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Only In My Dreams	By : SisterWine Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male > Remy/Logan Views: 3649 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

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Logan stood there a moment, still in complete shock at what he had just witnessed. Finally, he spoke. "Didn't you try to fight back? If you're a mutant, why didn't ya use yer powers? Oh baby, don't cry." Pushing the sobbing Cajun back so he could look at him and dry his eyes, he waited for Remy to form an answer somewhat coherent.

"Remy try t' fight back but, you were too strong. Not de only time you was drunk, cher." Remy lowered his gaze to the bench of the picnic table. "Remy tell you, he don' use his powers on Logan, an' Logan don' use 'is claws on Remy. Y' forgive Remy, cher? Don' mean t' be a whore, mon amour. I try better, oui??"

Logan smiled and cupped one of Remy's soggy cheeks, "Nothin to forgive, kid. Do you forgive me?"

Remy looked up in excitement. He tossed his arms around Logan's neck again and cooed. "Oui, mon cher! Remy never be mad at you, mon amour. After you sobred up, you bury Remy, an' give him a nice talkin' to. You fo'get 'im but, Remy a good patient boy. He wait only for you, cher."

Logan smiled and went back to looking around the huge valley. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was neither night or day. He looked back at Remy who was awaiting to hear Logan profess his love for him too. "Remy, where... where did I....bury you?"

Without hesitation, Remy pointed to the tall oak tree that stood to his left. He watched in reserve as Logan walked over to the tree and examined it.

"Where, Remy?"

"Under. You put Remy in a box an' you bury him under de tree." Remy pushed himself off of the table and walked over to where Logan stood. He pointed to a small carving that read:

'R.I.P.

Remy LeBeau.

1905-1930.

Je t'aime, aussi.'

Logan looked at the young man again. He realised that Remy was now wearing the blood-stained shirt and pants he'd been killed in. "Where is this in my world, Remy? Where is this tree in my world?" He'd turned and grabbed the young man's shoulders and turned him to face Logan.

"Port Allen."

"Port Allen?"

Remy nodded, silently.

"Who's dreamin this place? Where did this come from?"

"You are, m'sieur."

"The table too?"

"Oui. You brought it a year after you bury Remy. You sit and talk to de tree fo' hours, cher. Sometimes you drunk, an' sometimes you bring a petite fille wit' you. Logan forget 'bout me after couple o' years. You go away, leave me all lonely. Remy sit at de table an wait but, Logan don' come. So, Remy foun' yo' dreams. I jus' wan' t' spen' time wit' you, cher. Remy lonely." Tears welled up in the young man's eyes again and he wiped them away with his sleeve.

Logan bit his bottom lip and then walked back to the wooden table. He stopped at the end and told Remy to come to him. When the kid did as he was told, Logan grabbed his slim hips and lifted the kid up onto the edge of the table, as he had done before. Putting a finger to the velvet lips as they started to speak, Logan kissed him, gently and undid the old hookings of Remy's khakis. Logan whispered for the kid to lean back and close his eyes.

Remy looked at him, quizzically before complying. He scoot himself back on the table and leaned back on his palms. Closing his eyes, he felt Logan free his manhood and then take him into his mouth. Remy gasped and his eyes shot open to watch Logan pleasuring him. Remy cooed and 'mmmmm-ed' as Logan seemed to go on for never-ending minutes. He balanced on his left hand and reached up to play with Logan's black hair and entangle his fingers in it as he couldn't hold himself back from releasing. He lay himself down on the long table and smiled when Logan brought himself to look into his red on black eyes. "Pourquoi, Logan?"

"Let's just say, it was overdue." Logan kissed the velvet mouth again and let the kid taste himself on Logan's lips and tongue. "I don't wanna scare ya, kid, but this body is makin me so hard. How about we go back to my room, and we can fall in love all over again?"

"You wan' Remy t'make love t'you? I make you feel better, cher. We go." Remy sat up and jumped as Logan grabbed his arms and stopped him.

"No. For 3 weeks, you've been doin all the work. It's my turn now."

"Of course."

Remy entwined his fingers in Logan's and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were in Logan's bedroom. Remy sat on the end of the bed, naked and ready. Logan had stood in front of him but, still had his clothes on. Remy liked undressing Logan. He could tease and tickle him that way. He reached up and undid Logan's shirt, and then moved to his pants. He came face to face with Logan's erection. Remy looked up into Logan's eyes and then again, filled his mouth with saliva before coating the erection with wetness. He sucked a bit but stopped when hands lightly gripped his shoulders.

Logan gently pushed Remy back to lie down on the bed, and spread his legs. He bent over the kid and gently pushed himself into the tight channel. He kissed the pain away, that he'd read in Remy's expression. His movements had been slow and steady. He remembered all to well the sight at the top of the stairs and Remy pleading with him to stop. It was the last thing he'd wanted Remy to experience again. Trailing kisses over Remy's slender jawline and down his neck, Logan let his speed increase. He smiled as he listened to Remy pant in pleasure. Letting a hand move to stroke Remy's hardness, Logan gasped and increased his pace bit by bit before nearly coming.

"M'sieur...... ahh...... M'sieur.... will you please come? Ahh... I need t' feel you, mon amour. Sil vous plait. Ahh.... Remy can' hol' out any longer, Logan." Remy squeezed his eyes closed and enclosed his hand around Logan's to help him stroke Remy's erection. He gasped at the touch and moaned into Logan's hungry lips. They felt each other release and sighed at the completion. "Je taime, Logan?"

"Je t'aime, Remy." Logan removed himself and lay beside Remy on the end of the bed.

Remy rolled over to face the older man and snuggle into the brawny chest. He smiled.

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Logan opened his eyes to find himself still sitting the bathtub, which now had cold water. He wondered how long he had been there, and why Jean wasn't knocking at the door. Logan let the water out and then stood up and took a cold shower. He was still hard and the cold water didn't help. He knelt down and stroked himself. Thick, hot liquid mixed with cold shower water as it was washed down the drain. Logan grunted as the last of it was being dissolved by the water. He cleaned himself up and turned off the water.

He grabbed a fluffy white towel that hung on a wrack beside the door, and dried himself off. All that was going through his mind was the thought of him raping Remy on the stairs. And then, him making love to Remy on his bed. He had treated the kid so horribly, and yet the kid had acted like it was nothing. It didn't make sense. Finally, he remembered the tree and where the kid said he was buried.

Wrapping the thick white towel around his waist, he opened the door and rushed to his dresser to get dressed. He grabbed a sport bag and started throwing extra clothes into the bag. Dashing back into the bathroom to hang up the damp towel, he turned on the light and blew out the greatly diminished candles he had lit before his bath. Logan grabbed his needed toiletries and packed them too. As he ran out the door, he glanced at the clock beside his bed, 10:15 PM. He'd been asleep for over 3 hours. He threw open the door and ran down the hall with his bag in hand.

Everyone was either asleep or in their rooms doing their things. He decided to avoid them all and headed for Xavier's quarters. He knocked on the door and waited to hear Charles' acknowledgement.

"Yes, Logan?"

"I talked to him. Found out where he was buried. He showed me. Port Allen. I gotta go. I wanna bring him here and put him under the tree. He showed me everything." Logan rushed in and shut the door behind him. He sat down beside the bed on a plush leather chair.

"So it was you he was with....?"

"Yea. I kinda did a bit more than he told us in the Danger Room." Logan hung his head in shame.

Charles sat up and leaned back against his tall headboard. "Will he come back to your dreams?"

"I dunno. But, if I move him here, he might not be so lonely. I have ta put things right with him before he can move on."

"I had a feeling you were going to go find him. Let me get dressed and I'll go with you. I might be of some help in locating where he's buried." Charles pulled back the covers and mentally brought himself fresh clothing.

Logan nodded and left the room. He ran to the hangar to ready the Jet and wait for Charles.

Five minutes passed before the elevator doors opened and Charles emerged. Hurriedly, he hovered his chair up the walk and set it down in an empty space.

The loading hatch closed and Logan set the controls and prepared for take-off. Logan wasted no time flying the shortest route to Port Allen and finding a place to land in the swampy marsh. The flight took most of 5 hours and neither man chatted much. When they did speak, they filled each other in on what they had learned about Remy and his past.

Logan finally landed the plane shortly after 2:30AM and cloaked it with a flat clearing in the swamp. Branches and moss covered it, as well as the huge trees that seemed to come together above them. Logan admired his cloaking skills and turned to lead Charles out of the brush.

"I've made reservations at the hotel in town. They're expecting us." Charles mentioned as they neared the town limits. "We can start tomorrow morning."

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At the hotel, Logan stopped at the room door and stared at the number, 25. Remy was that age. He'd hoped to take a nap and spend it with the kid. He couldn't wait to tell him about his plans to bring him back to Westchester and bury him under the huge maple tree that he could see from his bedroom window. Logan turned the key and opened the door. Feeling for the lightswitch, he clicked it on to find the room was decorated in the late 1920s style. Quaint Tiffani lamps sat on either side of the grand 4 poster bed that sat just off to the right, they were dim but enough to

see by. An old wicker ceiling fan hung directly above the bed and spun lazily. The window was diagonal from the door, and stood in between the door and the bed. He walked in to the room and shut the door behind him. Placing his bag in the chair that sat to the left of the door, he continued to look around the room and wander into the small bathroom. It wasn't as big as his was at the Mansion but, it had a sink, toilet, and a small shower stall. Suit him just fine.

Logan yawned and flicked the lightswitch off before laying down on the bed. Not bothering to change his clothing or slide under the covers. Instead, he played with the lace ruffles and fancy patterns while he succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Remy? Remy!"

Silence.

"Remy, Charles and I are in Port Allen. Come talk to me, kid. Remy? Where are ya?"

Again, silence.

Logan stared at the blackness of his mind. Remy's name being bounced off the darkness. He growled at the silence. Still, nothing came. Not even the peppery scent of his Cajun lover as he rolled over and concentrated harder. Hours passed and Logan tossed and turned. Still no Remy.

Knock knock.

Logan grunted and jumped at the sudden sound.

Knock knock.

He got up off the bed and forced himself to walk to the door. He opened it, and stared at Charles before remembering where he was. "I'll be down in a minute. Just need to get cleaned up." He closed the door and hurried to change his clothes and brush his teeth and hair.

With his bag in hand he ran down the stairs he met Xavier in the lobby who was holding two cups of hot coffee. Charles had asked the clerk at the desk to call a taxi before asking where they might find an old cemetery with an oak tree and a picnic table next to it.

The clerk thought for a minute, then laughed. He told them the only cemetery with a tree and picnic table in it was located in the historical part of town, out by the old LeBeau manner. "Only one person buried dere, mes amis. His ghost haunt de house too. You crazy if you go dere, monsieur."

"Thank you." Charles paid for the rooms and followed Logan out of the door.

The taxi pulled up soon after they were outside and had finished their coffee. They climbed in and told the driver to head for the old LeBeau manner. The driver nodded and proceeded to drive the two strangers to their destination.

It was nearly to the edge of town when the taxi turned down a long drive way and stopped at a rickety old gate. Logan got out and asked the driver to wait there while he and his friend opened the gate and went inside. The driver nodded and turned off the engine but kept the meter running.

The two men walked up the barely recognizable path to the tall, dark two-storey house that looked ashambles. The front yard had been overgrown with tall grass and weeds. A rotted wooden rocking chair sat off the far left of the long, white porch. To the right, an equally old and rotted double porch swing sat. The paint was peeling and boards creaked and groaned with each step Logan took. The windows of the front of the house were dirty and some were missing pieces of them.

Logan took the handles of the double doors and pressed down on the rusted buttons. He pushed, but it wouldn't give. He growled.

"Let me try." Charles concentrated on the door and shortly after, the doors opened up to a dark and dusty inside.

Charles followed Logan's lead into the house. They looked around the entrance way. The beautiful black marble floor that had once shined so brightly, now lay under a few inches of dust. No furniture or paintings or any of the art Logan saw in his dream. It was empty.

Suddenly, Logan spotted a cleared spot at the bottom of the stairs. He took a closer look to find a big red stain in the middle of the floor. No dust had fallen there. It was as if the dust had gathered around it like a wreath of flowers. He knelt down and took a closer look. It was a stain of blood. Remy's blood. Something in his mind snapped back to his dream that Remy had shown him. Shaking off the harsh memory of his poor ill-fated lover, he turned his attention to the top of the stairs and made a dash for the spot. Taking two steps at a time, Logan bound up the steps in search of the very spot that haunted him.

"What is it, Logan? What do you see?" Charles called from the bottom of the stairs. He sat his chair down beside the stain and waited.

Logan replayed the events he was shown and described them to Xavier as he acted them out, skipping the more intimate details. ".... and then he fell down the stairs. He begged and pleaded for me to help him, but I wouldn't listen. The bedroom's back here." Logan pointed down the dark hallway just kitty-corner to the tall staircase. Turning away from the stairs, he disappeared down the hall and into the first room on the left; their bedroom.

It was a huge room with slashed walls and a dusty, broken, oval vanity mirror that stood in the far right corner of the room. The metal frame belonging to a massive king sized bed sat against the nearest wall, beside the door. The room was empty otherwise. Logan thought it best not to enter the room. Instead, he checked the other rooms before returning downstairs and leading Charles to the back door.

The back door, itself, had been pulled half off it's hinges so it rested on the bottom hinge. Logan opened the door and pushed open the metal frame of the screen door. The screens had seen his obvious fury after realising his lover was dead by his drunken rage. Looking out, he saw the huge tree from his dream. Patches of tall weeds had grown up around it. The rotted and warped table was there too.

Both men made their way to the tree. Logan looked for the carvings and hunched down to get a better look. Moving some weeds, he saw the carvings on a cleared space at the bottom of the tree.

"Now that we know where it is, we will come back with the Blackbird and equipment. Logan, are you sure you want to do this?" Xavier looked from the tree to the man who was still engrossed in the tree as if he were remembering another piece of the dream.

"Yea. I'm sure. I owe the kid that much."

To Be Continued............... sisterwine75@hotmail.com
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Only In My Dreams