The Thrill is Gone

What was up with women at wedding receptions?

They all turned into So You Think You Can Dance contestants after the dinner was over and they’d had that second glass of wine.

Logan made himself as comfortable as he could at cramped round table, wrapped obediently in a stiff, slate gray suit. His thick black hair was scarcely tamed by a remnant of hair product that Silver had bequeathed him when she left. At least it didn’t smell flowery like the stuff she used. He didn’t want to attract bees.

The food wasn’t remarkable, but it was edible. Aleytys was a good sport when Scott smashed a wedge of the pristine white cake in her face, leaving flecks of buttercream frosting dripping from the tip of her nose. She made a stunning bride, garbed in a sedate white satin gown, a strapless, slender sheath with a short train.

Scott and Lee made a wholesome couple. Logan wished them the best.

He wished himself out of there, ASAP.

“So what did you say you did for a living again?” He never said what he did before. Lee’s friend Colleen watched him expectantly, toying with her glass of wine.

“Construction. I’m a contractor.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Few years now. It’s a living.” He leaned back and twisted himself around in his chair so he wouldn’t get neck strain. If she’d seated herself across from him, he’d have had the benefit of “personal space” when the remainder of the guests flanking them all got up to dance.

Colleen was classically pretty in a Colgate ad, girl next door way; her lips were even coated in matte red lipstick. She wore Lee’s choice of bridesmaid gown well. Her girlish curves were draped softly in the French vanilla chiffon, and her shapely calves were enhanced by strappy pumps.

She was pleasant. She was friendly. She was intelligent and polite.

She did nothing for him.

“Do you like what you do?”

“I’ve been doing it for a long time,” he shrugged. “It’s second nature.” Then he added “I like working with my hands. It’s great to see a project coming together.” It was a safe answer that did the trick. She beamed.

“It’s good to do something you love for a living, whether you get rich off it or not.”

“Whaddya do for a nine ta five?”

“Private investigator. Spent seven years walking a beat before I decided I wanted a desk job with my own hours. Mind you, I spend plenty of time away from my desk, too, out in the field.” That got his attention.

“Then ya’ve got yer act together, kiddo. Good for you.”

“I think I manage pretty well,” she chuckled. “So, Logan. Where’s your plus one?”

“Eh?”

“You came alone to this shindig.” Logan huffed.

“Kinda came with you,” he reminded her. On a technicality…

“Courtesy of some clever engineering by Lee. God love her. Just tell me, bub,” she grinned, leaning conspiratorially toward him. “How long has it been since the last time you had to make small talk with someone new?”

“Shit,” he muttered, but his eyes warmed, crinkling at the corners. “That depends.” Her checked his watch. “What time is it now?”

“Gads.” She nodded toward the dance floor. A sea of adults old enough to know better were lined up in sloppy rows, doing the electric slide. “This is as good as it’s gonna get, isn’t it?”

“Ain’t had a congo line yet.”

“Thank the good Lord,” she tsked. She elbowed him. “Save me a sappy ballad?”

“Eh. How ‘bout another drink instead?”

“Lead on, MacDuff.”

Scott accosted them at the hosted bar, clapping Logan on the back. “I wondered where you guys escaped to,” he accused, his tone inferring they’d been up to more than commiserating.

“Yer in fine form, killer.” The groom was flushed, his normally impeccable hair slightly tousled, but his brown eyes were shining with contentment. This was his day.

“Save something for tonight,” Colleen winked, reaching out to straighten his tie.

“Put on your running shoes and baseball mit, kid,” he countered slyly. “Bouquet toss is in five minutes.” Colleen humored him until they watched his retreating back, dancing to the center of the floor to meet Aleytys.

“Just shoot me now.”

“Whatsamatter, ya don’t like flowers?”

“They sit there for a few days and die.” She devoured the cherry in her tequila sunrise. “At least you can use the garter as a slingshot.”

“My catchin’ arm’s a little rusty.”

“Ahhhhhhh,” she hummed knowingly. “Got burned pretty bad, huh?”

“The skin’s just growin’ back, darlin’.”

“Too many late nights? Cheating? She snored and left stockings hanging in the shower?”

“Wish it was just that I had to share my razors,” he grumbled, swishing the last of his flat beer in the bottom of the mug. He swallowed the lukewarm liquid and made a face.

“You lived in sin, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What was she like? How did she end it?” Logan relaxed, knowing she had accepted that a real date between them wasn’t in the cards.

“Answer A: Kinda blond. Big. Smart. Non-smoker. Kinda jealous, but affectionate. Smothered me sometimes. Answer B: We had a big fight. More’n a shouting match. I patched the drywall so they wouldn’t take it outta my deposit, since I signed off the lease first.” She looked appalled but sympathetic.

“What was her name?”

“Walt.” She choked on a gulp of her drink and almost aspirated an ice cube. He took the glass from her and administered several brisk whacks against her back.

“Keeaarrrrggghhh… Geez. Sorry. I must sound like an ass.” She peered up at him through watery eyes. “So why did you agree to this?”

“Cuz Scott and Lee meant well, and it’s nice havin’ a date ta somethin’ like this. And fer the record, my ex before Walt did leave her stockings in the shower.”

“Oh. So this…” she gestured between them with a wave, “wasn’t off-base?”

“Nope. And fer the record, ya don’t seem like someone who wants ta be fixed up.”

“Give the man a gold star. But for the record, Logan, I’m having a good time.”

“When did the well run dry fer you, darlin’?”

“When I found out that the only night shifts my ex was clocking in for were at the Quality Inn.” She sighed. “Luke was a pip.”

“We’re not all like that.” She gave him a look.

“You thought you had one of the good ones, too. It’s okay to be wrong sometimes.”

“No it ain’t. It sucks.”

“I was hoping you’d buy it. Then maybe I’d believe it.”

They pulled up to Colleen’s apartment roughly an hour later, both empty-handed. They each stood amongst the crowd for the toss and conveniently let it sail over their heads. Colleen’s smile was gentle as she clutched the passenger door handle and spoke over the running engine.

“Thanks for entertaining me. And the rides.”

“Likewise, kiddo. See ya ‘round?”

“If I give you this, then yes.” She dove into her tiny clutch. She pressed a white business card into his hand. “Lunch. Coffee. Sixers game. Or if you just wanna talk.” He peered down at it thoughtfully: Colleen Wing, PI.

“Or if I need ya ta dig up any skeletons?”

“Depends on whose. That might involve cash.”

Her brief peck warmed his cheek before he drove off, returning her wave from the rearview mirror. He tucked the card into his glove box. A slip of paper that had been rolled up and folded in half caught his eye; he held it under the light before he closed her door.

Y’make dis funny l’il sound in ya sleep. A broad grin cracked his face.

~0~

Thud-thud-thud-thud-THUMP! Belladonna awoke to the sound of footsteps scrabbling toward her door. She winced at the sliver of yellow light winding through the crack of her door. It exploded into a chafing glade as Rene ran inside and threw himself into her bed. She yelped at the pummeling of her ribs by his small feet. “Dieu! Rene! Mon fils, what’s wrong wi’ you, baby? Had a dream?” She yawned and rubbed her eyes, feeling a pillow crease in her cheek.

“Heard sumthin’, Maman,” he whispered. “Outside.”

“Don’ hear anyt’in’, chere…hold on,” she hissed, suddenly alert. There it was.

It was coming from her garage. Belladonna untangled herself from the covers and whipped on her terrycloth robe. “Stay here,” she admonished him. “Shut de door after me, baby.”

“Maman!”

“Stay!” she barked. Her blood raced as she hurried outside. Her flapping robe knocked a magazine from her coffee table on her way out the screen door.

She rounded the corner of the house, following the dim light shining from the porch. Cold gravel scratched Bella’s soles as she tried to pick out voices.

Julien’s familiar, raspy tones greeted her as she lingered breathlessly outside. She saw two pairs of feet moving back and forth. Tools and a metal cart were scraping the cement.

She reached for the handle of the garage bay door and jerked it up the rest of the say.

“What de hell y’doin’, Julien!” she spat. “Scarin’ Rene, makin’ me think someone’s out t’get us!” She ceased her breathless tirade when her eyes dropped to the car propped on cement blocks.

“Merde…Julien! Dat shouldn’ be in here! What de hell did y’bring dat in here fo’!”

“Bella…”

“Uh-uh! NON! Don’ do did, chere! Don’ mix me up in dis again!”

“S’alright, Belle.” He hushed her, evading her half-balled fists and lightly shaking her. His gray eyes searched her face, his lips a grim line. “Calm down, petit. Jus’ calm down! Don’t be scarin’ Rene!”

“You de one scarin’ him! Why, Julien? Pour quoi? HUH? Said ya wouldn’ get into dis again! Promised me!” She broke away from him and scraped her hair back from her face, tugging it. “Promised Remy. I promised Remy!”

“Is dat it? Y’worryin’ ‘bout Remy?” Julien groaned in disgust. “Dis ain’t ‘bout him, petit.”

“Y’can’t do dis here.”

“Go. Get back in de house. Stay wi’ Rene.”

“Don’ go against me, Julien!”

“Get inside!” he rumbled, keeping his voice measured to avoid interference from his sisters’ neighbors. “Gonna talk ‘bout it wi’ you in de mo’nin’, petit. G’wan.”

“Fuck you, Julien!” she snapped. She turned on her heel and stomped inside, securing the deadbolts.


~0~

Remy fumbled in the dark, reaching for the bedside lamp. His cell was ringing from underneath something, dragging him from troubled sleep.

“Merde,” he cursed, wincing at the digital display on his clock. 10:15. Shit…

“Dis Remy,” he mumbled hoarsely.

“Shit…I woke ya. M’sorry. Look, I’ll call you back tomorr-“

“Non. Chere…don’ hang up.” He sat up and stretched, yawning into the phone. He heard Logan’s chagrin in his voice. “What’s on y’mind, homme?”

“Just got back from Scott’s wedding. Long night. Not bad. Just long.” Remy thought he heard traffic in the background.

“Remy almost fuhgot y’wuz goin’.” He reached for a half-full glass of water he’d left on his nightstand and took a gulp to fortify himself. He made a face at its tepid taste. “Made it home in one piece den, neh?”

“Thought about ya,” Logan interjected. Remy felt something stirring in him, and he leaned back against the pillows. “Wondered if ya had better plans than mine.”

“Game. Dinner. Paper. Smoke.” He didn’t add “watching my machine” to that list.

“Yer boy with ya?”

“Non.” Then, “Rene jabbered on a mile a minute dat night ‘bout ya.” Logan chuckled.

“Nice kid.”

“Looks out fo’ his poppa.” Remy stared at the picture Rene drew, resting in its place of honor atop the dresser.

“Bet he does. Hey, Rem, sorry I woke ya. This is a crappy time – “

“No it ain’t. Where ya at?” He heard Logan’s intake of breath, followed by a long pause.

“Headin’ ta the store fer milk.”

“Where?”

“Bout eight blocks away.”

“Ya need it dat bad?”

“Why?” Remy smiled in the dark.

“Remy wan’ see if it could wait til tomorra,” he husked. “Remy’s got milk, if y’need any in de mo’nin’, chere.” He could almost hear him mulling it over.

Logan gripped his steering wheel tightly. His clothes felt too snug. He couldn’t shake his restlessness.

“Guess it can wait.”

“Remy’ll leave on a light, den, chere.” He hung up and padded into the kitchen.

He was ripping open two packets of cocoa and dumping them into mugs when he heard the low knock on his door. Remy felt Logan’s emotions as soon as he entered the hallway. Anticipation somersaulted in his belly.

Logan stood in his doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes held shadows under them, but they were full of satisfaction. “Hey.”

“C’mon. Come in, homme.” He stepped aside to admit him and gave a low whistle. Logan snorted.

“What?”

“Clean up nice. Real nice,” he muttered, appraising him. His smile was lopsided and wicked.

The suit was well-tailored and molded carefully to the solid planes of his body. His shoes had been lovingly shined, but his hair was on its last gasp, already springing free from its careful styling. It made him look rakish and hinted at the wildness inside him, barely restrained. Remy clapped him on the back and led him into the kitchen after he locked up.

Logan made himself at home, taking up the same chair from his previous visit. Remy puttered around the kitchen and punched in the microwave time in short beeps, heating the cups. Logan sighed, taking in Remy’s boxers and bare feet.

“Ya got the right idea, Rem.”

“Join me, den,” he suggested. Instead of seating himself, Remy leaned on the edge of the table in front of Logan and reached for the knot of his ties. Logan watched fascinated as his slender fingers deftly unknotted it, grazing him as he completed the task. The cool silk tickled his pulse as Remy whisked it away. “Betta?” Logan’s lip quirked.

“Gettin’ there.” The microwave dinged. Remy extracted the cups and handed him one, blowing to cool its contents. Sweet, chocolately steam bathed his lips as he attempted a sip. His eyes were so tired they ached.

Remy looked charmingly tousled and unabashed. His dark cotton boxers gapped in the front, revealing the shadowy bulge of his manhood.

It was already beginning to swell. The drafty kitchen made his flat brown nipples pebble.

“Take a load off, chere.” Logan sighed and ground the heel of his hand into his eye.

“It’s late,” he murmured. “But I wanted t’see ya.” He slowly gulped down half of the sweet brew and set down his cup.

There. It was out there. Logan grew tense with anticipation over Remy’s reaction, and he felt his walls rising up around him protectively.

He wasn’t thinking straight. He’d said too much. He wasn’t ready for any of it…

He tasted like chocolate when Remy bent down to kiss him. His mouth was hot as they exchanged breaths. Remy’s lips were firm, probing; Logan made a strained sound and moaned for him when his hands fisted in his lapels, pulling him closer. Remy smelled like sleep and the remnant of his shampoo. Remy’s tongue teased him as he sucked his lover’s lip. Logan let him inside, stroking his velvety tongue and combing his fingers through his rich auburn hair.

“Let’s g’wan back, chere. Remy knows y’tired, neh?”

Logan nodded. “Oui.” He stood and stole one more brief kiss before he crept down the hall. Remy’s lamp was still on. Logan sat on the edge of the bed and moved to unbutton his jacket. Remy stilled his hands and knelt before him.

“Easy, chere.” Remy tugged Logan’s foot into his bare lap and began untying the laces of his hard leather shoes. The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched, but he enjoyed the younger man’s attentions. Relief flooded him as it was removed, restoring blood flow to his cramped toes.

“Eeeerrrgh,” Logan groaned. Remy tweaked his foot before rolling down his sock. He was meticulous, gently swiping at the bits of sock fluff.

“Tickles,” Logan complained, before grumbling “Damn, that feels good.” Remy started massaging the ball of his foot, sending a jolt of arousal through him. Remy concentrated on the task of relaxing him, moving over both feet and shucking the other loafer.

He looked beautiful to him, in repose like that. He laid his shoes aside, tucking the balled-up socks inside. He pressed his thumbs into Logan’s sole and kneaded it expertly. “How’s dat feel, chere?” Logan made an incomprehensible sound; his eyes were closed and his head lolled forward like a rag doll’s. Rapture was written on his features as he continued to work his magic.

Remy came up on his knees and made short work of his jacket, reaching inside to slide it from his broad shoulders. Logan’s muscles felt hot, but knotted beneath his hands. Logan opened his eyes and leaned in for another kiss, this time harder, deeper. He kissed his youthful face, punctuating each button that Remy unfastened and steaming his cheeks. “Lemme take care of ya tonight, chere.” His fingers trailed fire over his abdomen as he peeled the hem of his cotton undershirt out from his waistband. Logan’s muscles jumped, shivering at the light caress. The dress shirt and jacket were laid neatly aside; the tank began the small pile of clothes accumulating on the floor.

Remy nipped his neck as he fondled him, exploring the textures of his skin, smooth here, matted generously with coarse dark curls there. “Taste so good, chere,” he whispered, letting his teeth graze his nipple. Logan arched sharply into his heat and gasped.

“Shit! Remy!” he hissed through his teeth as his tongue spiraled around the morsel. Electricity pooled everywhere his mouth touched.

The flap of his pants was roughly unzipped and yanked open. His erection bobbed free, twitching and searching for his lover’s heat.

“Lie back,” Remy ordered. His slacks slithered down the length of his legs. Cool air against his fevered skin made him tingle. “Dieu…wan’ ya real bad, chere.” He traced the contours of his calves, then his knees, nipping the vulnerable flesh of his inner thigh. Red-on-black eyes tempted him from his vantage point, watching from around his tumescent cock. He was swollen, rock hard and craving the liquid fire of Remy’s mouth.

He engulfed him, tearing a loud cry from him. Logan’s fingers tangled in the covers as Remy sucked him like a melting popsicle. He savored Logan, humming in contentment over the slickness sliding in and out between his pursed lips. Logan bucked; his hips thrust themselves up from the mattress.

“UUUUUUUUUUNNNNGGGGGGHHH!! Ah, God! REM!” He suckled him harder, cradling his balls and stroking the tender underside with his thumb. The sight of Remy’s closed eyes and his mouth lowering itself over him was erotic. It enflamed him. “Remy,” he cried helplessly. Pleasure blanketed him as Remy shouldered himself beneath Logan’s knees, letting his feet dangle over his back. His strokes shortened, allowing him to draw Logan further down his throat. Logan’s breathing was harsh. He threw back his head, biting his lip until it stung. His arms were thrown over his head; he trusted Remy’s instincts and offered up his body to him. He didn’t clutch his hair or guide his face, instead handing him complete control.

His palms swept over Logan in smooth strokes, tickling the crease between every muscle. He combed his fingers through the nest of hair between his legs.

“Sweet…Jesus, help…me,” he chanted. “Fuck! S’good! Nnnngh! So fuckin’ good,” he growled. His cock twitched and jerked inside his mouth, stiffening more with each lap.

His climax broke free, rocking him and leaving him incoherent. This time he curled his body around Remy, stilling his roaming hands by clamping them around the waist. His face contorted in pleasure and shock as sensations rippled through him. Remy’s mouth coddled him, draining him before he eased back. His lips lingered over the tip while Logan collapsed, limp.

“Climb on in, chere,” Remy encouraged huskily, turning down the covers and reaching for him. Logan rolled to his stomach and sprawled, content. “Gon’ get a chill, Logan.”

“Can’t move,” he mumbled. His eyes were closed, but a smile was smeared over his face. Remy studied his broad back. Sculpted contours tapered down to a toned waist. His ass was firm and smooth, sporting two perfect dimples, round enough to have something to grab. Remy felt renewed stirrings of desire.

“M’fine.” But he groaned at the sensation of Remy’s hand running over his spine and palming his glute, exploring the curve with his thumb.

“Sure are fine, mec,” he agreed softly as he began to settle Logan more comfortably at the head of the bed. “Jus’ a sec.” He reached into his side table again, this time for a bottle of warming lotion.

“Come t’bed,” Logan mumbled in protest. But the feel of lotion slicking over his back, letting Remy massage and knead him into submission silenced any complaints. Remy climbed over his and straddled his hips as he rubbed him down.

“Remy likes hearin’ ya, chere. All dose sounds, tellin’ me ya like what Remy’s doin’ Like it a lot. When Remy touches ya like dis,” he purred, rolling his shoulders and loosening the bunched cords of Logan’s trapezius. Logan’s groan was deep, muffled by the pillow. “An’ like dis, mon ami.” Excitement and anticipation swept through Remy, astride Logan’s prone form, masculine, rough-hewn and sexy. He felt powerful as desire curled in his stomach. The public at large saw Logan’s game face, a man who took no shit.

Here, in the lush silence of Remy’s bedroom, beneath the press of his strong fingers, Logan was vulnerable.

They had no reason to trust each other yet. It didn’t matter. Not tonight.

Logan exhaled, blowing out every molecule of oxygen in his lungs when Remy molded his ass like clay. His hips jerked, then slowly began to lift and press into the mattress. A low throbbing grew in his dick from the friction of the sheets, and he felt Remy growing hard against his crease.

Remy’s heart was pounding as his body strained for fulfillment. For Logan.

“Do it.” Two hoarse words. Remy’s breath hitched. He retrieved the lube from the drawer, returning the other bottle of lotion to its place.

“Wan’ you,” Remy rasped. “So bad, chere.” He slicked his fingers with the lubricant and teased Logan’s crevice, pressing his index finger inside up to the first knuckle, giving him a minute to adjust to the pressure.

Logan shuddered; his ass lifted toward Remy, leaning into his hand. He probed him, sliding inside his snug sheath. Pleasure rocketed through Logan. God help me… He clenched around him, growing accustomed to the faint stretch. He felt his sac grow heavy in response.

“Wan’ you. Y’so hot, mon ami. Remy wans’ t’hear ya beg him fo’ mo’. Wan’ feel ya squeeze me hard, chere. Hard as y’can.” He laid his body alongside Logan’s as he primed him. He feathered a kiss over his shoulder and felt him twitch in response, then moan as he twisted his wrist.

“Fuck! Aw, fuck, Remy!” A hot, rough kiss aginst his exposed nape made him buck even harder. Remy drizzled more lube into his crack and worked it inside, inserting a second finger, dilating him. Logan’s moan was pained, garbling his words. “Rem…please. God, help me…please.”

“S’alright, chere. Remy wan’ ya t’be ready fo’ him.” He deepened his thrust, and Logan gradually spread his legs more widely, folding his knees up under him. He raised his ass in silent welcome. Remy felt a clench in his gut.

Logan trusted him. Wanted him.

“Please,” Logan groaned. “Want you.” He felt bereft at the loss of Remy’s hand, withdrawing from the now slick tunnel that needed him, craved him. The smooth, thick head of Remy’s cock replaced it, pushing at his entrance until it yielded for him, drawing him inside.

“Fuck!Mon Dieu” The first squeeze of Logan’s muscles engulfing him almost staggered him. So hot, tight. Cushioning him. Embracing his length. He began to thrust, answering the call of Logan’s body and his slack lips. “Aw, fuck, chere! S’good! Tight. Hnnnggh!”

“Yes!” Logan huffed, twisting his fists in the sheets. “Want it all, Rem! Give it t’me!” It pushed him over the edge.

Remy stretched him, filled him, pounding into him and making him throb in ecstasy. He pistoned and thrust, his torso rippling with the motions and gleaming with sweat. His hand held Logan’s shoulder tightly, the other gripping his supple hip. Their low cries and curses mingled, their breathing fell into sync. Logan met the slaps of Remy’s balls against his, pushing back into him greedily, urging him to give him more.

Pressure built in Remy’s lower spine and burned its way down his dick. His dick swelled and cramped before he erupted in thick spurts.

“Merde! FUCK! Ah, Gawd, chere!” His hips bucked and spasmed of their own volition. The aftershocks shook them both as he pounded and jerked inside Logan until he finally stilled.

He panted and gasped, rocking over Logan’s trembling body as he slowly withdrew. “Shit,” he hissed.

Several minutes passed silently between them as they lay back against the pillows, sated and relaxed. Logan lay stretched out with his burly arm wrapped snugly around Remy’s waist and with his ear pressed over his heart beat. Their breathing fell in sync. Logan’s limbs felt heavy as Remy’s fingers sifted through his hair.

“Didja dance tonight, chere?” Logan stifled a laugh.

“Nope.”

“Pourquoi?”

“Guess I’m a wallflower.” Remy tsked, kissing his temple.

“Jus’ didn’ have de right person askin’ ya t’dance, chere.”