hoping Logan didn’t notice him drooling. He looked damn good, radiating masculinity and hearty, good health. Logan’s body was compact and rippling with muscle, and his skin was ruddy and tanned, slicked with a fine layer of dark hair. But he went back to the game, drawing up his stick over his shoulder until it was almost perpendicular with the table for a tricky, short-range shot.



The angle of his body showed off his abs and how they tensed with his movements; the veins and tendons of Remy’s muscular arms stood out in sharp relief as he drew back the cue and released, eyes twinkling with satisfaction. His pajama bottoms… damn those pants. They hung perilously low on his narrow hips, nearly showing the indents of his groin from above the waistband.



“And the master is BACK,” Remy crowed triumphantly, but when he looked up at Logan, his blue eyes were smoldering with tension, and Remy felt his frustration, mingling with something else.



Lust. It was heady and intoxicating, something he couldn’t blame on the beer. “Mec?” he murmured. “What’re ya lookin’ at?” Logan took his beer and downed it, then slammed it down on the frame of the table. He wiped his hand across his mouth and took a deep breath.



“You.”



Remy didn’t remember even setting down his pool cue; he had a dim impression of it being yanked from his grip and thrown aside with a clatter. “Mec?” Logan was done with talk. He barged into Remy’s personal space, and his beefy hands locked around Remy’s hips. Remy felt the shock of such demanding, intimate contact, not believing that Logan would take such liberties. Remy stumbled back against the edge of the table, and he felt himself shoved – lifted – back until he sat on top of it. There was a dangerous gleam in Logan’s blue eyes, and Remy’s stomach knotted up with anticipation as Logan barged up against him again, so close his breath was tickling Remy’s chin.



“Shut up an’ hold still,” he ordered, and Remy made a startled sound when Logan’s fingers tangled themselves in his hair, balling it up at his nape, using it to pull Remy’s lips down to his. He proceeded to maul them, stealing away Remy’s breath and his ability to think. Logan’s mouth…Dieu, that mouth. Now he knew why the women in the mansion forgave him his bluntness and some of his more crass antics. He merely kissed them into submission, and Remy was thrilled that it was his turn. His body responded to Logan’s rough, insistent touch and the teeth that were raking over his bottom lip, urging him to open for him. Logan sucked on his lip, savoring his flavors, and his tongue swept inside that mouth that drove him crazy all night, just by staring at it. He knew Remy caught him looking.



He couldn’t help it anymore. His hands tightened around Remy’s hips, nails digging into his flesh through the thin flannel, and Remy moaned in approval. His heels slid up and down the backs of Logan’s legs, enjoying the feel of his worn denims and the powerful muscles underneath. Remy’s hands combed through Logan’s tousled hair, craving its coarse, wavy texture, and his nails grazed Logan’s scalp as he massaged it. It was a sensual experience, feeling all of him flush against his body, smelling his masculine scent mingled with beer and whatever shampoo he’d used, He wrapped his arms around that sturdy neck, and he gasped when Logan’s mouth slid down his jaw to his neck, fastening his teeth around his pulse.



“Damn it, cher,” Remy hissed. “What’re ya doin’ ta Remy?”



“Teachin’ ya how the master uses his stick,” Logan grumbled over his flesh. He silenced him with another hungry, sloppy kiss, and pleasure surged through Remy’s veins as Logan began peeling him out of his pants. Remy cursed in surprise when Logan’s fingers reached into the waistband and found him, throbbing and leaking with need. He gripped him snugly as he drew off the offending bottoms, letting them hammock Remy’s knees. The feel of the cold wood beneath his bare ass was a shock, but Remy bucked up into Logan’s grip, craving more.



The sight of the Cajun naked as a newborn made Reason hang up the “Closed” sign on Logan’s brain’s front window. He was perfect, squirming and arching into his kiss as he dragged his mouth down his throat, over his chest, pausing to tease one tannish nipple with his teeth. Remy leaned back on the heels of his hands, using the table felt to support himself, and his whole body shuddered when Logan took him inside his hot, needy mouth.



Logan breathed Remy’s scent deeply into his lungs, and his flavors were like a drug, thoroughly male, fresh and ripe. His skin felt like silk, but his cock was hard, throbbing as he swallowed him, buffeting and caressing him with the damp inner walls of his mouth. He jerked the pajama bottoms off and let them fall to the floor, and Logan let his hands rove over his supple body, mapping out every slope and plane with his palms and calloused fingertips. Remy’s long legs hooked themselves over Logan’s shoulders and he let himself lean back against his elbows. His head tipped back in ecstasy at the feel of him, at the sight of that dark head bobbing up and down over his crotch.



“Wan’ you,” Remy grunted. Logan hummed in agreement around him, and the vibrations nearly pushed him over the edge.



Logan only released him long enough to swat the remaining balls off the table impatiently, letting all of them fall into the pockets without keeping score. The triangle and chalk were flung to the floor, and Remy scrambled back against the felt, eyes wicked and full of lust. He laid back with his knees spread wide, cock upright and bobbing, gleaming from a mixture of his own precum and Logan’s kiss. “Teach me, cher,” Remy teased, crooking his finger. His smile was sinful.



The beast in Logan’s subconscious whined low in its throat, craving attention, almost dancing on its hind legs. Logan growled and scrambled up onto the table, and Remy found himself crushed beneath the feral’s weight, skin rasped by his clothing as he claimed his mouth. He knew it would be a rough joining, completely graceless, base and likely to leave him ten different shades of bruised in the morning, but he wanted him. Remy clawed Logan’s tank out from his waistband and yanked it up over his head, and he groaned at the sight of him, bare and rugged, and his nipples were stiff and begging to be teased. Remy gave back as good as he got, framing Logan’s jaw with his hands as he nipped up at his chin, tracing his throat with his teeth. Logan growled and bucked against him, arching back when blunt nails raked down his back. He didn’t protest when Remy made short work of his button and zipper, and the denim rasped against his skin when Remy fought him out of his jeans, stepping into the crotch to pull them the rest of the way off his ankles. They rode the tide of passion between them, sliding together and riding each other’s hardness, desperate to get closer and to relieve their “condition,” to scratch that itch.



Logan moved back down Remy’s body, resuming his earlier task, and Remy was so close. His juices and Logan’s saliva were pooling around him, dribbling down into his crease, and he felt Logan’s thick, blunt fingertip caress his pucker. “Oui,” he whispered hoarsely. His legs spread more widely to give him access, and Logan’s fingers drove him mad, caressing his sac with his thumb while he stroked the tiny indentation, gently breaching him. Logan smelled Remy’s arousal spike in intensity, and his body heat rose another degree. He obeyed his signals and Remy felt himself being bent back, almost in half, as Logan turned his hole up for his inspection. He nosed Remy’s sac aside and flicked the tip of his tongue into the tiny opening. Remy almost came apart. Skillfully, Logan drilled and swiveled his tongue into him, stroking him and wrenching tiny cries and moans from him. Remy ventured a peek, and he shivered at the dangerous look that met him. Logan’s eyes seemed to growl at him, “You’re mine now.” Remy just laid back, hands thrown over his head in helpless abandon as Logan fucked him with his mouth.



By the time he deemed Remy ready for him, Logan was rock-hard and worked up, needing to feel him wrapped around him, pulsing and tight. He fumbled as he knelt between Remy’s thighs. He paused when he heard Remy’s low voice.



“Beautiful,” the Cajun murmured. “Yer sexy, mec.”



“Shut up with that shit,” Logan muttered, but his eyes were amused. He grasped his dick, which was leaking and rosy with need, and he breached him, letting his head push through the ring of vulnerable muscle. Remy hissed in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and Logan offered him a deeper, harder thrust, sheathing himself fully. His brain exploded at the feel of him, hot and smooth, squeezing him. He couldn’t think. Logan could only move.



They would have woke the whole house if anyone had been home. Remy didn’t give a damn about rug burn from the felt under his back. Logan was hitting his sweet spot, fingers digging into his thighs as he rode him hard. He reached down and stroked him, beating Remy’s grab to help himself along. The pressure built up inside him, and his cries stretched and swelled in volume. He was hissing, gasping and cursing in both languages, and Logan’s face looming over him…looked so different to him, now. His expression was driven and full of wonder, and Remy felt a hint of confusion in the feral’s emotions, but it was drowned out by his sheer need and his desire to share himself with Remy, to divulge all of his secrets. His face was open, nothing hooded in his glance, no smirks, no scowls, no hardening of his eyes or mouth. He was breathing raggedly through his mouth, hot breath misting over Remy’s face, and for a brief moment, Remy reached up and cupped his cheek. Logan caught his hand and tugged it back down, forcing Remy to keep both of them over his head, but he let his lips graze his knuckles first. He drove into him harder, faster, finally pushing them both over the edge. Remy closed his eyes and saw an explosion of colors as his climax worked its way down his spine, surging through his gut. His tortured cock erupted, drenching Logan’s belly with his hot, sticky seed, and the sensation of Remy coming, rippling and tightening around him gave Logan the momentum he needed. He growled and roared with the effort of his pistoning hips, and Remy’s teeth clacked together as he gave him his final, punishing thrusts, suffusing Remy’s channel with his gift.



They lay together, panting and suppressing groans. Logan didn’t want to smother him with his weight, but Remy wrapped his arm around his neck and dragged him back down until Logan’s forehead rested against his throat.



“Don’ be mad at Remy,” he whispered.



“Why?” Logan demanded, confused and slightly annoyed.



“Cuz…been wantin’ ya fo’ a long time, cher. Been wantin’ dis.”



“Why didn’t ya tell me?”



“What? Ya mean, jus’ walk up to ya one mornin’ while yer havin’ yer coffee and say ‘Mind if I rip yer clothes off and straddle ya at de kitchen table?’” Logan chuckled at his bluntness. “Ya would’ve eit’er laughed or kicked my ass.”



“Don’t be so sure.” He leaned up from Remy for a moment and gave him a gentle smile. “Can never figure ya out, Gumbo.”



“Ain’ much ta figure out. Wan’ you.”



He stopped himself from telling him “I love you.” It was too soon for them both, even though it had been a long time for Remy.



*



The visions tumbled one over the other in his dreams, and Remy felt a sense of being watched in his sleep. He was comfortably warm, feeling sheltered, and he knew Logan was with him. He let the feral’s emotions tease him back to consciousness, and sure enough, when he woke, he felt Logan’s fingers caressing the line of his jaw. Before he opened his eyes, Remy leaned into his touch, grazing his hand with his lips.



When he saw Logan’s face looming over him, his breath caught. Logan’s emotions were raw and unbound, swallowing him up. There was so much love shining in his eyes as his fingertips just traced Remy’s features, as though he were memorizing how he looked. Remy’s eyes stayed open, and he watched Logan’s face descend, letting his lips brush his in a tender kiss. Remy returned it, indulging himself in the texture of Logan’s hair when he combed his fingers through it. Remy shivered as Logan stroked the purpling, telltale mark on his collarbone. He chuckled softly; it tickled. Logan’s eyes darkened with passion, as if to tell him “Let’s do it again…”



Remy let Logan ease the covers back, and he settled himself against him fully, lending Remy his body’s warmth instead. They took their time, cuddling and holding each other, exchanging lazy kisses as they began to make love. And it was perfect, even better than it had been that night, because it was charged with new meaning that Remy couldn’t describe. Remy felt cherished and precious to him, and he gave himself to Logan fully, trusting him with his pleasure and his body’s needs.



And he trusted him with his heart and soul.



Remy sensed Logan’s apprehension, felt him worrying about something, and that troubled him, but he let him hold him, not speaking, only letting him hear him moan and whisper how good he felt. Logan kissed him deeply and hungrily, and their fingers laced together where he held Remy’s hands above his head. He sped the pace up when he knew Remy couldn’t last much longer, and they both tumbled over the edge. Spent, Logan laid in Remy’s arms, listening to his ragged breathing slowing down.



Remy felt the same keen ache deep within himself that nagged him after their loving, every time. He was in love with James Howlett, and he didn’t know how to tell him. He didn’t want to drive him away or make him feel trapped. But if not now, then when? Remy frowned briefly when he felt Logan shudder against him, like he was trembling. What was wrong with his lover?



Worse, he pondered, what was wrong with him? What if Logan didn’t want that deeper commitment? What if he felt differently? He thought they were on the same page, but Logan kept things close to the vest. He wasn’t a big talker, just the strong, silent type, something Remy loved about him. But Remy was the kind of man who still needed to know where he stood. He tensed up for a moment, closing his eyes against the unthinkable.



But Logan leaned up over him and kissed his temple. Remy opened his eyes and found Logan staring at him, contemplating him.



"Remy,” Logan murmured. He paused again, and he kissed him again. “I know I ain't never said it before, but...” Remy’s heart rose up into his throat, and he felt his eyes prick. “I love you, darlin'.”



They were the words he needed to hear. The tight band around his heart released, and he could finally breathe. I love you, darlin’. Logan continued, moved by the glimmer of tears in those red eyes that he loved. He wanted to wake up to them every day. “And we've been t'gether fer a helluva long time. Will you marry me?"



All Remy allowed himself was a nod. He was overcome with emotion, and the look of joy and relief on Logan’s face was too much for him. Remy smothered a sob, and Logan embraced him, wrapping him tightly in his arms. They lay like that for a long time, just absorbing each other’s emotions and the love that bound them. Remy finally saw a future with the man that he loved, not merely their troubled pasts or the easy flow of their present relationship.



And he didn’t want to miss a single minute.