Subject: Family Matters, 2, ( fantasy, M/F, cons, sex)
From: DSWDiane@GNN.com (Diane)
Date: 1996/08/10

Family Matters, Chapter 2

Logan guided an exhausted Remy into his bedroom. Remy stopped in the doorway and protested. "Logan, if I don' smoke a cig'rette soon, I might as well j'st die."

"Filthy habit," Logan growled, suppressing a grin.

"Yeah, you be a fine one t' talk about it."

Logan went to the window and opened it. He gestured to Remy to the window seat. "Blow it out the window, kid. I won't tell if you don't."

Remy pulled out his smokes with shaking hands and lit up, leaning out the window. "I don' want t' sit," he said. "Not sure, I wanna sit for sev'ral days t' come." His voice was still quite shaky and he sucked on his cigarette as if his life depended on it. He leaned against the window frame and felt the tears still leaking into his eyes and dripping out. Definitely 'not cool.'

Logan chuckled and settled himself into the window seat. He gestured to Remy with his hands, and after a moments hesitation, Remy leaned against him again, his side against Logan's chest. Wolverine's arms settled around Remy's chest, and Remy rested his head against the other man's shoulder. The tears continued to leak and run down his face. A sob escaped him as he settled his face into Logan's shoulder.

The cigarette tasted wonderfully, but it didn't help cut off the feelings from which he wished to escape. Tears continued to gather in his eyes and the pain in his chest and stomach did not subside. He sighed deeply as he took the final drag and flipped the butt out the window.

Logan reached down and whacked him on his throbbing butt. Remy winced with pain. He tried to flinch away, but Wolvie's arms held him tightly. "That is not how you get rid of the damn thing, and I know you know better."

Remy shrugged in acquiesence. "J'cuse," he said haltingly still trying to cut off his feelings.

There were several moments of silence. Remy lit up again, hoping it would work better. "Don' s'pose I could have a drink?" he asked.

"That's the last thing you need right now, boy."

"Logan, I don' understand. I been hurt b'fore, lots and lots o' times. I never cry b'fore and now I can' stop."

Logan thought about it. He wanted to be careful with Gambit's newly found deep feelings. "Remy, you've been hurt before in combat. Never been spanked before. You couldn't fight back or escape. You had to lie there and take it. And you know you deserved it, boy."

Remy sighed deeply and shrugged, semi-nodding his acquiesence.

"So some of your tears are from sheer relief that you have finally gotten the punishment you needed and deserved. You've needed to cry about some of the things you've done for a long, long time. I think most of the crying you're doin,' boy, is about hurtin' that you been carryin' around inside of you." Remy nodded. The tears in his eyes continued to leak down his face.

"And there was more involved than punishment," Logan continued. "What did you remember tonight?"

The memories overtook him. He had been so small. He had seen his mother killed before his eyes. . . Amma, amma. . . and then he had seen his father's lifeless corpse, and his friends dead. Then the traitor had tried to kill him and he had, with a burst of prematurely realized telepathic powers, killed the man who was attempting to kill him. His untrained mind had been dragged along into the death of the traitor and he had been sucked into a vortex of psychic energy that had deposited him without memories of what had happened into the streets of New Orleans, alone and almost helpless as a small child.

He told Logan about what he remembered, what he had seen and recovered as the Professor and Jean explored his mind. The whole world of a small child lost with no hope of recovery. The tears flowed and his chest caught on anguished sobs. He sagged against Logan, crying helplessly and hopelessly for what he had lost forever when he was very young. "I wan t' die, Logan," he gasped as his sobs began to quiet.

"You do anything to hurt yourself, boy, and you'll find yourself in a world of trouble," Wolvie informed him. "You get to thinking that you want to hurt yourself, you come tell me. I'll hurt you so bad that you'll forget all about any impulses to hurt yourself."

Remy almost managed to laugh. The tears continued to flow down his face. "So, what do it mean you call me Remy now?" he asked.

"What do you think, Remy?"

"I t'ink it mean that now I one a' your 'kids,' like Jubilee, heh?"

"I 't'ink' that sound about right," Logan gently mocked his Cajun accent.

"I not sure I want you to t'ink of me as a 'kid,' Logan. I be a grown man."

"Yeah, sure, and pigs fly. Child, you're a grown man when you fight along side of me. And you do damn good. You're fast and tough, but, boy, inside you're no more grown up than Jubilation."

"You ever blister her butt like you do mine tonight?"

"I think that's between me and her, boy."

Remy nodded still crying and totally unable to stop, but his eyelids started to fall closed and within moments he was asleep. Logan lifted him easily and carried him to his bed. He was out to the world.Logan covered him and left him sleeping. He went back to the window seat and stared out over the moon lit yard.

There was a gentle knocking at the door. Logan rose quickly and went to open it. Storm stood there looking deeply concerned. Logan put a cautioning finger to his lips and guided her out shutting the door behind them.

"He's asleep," he said. He sat on the floor and motioned her down beside him.

"I have been so worried. Logan, what have we not been told? What is it that Remy remembered when he was screaming?" Ororo asked. Logan told her, filling her in on all that she had not been told. She listened with wide eyed amazement.

"He is the Professor's son?" she asked incredulously. Wolverine nodded. "And what of all the additional spankings the Professor threatened? Logan, I don't think Remy needs or deserves any more punishment."

He explained to her what he and Charles had discussed. She nodded in complete agreement.

"You're right," she said, "if he needs any more punishment, he will find a way to let us know. But if he is asleep, why are you still here?"

"I wanted to watch over him, Ro. What if one of our less considerate team mates comes to question him? Wait, shhh. . ." Wolverine's sharp hearing detected soft noises inside Gambit's room. He listened carefully and raised his nose to catch the scent.

"It's Rogue," he said quietly. "She came in the window, and I think she just climbed into bed beside the boy. Nothing to worry about." They sat in comfortable companionship for several moments.

"I am glad you intervened tonight, old friend," Ororo said reaching out to take his hand.

"It seemed the right thing to do," Logan told her. He turned and his eyes met her's.

Suddenly sparks seemed to fly in the air between their eyes. Logan held his breath for a moment and then Storm's mouth closed upon his. They were both consumed in a moment with flaming passion. Logan came up for air and pulled away.

"Ro!" he gasped.

"I want you," she breathed, "I want you now."

"What about Forge?"

Storm shook herself and thought for a moment. "I think, these days, that Forge and I will never find our ways back to one another. And I don't care. I want you." She looked down and took a deep breath. "And I want you to do to me what you did to Remy tonight. Now."

Logan stared at her aghast. "Ororo, I spank naughty children, not ladies like yourself. You are one of the most honorable ladies I have ever known."

"I am sick of being a 'lady' and a 'leader' and a 'goddess.' I too have a past of which I am not proud. And I thought I was going to explode tonight while I watched you blister that boy's adorable bare bottom. I kept imagining it was me across your knees, begging for mercy and apologizing. Logan, please, take me, punish me, and make love to me."

Logan stared at the windrider again amazed and aroused more than he wished to be. "Ro, if we do this, you will regret it in the morning."

"I don't think so, Logan. I think I have wanted you for years and never admitted it to myself. And tonight. . . "

"Here, in the hall?"

"No, let's go up to my loft, or to your room or where ever you wish. Logan, please."

"What about the boy?"

"Don't you think Rogue is capable of protecting him from whatever? Logan, I'm feeling selfish. I want you."

"Darlin,' your wish is my command, but if the boy needs me I'll be back."

"That's understood, sweet man. My loft?"

Logan stood and took Storm into his powerful arms. He lifted her and their lips met and closed.

* * *

Rogue snuggled in beside Remy wearing the Genoshan slave collar that nullified her powers. He slept deeply and she sank into sleep herself. They had much to discuss, but it could wait until morning.

* * *

Logan put Storm upon her feet in her loft. "So," he said quietly, "you want your bottom bared and paddled?"

She shuddered in excitement and clung to him. "Do you think I might deserve it?" she asked breathlessly.

"I don't know, darlin.' Suppose you tell me."

"Oh, damn you, do you want me to beg?" She pulled away from him in a sudden fury and slapped his face soundly. Thunder sounded outside. Wolvie caught her arm and held it firmly away from him.

"You are pushin' on me, darlin,'" he admitted. He took her arm and held it firmly behind her back, bending her over against his hip.

She gasped. He reached down and lowered her loose shorts. Her bottom was encased in pale blue cotton panties. Blood rushed to Storm's face as she felt his hands inside the elastic waist band. He pulled the panties down to the middle of her firm thighs and delivered a blazing spank to her bare butt. Ororo felt an exquisite combination of embarrassment, excitement, and fear, bent over under Logan's left arm with her bottom bared for a spanking. The feel of her panties banded tightly around her thighs was strange and enticing. She felt a tingling between her legs.

Logan's hand print on her bare, lightly brown bottom appeared in white, quickly turning to a dusky rose. It was followed by another and another. She squirmed against his firm grasp, suddenly unsure of what she had asked for and invited, but it was a bit too late to change her mind. She pressed one hand against her mouth and held back a moan. He blazed his firm palm against her bare fanny again and again.

The pain was more than she had anticipated. Her bottom felt as if the fires of hell were flamming there. She screamed and thunder roared.

"Ro," Logan said, firmly. "You asked for this spanking. If you let your powers hurt any damn thing, I will blister you beyond belief."

She tried to contain herself. This was, indeed, more intensely painful than she could have ever imagined. But even as the fire and pain built up in her bare behind, she felt an excitment and wetness building between her legs, in her soft and private places.

Lightening and thunder crashed. Logan smashed his hand firmly against her naked butt. It was blazing and she felt tears building in her eyes.

Rain cascaded against the windows as she started to cry. She kicked and struggled helplessly. Logan lifted her up in his powerful arms and carried her to the bed. He sat on the edge and put her over his knees. She was acutely aware of her bare behind balanced over his knee and the feel of her downed panties and shorts against her legs. He lifted her long loose T-shirt above her waist and patted her very reddened bottom.

"Please, stop," she begged, grinding her vulva against his leg.

"We've barely started, darlin.'" Logan chuckled. He slipped his fingers between her legs and slid them gently through the wetness there. She gasped and felt surges of excitment coursing through her body.

Then Logan placed one hand firmly in the middle of her back, adjusted her lowered panties to his viewing pleasure, and delivered a volley of blazing spanks to her bare behind.

"Please," she pleaded.

"Darlin,' when I'm asked to do somethin,' I do it right. You are going to get a spanking you'll remember."

Ro felt a spasm of fear and the most intense arousal she had ever felt in her stomach and down below. She was totally in his control and he was delivering her punishment as he saw fit.

Logan covered every inch of her bare bottom with severe, punishing whacks and then he covered the same territory again and again. He concentrated the most energy on the tender flesh right at the curve and below where she would be sure to feel it whenever she sat for days to come.

Ro's breath caught and she began to sob as she had not sobbed since she was a child. It was an incredible release and relief. Logan continued the spanking, but slowed slightly. She sobbed in total submission and stopped her requests for him to stop.

He delivered three final blazing spanks to her behind and, then, reached between her legs caressing her damp puss. He reached skilled fingers against her clit and she moaned. Within minutes, she spasmed into ecstasy, still sobbing and simultaneously quivering with fullfillment. He turned her and held her on his lap, kissing away her tears and pulling off her clothes.

"I want you in me. NOW." It was a voice halfway between a plea and a command. Logan chuckled as he placed her carefully on the bed and stripped off his jeans and shirt. He thrust himself into her carefully, but she was so wet with desire that care was hardly needed.

The strong muscles of her vagina gripped him and spasmed with another orgasm. He grinned and rocked against her. With exquisite control, he made her come again and again before he finally exploded himself.

He pulled her tightly into his arms. "Darlin,' darlin,'" he said gently. She nodded in acceptance.

"What have we done?" she asked sleepily.

"What we wanted," he answered.

"Could it be possible for you to think about loving me? Or was this just a moment of passion?"

"I don' know, darlin,' Can we worry about it in the morning?"

"Could you, please, not call me 'darlin?' You call every woman 'darlin.'" she said with some acerbity.

He smacked her throbbing bottom and she wiggled with delight and dismay pressing herself hard against him. "I'll call you what I want, wench. Stop your fussing."

She giggled and relaxed against him sinking into sleep. For a few minutes Logan remained awake and alert, monitering the mansion. All seemed well. He relaxed and dozed.

* * *

Within the hour, suddenly, both of them were awake with horrific images exploding in their heads tormenting them with visions of blood and death.

"Remy," Logan gasped as he struggled to his feet, swamped with the dread inducing images. Storm nodded, holding her head in her hands. Logan pulled his pants on as quickly as he could and rushed down the stairs to Gambit's room.

"WAKE UP," he ordered firmly. Remy was knotted up in a tight ball and Rogue was completely off the bed, back up against the wall knees drawn up to her chest with her hands over ears. She had taken the worst brunt of the Cajun's unintentional pyschic blast.

The professor's hoverchair entered as Remy woke shaking from the intensity of his nightmare.

"What'd I do?" he asked with dismayed confusion, his eyes going back and forth between Logan and Charles.

"You had a nightmare," Charles said simply.

"Yeah, and it was so much fun you decided to share it with everyone else in the house," Logan added. Remy groaned and closed his eyes, turning his face away.

Wolverine took his face in his hand. "Look at me," he ordered, "Now, or you know what I'll do."

Remy opened his eyes quickly and looked. He saw nothing on Logan's face but concern. He took a deep breath.

"It's okay, kid," Logan said. "You didn't mean to broadcast."

"Logan, will you check on Rogue?" the professor asked. "Remy, you and I must talk. I can help you develop some shields that will prevent this." Remy still could not meet the eyes of Charles. He felt a turmoil of conflicting emotions in his guts.

Logan lifted Rogue to her feet as she protested that she was fine, just had a little headache, no problem. She went to Gambit and put one hand on each side of his face. "Sugah, that was a doozy. You gonna tell me what that was all about?"

He looked up at her with pain and concern in his eyes. "You really okay, cherie?" he asked.

"Nothin' wrong with me that a little aspirin won't fix. And maybe a Valium. Those images you put in my head, sugah, were enough to give Apocalypse, himself, the shakes."

"Rogue, go on down to the Medlab and ask Hank to examine you, please," Charles directed. "Logan. . . never mind."

Wolverine was already outside the door fielding questions and sending various members of the household back about their business.

Rogue bent and kissed Remy gently. "Ah'll be back when you and the Professor are done. Don't you go anywhere,"

"I don' t'ink I allowed to go much of anywhere right now. I be here, cher," Remy grinned at her ruefully with a touch of his usual mischief in his eyes.

She shut the door behind her as she left. Remy stared down at his bed and twisted the edge of the sheet with his hands.

"Remy," the professor said.

"It mus' be some kinda huge disappointment to you findin' out that I be your's 'stead of someone like Scott," Remy said.

"What is a huge disappointment to me, Remy, is that I wasn't able to protect you and keep you safe from the life that you had to experience. I feel enormous guilt and sadness about what you endured."

"And ab't the kind o' person it made me," Remy said feeling an odd mixture of defiant anger and guilty pain.

"No, son, as I've had time to think about it I'm finding I'm very proud of what you have made of the life you were given. And hoping that some part of who you have been and who you are becoming is because I and your mother and the rest of this family had some strong influence when you were small."

Well, that was the last thing Remy expected to hear. He looked up at his "father" and met his eyes for the first time since the expedition into his mind. What he saw there was patient compassion and a match for his own guilty pain.

"It was none of it your fault. All de bad t'ings I did, dey were my choices. And it certainly not your fault you got murdered," he tried to offer some comfort himself. The professor chuckled.

"That's part of what I mean, Remy. For as long as you have been a part of this family, you have never been able to allow anyone about whom you cared to suffer without trying to help. That's what brought you here. You came to Ororo's rescue when she was trapped in a child's body. You didn't even know her, but you risked your own life to save her. Is there anyone in this house who is unable to depend on you?"

Remy flushed with embarrassment and looked down again. "I was j'st tyin' t' make up for the t'ings I done before. Don' deserve much credit for dat," he said.

"I think you do."

Remy closed his eyes and was suddenly flooded with snatches of memories. He remembered this man, looking much as he did that moment, reading to him, taking him to circuses and museums, talking to him about everything and explaining the answers to thousands of little boy questions. He remembered hugs and most painfully remembered the arms that had comforted him when he was hurt or scared or waking from nightmares as he had that night. Tears sprang into his eyes, and he opened them and looked at his father with the wide and innocent eyes of a small child.

"You were on the floor," he said eerily without the Cajun accent, describing the image vivid in his mind and using the simple words and accent of his early childhood, "and part of your head was gone."

"Yes, Remy, we saw that when we were in your mind." Charles's heart ached for the anguish he felt emanating from the boy in front of him. He held out his arms offering his support. Remy slid from the bed and went to his knees beside the hover chair allowing Charles to hold him. The smell of him, of books and mild aftershave, intensified the memories, and tears started again to well up in his eyes.

"I don' want to cry any more," he protested.

"Remy, it is the only way you will ever heal. Don't fight your feelings. You've kept all of this locked up in you for years. It's okay to cry."

"I don' seem to have a lot of choice ab't it."

Charles's arms closed tightly around his chest and brought back Remy's childhood memories of the comfort he had found in these arms. His untrained telepathic powers poured those memories into the professor's receptive mind, and tears rose in his eyes also as he experienced what life had been like with this son he had never known and who would not yet have even been born. He reached in with his telepathic powers.

Pay attention, son. Let me show you how to control this.

Remy was startled at the sudden voice in his mind. His unconscious shields, born from intense pyschic trauma, had been so strong for so many years that he had almost no experience of sharing his thoughts with another. Almost by reflex, he started to try to pull away. Charles directed calming energy into him and he tried to relax and learn. The lesson was simple and quick. He was shown how to build a few simple shields and how to trigger an internal alarm if he started to broadcast without meaning to as he had done that night.

Well, this is interesting. Charles thought at him.


*I think I've found the link we had when you were little. When I kept you linked to me all the time. Can you see it or feel it.* Remy suddenly felt it strongly, an old comforting and reassuring link that had been severed abruptly and painfully. He felt new waves of sharp and agonizing grief and began to sob.

Charles left his mind, but the link remained as a gentle cord between them connecting, but not intruding. "Remy, I am so sorry," Charles said with his own tears falling down his face. "I'm now acutely aware that you were indeed my son and that I loved you more than life itself."

Remy was simply overwhelmed with the incomprehending grief of a small boy who had lost all security and hope. Charles held him firmly as gasping sobs wracked his body and held him until he began to subside into shuddering occasional gulps. "I don'. . . even know. . . what t' call. . . you," he said in confusion.

Charles laughed, "I think 'hey you' will do until we both get a little more comfortable with this bizzare turn of events."

Remy looked up him with a hint of his usual insouciant and devilish charm in the faint grin on his face contrasting with the tears that still stood on his cheeks. "I not at all sure that some of de other X-men would t'ink dat very respec'ful."

"I'm not sure I give a jolly damn what anyone else thinks, Remy. You and I have a lot to work out with each other."

Remy pulled away, continuing to kneel beside him on the floor and looked down. "Can you r'lly forgive me? All de tres horrible t'ings I done?" he asked quietly with fear in his belly and still a hint of defiance.

"Can you forgive yourself, child?" Charles asked gently. Without thinking, Remy shook his head, still looking at the floor.

"Well, that's the place the hardest work will have to be done. And forgiving me and all of the rest of us for abandoning to you to that life you had," Charles sighed. "We all have much work to do, and the hardest parts will be yours to handle. But we will all help you."

Remy shrugged. All of it still felt overwhelming beyond belief. And he was over the edge of emotional overload for one night. His weariness flowed through the link.

"You're exhausted, son. I think it's time for bed. We'll talk tommorrow, but I want you to sleep past noon if you can."

"Never had much trouble wit dat," Remy looked up at him with another faint grin.

"That I know, night owl." The professor returned the smile. "Could you sleep, now?"

Remy nodded. "Dis link?" he asked with sudden wariness.

"The link is there for when it is needed and so I'll always know if you are generally okay. I will not eavesdrop on your private life. And I think I've taught you the rudiments to avoid broadcasting." Charles demonstrated by tuning the link down to a faint thread which barely registered. "But I will always know if you're in trouble."

"Not sure dat's such a good t'ing. I spend too much time enjoyin' gettin into trouble."

"Not that kind of trouble, you incorrigible scamp. Real trouble like when you're in danger. But if you want to continue getting into the kind of trouble that you enjoy, we'll need more work on helping you shut me out or you will be in more trouble around here than you would like," the professor couldn't help but laugh.

"We work on dat part, first t'ing, neh?"

"First thing, son. Unless you enjoy getting your bottom blistered."

"Not much," Remy admitted, suddenly aware that his buttocks were still sore as the dickens. He rose up on his knees again and hugged Charles tightly.

"Merci," he whispered, "t'ank you."

Charles raised one hand to Remy's unruly red-brown hair and stroked it gently where his son's head rested against his shoulder. "Thank you, child," he said. "For your willingness to help us try to find a relationship with each other."

"Don' much like my ot'er choices. Don' want to leave. Dis the only fam'ly I got any more since de T'ieve's Guild done banished me."

"Well, this was the family you were born into and you will never be banished here. This is your home, Remy, and your birthright."

Remy felt tears in his eyes again and blinked them away impatiently. He pulled away from his father and looked at him. "I mean it when I say t'ank you."

"I know. Go to bed, son." He directed his hoverchair to the door and turned just as he reached it. "Remy, you need to talk about those memories with whomever you can. It's the only way to heal."

Remy nodded and sank back into his bed, carefully on his stomach, with a pillow stuffed under his chin. He sighed deeply as the door shut behind his newly discovered father and wondered how long it would be before Rogue returned.

* * *

Logan sat on the floor outside the room with his chin against his chest, semi-dozing. He looked up at the professor emerged.

"Well?" he said.

"Logan, you are as much a meddling busybody as an old woman," Charles complained with amused exasperation.

"So? I'm an old man, old man. How's the boy?"

"I think he's fine for tonight. So you can get back to whatever it was that you and Ororo were doing, and I sincerely hope that neither of you regret it in the morning."

Logan's eyes widened slightly and then he gave Charles an evil grin. "Were you eavesdropping?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Hardly, but it's hard to overlook a sudden thunderstorm. You know that Ororo and I share a deep bond. I have no idea what the two of you were actually doing, but it felt a bit intense through the bond she and I share."

"Ain't nobody got any privacy in this house."

"Isn't that true in most families, Logan?"

Wolvie shrugged. "I'd never hurt Ro, Chuck. I'm just not sure she knows what she really wants herself."

"You're both adults, and I trust you both more than I think you know."

"Thanks, Professor."

"Logan, I'm not sure I've often let you know how grateful I am that you decided to join this family. I don't know what we'd do without you."

"You'd muddle through somehow without this old canucklehead."

"Nevertheless, thank you for all the help with my confused and mixed up son."

"De nada," Wolvie shrugged. "For all he doesn't know it, the boy is easy to love."

"He certainly doesn't know it."

"Well, he's also an obnoxious, snot faced brat."

"And infuriating at times."

"Amen, Chuck, amen."

They both shared a grin. The professor left to try to catch a few hours of sleep.

Logan rose and make his way back to Storm's loft where she waited for him.

To be continued. . .