Wolfish Desires

BY : Wren
Category: X-men Comics > Crossovers
Dragon prints: 2065
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.

Wolfish Desires
By aylapolgara@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: All x-men characters are property of X-men, all others are mine. Simple. I make no money off of this story, nor do I encourage others to.

SUMMARY: Two lonely hearts find each other. Romance/Angst. Oz/Remy Crossover

RATING: NC-17 There is SEX and SLASH.

NOTES: Response to challenge: I've got a crossover challenge
I'd like to toss out to any Buffy fans out there -- I'm
feeling a need for an Oz/Remy down on the Bayou fic;
preferably with Remy at his most charming and Oz at his
most... Oz-ish, being boys together in the swamps
and the heat. By Victoria

DISTRIBUTION: Just lemme know. No one has yet.

FEEDBACK: Is welcome.

Mardi Gras in New Orleans, the streets were full of people laughing, drinking and getting wild. Beads were being thrown to the women up on the balconies who were baring their chests for the pleasure of the male audience. As well as some of the female audience, Remy noted looking around. Gender gaps seemed to fade and be reinforced at the same time as same-sex and heterosexual couples made their way down the street searching for the most happening place to continue their drinking.

He smiled at the row ladies posing in front of the closest bar. They winking at him seductively as they ran their tongues over their lips and hands down their bodies suggestively. Tipping his head in appreciation he declined them wearily and walked on.

It was a happy and festive occasion but for Remy it was simply another reminder that Rogue had left him after nearly killing him in Antarctica. Not that he thought she'd take him back when he returned - he figured she wouldn't - but her utter denial that she had down only as he wanted her to left him cold. After all, she had absorbed his memories, his powers, his personality, HIM, and with all of that data, the knowledge of his past, and his conscious, she had dropped him. Left him to die in that endless white, frozen wasteland.

The homecoming he received was more then he had expected though. He blamed himself, they blamed him, she blamed him, but he was still given a place to stay. A place to call home, but not the love that would normally accompany it.

He had come home instead, to the only home he felt he had, to New Orleans. But even being here, in the place he grew up, lived, and loved he could not find comfort. There were plenty of warm bodies throwing themselves at him, wanting him, offering what they had. But they didn't have anything. They were beautiful faces with lifeless souls. People who lived for the moment, who had never felt pain, normal people. They weren't like him, they weren't mutants.

But even mutants shunned him now. He had betrayed them. He was the traitor.

Barely noticing his surroundings he brushed his way into a small club and wandered up to the bar. Ordering a drink he leaned back against the bar rail and glanced towards the stage. His breath caught.


As his fingers left the strings of the final cord he was zapped back into reality. He lifted his eyes towards the audience, not even seeing them, as he backed off the stage.

"Oz, man, you rocked," Zack bounced beside him as they walked away from the stage, "Man, you di'ja see the chicks droolin' ova' ya?!"

He nodded his head slightly and started for the exit.

"Wo'ah, Oz, where ya goin', man? We got anotha' set still!" Zack's hand came down on his arm, trying to pull him back towards the bar.

Oz turned slightly and just let his gaze lock with Zack's.

"Uh, you okay, man?" He immediately let go of the smaller man's arm and took a step back. "Maybe you should heack ack to the hotel. We can finish without ya."

Oz simply turned and walked away unaware of the demon eyes that followed his departure.


Oz didn't go back to the hotel though, he wandered through crowds of happy Mardi Gras-goers struggling with monsters of his own.

It had been months since he had last seen her. He had come home, home to her, after being gone for so long. So prbecabecause he could control his inner beast. He had proven it to her in one night of passion that he had thought would continue for the rest of their lives. But things had changed more then he had realized. She no longer cared for him as she once had.

Replaying it over and over in his mind he wondered if things would have been different if he had never left on his quest to still his inner beast in the first place. If maybe he had come home sooner, if he hadn't stayed away so long, if if if if. If only she had loved him more, if only he had been more - done more. But all the ifs in the world wouldn't change the fact that she had left him, and he had lost control of his beast again. This time, however, his beast did not limit its time to full moons, he was in danger of losing control of it at any time, day or night.

DAMN! Why did he have to be cursed!!

As his anger grew, he realized people were looking at him oddly. Looking down at his hands where his nails were growing long and wolf-like, he realized his beast was starting to come out. Quickly he ran around a building into the waiting alley and leaned back against the cold brick wall. He consciously tried to slow his breathing as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Wassa matta lil' boy? Crowd ta much fah ya?" His head snapped up as he heard a sneering voice coming from deeper in the alley. Shifting his gaze slightly he watched three shaggy thugs emerge from the shadows.

"Leave me alone." He closed his eyes knowing they wouldn't heed his warning and felt the beast gaining control inside of him.

"Aw, now ah don' t'ink we can do dat." One greasy hand grabbed his arm as the other two men circled around him. "We been lookin' fah some fun all night, 'avent we bahs?"

The other two nodded looking intently at Oz. "Last chance."

"Nah, dis is yah last chance." A fist pounded his cheek, drawing blood for his lip. Oz slumped down for a minute listening to the laughing and sneering of the men before lifting his head.

The last thing he heard were their screams, and then his beast took complete control.


Remy had followed the guitarist at a distance since he had left the club. Something had pulled him to the young man, his playing had caught his attention and his soul had captured his own. He couldn't let him leave without learning more about him, but the Cajun, for once in his life, had no idea to go about introducing himself. The breakup with Rogue had shaken his confidence and he felt like he was a teenager all over again.

He was drawn out of his thoughts as he heard screams from the alley the man had turned into. Afraid that he would lose this person without ever knowing them he ran to the alley, agile fingers grabbing cards from his pocket. The sight when he turned into the alley made him stop short.

There, leaning against the cold brick wall was the young guitarist; his clothing was torn to shreds and hung loosely onto his thin frame. He was panting and sweating, looking down at two men at his feet, both of them dead. Their bodies had gashes and long claw and teeth marks on them.

Rushing to the man, Remy searched the sight for signs of the attacker, expecting Saberwolf to jump out at any moment. But there appeared to be no one else in the alley. His pocketed his cards quickly and turned his attention to the young man.

"Chere, are you hurt?" Remy looked over the man's body, searching for blood or signs of abuse. The only blood he saw came from a small cut on his lip that was swelling slightly. He couldn't help but note his well-formed chest and strong arms; despite the man's lack of nutrition he was still a beauty.

The man turned his head slightly and looked at him, for a moment Remy could have sworn he was looking into the yellow eyes of an animal but quickly the eyes turned blue and he shook it off as something he would question later. Right now his safety was the most important thing.

Seeming to come back to himself the young man looked down at his shredded clothing and self-consciously pulled his arm across his chest. "Uh.. yea, I'm fine" He mumbled as he looked unhappily at the men at his feet.

"Mon Ami, dis Cajun tink meybe we should get you some clothes?" Remy looked skeptically at the rags clinging to his body.

The man nodded slightly and allowed Remy to lead him out of the alley. "Remy's hotel is jus' a block from 'ere, why don' we go there?" Remy steered him down the street towards an expensive looking hotel. The young man only nodded, clearly still reeling from the ordeal that had occurred in the alley. Remy thought it was best not to push questions too quickly but stored away every detail in his brain for later.


Closing the door Remy led the man over to the bed, he sat down on it weakly and surveyed his surroundings. The room was nice, much nicer then anything his band had ever booked. It had victorian decorations and was extremely spacious. Looking around he saw Remy Going through a large dresser.

Pulling out a shirt and some pants he walking happily back to the younger man. "Der, des should fit." He handed the man the clothes and directed him towards the bathroom to change.

"Thanx for your help." The young man's voice was low and distant.

"Non, it was my pleasure, Remy Lebeau at your serivce." He extende his hand towards the young man.

"Oz." Oz shook his hand briefly then turned to go into the bathroom.


Stepping into the bathroom he quickly closed the door, what was he doing here? One minute he had turned beast and killed two thieves, the next he was being escorted around by a wealthy New Orleans man. He shook his head and looked into the mirror. His weary face looked back at him.

What did he know about the guy anyways? Remy Lebeau, he tried to remember what the man had looked like, he was always a little bit dazed after changing back from a werewolf. The man was tall and thin. Brown, no, auburn hair. Full lips, and.. did he wear sunglasses? Staring into the mirror his mouth gaped open. A vampire didn't just save him did it? Remy couldn't be a vampire, but then again, he was wealthy, and his looks, they had to be too good to be true.

Looking down at the clothes in his hand, he remembered why he had been ushered in here in the first place. He quickly brushed off his ragged clothing and slipped into the tailored pants and shirt Remy had provided. They were both a bit too long but fit well other then that. Looking around the bathroom he searched for something that could be used as we weapon against a vampire. He didn't find anything.

Sighing inwardly he went out to meet whatever fate Remy meant for him. He could be just an ordinary man but if he wasn't Oz wouldn't give up fighting, he'd even go beast again if he had to.


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