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Creed's Credo	By : xmenfreak119 Category: X-men Comics > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 4500 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or the characters herein. The only ones I do own will be the characters that are not in the comics. I write these stories for my own twisted pleasure and relief and make no money from this. Please do not sue.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter contributed by : CeeCee

Summary: Vic leaves the boys love notes. Logan works through more issues with Remy over the course of his recovery.

Author�s Note: Sorry this was slightly delayed. I ran into stumbling blocks from exhaustion and a bad virus/cough that I�ve been shaking for weeks. Thanks for your patience.

Disclaimer: I don�t own Logan and Remy. I make no money from the writing of this story. But I love watching their antics�*cough*

One week later:

Remy was so lost in thought that the sudden presence of Logan�s emotions jarred him. He seldom heard Logan�s footsteps when the feral didn�t want him to.

�Quit frettin�, chere,� Remy murmured as he drew the shade on the window. Staring out of it wasn�t doing him any good; it just made him restless to get out into the sunshine.

�Get yer ass back in bed,� Logan nagged gruffly. Remy stuck out his tongue.

�Don�t wanna.�

�Don�t make me put ya back in there.� Logan�s tone was bland, but a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

�Who�hold on�what�s dis, Remy ain� listenin�, can�t get �im back inta bed, he�s bein� defiant,� Remy teased, sitting back in the wheeled chair beside the infirmary bed. He lounged back in it like he didn�t have a care in the world, even though he hid a wince. The chair�s leather was chilly and the posture pulled at his stitches painfully.

�See whatcha did,� Logan scolded, frowning. He tugged Remy up by his uninjured arm and steered him toward the despised bed. Remy growled in frustration.

�Dis bites,� Remy grumbled peevishly as Logan nudged him down to the mattress. He kicked his feet out at him when Logan tried to lift his legs back up.

�Uh-uh-ahhhh,� Logan scolded again, �that ain�t any way ta behave.�

�M�so damned bored, mec,� Remy said, grudgingly letting Logan lift his legs after all and get him settled back against the thick pillows. To Logan�s credit, he�d pampered the Acadian every day with his time, help with grooming and bringing him his meals. Logan also made a point of carrying down Remy�s laptop to keep him entertained between naps, since Hank forbade televisions in his infirmary, citing that they were a costly distraction in the event of an attack, or to giving patients critical care.

Logan sighed, reaching out to tweak Remy�s big toe. �Hey!� he yelped, jerking his foot back and hissing with the additional pain that caused his bruised ribs.

�Ya ain�t gotta focus on anything now but gettin� better, Rem,� Logan reminded him as he began to bundle him back beneath the covers.

�I don� need tuckin� in.�

�Aw, yeah, ya do,� Logan countered. �Yer feet�re fair game if ya don�t let me, bub.� Remy �hmmphed� as Logan gave his temple a small peck. �Besides, ya like some of the things I do ta yer feet�� Remy narrowed his eyes at him.

�Mebbe I do�mebbe I don�t.�

�Maybe ya do,� Logan husked, closing in on him and planting his hands on either side of Remy, pinning him beneath the blankets.

�Mmmph��no fair, mec�mmmmmm�� Remy�s groans turned into a purr of contentment as Logan�s lips captured his, having his way with them. Remy�s good arm snaked out from beneath the blankets and roped itself around Logan�s neck, pulling him down for a more thorough mating. He felt Logan�s fingers scrabbling at the back of his neck, tugging open the ties of his blue telemetry gown and jerking it down.

�Quit whinin� an� let me take care of ya,� Logan rasped in his ear as he suckled the lobe, nipping it none too gently. Arousal flared in Remy�s loins�oh, the things Logan could do with those teeth.

�T�ought��wuz �sposed t�be takin� it easy,� Remy moaned as his boyfriend painted the column of his throat with sultry heat, leaning to the side to give him better access. Logan laved the fading scars he found there, ragged marks caused by Victor�s talons; the beast growled from his subconscious that the bastard would pay for that. But in the meantime he lapped up the flavors of Remy�s skin and drank in the sounds of his passion, low whimpers of need and his name.

�Ya are. I�m makin� it easy for ya,� Logan assured him. The low, delicious scratch of his voice thrummed through Remy, stroking his nerve endings as he spoke against his collarbone. His fingertips found his vulnerable nipple, teasing it, and Remy turned into a quivering puddle. He tried to arch up into the sensations Logan was causing, to push himself farther into his hot mouth to better meet that tongue, but Logan gently pushed him back. �Don�t strain yerself, darlin�. Don�t wanna make ya hurt yerself��

�Merde,� Remy whispered.

�That�s why ya hafta stay in bed. Ain�t gonna get better unless ya get some rest,� Logan continued to chide. Remy�s fingers dug themselves into Logan�s hair, loving the satisfyingly thick, coarse waves. Remy�s manhood throbbed with each lap and tease, twitching beneath his patient gown, and he made a small whine of complaint in his throat, like a dog denied a bone at the neglect.

�M�gonna get ya back once I�m up an� around,� Remy promised, but Logan silenced him with more deep kisses, scratchier since neither man had shaved for several days.

�Go right ahead, I double-dare ya,� Logan challenged, enjoying his position of power as he blocked Remy�s further attempts at easing out from beneath him. He attacked his other nipple, teasing the first damp peak with his fingers, and Remy submitted with a long groan.

He�d only meant to cajole his lover back into bed for much needed rest, but once he had a hold of him, stroking and teasing him, stealing a tantalizing taste of him, it became hard for Logan to let go. The contact was made all the more precious by the fact that he�d nearly lost him. Not the first time, certainly, but it had never meant so much to him before. Previous times when he�d fought by his side, Remy was his teammate. But now, in recent months, following several years of sorting out the feelings he had for him, he loved him more than his life. Remy projected identical feelings of passion and need, and that deep, nurturing devotion that redeemed both men and gave them definition.

He returned to that eager mouth, dominating it, draining it and letting it breathe life into him in a symbiotic mingling; when they each took, they gave back, hearts, lips, spirits, minds and essence. Logan ceased his teasing and flattened his palm, sliding it down until it covered Remy�s thudding heartbeat. Remy�s blunt fingernails scored Logan�s back through his thin tank, then landed in tandem over his, coveting its strength.

Reason penetrated the fog of passion that enveloped Logan and he reluctantly pulled back, panting. �Damn it��

�Ya ain�t finished tuckin� Remy in.�

�Yer in. Brat.� Logan righted Remy�s gown and backed off, smoothing Remy�s blankets as he went. �Ya know what ya were doin�!�

�Who, lil� ol� Remy?� Remy gave him a soulful look, pouting innocently with red-on-black puppy dog eyes for effect.

�Yeah, lil� ol� you. Brat,� Logan re-emphasized, turning away from him to pour him a glass of water from the pitcher by the bed. He handed it to him. �Hope yer hungry.�

�T�ought I made that plain a few minutes ago, chere��

�Nah. Brought ya some takeout.� Remy shrugged.

�Dat�ll do, too. Can�t look one more can o� soup in de eye.� Logan wasn�t the greatest cook, mainly a bacon-and-eggs man, so the pickings had been slim when he was the principal person taking care of Remy outside the lab. Logan moved about, opening the white to-go bags and letting the scents of fried potatoes and barbecue sauce waft out. He set out Remy�s portions on the over-bed table and then fetched the warm flannel shirt he�d brought down for him, one of his own old ones, and carefully slid his arms into the sleeves, taking care not to pull his stitches. They ate companionably, licking sauce and grease from their fingers. Then Logan booted up the laptop and logged Remy into his email.

�Stormy says hi,� Remy remarked.

�Tell her hi back.�

�Also said she�s gon� skin ya alive fer lettin� me get gutted.�

�Tell her I was a little occupied at the time,� Logan muttered in disgust. �Besides, I�m too busy kickin� my own ass��

�Non. Let it go. Shit happens.�

�Not t�you. Not when I�m there.�

�Non. An� oui. Can, too. Jus� gotta be better prepared next time. You an� me both, mec.�

�Ain�t gonna be a next time.� Logan�s eyes turned flinty and Remy felt his feral instincts and anger flare and bloom through their rapport.

�Ain�t always gonna be able ta keep de Boogey Man away. He�s a sneaky bastard, chere.� Oh, how well Remy knew.

�Ya can only get the jump on a man so many times. After a while, ya get sloppy. Ya get too confident,� Logan mused. His voice grew far away, and Remy watched helplessly as he lost himself in another memory.

*

Berlin, downtown, WWII:

The tiny nightclub was full of GI�s that night, watching a surprisingly good singer in drag crooning a rendition of Billie Holiday. The interior was smoky; officers and civilians alike were enjoying furtive, rationed cigarettes and vodka. Two men sat in the shadows, smelling of cheap soap and the cologne offered in the men�s WC in the back.

�Wonder what she�s hidin� under that skirt,� Victor muttered as he swigged down his drink, doing the liquor no justice.

�Idiot,� Logan chided him. �Great gams, though.� Victor shrugged, then nodded. The queen was one of few women in the building who could afford silk stockings instead of just having someone else draw the lines up the back of her legs.

The club erupted into enthusiastic applause when she finished. She blew big, lipsticked kisses to the crowd and made her exit, disappointing the men catcalling for an encore. Logan dutifully clapped; Victor looked bored.

�Where�s the real fuckin� entertainment?�

�Tomorrow at dawn,� Logan reminded him blankly. �C�mon. Get over yerself. Let yer hair down.� He said that with more than a bit of irony; Victor�s long, thick blond hair had been shorn into the standard crew cut when they enlisted. Logan periodically cleaned it up for him, as well as his own, since his healing factor made it grow back so fast.

He wouldn�t admit to him that he almost missed the thick mass tumbling down his comrade�s back. There was no room for fluff or sentiment between them.

�Wish they�d bring out the dancin� girls already.�

�Already takin� a risk, just bein� here, Vic.�

�Nah. You think it�s a risk. Quit bein� such a pansy ass, Jimmy.� Logan shot him a glare over the rim of his glass before he, too, shotgunned his drink and thunked the tumbler back down on the table.

Then, as if Victor willed it, the club proprietor took the tiny stage and barked into the mic. �Ain�t she sweet? If ya liked our little songbird, Fifi, yer gonna love this, boys! Homegrown right here in the shining city of Berlin, fer your viewing pleasure � the Buttercups!� The piano player began a rollicking tune then, and the rest of the four-piece orchestra joined him, heralding the arrival of a quintet of girls, all similar in height and garbed in yellow satin with gold sequins. They were spirited and talented, all blonde, and all wore eyes and lips painted for mischief. They launched into a tap dance routine that initially sent the men in the club into startled laughter, whooping, making the transition to the Charleston and back into choreography Logan vaguely remembered seeing at the USO expo the week before. They were good, he decided. He waved down the waitress and muttered to Victor, �This one�s on you.�

�Fine by me.� Victor fished out a five-spot and slid it over the table absently, eyes still pinned on the girls. �You can treat next.�

�What? Beer?�

�Nah. One of those. Maybe two.� Logan followed his eyes back to the stage, and he shook his head.

�Yer fulla shit.�

�I mean it. You�re buyin�. I�m havin�.� Suddenly Logan didn�t like the lusty, feral gleam in Victor�s blue eyes, which tended to flash amber when the hunger hit him. On the battlefield, the change was a fearsome thing to behold, and it was the last sight some witnessed before Victor took them out.

�Get the fuck outta here.�

�Nah. Ya don�t get it. That�s just what I�m plannin� ta do, runt.� Unease rippled through Logan�s gut, and a long-buried memory stirred in his consciousness, making him suppress a growl.

�She�s a girl. You don�t hit girls.�

�Tell that to my pa. He says they�re only good for one thing.�

Logan didn�t notice the fresh glass of vodka sweating in front of him until Vic turned back from watching the stage and elbowed him sharply. �Hey, runt.�

�Eh?�

�Gonna drink that?� Before he could answer, Vic snatched it up and downed it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. �Lightweight.� Logan growled under his breath.

�Fucker��

They watched the show die down to its finale, a predictable but lively can-can with flashing fishnets and rustling skirts that stirred up the club again. A few men cried out marriage proposals and threw dollar bills up onto the stage or the single flowers from the vases of each table.

�The BUTTERCUUUUPPPPSSS!� Whistles and stamping feet followed the girls off-stage. Vic beckoned to Logan with a nod of his head.

�C�mon.� Logan reluctantly followed, gut still knotted and sour, making him almost regret the vodka and fried chips they�d indulged in earlier. They made their way around the crowd to the rear exit of the club under the guise of heading to the men�s. Instead they lingered in the back hall. A large bouncer caught sight of them immediately. He sidled up to Victor and clapped one beefy hand around his arm.

�Move it along, sonny. Staff only. Be a gentleman.�

�Ain�t yer sonny, junior,� Victor countered smugly.

�Don�t make me put you out,� he warned. He was easily as big as Victor, which was remarkable enough, but there was uncertainty in his plain brown eyes. Victor�s nostrils flared as he drank in the man�s scent, a hint of sweat and the same cologne they�d sampled earlier, a handful of beer nuts, two cigarettes smoked down to their last cinders, and the starch he�d used to iron his shirt, which ended up with a stain on it when he�d cleared away some greasy plates. And there it was, subtle, but it made Victor want to lick his lips once he�d tasted it, that minute tang of fear.

�Don�t make me put ya over my knee!� Victor spat before he savagely drove his fist into the man�s sternum. He �WHOOUULFF�ed� and doubled over, looking ready to vomit before Victor began whaling on him.

�VIC!� Logan roared. �Whaddya think yer doin�? C�mon, man, let him up! Vic! VIC!�

�Ya like that? How�s this fer me bein� a gentleman?� Victor was getting off on the way the man�s face changed, growing more desperate as he kicked him in the ribs once he was down. Victor brought his combat boot down across the man�s lower spine.

�VIC! GET OFF!� Logan plowed into him, knocking him back against the wall. Victor�s eyes were blazing with a strange lust and excitement. Flecks of the bouncer�s blood decorated his officer�s jacket. Logan�s hands were tangled in his shirt lapels, knuckles itching with the urge to pop his claws and pin Vic�s ears to the wall. Logan�s pupils were dilated and there was a hectic flush in his cheeks. His eyes bulged with anger, and Victor was pleased to see the almost imperceptible lengthening of his canines. He�d gotten to the runt good this time.

�I�ll get off, Jimmy,� he purred. �Just watch me, son.�

*

Logan shook himself. Remy�s hand caught his in his warm grip and squeezed it firmly. �Chere,� he murmured. �Come back.�

�Hnnnnn�� Logan rubbed his eyes and sighed raggedly. �Damn it��

�Been zonin� out more, padnat.�

�Had a lot on my mind.�

�Been gettin� worse,� Remy pointed out. �Logan�I can take it from you. For a while, if ya let me.�

�Don�t give me that shit,� Logan shot back, giving him a glare meant to turn him to paste. Remy stood his ground, shrugging.

�I�m s�posed ta stand by an� watch dis shit eat you up?�

�I can handle it. Ya don�t want what�s in my head. What ya did that night was bullshit. I don�t want ya pokin� around in my nightmares again like that, Remy, ya hear me?�

�Then maybe we should take a dif�rent tack, mec. Do it de old-fashion� way like Henri suggested. Talk.� Logan set his jaw, but Remy was resigned. �Might help. I love ya wit� ev�ryt�in� I got, chere. Remy ain� gonna judge. No matter what.�

�There�s some shit ya don�t need ta know, darlin�.� Logan got up lumbered to the window that Remy abandoned, adjusting the blinds so that mere slivers of sunlight peeked through. It was old habit�

*

�Logan peered furtively out through the bent, ruined blinds, spying the street three stories below. His rifle felt warm in his grip after clutching it for so long.

�Where�s Creed?� David muttered, irritation flavoring his tone. His hand shook as he lifted his cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag to fortify himself.

�He was with me,� Logan told him blankly.

�He should still be with you, ya sonofabitch!� he railed.

�Don�t give me that shit, North!� Logan hissed, keeping his voice low. �We drew fire and got out without any damage! He said he�d meet us here at zero-nine hundred!�

�Then where the fuck is he?�

Logan was resolute, exhaustion writing itself over his young, but already craggy features. �I�ll get him.�

�How�ll you do that? I don�t want you searching blind!�

�I�ll find him,� he insisted. �Stay here.� He tossed him his rifle. �Yer gonna need this more�n me if I don�t get back in twenty.� Before David could call him back, he was gone, stealing down the back stairs.

Logan�s senses kicked into overdrive, assaulting him with different impressions. Recently emptied shells, gunpowder, and old and new blood; deep black treads from tank wheels; abandoned Coca-Cola bottles dashed to the ground so that their shards glittered beneath the street lamps.

There. He caught Victor�s scent six city blocks north, in a deserted alley to the left. He ran past two GIs who nodded hellos to him as they made their way home with two girls on their arms, mindless of the likelihood of more fireworks. Logan stayed low and hunkered down behind an old sofa someone discarded, cloaking himself in the darkness.

��look�I know I said I�d show you a good time, but not like that!�

�Ya don�t know my idea of a good time, then, darlin�. Lemme show ya how ya can earn yer money with me!�

�OW!� *SLAP!* �You�re hurting me!�

�Don�t be shy, darlin�. C�mon, now, I don�t like coy�yeah, that�s nice, ya smell sweet, I could just eat ya up�� Her voice was muffled by his hand around her throat, squeezing off her air supply and low mewls and whimpers while his other hand rummaged under her skirt for her vulnerable sex.

�Please��

�Say it again� �please, Vic,�� he coaxed. �Tell Daddy how much ya like it, baby�� He hit her again, and when she went limp, he ground himself against her and roughly kneaded her breast through her thin satin blouse. �Shoulda known better, doll. Nice girls don�t go out after dark, do they? Who�s gonna believe ya if ya tell �em that the big, bad man roughed ya up a little?� This was greeted by more whimpers and a broken sob.

�Please don�t,� she begged, shaking her head. Her makeup ran in muddy rivers down her blotchy cheeks.

The boy Logan once was recoiled at her helplessness and the vicious glee in Victor�s smile, but the beast in him licked its chops. His knuckles itched and his hackles rose with purpose. Victor fingered the tiny silver cross she wore around her neck.

�Bet yer skippin� Mass tonight,� he joked as she struggled. �Want me t�give ya somethin� else ta confess?� He shook her until her teeth clacked together, enjoying the resulting, choppy rattle of her cries. Then he stiffened, and his smile changed, growing more calculated, colder, if that was possible. �Bout time, runt,� he said without diverting his gaze from her watery blue eyes.

�Take it easy, darlin�,� Logan said, addressing her instead as he left his niche and stalked them, sizing up Victor�s smug stance. �He ain�t gonna hurt ya.�

�Speak fer yerself,� Victor said. �Piss off. Either get outta my way, wait yer turn, or go get yer own.� The woman�s face was turning a deathly gray and her eyes were rolling slowly back into her head as she gasped in staccato pants.

�I�d rather let my friends speak for me,� Logan told him.

SNIIKKTT� There was a low, sharp tearing of flesh, not unlike a zipper�s teeth tearing open, and Victor sucked his teeth in anticipation.

�Look who grew a pair.�

�Set her down. Nice an� easy.�

�I ain�t either one. Thought ya knew that about me by now, Jimmy.�

�Don�t call me Jimmy.�

�My friend thinks it can kick yer friends� asses,� Victor said as he reached into his long winter coat and whipped out his pistol. He gave the woman another callous shake and mashed the barrel against her temple. �Shouldna promised what ya couldn�t deliver, runt.� Ice ran wicked fingers over his spine, and Victor enjoyed the reaction that only he could scent, despite Logan�s resolute, stony look. �That got yer attention, didn�t it?�

�I never take my eyes off you, Vic.�

�That so? Might be too much fer yer virgin eyes when I blow her brains out. This is a shitty neighborhood. Old building like this could use a paint job,� he shrugged. His measured words were having the effect Victor wanted. He could hear the rush of Logan�s blood quickening and his adrenaline spiking in his sweat and skipping pulse. The tiny vein in his temple throbbed and there was an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw.

�That gonna make ya feel like a big man?� Victor barked a laugh. �Pickin� on girls again, Dog?� His smile dropped a notch, and his eyes flattened into hard chips.

�Feelin� pretty big, yeah, Jimmy. Hm? What of it? What�s a whore like this t�you? Huh? She shook her pretty tail in my face and asked me if she could make me feel good for a few �marks. She didn�t know what makin� me feel good involved.� Logan took in her clothing, a skimpy, shining blouse and black skirt and fishnet stockings and kitten-heeled shoes, made barely respectable by the fur-trimmed wool coat she wore. Victor finally lowered her from where he�d suspended her against the wall, instead shifting her so she flopped loose while he resumed his savage grip on the scruff of her neck, talons tangled in her blonde hair. He planted the gun against her temple again.

�Don�t matter how many of �em ya kill,� Logan said, shrugging. �Yer never gonna feel big enough. It ain�t ever gonna put those voices screamin� in yer head ta bed, ya twisted fuck. This ain�t gonna scratch yer itch.�

�Gonna give it the ol� college try anyway, Jimmy. Ya know why?� He sucked his left canine for effect. �Cuz it�s fun.�

Logan had enough.

He banked on his own lightning-quick reflexes and the scant weight of the blade as he whipped it from his pocket and flung it across the narrow gap. His aim was true; Victor growled in pain as the tip punctured his flesh, shocking him into dropping the sidearm. Old lessons died hard. Logan knew better than to charge Victor, even when he felt he could take him by surprise. Whether it was a childhood row or a sparring match on the training camp of their base, Logan took mental notes of Victor�s weaknesses and favorite maneuvers, knowing Victor could render any scrap of knowledge he thought he earned useless, again, by getting the drop on him, taking advantage of that one fraction of a second that he let his guard down.

Victor arm shotgunned up, poised to strike the woman with a quick, clean blow to break her neck. This time, Logan charged, common sense be damned when he really wanted Victor�s blood. The impact of his shoulder with Victor�s ribs was satisfying even as his muscles exploded with pain. The woman reeled loose from Victor�s hand, to Logan�s horror, and she spun and flopped like a rag doll, colliding with the building�s brownstone face. She collapsed, but at least Logan stood between her and her would-be murderer.

�Sissy!� Victor hissed as Logan plowed him into a row of trash cans, raising a clatter that potentially cost them their cover.

�Ya don�t need ta do this to her!�

�That�s how I get off!� Victor grated out as he drew first blood, raking his talons across Logan�s cheek. Logan reeled back and met him with a snarling wolf�s glare, lips pulled back from his fangs, flesh bunched over the bridge of his nose so tautly that the creases resembled fault lines, as though his face would crack. His eyes shone with an amber gleam of hunger and a territorial urge to take down the errant member of his pack. �Ya wanna get in the way of me takin� what I need, ya better be ready ta bring somethin� better!�

�This is what I�m bringin� ya!� Logan�s claws cleaved neatly through the tangling flap of Victor�s coat and raked across his deltoids. Victor gurgled with the searing tear of his flesh and the hot gush of blood hitting the gravel, making his wounds sting. But he wiped flecks of blood from his lips and smiled with a keen satisfaction, pleased with himself.

�Ya ain�t any better than me! Yer gettin� off on this, Jimmy! It�s a rush, ain�t it? C�mon. Come an� get me.� The woman lay forgotten on the gravel, gradually stirring back to life as Logan charged him again. They clashed, claws and fingernails digging into each other�s flesh, grunts tearing from each other�s maws that devolved into barks of rage and challenge. They were possessed, no longer men, and mutual bloodlust enveloped them, dripping over them like syrup. Victor shouldered Logan up, arms whipping around his waist and easily lifting him from the ground. He dashed him against the gravel, knocking the wind from him and enjoying his breathless whinge of surprise. Victor raised his hand and drove his talons toward Logan�s vulnerable, taut belly, but he blocked him with a back-swing of his claws, sketching his throat and jaw in crimson with long, symmetrical gashes.

It was no longer about protecting a helpless woman, and his realization dripped into the pool of his consciousness, barely stirring its surface. It felt too good, too seductively rich and decadent to just let go.

I�m no better than this bastard�

A quick, crucial glance at the fallen woman�s face played tricks on his imagination. She wasn�t a grown woman; her hair was red, not blonde, and his mind�s eye traded fishnet stockings for black leather boots. Don�t do this, Jamie�

The serpentine amber glow receded from his irises and the beast within him retreated with a sharp growl, promising that it wasn�t over yet. �C�mon,� Victor rasped, grinning at him, �you like it, don�t you, ya little bitch!� Victor took advantage of Logan�s distraction and barreled into him, knocking him to his back. He straddled him and collared him with his huge fists, viselike, ramming his head against the ground. Logan bit his tongue, tasting his own blood. His bony claws, streaked with a cocktail of his own blood and Victor�s, retracted into their sheathes as he lost the concentration to keep them extended. He didn�t fear for himself if he blacked out, but the woman was still vulnerable and fair game�

BLAM!

A single shot rang out and Logan heard the shell hit Victor, reminiscent of a rock striking a makeshift bat in a game of children�s stickball. His eyes widened as he watched the round exit Victor�s chest, richoceting off one of the tumbled trash cans. The spent shell lay smoking on the gravel, and Victor heaved a gurgling, starving breath as he gripped the wound in a trembling hand. He stared in dumb shock at the blood slicking his palm. �Sonofa�bitch,� he hissed incredulously. His body seized briefly as his eyes met Logan�s.

Logan�s face twisted in anguish. He shook his head as Victor�s body buckled over him. �Satisfied?� he muttered.

�Lucky�bitch,� he spat as Logan viciously shoved him from him and kicked his way free of Victor�s bulk. He rolled painfully to his feet, eyeing his potential savior.

North slowly lowered his rifle and tipped his helmet to Logan. �Status, soldier.� His expression was disgusted but resigned.

�Ready�*koff* for duty, sir.� Logan gave him a salute. �Found �im.�

�Acknowledged. Brief me when we get back to base. Take that young lady home first.�

The makeshift barracks were deathly quiet except for the low snores of the troop that was slowly depleting in size over the course of weeks. Logan mused that he didn�t want to see the day that he was one of the only two finally left before the final shots rang out. He had little use for sleep and even less for his dreams. A purloined bottle of whiskey, half-empty and cheap, did little to take the edge off.

He knew the bastard was coming. It was just a matter of waiting. No military prison cell could hold Victor if he didn�t want to be kept. That fact made him look better on paper when they recruited him, knowing full well they were dressing a psychotic loose cannon in uniform. Logan�s nose twitched, and he breathed Vic�s musky stink deeply into his chest. Logan was the shortest member of his company but rated a top bunk earned from respect and weeks of planting men�s faces in the dirt in sparring exercises every morning.

Every nerve in his body drew up tightly like guitar strings waiting to be plucked. There was that flow of adrenaline surging through him, and it felt soooooo goooooood�

He didn�t flinch when Victor�s talons slapped his chest, curling into the collar of his white wifebeater tank. He jerked him off the bunk and planted him on the cold concrete floor with a sharp thud. Logan grinned up at him, eyes glinting with amber, almost identical to Victor�s.

�Think yer a hero?� Victor growled in a raspy whisper. He jerked him up and dragged him from the barracks, away from prying ears. No one would save him this time. The moonlight cast a bluish glow over their bodies, sharply delineating the white bandages wrapped around Victor�s chest. Few knew the full extent of his healing factor; his delivery to the medical unit had been furtive and accompanied by little to no explanation of how he came to shot straight through. His bandages were splattered with fresh blood that wasn�t his.

Once outside, they gave the rage that had merely cooled between them its head, and the fight continued with the express purpose of giving them what they couldn�t express in words.

Getting off. It was like sex.

They sparred and growled, tearing at each other in a frenzied dance of fists and gnashing teeth. Sweat slicked their bodies, mingling with blood while bruises and contusions riddled their flesh. They collided off the side of the bunker, knocking out several shingles with the impact. They rolled and buffeted each other, taking the upper hand from each other over and over.

Victor wasn�t appeased. With a savage cry he hoisted Logan by the back of his waist band and flung him off his feet where he tripped and skidded into the dirt. His mouth stung from faceplanting and abrading his skin, and he spat out soil and bits of grass made coppery tasting by the blood licking over his teeth.

�Ya better be ready ta bring somethin� better, Jimmy,� Victor grunted, repeating his earlier advice as he hauled Logan back into him by his hips, dragging him along the ground. Logan�s fingernails pulled up clods of grass and dirt as he struggled to get away, disadvantaged by Victor�s position over him. He kicked to turn himself and unsheathed his claws, brandishing them as he glared up at him, but his response was a sharp, staccato backhand that left him seeing stars. �None o� that,� Victor scolded blandly as he flipped him back to his stomach. Logan�s gut churned with sick dread as Victor�s hands gripped his hips again with dark purpose. Victor�s talons raked his pants, rending apart the seams and tearing apart the waistband. He jerked the open flaps of fabric apart like gift wrapping in the hands of a spoiled child at Christmas, sucking his teeth at the sight of Logan�s exposed rump. One flick of his claw ripped through the thin cotton drawers, baring his flesh to the cold night air. Logan panted in pain and denial, breath escaping him in visible, frosty puffs as blood dripped from his nose between his lips. He sputtered to clear his mouth.

�Don�t�do this,� he rasped, �ya sick�fuck��

�Tell Daddy how much ya like this, Jimmy,� Victor demanded as he pinned his legs, spreading them, and Logan recoiled at the sound of zipper teeth separating behind him. Cruel fingers probed him, invading his snug crevice and violating the sacrosanct vessel of his body. �Shoulda known me by now, Jimmy,� Victor chided him as a thick, stiff knob of smooth flesh buffeted him painfully, pushing at him for entry. Logan scrabbled to raise himself up on his arms to turn himself again, but Victor whipped his head forward and snapped his teeth around Logan�s vulnerable neck, drawing fresh blood that hissed and bubbled over his teeth.

That initial burst of pain fully bloomed and barely retreated before the onslaught of vicious agony as Victor impaled him in several ragged, short thrusts, bearing down on him with his full weight until he was pinned flat on the ground, arms twisted up behind his back. Logan�s channel burned and throbbed with such intensity that he nearly passed out.

�Yeah,� Victor moaned as he fully seated himself, pausing to catch his breath and relish the squeeze of his comrade�s viselike grip on him. �Aw, God, yeah�yeah,� he repeated with each shunt.

The beast inside him howled in defiance as he lay inert, refusing to give into tears and shamed into silence. His only consolation was that he saved a life that night. It was cold comfort when offered as an afterthought that he�d fallen headlong into hell.

*

Shoulda known me by now, Jimmy.

The memories were fleeting, as always, scrambled by deprogramming and the needs of his own spirit to cast them off to allow the scars to heal. That was the problem, at bedrock; Logan healed, but he never knew comfort or release.

They were merely faint impressions until he fell asleep; then the shadows of his mind drew the visions of violence around them like costumes and reenacted it in a twisted, gaudy theater, holding him a captive audience. He saw Victor�s grinning teeth and heard the rusty laugh, raking across his essence with crimson fire and driving him to a cross like nails.

Victor was irredeemable. Their one-time grudging friendship and brotherhood in arms sharpened the bitter taste in Logan�s mouth, made the irony more cruel.

Most nights, all he remembered was a lone gunshot and lips glossed in red, crying out to him to help her. His fingertips remembered the feel of cold, damp soil plowing beneath his nails and the grass abrading his stomach as someone dragged him backwards, the grinning face cloaked in darkness, eyes glowing a hungry amber.

The turmoil scribbled itself over his features as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold windowframe. Remy fidgeted under the bedclothes behind him, scratching one of the scars on his neck.

�Chere?� Remy murmured. �Logan, talk to me, damn it.� Logan shook his head absently, eyes still closed. �Don� shut me out.�

�Ya can�t share this with me, baby. Ya can�t. Okay?�

It wasn�t okay. Logan was so lost in his own frustration that he didn�t read the fear blooming in Remy�s heart as he girded his own secret.

He�d hate me if he knew about Victor. He�d never understand. Helplessly he fought the possibilities looming in his mind if Logan ever found out, if Victor let it slip for the mere benefit of ruining what they had. Of ruining Logan.

It could rest, for now. He forced down a dim memory of a clandestine kiss in the tunnels and the screams that shortly followed and urged a smile onto his face.

�Mec?�

�Yeah, darlin�?� Logan was surprised by the bright tone of his voice, but the corners of his lips twitched. His lover�s smile warmed him, briefly.

�Grab dat deck of cards over dere so Remy can beat ya at five-card stud. Don� forget yer lunch money, neh?�

*

Two nights later found Hank in the kitchen, humming Beethoven under his breath as he assembled a burrito from some leftover beans and beef. He deftly turned the tortilla over the open burner, forgoing the pan since the method made them taste better. Behind him, the tiny television mounted beneath the counter droned with the evening news:

�Local authorities are investigating three deaths in as many days that they�re citing as murder. The killings are almost identical, death by asphyxiation. It�s believed the perpetrator strangled them to death�� Hank�s leonine eyes widened and he dropped the tortilla from nerveless fingers. He rushed to the intercom by the kitchen door.

�Logan?� he barked. He was answered by a patch of static, then Logan�s low burr.

�Yeah, Blue?�

�Get in here. You need to see this.�

�Remy�s asleep�gimme a sec, I don�t wanna wake him.�

�Hurry.� Hank turned off the intercom and returned his attention to the set. His stomach lurched at the sight of the victim�s faces captured in death leers, silent screams captured on film at the scenes of the crime.

Each one happened at a different hotel. Same room number, his analytical mind supplied.

Same calling card�

Logan�s footsteps thundered into the kitchen, and he sounded out of breath. �What�s wrong?�

�He�s back.� Hank pointed to the set, then sniffed the air in panic. The smell of burnt flour sent him hurrying to the stove to yank the smoldering tortilla off the burner. He dashed out the flame with a dish towel and chucked it into the trash, then returned his attention to the news.

��the killer left messages carved into the floors or headboards of the beds at each site. It�s impossible to say yet what type of tool the killer used for the engravings, but it was the same message each time, �Tag, you�re it.� More details at eleven.�

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