Last Room Left

Disclaimer: The town and other characters are mine. Logan and Remy belong solely to Marvel Comics, 20th Century Fox and Disney Corp. The X-Men are a product of Marvel Comics and I claim no rights to them at all. No money exchanged, no slandre intended. THIS IS FICTION!!! Do not sue. sisterwine75@hotmail.com.

 

 

A brown saddlebag slung over his shoulder, a worn white cowboy hat sitting low on his hot brow, a long tan duster flirted with the setting sun the dyed the sky orange and red. In his hand rattled a single handbill of a wanted man; a poker player with a limit to his plays winding down. Logan sighed as he made the town limit, sauntering slow and tierd from the long day's journey. His horse had slowed considerably, in the last town, and Logan thought it best to let the thoroughbred wind down with a younger class of workers; the small bunch of orphans who barely made due with little crops to feed themselves on. With a smile and a final rub down of golden brown hide, Logan bid his horse, Marlene, goodbye and set out for his bounty.



The town of Justice was a dying, one street town. Buildings lined for half mile on both sides of the dirt street. Logan's footsteps carried him to near end, turned and shoved him up the three steps of the only fancy building in town. The Grande Hotel was two, tall stories with elegant framing and brilliant white siding. Tall swinging doors concealed much of the front parlour and dining hall that spread over the wide room. With the bar/registry lining the back wall and the stairs leading up to the second floor on the right, Logan glanced left to find few patrons having dinner quietly while roaring sounds of yells, music and catcalls came from elsewhere.



Wrapping twice on the wooden countre, Logan called out for the innkeeper, "hey, need a room."



A short, middle-aged man with slicked back brown hair greying at the sides came around the side of the countre from wiping the tables of the connecting dining room. "A room, hm? Well," the keeper checked his registry book, on the countre in front of them, "I believe there is one room left. The renter spends most of his time at the poker games, or with the girls. How long do you need it for?" His small, round glasses gleamed from the ray of light that shone between them as he lifted his head to look at the man.



"Just a night."



Nodding and looking back down at his registry, he picked up a pen and placed the point on the line, "name, sir?"



"Logan."



"First or last, sir?"



Logan steadied his gaze on the other man. "Just Logan."



Scrawling the name quickly down, the keeper turned back to swipe a key attached to an oval fob, that hung on the wall of a makeshift postbox system for guests, and placed it onto the countre in front of Logan. "Room 16, upstairs, down the hall to the left. Washroom is upstairs to the right. Have a nice rest, Mr. Logan."



"Thanks."



The keeper watched as the other man picked up a saddlebag that looked rather heavy and full, and turned to climb the stairs to his right as if he were half asleep already. Thinking he hadn't done something the tiniest of bits wrong, the keeper shook his head and went back to wiping down tables in the dining area.



~*~



Opening the door to the room, Logan looked around and was half expecting to see a mess of poker cards and chips strewn about but he discovered that his roommate only kept one leather satchel in a wooden chair, by the window. Shrugging off his saddlebag, that was thrown over his right shoulder, Logan turned to shut the door and sauntered back down the hall to the washroom.



Logan lathered up thickly while standing up in the bath, and then sat back down in the hot water to rinse off. Taking a deep breath and relaxing a moment before scooping up some water in his hands and dumping it over his head, he listened for other patrons on the second floor. Soft breaths of sleeping guests undertoned the clinking of glasses and carrying ons of the small dining hall below. The tub was a small wash basin with a high back and was made out of, what seemed, the coldest metal on Earth. Logan scrubbed and scrubbed himself with the wash rag until he was positive his body gleamed clean.



A sigh of relief and a stifled yawn told him he was clean from the hot dust of travel but also tired from his long journey south. It was, in fact, the hottest day 1884 had seen yet. The sun wasn't even down all the way and Logan was exhausted from riding for months. With a groan and another long, jaw-snapping yawn, Logan stood and climbed out of the tub. He strolled over to a small setee with elegant red velvet padding and picked up his folded towel that rest on the seat. He dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door to go back to his room.



His eyes burned with exhaustion and his breath was heavy with sleep. He didn't bother slipping on his pants before lying down on the bed and stretching out onto multi-coloured patched quilt that was thin enough to be considered a top sheet yet thick enough to keep a body warm during the cool nights. Blowing the candle out, on the bedside table, he lay on his back and stared up at the black ceiling for a long minute. Logan's eyelids grew suddenly lead heavy and he slipped soundlessly into sleep, jutting himself awake 30 minutes later to roll over and get more comfortable.



The bed wasn't the most comfortable but it was deep and soft and much more inviting than the hard ground, outside. The pillows were soft and plush and Logan had to fold one over to stop himself from drowning in downe. He had rolled away from the middle and faced the window, that had been cracked open so that the breeze made the lace curtains sway and balloon with the shifting drafts. Since the bed lay crossways from the wall on the right side of the room, the small vanity and wardrobe sat against the wall to the left of the door. Logan found himself wide awake and staring at the small stand with the wash basin and water pitcher sitting neatly between the two windows.



He yawned and rolled over to face the door and fell asleep, waking three hours later when the door opened and his sloshed roommate stumbled in, tripping over his own feet, on the way to the empty side of the bed. Logan didn't say a word, nor did he move. He only listened to the clumsy sounds of the drunk man as he stumbled over to bed, stripped himself of clothing and turned around to sit and then lay down.



The roommate settled in with a heavy sigh and the smell of Whiskey on his breath. He hummed and yawned and stretched, rolling over to face Logan. The original occupant hadn't realised that the bed was already occupied so, he stretched out and snuggled down into the thick, hairy chest of the next-to-naked Logan, that faced him. It hadn't dawned on the extremely drunk card player that he was sharing a bed with a complete stranger; a man, nonetheless. He rather enjoyed having a lump of someone to snuggle up to, regardless if it was a man or not.



Grumblings from the drunken man rumbled the hair on Logan's chest along with kisses and mutterings of "petite cherie". He had been awake since the roommate threw his thin arm over Logan's middle and even raised his eyebrow when the man's hand travelled over upper torso. Logan wondered if his bed partner realised what he was doing and to whom. Warm, wet kisses splayed across his left shoulder as Logan rolled onto his back.



Logan growled softly and cleared his throat once the kisses and now tiny licks spread over his broad chest to reach the other shoulder, the sloshed poker player adjusting himself to straddle Logan's hips. His right hand balled into a fist and three sharp adamantium claws slithered silently out from between his knuckles. His hands raised in reflex of possible harm but he knew the other man was too drunk to harm the easiest of flies let alone a 200 pound man he now sat above. Instead, his hands braced themselves on the thinner hips of the bedmate.



"Ah, so you want ta play, mon cher?" The slurred laughter and the slight grinding of hips together made the man laugh harder and lean forward, in complete darkness, to kiss Logan's collarbone. He felt a twinge of excitement on the other man's skin that set his blood on fire. His own manhood strained against the fur-lined groin, rubbing frantically with Logan's determined erection.



Their eyes met with a faint flash of red from the man above. Logan quirked a smile and reached between them to grab his rigid length and whisper a masculine, "I don't think you want this."



"How you know, cher? Mebbe, I like to try new things?" The man on top paused to squeeze gently on his own manhood before poking the wet tip between Logan's muscled legs. "Mebbe, I can make you crazy, non?" He was able to get in three good, deep strides before he was gruffly removed and rolled over, flopping down on his stomach, crossways on the bed.



Logan hovered over top of the younger man and leaned in to growl low in a satiny right ear, "I reckon it's my turn to make you crazy, cher." A flash of a smile and placing two fingers of his free hand, the other held him up, Logan moistened them and forcefully ground them between two spicy firm cheeks and into the tight, waiting entrance. He laughed evil and low as his partner let out a pleased gasp and muffled moan as Logan dug deep into him, causing the young poker player to bite down on the edge of the bed. Slow, deep, intentional strokes egged more moans and eager, lustful gasps out of the young man beneath him. "Is it drivin' you crazy, yet?"



A muffled "uh huh."



Logan placed a soft kiss on a warm shoulderblade and removed his fingers to wrap them around his straining erection. With an upward thrust, Logan was in and moving freely, deeply inside his partner's body. He felt so ready to release but held himself back, needing more moans and whimpers to come first. His slow rhythmic strokes were causing the man beneath him to writhe and force himself back, impaling his own body onto Logan's. Logan only smiled more and moved even slower, slowing to the point of less than a snail's crawl to deliver his control.



Biting nearly completely through the mattress, the poker player slithered a thin hand underneath him and had barely grabbed himself when their bodies shifted so that he was ontop and Logan was once again on his back, holding the younger above him. Legs spread widely apart and his body being invaded by the firm, harsh length of the man beneath him and his own manhood demanding the same attention, he had no place to go but arch his back stroke himself to climax that was well overdue.



Logan came next, long and forceful, inside the tightness. He lay on his back and held the young man against him, kissing a tense left shoulder as warm juice came in such abundance that it spilled out, onto the thin quilt below.



"Merci. Merci."



~*~



As dawn lazily approached, the two men lay tangled together, both still naked and neither under the quilt. Logan lay still on his back with the young poker player dozing on his chest. Since the face was turned away, Logan stared at the auburn sating that spilled over the furry chest and reached to gather a lock of it in his right hand. His left felt along the floor to retrieve the handbill he had carelessly dropped the night before. Clearing his throat, Logan read the description that accompanied the sketch of a young poker-playing Cajun; auburn hair, red eyes, sultry accent and wanted for cheating. "You wouldn't be a Remy LeBeau, would you?"



Giggling softly, the young man didn't move, nor was he surprised to hear his name on the man's lips. He lay on his left side and stared, hungrily at Logan's limp appendage, dangling his answer. Thin fingers of his right hand snaked up and encircled Logan's manhood as his head slipped closer toward it. "Could be. And, you're de big bad man dat's gonna take me in, non?"



"Could be."



Remy hummed. "Den we'd better have breakfast 'fore we start out, hehn?" With one last movement, Remy slipped the moist crown over his lips and kissed and sucked it as if it were a lollipop to be savoured. He smiled as Logan gasped and held his head there with a firm right hand.



Logan had only closed his eyes and was just getting into the feeling when a vibration paused him from delving deeper. A second vibration started and he groaned as Remy heard it, stopped and sat up, looking annoyedly at his lover. The sound started a third time and demanded both attentions on the pants pocket that lay on the floor, beside the bed. "Didn't I tell you to leave that somewhere?"



A guilty shrug as Remy leaned over and kissed Logan's lips, letting the man taste his own juices as he snatched up the phone from his pocket, flipped it open and snapped it closed again, cancelling the call. "De next time you rent a town, make sure dey have some real Whiskey."



Logan laughed. "Next on the list after a more comfy bed."



Remy snuggled down, into Logan's warm chest, wrapping his arms around him. "Perhaps, we redo '30? Hn?"



"Next time, kid."







Finis.