Love Your Pain

Thump. Land. Thump. Land. It’s repetitive, but I can’t help it. It’s the only thing that’s left to me. The feel of the floor rushing to meet me as I push myself to my limits and past them. The ache in them burns and I know that the lactic acid is burning scars in my muscles, but I can’t stop now. I’m addicted, addicted to the relief, and this want, this need, urges me to do it again and again. Jump, twist land, miss and fall. I’m so tired. It hurts to breathe but I can’t stop. I’m only alive when I’m fighting him. No one tests me like this, not since I came back from the Artic. I don’t have anything to say to any of them, but he knows. He can smell it I’m sure, the pain I’m in, but he won’t stop until I yield and I won’t give in until I collapse in an unconscious heap.
We’re not going at it that hard. He’s only hit me a few dozen times, but it’s enough. All those lovely, bulging muscles covering his heavy adamantium skeleton and those fists like small squat hams hammering into my ribs. I can see the wall coming closer and closer this time, can’t dodge fast enough. Must be the blow he knocked to my head earlier is catching up to me. We don’t speak about this. We don’t even talk. We meet in the cool crisp early morning air and walk into my emptied living room, where he throws me around like a dog with an old rag doll. And I keep dragging myself up for this punishment. I need it. It’s worse than the smack I did on the street before Jean-Luc and Tante Mattie. The pain heals me, tells me that I’m alive and that’s enough for me.
There’s the wall and yeah, I’m winded now back to the wall and all the air crushed from my tortured lungs as my ribs groan inward following the momentum from his running shove. I can’t keep up too much longer. He knows it, smells it. I can see his eyes dilating in pleasure that he’s won another round. I don’t know why he lets me do this to myself, but I guess he understands. We’ve been doing this since he knocked the dagger from my hands that first morning after I came back to the mansion. He knocked the knife from my hands with that furious kick and I rose, doubly angered that he wouldn’t let me finish the job the others started on my sorry carcass. Why can’t he see that I’m just a dead man walking? Doesn’t he see that I’m already dead and the only thing that holds me here is the throb and ache from these deep bruises he leaves on my body?
We never say a word. Never. And while I long to hear him say something, I know it’s better this way. It’s his way. He mourns through violence and silence and that’s what he’s doing to me. Mourning me. He knows I’m dead inside and he’s letting me feel how he processed it when he heard I was gone before I came back alive. Beating me black and blue and purple the way he tore into those bots in the Danger Room. Something just cracked in my chest and I’m falling down, down, down to the floor and it rushes up to meet my face and all I can think is that my pretty face is going to get ruined this time, nose broken for the first time in my life.
Before I can fully collide face first though, strong arms catch me. Hold me and there’s a rumbling bass growl coming from that hair covered chest barely covered by the black t-shirt he wears. I can smell his soap and it fills my head with the heady rush of him. He’s so earthy and primal and I’m just a lying whore not even good enough for the beatings he lets me have. I can feel my world narrowing and the spots are dancing wildly before my eyes. The pain is so incredibly harsh and real and all I can manage to whisper is one word: “Merci.” It doesn’t begin to convey how grateful I am as I slide from consciousness into that deep dark nothing that only this deep, unending ache can lead me to.


I hate this. He won’t say a damned ass word to me. Not one word. Not since he tried to kill himself and I stopped him. I know that if I don’t drag my ass here every morning to meet him for a smoke and kick his ass into submission, he’ll take himself out and I can’t let him do that. It’s dumb, it’s stupid and I know it, but I love that damned dumb ass kid. Long auburn hair now, he’s been letting it grow. And those eyes, I love those eyes. They never accuse me of being an animal. No, they see the man and the animal and they take in both without judgment. This place was so empty without him here. But it’s like he’s a ghost of himself and the only time I can see the man he was before that bitch left him to die, is when he’s fighting me. Pounding on me and taking an ass whooping.
I don’t think I can take another day like this. It’s been two months. There’s not a space on his smooth skin that isn’t marred by some bruise or scrape from my hands. It’s better that it’s me though, no one else really stands a chance against him. Not with his mutation leaning towards that amazing agility and his slip joints. He’s so battered inside he can’t see what’s right in front him. I can’t let this go on. Been going on long enough. Loved the kid since I saw him. He even pushed Red outta my head. He’s just amazing and a great survivior. Antarctica hasn’t broken everything he is yet. No, because his eyes still blaze with humor when he whacks me on the ass with the palm of his hand sometimes. He flashes that manic grin at me and I fluff him off with a good sweep kick.
Now he’s laying here in my arms and I can tell he’s broken a rib or two with that last crash. I’ve got to take him to Hank and get him patched up. Hank’ll have my neck in a noose for this, but I couldn’t do it until now. He needed this. I think I may have even needed it, just to be close to him. But he needs help now. I want him to live. I can’t mourn him anymore. I love him too much to let him use me to kill him.
He’s gotten so light weight since he got back. Barely eating, barely sleeping and some nights he crawls inside my window and lays down in my bed, snuggling his way into my arms to sleep and then he slips away just before dawn to go and wait by the dock with a cigarette hanging from those soft lips of his, lightly puffing and waiting for me.
Today’s the last day and I carry him through the mansion. Hank’s so pissed at me, but it doesn’t matter. Getting Remy better, that matters. A few hours in that funny machine and he’s fine. But still out cold. Hank says it’s from the last blow to the head, knocked him pretty loose. I take him from the lab and back to my room. Lay him down in my bed and let him sleep there. I lay down with him, curling him in my arms, letting his head rest on my bare chest. I want to wake up this way forever. I want to hold his body curved into mine and kiss those pouty lips at first light. Silence hasn’t gotten us anywhere since his suicide attempt, but maybe, maybe now I’ve got the courage to live with the loved ones and not run away anymore. Not fight the love and hate myself for the weakness. Cuddling the boy closer, I pull the blankets up and kiss his forehead. If he moves he’ll wake me and I close my eyes, letting myself fall asleep listening to the beating of his heart.

Warmth. Mon Dieu, it’s so warm. I curl into that warmth. I know where I am and the headache tells me I was whalloped pretty bad yesterday. But as I go to get up there’s a growl and I’m pulled back down into his arms. I try to get up again and feel the press of claws against my neck for my efforts. Sighing, I lay back down and curl back into that warmth. There’s a low rumbling growl and then a big hand tangles in my hair and pets me like a cat. I like it though, that long slow glide of his hand over my hair. It’s so different from the hard, crushing blows we’ve been trading and I love it, revel in it, need it almost as much as the rush of air being forced from my body as I slam into a wall with no padding.
I stretch and curl my legs around the closest one of his to mine. It feels so good to be this close to him and he’s not pushing me away. No, mon dieu, he’s pulling me closer and tilting my head. Rough stubble against my cheek, slightly chapped lips press against mine and a sinfully hot tongue slips into my willing mouth. I’ve never felt something so wonderful. It’s like every nerve in my body is connected to my mouth and I can’t help the needy sounds leaving my throat. I want this more than the pain, this gentle touch, the softness from the Wolverine. I’ll do anything he wants, if only he’ll keep kissing me like that, tongue fucking my mouth and his hands sliding down to cup my ass and pull me closer.
My charm flairs as I relax into his embrace and he growls again and rolls over me, pinning me to the bed. “Mine.” He growls right next to my ear. And that one word sends shivers from my head to my toes and raises my cock to full attention in one motion. “Yours.” I breathe out as he traces my lips with his tongue again, kissing me savagely. I can’t help but spread my legs as he pushes me down into the soft mattress. It’s the most alive I’ve felt since I got back. I can feel him long and hard and throbbing as he grinds himself against me. The shock of his pleasure and mine meeting makes me cry out wordlessly and arch into him, legs curling around his waist in a blatant invitation to take what’s his. I want it. Want this, here and now with the wild man above me with his gnashing teeth and hazel turning eyes. I can feel the man and beast that he is at war with and I reach out with that part of me that I hold down constantly and I coax him to let the animal have me, to let his baser side take me and mark and make me his in the oldest way of men and beasts.
I howl in pleasure as his lips latch back onto mine and he rocks against me, and even the suddenly loud sound of his claws extending doesn’t bother me. I shiver under the warm caress of the smooth metal that trails ever so gently down my body and take my clothes with them. I’m so alive now, his teeth in my neck, down my collar bone. Leaving bloody, bleeding marks and they hurt and burn and it’s wonderful, but more it’s the emotions he’s giving off. He loves me. I can feel it coming off him in waves. This is the first time we’ve ever done anything like this, he was like my best friend and yet, he’s loved me for so long and I never noticed. I can’t help but let the tears escape and he drags himself up to curl around me and hold me as I cry my eyes out.
I never knew he loved me like this. Never knew that it was possible to be loved without being touched. And he’s loved me through everything. And I realize now what my deaths have cost him, how he’s mourned me not once, but twice and that makes me cry all the harder. I can’t tell him how I feel, it’s too soon, but it’s enough that he curls protectively around me and holds me close. I can hear him saying something. I don’t know what it is, can’t really hear much over the beating of my heart in my ears and I lay naked against him, feeling his naked body curling around mine.

I didn’t know what to do when he started crying, but I held him and whispered everything I’d wanted to say since I saw him. And it wasn’t just sappy words of love. I cursed him for being such an asshole and for chasing after almost everything that moved and gave him a second glance. I cursed him for dying and then I told him I loved him and he burst into tears even harder than the first time.
Laying back I settled him against my chest and let him cry himself out, rubbing his back and growling softly. He’s beautiful even with his face streaked with tears and his body gaunt from lack of food. “Yer mine Rems. Love you. Got that?” His simple “Yeah Cher.” Makes me smile and snuggle him right up under my chin. “Good.” I can feel him smile against my skin and then he relaxes in my arms and drifts off. This isn’t going to be easy, he’s got a harder habit to kick now than before. But I’ve got him and I’m not letting him go. Today was a close call and I know it. Hank even told me that another few days and I might have lost my beautiful boy before I ever had the chance to really have him. I press a kiss into that fiery hair and wrap my arms tight around him. No more pain in his life from now on, not unless it’s meant for pleasure. We’re going to live and not die by inches like we were. We died today and we’re reborn again today, not in pain, but in love and hope.
Closing my eyes, I remember that I promised Hank I’d bring the kid by tomorrow. A smile taunts my lips. Tomorrow morning there wouldn’t be a battle between two lost warriors, no tomorrow there would be the beginning of a united front against the suspicions of narrow minds and wagging tongues. And that was a battle I was willing to fight now, fight to keep safe the man in my arms who’d survived Death’s call twice in the span of three months. “My survivor.” I whisper in his hair and pick up his sleep slurred voice murmuring “Savior.” before he falls into an exhausted sleep and I follow soon after, safe with him in my arms. It may not be perfect, but good love never is and I wouldn’t give up that battered road that lead me to the harbor of Remy’s arms for anything, even if how close I came to losing him makes my head ache. Welcome in his arms and holding him safely in my own, I don’t care what tomorrow brings as long it’s a tomorrow that he lives in with me.






Author's Note: Everybody gets to do a post Antarctica story. I've got two....I'm greedy like that. This is actually the second one. The first isn't done yet, but this one needed a home so here it is. Hope everyone enjoys. Feedback is how I feed my muse so please review and leave comments and stuffs! Thanks!

Additionally, this one is for Q, cuz she's teh awesomes and she's the one that got me hooked on this stuff. So leaves thanks for her too! And thank her for being my awesome Beta!