Title: Lost Boys

Author: Rebop (Email)

Website

Rating: NC-17

Pairing/main characters: Gambit/Beast

Series/Sequel: complete

Summary: Gambit und Beast are stranded in the rain forest.

Disclaimer: Both Hank McCoy and Remy LeBeau are property of Marvel Comics, more's the pity.

Date: Mai 2001

Warning: This story is about a male/male relationship, and will eventually get into NC17 territory, so if this isn't your cup of tea, read no further.

Notes: This story is for my darlin' Beta Shala, for going above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks, my dear, for everything, you are a true gem and an enormously talented writer. Also love to Raietta, Lee, Peg, Kerosene and Makes Rain Woman. And yes, I will most definitely get back to my Remy and Jonothan saga. But hey, this pairing is quite fun, and Big Blue deserves some lovin', southern style.

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Lost Boys

By Rebop

 

Chapter One

On his eighth birthday, Hank McCoy received the best present ever.
From his laconic and quietly generous Uncle Ed, Hank got a year's subscription to National Geographic magazine. Hank soon found himself impatiently waiting for each issue. He sometimes would park his overall clad bottom near the McCoy mailbox, squinting down the lane to see if the postman was coming. And what rapture when the magazine arrived! He would devour every word, fascinated with stories about the Watusi in Africa, Black Beard's lost pirate treasure, the giant fruit bats of Australia. He would reverently thumbtack the maps of the exotic, far-off places on his bedroom wall, studying the geography of New Guinea, the Himalayas, and the North Pole. The world was a mysterious, wondrous place back then, far more interesting then the confines of his parent's farm. His favorite map of all was of the Amazon Basin. He would trace the contours of that impossibly long river, and dream Edgar Rice Burroughs fueled dreams of lost cities of gold hidden in that vast emerald sprawl.
And now, the very grown up Dr. Henry McCoy, PhD was thinking just how far removed reality was from his boyhood daydreams. As he slugged through the thick Amazon mud, he never quite imagined the god awful, steamy heat. Each intake of breath was a chore; the air was thick and syrupy. The unbelievable humidity was particularly agonizing to Hank, well over 300 pounds and covered from head to toe with heavy fur.
Even stripping down to his trunks did not help one bit. Hank had long ago thrown all dignity by the wayside and was now openly panting. He couldn't sweat, and there was no sense in passing out from heat exhaustion.
Besides feeling like he was trapped in a gigantic steam room, there was also the aforementioned sticky mud and a dazzling array of bugs, snakes and other nasty creatures all seemingly determined to bite the hell out of you. Hank found himself wishing, rather desperately, that he was in his mother's kitchen, listening to the hum of the icebox and the latest farm report while eating a large slice of Edna McCoy's blue ribbon peach pie. That would be both heaven and Nirvana rolled into one.
But Hank was an X-Man after all, and had certainly been thrown into a lot tougher situations than this. Getting lost in the Amazon rainforest was, comparatively speaking, fairly routine. Both he and fellow X-Man Remy LeBeau had infiltrated a secret lab in South America, run by Bastion. Their surprise attack on the lab had been a piece of cake, precious data had been retrieved and Gambit had rather gleefully blown the damn thing up. But then the usual quirky luck of the X-Men kicked in. The plane that they had used for their homeward journey was faulty, and they crashed in the middle of nowhere.
Happily, neither of them was seriously hurt; Hank sustained a number of bumps and bruises, Remy a rather nasty sprained right ankle.
So now they were laboriously making their way through the forest, looking for any sign of civilization. It had been three days since they had crashed, although to Hank it seemed more like an eternity.
Hank was more than a little surprised at himself. He was normally a very cheerful and exuberantly optimistic person, and usually took hardships in stride. And he was smack dab in the middle of a biologist's paradise, but his vast scientific curiosity had not kicked in at all. Instead, all Hank could really think of was a cold beer.
If he was really honest with himself, Hank knew he was suffering from long overdue battle fatigue. His incredibly frustrating struggle with the legacy virus, Piotr's horribly tragic death, and his kidnapping and torture by the Black Beast had all taken their toll. Hank McCoy was tired, tired to his very bones. He was usually able to rouse himself from despair, but he had lost the will to try. Instead of the Bouncing Blue Beast, he felt more like Sisyphus, condemned for all eternity to roll a boulder up a hill, never to reach the top.
Hank gulped a big lung full of equatorial air and tried not to drool.
He then squared his vast shoulders, trying to force himself out of his current melancholia. He was an X-Man, after all. X-Men do not whine, give up. X-Men Just Deal With It.
"Henri?" A very soft, Louisiana flavored drawl to his right. "Y' t'ink we could take five?"
Hank peered at Gambit through his fogged up glasses. Remy's narrow, handsome face was extremely pale, and Hank knew he must be in considerable discomfort as well. There was also a look of real concern on Gambit's exotic features. Slightly mortified, Hank realized he probably looked like shit. He certainly felt like shit.
Hank glanced at their surroundings. They were now in a fairly dry area, thin light coming through the high canopy overhead. Near an enormous and ancient teak tree was an arrangement of logs, an excellent place to set up camp.
"Why don't we just call it a day, my Cajun cohort?" Hank said. "We've been on this sojourn for a number of hours, and you really should get off that leg. As a matter of fact, it's about time I took a gander at it."
He didn't get any arguing at all from Remy, which indicated how bad Gambit must be feeling. "D'accord." Remy stated simply and sat down on one of the mossy logs. Hank thumped wearily beside him, and after a moment, he patted his lap. "So, let the doctor see, Mr. LeBeau."
Remy wiped some sweat from his forehead and slowly nodded. The Cajun seemed to be dealing fairly well with the temperate climate, having grown up in the humid south. He had abandoned his uniform armor, and was wearing the special clinging spandex that hugged every muscle.
The material was Shi'ar in origin and adapted itself to the outside temperature, so Gambit had protection from both the sun and the relentless mosquitoes. Tied around Remy's waist was his infamous leather duster. Hank had always thought of this article of clothing as merely for show, adding to Remy's already considerable dash. He therefore had been both amazed and infinitely grateful when Gambit had produced out of the coat's hidden pockets a compass, a knife, water-purifying tablets, freeze dried jerky and a tiny flashlight.
Hank was reminded yet again just what a surprising person Remy Etienne LeBeau was.
Gambit pulled off his boot with a small grunt, and by the muscle twitching in his jaw, Hank knew his ankle must be hurting far more than Remy was letting on. But Remy was never a complainer, none of the X-Men were. The Cajun gingerly laid his leg on Hank's lap to be examined.
Hank unwrapped the gauze covering LeBeau's ankle. They had been lucky, they had a few minutes before the plane exploded; time enough to retrieve the first aid kit. It was fairly rudimentary, but in their current situation more precious than the Hope Diamond.
Henry blinked a bit at the state of Remy's leg once the bandages were off. It was horribly swollen and discolored, much worse than Hank imagined. It was a testament to Remy's stubborn nature that he been walking on it for so long. "Remy, I'm going to have to touch it, I want to reassure myself that there is nothing broken. Alas, if there is a hairline fracture, the only way I will be able to tell is via X-ray. In any case, I apologize for causing you any pain or discomfort."
Remy nodded. "Dat's okay, Henri, I understand." The young man went very pale when Hank carefully probed the injury, but he did not make one sound. He did, however, take a long breath when Hank was finally finished.
"Well?" Hank mused, starting to rewrap the elegant limb again, "it is my professional opinion that your bones are still sound, although a few ligaments might be torn. The best recipe for healing would be rest, but I am afraid we don't have that as an option at the moment."
He finished with the bandages, his large clawed hands infinitely clever and gentle.
Remy gave an offhand, somehow very Cajun shrug. "Had much worse, Henri, it no big deal. T'anks for de expert TLC." Remy turned his eerie red eyes on the physician. "So, how are you doing, mon ami? Dis heat can't be easy on y'. When's de last time y' had some water?"
"I've been careful." Hank experienced a feeling of both embarrassment and curious warmth. It was so rare that anyone expressed concern over his welfare. Dr. McCoy took care of everyone else; it was never the other way around.
"Well, humor me and have y'self a drink." Remy pulled a slightly singed Evian bottle from his coat. Also rescued from the plane, it now stored rainwater. He handed the bottle to McCoy, who took a long, grateful swig. As Henry drank, Gambit stood, testing his ankle carefully. He smiled at Hank. "Dat's much better, Henri, merci boucoup. You should start chargin'me for y' services." LeBeau sat back down and started to pull his boot back on. "Now den. Let's see `bout gettin' us some eats."
"You should really stay off that leg for awhile, Remy." Hank stated, trying to summon the energy to sound stern.
"Yah, I agree. But I'm also damn hungry, and you must be too, Dr. McCoy. So I guess I'll have to go shoppin'. Certainly ain't no take-out `round here."
Hank started to rise from the log, every muscle in his body arguing to the contrary. He was halted by Gambit, who put two long fingered hands on his furry shoulders. "Henri, I didn't mean you. Y' sit and rest yourself. Let Remy take care of it, neh?"
"Remy, that's hardly fair-"
Those odd, very demonic eyes narrowed and bore into Hank's nearsighted blue ones. "Don't piss me off, Henry. I can tell y' totally exhausted, and if de situation were reversed, y' would do de same for me. So keep y' big hairy blue butt on sittin'on dat log. Y' got me?"
"Errr?loud and clear, sir." Hank was a bit taken aback by his teammate's fierceness, as well as touched. " I will be as motionless as Rodin's Thinker. I will, however, take issue with your statement about my butt. I will concede that it is blue, to be sure, and most certainly hairy, but I have it on authority that it is also rather charmingly petite."
Remy's foxlike face was suddenly bisected by a large grin. "I stand corrected, Dr. McCoy." With a small chuckle, he leaned forward and gave Hank's behind a quick glance. " You right. Y' got y'self a heartbreakin' piece of tail dere. Ummhmm."
Hank felt a blush spread across his face, his little jest backfiring.
Remy had the ability to make anything sound smutty in his low, sexy Cajun drawl. Fortunately, Gambit decided not to pursue the subject any further. Instead, he looked up for a moment, studying the green ceiling overhead. They were surrounded by a rich variety of plant life, and Hank identified both pepper and cabbage trees, rosewood and kapok. There were thick vines tangled everywhere, weaving through the tree limbs like a mad tapestry.
Remy removed his coat, laying it near Hank, taking the knife with him. "Gonna have me a look see upstairs." With a slight limp, Gambit approached a rosewood tree, covered in knotty philodendron roots.
Despite his injury, he climbed upwards with feline grace, smooth and sure. Hank knew that Remy could easily explore the forest overhead, the forest canopy serving as a kind of natural highway.
"Watch out for snakes." Hank called out, rather unnecessarily.
Although Gambit was a city boy, Hank could tell that Remy's thieves training made him a total survivor. The Cajun was incredibly cautious, and his remarkable powers of observation had often dazzled Hank. It would take a very brilliant snake to surprise him.
After Remy vanished in the emerald canopy, Hank found himself pondering his teammate. Remy LeBeau was one of his favorite enigmas and Hank had been fascinated the first time the young man had strolled in to the Xavier mansion like a parade horse. He was the most unlikely of X-Men and an outcast in a group of misfits. Remy was secretive, arrogant and had a big mouth. He hated rules and any kind of authority and could get on everyone's last nerve.
But there was another side to Gambit that Henry knew many of his fellow X-Men did not notice or appreciate. He was very loyal and completely fearless. He would walk through hell to rescue a teammate, you couldn't ask for a better person to watch your back. The Cajun also was offhandedly generous and kind; there was a gentleness in Remy that he tried very hard to conceal. And Hank loved his sense of humor-Gambit had a wicked wit and didn't seem to mind being the butt of a joke either. LeBeau was also highly intelligent, although he hid that behind a thick accent. But Hank knew better; he had enough conversations with Remy to know that there was a very sophisticated person there, pretending to be a dumb Louisiana swamp rat.
Hank and Remy had always been friendly. They weren't close, but then Remy kept everyone at emotional arms length, with the exception of Storm. But Hank could tell that Remy liked and respected him, and they had never had a cross word. And for his part, Hank had a number of feelings about the young Acadian, some of them rather confusing.
Remy LeBeau was definitely the source of Hank's greatest guilt and shame. The whole Antarctica incident had been a monstrous tragedy and Hank loathed his part in it. Yes, he had been furious with Remy for his role in the Morlock massacre, but that was still no excuse to suddenly forget his Hippocratic oath. When the anger had receded, the enormity of the crime they had committed hit Hank like a ton of lead. Remy was no murderer, yet they had staged what amounted to an execution. As soon as they arrived in Westchester, Hank and a very tight-lipped, angry Storm had turned the Blackbird right back around to the South Pole. To their surprise, they had found no frozen corpse in the Citadel. The Cajun apparently had nine lives, and had somehow escaped the death trap they had so coolly sentenced him to. Hank very privately wept both tears of relief and regret.
It was comforting to think that Remy might have survived, but it didn't do much to ease Hank's conscience. He had nightmares over it, and once got into a terrible argument with Warren over the subject. "Yes," he remembered yelling into Worthington's furious blue face, " Remy committed an appalling act! But he DID try to stop the massacre Warren; he's no cold killer. And I would like to remind you that none of us are saints. Do I need to mention Apocalypse? As far as sins are concerned, I think ours is the far greater one. We left a friend and teammate to die, and I sincerely doubt if Remy would have done the same thing."
Hank had not won that argument, and Warren didn't speak to him for at least two weeks afterwards. And somehow, as they always did, the X-Men picked up the pieces and life went on in the mansion. But Hank felt that they had lost something after Antarctica; their innocence and their sense of honor. They were no longer fighting the good fight.
And then, without warning, the prodigal Cajun waltzed back into their lives. For a period of time, things were incredibly tense, Remy even taking up residence in the boathouse to avoid unnecessary confrontation. No one wanted to talk about it even though it was on everyone's mind. Hank decided he needed to face Remy the second night of the Cajun's return. He remembered that night as if it were yesterday, for it was then that his feelings for Remy LeBeau changed forever.
He had knocked a few times on the boathouse door, and, getting no answer, stuck his head inside the small house. "Remy?" he called out several times. With still no reply, Hank guiltily ventured inside. He saw that the Cajun had fallen asleep on the sofa. Hank contemplated waking him up, then thought the better of it. Before he turned to go, he found himself staring at the sleeping Gambit.
The young man was very soundly asleep, long racehorse legs sprawled across the cushions. One very elegant hand was laid on top of a slowly moving chest, the sharp-featured face half concealed by a mass of auburn hair. Hank's practiced physician's eye could also tell that Remy was completely exhausted; his skin was too pale; circles were under his eyes. The thief's body was horribly thin; the sweatshirt and jeans he had on just hung there. Hank experienced a surge of guilt, as he was, in part, responsible for Remy's current state. Hank was also struck by something else. Remy asleep looked far different than Remy awake. There was always a wild animal aura about Gambit, a nervous wariness that made you think he was going to bolt for cover at any moment. This was gone, and instead Hank saw a very worn out and somehow very young man. There was a surprising innocence in that foxy, impossibly handsome face.
Hank had to tear himself from the sight, angry for giving in to such an odd impulse. But as he turned to go, a floorboard creaked under his ponderous weight, and there was a gasp from the sofa. Hank was mortified as red and black eyes bore into him accusingly.
"Merde! Henri, what de fuck y' doin' here?" Remy sat up, rigid and trembling, highly uncharacteristic for the usually cool and collected Cajun. And the usually loquacious Beast found himself completely tongue-tied.
Hank had to force himself to speak. "Remy, my deepest and most sincere apologies. I did not intend to intrude upon your sanctum, please do forgive me. I wished to speak to you, and I knocked, getting no answer. I found that the door was open and rather rudely entered. I am so sorry to have disturbed your slumber and to have startled you. This certainly can wait." Hank turned to go, but Remy stopped him.
"Henri-hold it. I'm sorry I snapped at y'. Just a little jumpy, me." Gambit ran a hand through already messy hair. Hank could see the anger was gone, but the wild animal wariness remained. "Sit y'self down. Can I get y' anyt'ing?"
"No, no, nothing, thank you." Hank sat down next to the Cajun, the sofa creaking. Remy cocked his head. "So?what you want to talk to me about den, Henri?" The tone was very soft, very cautious.
Henry took a deep, calming breath, and forced himself to look right in Remy LeBeau's eyes. "First of all Remy, I wanted to tell you how tremendously relieved I am to see that you are all right, and that you have chosen to return to Westchester." Hank fiddled with his glasses, a nervous habit. " I also wanted to say how profoundly, deeply sorry I am about what happened in Antarctica. That I was party to such an act, well, it was the most shameful thing I have ever done. I have no excuse at all, save that I was angry. I call myself a hero, but I'm not one. You and I were friends once, and I betrayed that trust. It is a great deal to hope but I pray that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."
As Hank spoke, he saw that Gambit looked more and more surprised with each word. Clearly, this is not what the Cajun was expecting to hear.
If the circumstances were less serious, Hank might have gotten some enjoyment out of finally surprising the unflappable LeBeau.
Remy just stared for the longest time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Y' don't hate me den, Hank?"
Hank sighed. " For awhile, I did. I was furious with you. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair and hypocritical I was being. You made a tragic mistake Remy. But all of us have. No one in this mansion is without sin. Why we singled you out to be some sort of scapegoat, I honestly can't say. I wish you had told us about your involvement with Sinister from the beginning; that would have saved us all so much grief." Hank dared to lightly touch Remy's arm. "You are not a bad person, Remy, just very human.
And you are still both my friend and teammate."
Remy's face was very white; he drew in a long, ragged breath. "Merci, Henri, merci. Dat's more den I deserve."
Hank considered not asking this next question for a moment, but decided he needed to know. "Remy-why did you come back?"
Gambit stared down at his long thieves hands. His voice grew softer yet, and Hank had to strain to hear. "Why? I'm more den a little confused about dat myself. Partly, it's penance. I know I can never make up for what I did, but I gotta try. And I have to tell y', Henri, despite all de shit dat went down, I am still proud to be an X-Man. When I joined, for de first time in my life I wasn't just taking up space in dis sorry world. And yeah, de X-Men, dey ain't perfect, but Chuck's dream means everyt'ing, and dat's always worth fighting for. And Hank, to me y' still a hero. I only hope dat someday I can maybe as good a man as you."
And for a tiny, tiny moment, Hank saw Remy's mask slip off. And the person there was not the person he thought he knew. Remy believed in and loved the X-Men far, far more than they had ever cared for him.
Hank also saw a man that would forever punish himself for a tragic mistake, someone full to the brim with pain, loneliness and longing.
It broke Hank's large heart, and he had this strong, mad impulse to hug Remy LeBeau to his chest and never let go.
But he didn't, and Remy put his mask back on. They ended up drinking a beer together and talking about Hank's progress on the Legacy virus. Their friendship had found its old, casual footing, at least on the surface. Deep down though, something in Hank had changed. Once he had seen the real Remy, he couldn't let go of it, and Hank finally had to admit to himself that he was half in love with the beautiful thief.
Not that Hank would ever say anything about it. First, there was Rogue. That relationship had so many ups and downs, Hank had finally lost track of how many times they had broken up. Currently, they were on the outs, although Hank doubted it would last long. It was more like a sickness than a love affair, and Hank wished for both their sakes they just would call it quits. Some people were just plain bad for each other.
Hank fervently hoped that this wasn't a selfish desire on his part.
Even if Rogue were completely out of the picture, Hank doubted he would ever have the chutzpah to approach Remy LeBeau. Henry had long ago accepted certain truths about himself; he was a mutant, he was blue and furry and he was attracted to both men and women. But somehow, no matter how much confidence Hank thought he had, the very idea of hitting on Remy turned his knees to jello. Gambit was just so?Gambit, in a league far above the humble Henry McCoy. Even if Remy enjoyed the attentions of men, Hank doubted that he ever dreamed of being wooed by a nerdy doctor with a polar bear pelt. LeBeau could have anyone he wanted, just by flashing a charming smile and purring in his Cajun accent. Why would he want to be with someone who shed on the carpet?
Hank was suddenly jolted out of his reverie by the thump of something on top of his head. It was a piece of fruit, a papaya to be exact. He looked up, and heard a Cajun laugh from overhead.
"Hey, Isaac Newton-catch!" Hank also had to laugh as about ten more papayas fell to the ground. Remy had hit a jackpot. Hungrily, McCoy bit into the sweet yellow flesh, a little juice running down his chin. Papayas, bananas, passion fruit and roasted bitter melon had been their primary food source since the crash. Hank sighed a bit, knowing the fruit would take the edge of his hunger, but not ultimately satisfy it. Both he and Remy were starting to drop some serious weight; they needed a source of protein. On their first day in the basin, Remy had killed a small opossum with a well aimed, kinetically charged rock. They had made the greasy, gamy meat last another day. Further hunting attempts had proved futile. Hank's entire sportsman experience was taking a .22 out to bag a pheasant once in awhile; Remy was a city kid. Henry had no doubt that Logan, the consummate woodsman, would have a hearty hoo-ha over their stalking efforts.
Hank glanced up as a group of Howler monkeys scrambled across the linnea vines. For a moment, Hank considered asking Remy to take a shot at one, quickly then discarded the idea. Raised on a farm, Hank had no scruples against killing an animal for food, but braised monkey was somehow repugnant. He had always respected their high intelligence and emotional range. With another sigh, Hank slowly started in on yet one more papaya.
Remy had by this time returned to earth, bearing a bunch of bananas.
He tossed several to Hank, and made himself comfortable by leaning against a log.
"Thank you, Remy, your efforts in hunting and gathering are most appreciated."
"Y' welcome." Remy answered a bit thickly, around a mouth full of banana.
"However, we need to add a bit more variety to our currently fruitarian cuisine. It is starting to play havoc with my lower digestive tract." Hank began to delicately peel one of the bananas with his claws.
"I agree with y' Hank, but I ain't much of a Great White Hunter." Remy frowned. "Saw some of dem monkeys up topside, but I just couldn't?"
"I have a problem with that myself, Remy, being both fur bearing and digitally adept like our primate cousins. It would be like having a relative literally for dinner."
Remy gave a slight, amused chuckle, and Hank ate his banana slowly to make it last longer. His sharp scientist's mind started to mull over the facts he had retained about survival in extreme conditions. In due course, a light bulb went off over his head. Excited, McCoy leapt to his feet, and pushed at one of the mossy, damp logs. He overturned it with relative ease. Hank saw with a slight grin that the log's underside was swarming with bugs and larva.
"What y' up to, Henri?" Remy said in mid banana. " Sudden urge to play entomologist? Damn, dat's a lot of creepy-crawlies."
"It is indeed, my dear Acadian. It is also a veritable smorgasbord, an excellent and overlooked source of protein."
Remy's fine eyebrows went very high. "Hank-y' kidding, right? "The Cajun's nose wrinkled, almost child-like, in disgust. "PLEASE tell me y' kidding."
"No, I am not, Remy." Hank plucked a fat grub that squirmed in his fingers. "Ah, a Hercules beetle larva! I wonder if you would taste better roasted or fried?"
"Jesus H. Christ," Remy muttered from behind him.

 

Chapter Two
Grubs on a stick turned out to taste exactly the way they sounded.
Even roasted they were barely palatable. Hank found small comfort in the fact that they were still better then Bobby's infamous `Spam Surprise', but only just. As he chewed away, McCoy recalled every article he had ever read touting insects as the food source of the future. He now sincerely doubted the authors of these articles had actually ever eaten any damn bugs. Still, as dreadful as they were, the grubs were somewhat filling, and Hank enjoyed the sensation of a contented stomach.
Remy totally refused to have anything to do with the experimental cuisine. Hank was surprised at this display of squeamishness; it was a bit out of character. After all, he had witnessed the Cajun down platefuls of crawdads, teasing the rest of his teammates that they didn't know what they were missing.
Gambit had helped Hank construct a small fire-that kinetic charge could light the dampest wood-then he huddled near a rock, playing a moody game of solitaire. Remy seemed almost angry, which also puzzled Hank. His friend had been in fairly good spirits since the crash, there was no logic to this sudden emotional sea change.
Hank, tired of the thick silence, decided to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "Well, this certainly adds a new dimension to the term `grub'."
Not even a chuckle or small smile. Hank knew it wasn't the greatest line, but it deserved SOME reaction. Instead, Remy seemed fascinated with placing a black Jack on a red Queen.
Undaunted, Hank took another stab at it. " I must admit, this hasn't been my most brilliant idea. I certainly could have used the addition of a few herbs and spices. Perhaps with the proper seasoning, `Grubs ala McCoy' would be a tad tastier. A touch of garlic or tarragon would have certainly brought out a more piquant flavor. In any case, it's nice to feel actually full. Insects are almost pure protein and-"
"For de love of God, will y' stop talkin' about it!" Remy snapped, glaring up from his cards. "Ain't gonna try it, de whole idea makes me wanna puke!"
Hank was startled by the vehemence in the Cajun's voice, as well as hurt. He frowned, and his tone was huffy. "Really Remy, there's no need to yell. I understand a certain repugnance on your part, but so much of that is social conditioning-"
"Social conditioning?!" Remy's tone was furious. "Yah, I guess you could call it dat. When I was a kid, I had to eat out of garbage cans, and I hadda pick de bugs off of stuff. Den one time I found dis body in a dumpster, all crawlin' with maggots and-" Remy suddenly clamped his mouth shut, realizing perhaps that he had said to much.
His pale skin flushed red.
Hank was shocked to the core, by a number of things. Gambit never spoke to him about his childhood, so this was a startling admission.
Hank had heard a few harrowing stories from Storm who was apparently the only person Remy had discussed his early life with. The angry confession brought home to Hank how ugly and terrible his boyhood must have been. It hurt Hank's compassionate soul to think about it.
He guiltily thought about his own life as a youngster on the farm, a happy and carefree period supervised by adoring parents. It probably would be as alien to Remy as life on Mars.
Hank got up, and knelt beside the Cajun. "Remy, I do apoligize. I had no idea."
Remy seemed to want to avoid looking Hank in the eye for a moment, but those strange ruby embers finally locked into Hank's blue ones.
His voice was strained. "Henri, it's dis idiot Cajun who should be apoligizin'. How de hell were you supposed to know? Had no call to snipe at y' like dat. Just in a mean, bitchy mood. Hot, tired, hungry, and my leg, it hurts. But dat's still no excuse."
"Actually it is Remy, but we will say no more about it." Secretly, Hank wished to ask Remy a little more about his past, but decided this was neither the time nor place. " Do you think after you finish your solitaire game you could be persuaded to continue our gin rummy tournament?"
A slight grin from the Cajun. "Dat sounds like a good idea, although you a pretty slick player." Gambit picked up his cards and began to shuffle like a slight of hand magician. "Y' been beatin' ol' Remy pretty regular, and dat don't happen too often. One of dese days I gotta take y' to Vegas. We'd clean up."
Remy started to deal, and Henry made himself comfortable. The doctor was happy to see LeBeau's mood improve.
"I concur, my Acadian cohort. Perhaps after this little adventure, we should make Sin City our next stop. We'd be the deadliest duo to hit the strip." Hank picked up his cards, tiny in his enormous hands. "And now Miseau LeBeau, prepare to get your Cajun derriere whupped."
Remy smiled wolfishly over his cards. "We'll just see about dat, Dr. McCoy."

They played about eight hands, and were locked in a dead heat. But in the midst of the ninth hand, the day finally took its toll on an exhausted Hank. He nodded off, cards fluttering to the ground. He was awoken several minutes later by a gentle hand on his arm. Henry blinked in confusion, seeing Gambit kneeling beside him.
"Mon ami, t'ink it's time to get y'self some shut-eye, neh? You all in." Gambit chortled a bit, looking down at Hank's dropped hand. " `Sides, y' were about to skunk me anyways."
Hank laughed and then yawned hugely. "I suppose you are right, Remy, I should turn in. Too bad about missing that hand, drat it. Definite whup-ass material." Hank yawned again.
" Dere's always next time." Remy made a motion with his head " Got a bed together for y'."
McCoy was deeply touched to see that his friend had assembled a resting place constructed of dried leaves and moss, Gambit's legendary duster folded and intended to be used for a pillow. "Many thanks, Remy. That was very kind." Hank rose stiffly and then tried to get comfortable on the makeshift bed. "Now, don't let me sleep past my allotted time." Early on, they had agreed to sleep in shifts, as there were enough dangerous creatures in the basin to be concerned about.
" I won't, Henry." Gambit positioned himself near the fire, shuffling cards and starting another game of solitaire. " Bon nuit, and pleasant dreams."
"And a very good night to you, my friend." Hank replied quietly.
Hank rested his head on the duster, letting the smell of leather and the faint residue of Remy's cologne fill his nostrils. In spite of himself, he found himself studying Remy through half closed eyes. It was early evening, and Gambit's sharply elegant profile was etched in the gold of the firelight. Hank marveled at the fact that even sweaty, dirty and unshaven, Remy LeBeau was still astonishingly beautiful. At the moment, he looked bewitchingly unworldly, like he stepped out of a poem by Yeats, a wild, fey creature that would be at home in the court of Oberon. Remy casually brushed a heavy lock of auburn hair from his foxy face and Hank wondered what it would be like to touch that silky hair, or press his lips to that soft, utterly sensual mouth. Hank felt his heart beat painfully against his ribs at the very thought.
Then his common sense kicked in. Even though Remy looked like he was a character from some old Gothic romance, Beauty and the Beast was still very much a fairy tale. Hank really needed to stop torturing himself with unrealistic fantasies.
With a sigh, Hank McCoy rolled over and drifted to sleep, Remy's scent still teasing his senses.

Piotr Rasputin was dying before his eyes. The tall Siberian farmboy with the gentle blue eyes and shy smile was presently choking on his own blood. Crimson pooled over the white, white tiles like ugly Rorschach blots. He lay on the floor of Hank's lab, severe convulsions wracking his giant frame. Hank could smell the coppery tang of the blood and the sharp odor of urine. At Peter's side lay the hypodermic needle the Russian had suicidally plunged into his willing vein.
He had injected himself Hank's Legacy virus serum, a deadly formula indeed. Hank had finally unraveled the puzzle of Stryfe's horrid disease, but the cost was much too high. In order for it to work, the first person injected with the serum would have to die; creating suitable antibodies that could be harvested for the ultimate cure.
Hank, frustrated, abandoned the serum as a noble failure. Piotr deemed otherwise.
Hank frantically pushed down on the Russian's strong chest, trying to keep that brave heart beating. But it was no use. Peter gave a choked, liquid gasp, and an agonizing shudder. Then the spark that lit those somehow eternally innocent blue eyes vanished. Piotr was gone.
But Hank refused to give up. He kept thumping away on the still chest, willing Peter to breathe again. He was a doctor, a healer; he should never have allowed this to happen. It was on his watch, it was his stupid, fucking formula that poisoned Piotr's blood. Peter was a good man; he didn't deserve this sordid end. It was unthinkable that they would never hear his Russian folk songs in the early morning, or watch him paint his shimmering landscapes. Piotr Rasputin couldn't be dead.
But he was very, very dead. Hank finally stopped punishing that cooling body, his breath coming out in ragged sobs. Thick blood oozed down Peter's chin, and Hank reached over to shut those open, staring eyes.
"Piotr, please forgive me, forgive me?" Hank found himself chanting over and over like some kind of painful mantra.

Hank was still moaning this when he woke up. He was shaking all over and he realized that two strong arms were holding him, wrapping him in a tight hug.
"Henri, it's okay, it's okay," a low, smoky voice murmured in his ear. Hank slowly remembered where he was, and tried to get under control. But all he could see was Peter's dead face from his nightmare. His eyes filled with hot tears and he buried his big head into a lean shoulder.
"Henry, y' should go ahead and cry. Let it out, mon ami." Hank wanted to argue, to say he would be just fine after a minute, but instead he silently sobbed. All the grief and sadness and frustration just poured out of him. And he was held even closer by wiry arms, soothing Cajun nonsense softly whispering in one ear.
When he was finally drained of emotion, Hank dazedly wondered at the unexpected situation he now found himself in. He usually never broke down like this, although deep down he knew it had done him good to finally cry. And the person comforting him was also a source of wonder. Remy continued to hold him even though the storm had passed, rubbing the back of his neck with those long, clever fingers. They had never touched this intimately before, and it felt so damn good.
Hank allowed himself to nuzzle the Cajun's neck even closer. He could smell Gambit's warm masculine heat, and it was unbelievably reassuring. "Oh, Remy?" he whispered inside himself. "My dear?" He hugged the young man back, trying to convey all his affection and gratitude.
But as wondrous as this moment was, it had to end, especially before Hank made a total ass of himself. It assuaged his wounded heart to know just how much Remy obviously cared; the Cajun certainly didn't go around hugging everybody. But any more of this, and Hank was convinced he'd ruin a very good friendship.
He very gently pulled out of the embrace, patting Gambit softly the back as he did so. "Thank you so much, Remy. Obviously I had a rather upsetting dream." Hank removed his glasses and wiped at his reddened eyes. "That should teach me to eat larva," he added weakly.
Remy wasn't deflected by Hank's lame joke. He looked soberly at the doctor. " Henri. Listen to me. It wasn't your fault."
"What?" Hank tensed, not wanting to talk about it.
"Piotr. You were sayin' his name over and over in your sleep." Remy lightly touched Hank's forearm. " Y' shouldn't torture y'self over his death, mon ami. It was his choice, his sacrifice. You not to blame."
Some buried knot deep inside Hank uncoiled, he fought the urge to burst into tears again. " It's so hard not to feel responsible, though. If I hadn't made that bloody serum, Peter would still be alive!"
"But you didn't t'ink he'd go and do what he did. You a precog now?
Peter never really got over Illyana, Hank, y' know dat. I was shocked at first, but afterwards it made sense. He did what he t'ought he needed to do. But don't make his dyin' your fault. We all got enough burdens to carry."
Hank took a deep, painful breath. The knot continued to uncoil. "I know, and I'm damn tired of it! Why does everything in our lives have to be so hideously difficult? I'm sick to death of it, Remy. There was so many times when I was working on Legacy that I wanted to quit, beat my head against the wall. Then, when I finally thought I succeeded, another appalling disaster." Tears began to trickle down Hank's cheeks. "Fuck it. Fuck it all."
Remy suddenly pulled the startled McCoy into another hug. "Yeah, Henry, it's all fucked up sometimes. Bein' mutants mean we get a bigger shit pile den most. But dere's one t'ing dat you taught me dat gets me through. We not alone, we got each other to hold on to. Y' not ever alone, Hank."
Hank was incredibly moved to hear this, and from Remy LeBeau, of all people. And Gambit was right, they did have each other to get through all the pain, all the shit. It was the only thing that ultimately mattered.
He moved his head so he could look Remy fully in the face. "I can't thank you enough, dear Cajun. You're right, although we need to be reminded of it once in awhile."
Hank was rewarded with a tiny, soft smile that made his heart beat faster. " Me too, Henry."
And for a brief second, Hank was sorely tempted to pull Remy even closer and kiss him, kiss him as if his very life depended on it. But Gambit was still too beautiful, Hank was still Hank, and again, that sort of thing only happened in fairy tales.
McCoy extricated himself from Remy's arms, and took a glance up at the sky, noting the position of the moon. "Well," he began briskly, "It looks as though you let me sleep far too long. I think it is high time you get your fair forty winks whilst I stand guard."
"Y' gonna be okay?" Worry covered Remy's face.
"I will be fine, thanks to you. Now please get some rest." Hank was really starting to feel uncomfortable.
"Okay. Learned long ago not to argue with Dr. McCoy." Remy gave Hank another Mona Lisa smile, and started to stand. But before he rose, the Cajun did something so unexpected that Hank almost keeled over in a dead faint. LeBeau leaned forward and ever so gently, pressed a kiss on McCoy's mouth. It was butterfly soft and ever so sweet, and it cased Hank's insides to whirl around like the contents of a cuisinart. The Cajun then gave a strange, unreadable look that Hank couldn't even begin to analyze.
As Remy went about the business of getting ready for bed, Hank tried to remember just how one breathed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Cajun stretch his long frame on the moss bed, like a tiger lying down after a long hunt.
"`Night again, Henry." Gambit said in his Mississippi mud drawl, slow and casual, as if nothing peculiar had just happened.
"Goodnight, Remy." Hank made a tremendous effort to keep his baritone normal, but it sounded almost Mickey Mouse- squeaky to his ears. "I certainly hope you have pleasanter dreams."
A low chuckle. "Dey should be. Didn't eat no grubs, me."
Hank stared into the fire, his mind jumbled like an unopened jigsaw puzzle. After a couple of minutes, he detected the sound of Remy's even breathing, he was asleep.
He gnawed on a lower lip, sharp incisors causing a bit of pain. It kept him from screaming. `Remy LeBeau just kissed me,' a fuddled inner voice said. `He kissed. Me. Hank McCoy. Remy KISSED me!'
Hank knew Remy to be a physically affectionate person, albeit only with the female half of the mansion. He and Jean sometimes teased and innocently flirted with each other, he loved to tickle Jubilee, and Gambit was the only soul on the planet that could get away with swatting Storm on the fanny. And Hank once had his midwestern sensibilities shaken when he witnessed Remy kiss his adopted father.
So it could have been a cultural, southern Cajun thing, an expression of friendship.
Hank desperately tried to convince himself that this was the reason, as the other possibility scared him to death. That Remy wanted something other than friendship; well, it couldn't be. Part of Hank wanted to go over and curl up next to that long lean body, pull Remy into his arms, and return the kiss on that warm, sleepy mouth. But Hank couldn't make himself move. He found himself thinking of fairy tales once again, knowing that there was never going to be a miracle.
Remy's kiss, sweet as it was, would never transform Hank. The Beast would always stay the Beast.
With a sigh, Hank fed a few twigs into the fire; watched a couple of sparks chase themselves lazily in the air. He contemplated the irony that he could unravel the secrets of DNA and understand the enigmas of the Chaos theory, but the mystery of his own heart eluded him. As well as the feelings of the young man sleeping quietly near him.
He decided to just not to think about it anymore. He slowly picked up Remy's card deck, shuffled, and laid out a game of Klondike. He played until early dawn.

 

Chapter Three
The next morning, they breakfasted on the inevitable papaya and bananas, which caused Hank to recite his imminent obituary: "Noted scientist, Dr. Henry McCoy, PhD, tragically expired from a horrific case of Green Apple Two Step whilst lost in the Amazon jungle." This got a big laugh from Remy, who had awoken in a rather buoyant mood. Hank knew this was partly due to Remy feeling better. He examined the injured limb again, and was immensely pleased to see that the awful swelling had gone down considerably.
Despite his relief over Remy's condition and the light jokes, Hank himself was still deeply troubled. The kiss from Remy had thrown the scientist for a loop; he couldn't stop fretting over it. He kept covertly glancing at the Cajun to see if he could read some sort of motive on that handsome, sly face, but there was nothing to be had.
Remy was, unfortunately, a born poker player.
They resumed their journey, heading northward, where Hank was sure that they would eventually run into some kind of civilization. As they walked, Gambit drew Henry into conversation. At first, the doctor didn't really feel like talking. But if Henry McCoy had a weakness, it was for stimulating dialogue, and he soon found himself happily expounding in a number of topics. He forgot his worries and regained more of his old enthusiasm with every mile.
The conversation was pure Hank, too, touching on a wild array of subjects all somehow oddly interconnected. They discussed Mayan pyramids, which went to Steven Hawking's latest theories, the dismal progress of Remy's New Orleans Saints vs. Hank's beloved Buffalo Bills, poison dart frogs, the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud, Zoroastrianism, cuneiform writing and film noir. During a pause in a rather heated debate on Impressionist art, Hank suddenly realized he was actually having a good time. And he owed quite a bit to of it to Gambit. While Remy wasn't as well versed in some of the subjects as he was, he always acted interested, asked good questions and always, always listened. Hank found himself smiling and stopped walking for a moment.
"Changing the subject drastically for a second here, Remy, I would like to say just how much I have always enjoyed talking to you."
Remy smiled wide, and it was a smile that told Hank that he had pleased the Cajun. "Well, Henry, de same goes for me. I love shooting de shit with you too."
Hank laughed. "And I don't mind saying that you are one of the few people I can have such conversations with. Or, as dear Mr. Worthington would say, you put up with my endless pontificating admirably."
"Aw Henri, y' don't pontificate. "A warm chuckle. "Much."
They started to walk again, and Hank was possessed with the urge to pose a question. One he'd always been dying to ask. It was treading on delicate territory though, and he knew he had to proceed with great caution.
"Remy, may I ask you something rather personal? And I pray that I don't offend you. But I have always been terribly curious about something. Why do you pretend to be something that you are not?"
Gambit stopped dead in his tracks, and his expression was at first so guarded Hank was afraid that he had indeed rocked the boat. But Remy did answer after a long pause.
"Y' mean, why do I pretend to be a Cajun dumbass from Bumfuck, Louisiana?"
"Er?yes."
Remy spoke slowly and very cautiously. "Part of it's my thieves training. My Poppa hammered it into me that y' never, never let people see y' whole hand. Y' always keep `em guessin' about what y' know, what y' t'inkin'." Remy took a deep breath and his heavy accent suddenly vanished. "If they believe that you are some goombah from the swamps, then you will always have surprise on your side." A slight laugh. "Bobby was amazed once that I actually knew how to run a computer. It works that well."
Remy actually fidgeted for a second, very uncomfortable. But he continued talking. "It goes deeper then the Guild, though. I can't blame it all on them. I always have been afraid to trust people, Henry. Let them see who I really am. I hate to say it, because it's so stereotypical, but I guess it's, well, my fucked up childhood."
Hank wasn't exactly surprised by this revelation, but he was amazed and a little pleased that Remy was actually opening up to him.
"Remy, I would not presume to imagine what your early life must have been like. From the little I do know, though, I am deeply honored that you trust me as much as you do. Those old wounds must be so hard to heal. I only hope that someday you will feel that you do not have to hide. I have come to like the real Remy LeBeau very much."
Remy nodded slowly, a soft expression in his eyes. "Merci, Hank, merci." Then he said in a low voice. "Now I'm gonna ask y' de same question. Why do you pretend to be something that y' not?"
Hank felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. " What exactly do you mean, Remy?" he stammered.
"I t'ink y' know what I'm talking about, Henry." Remy wore his poker face again, not giving anything away. Hank swallowed hard, panic running through him like wildfire. Gambit knew. But was that why he kissed him? No matter how hard he tried, Hank couldn't imagine that the feelings could be mutual. Could they? Or was Remy just playing with him?
There was a long, very uncomfortable silence as Henry tried desperately to rope in his stampeding thoughts. But the supreme commander of six syllable words couldn't think of a thing to say. All he felt was horribly claustrophobic, like the walls were caving in.
He was shocked out of this hysteria by a touch on his arm. "Oh, Hank, je suis desole. " Gambit's eyes were gentle, and somehow, infinitely sad. "I didn't mean to freak y' out, mon ami. Forget I asked."
Hank was able to draw in oxygen again. And the expression on Remy's face told him that the Cajun wasn't playing a game. Hank finally summoned his voice. "No Remy, that's hardly fair. I asked you a very personal question, there is no reason that my life should be off-limits." He let out a long sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. "It's just that I, uh, well? drat! Why is this so bloody hard?" Hank cleared his throat, and tried one more time. "Okay. I suppose that I should tell you that I-"
Whatever else Hank was going to say was cut short by a bone-rattling explosion of thunder. Both he and Remy started and glanced up, just in time to see another crackling blue bolt of lightning sear across the sky. They had been so absorbed in their conversation; neither had noticed the oncoming storm.
In another second, rain poured from the sky in buckets, sheets of water everywhere. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a cue to run for cover, but in the Amazon, this was a tremendous relief from the terrible heat. Hank grinned skyward as the cool rain soaked his dirty fur, and he could not resist making his old Tarzan yell.
Remy laughed at this and responded with a big whoop of his own. They danced around, splashing up water like children playing in a mud puddle.
"Damn! Does this ever feel good!" Gambit yelled over another loud blast of thunder.
"This is sheer, unadulterated heaven, my dear Acadian. I only wish we had some soap-" Hank paused, slack-jawed as he suddenly saw what Remy was doing. "on a rope?" he finished weakly.
Gambit had apparently decided to take full advantage of the rain; he was rapidly stripping off his clothes. First the clinging spandex shirt, then the boots, and finally the pants, all deftly tossed into a nearby bush. Hank found himself muttering a truly heartfelt prayer that the young man would at least retain his jock strap, but he had no such luck. Only about a foot away from him, Remy Lebeau was as naked as the day he was born.
Hank really tried not to gawk, but it was like he was an iron filing drawn to a magnet. All his desire for Remy burst forth, and he shook with its force. He clenched his big fists and fought it, repeated over and over again that this was No Big Deal. He had seen Remy nude countless times before, in the men's shower, during physical exams.
He was a doctor for God's sake!
And yet, this was somehow very different. Out in the open, against the wildness, Remy looked like an untamed creature himself. Seemingly unconscious of how this was affecting Hank, everything he did was loaded with a dangerous sensuality. To his great embarrassment, Henry felt a hot, aching throb in his groin. But he couldn't stop looking.
Pale ivory skin slicked with a wet sheen, auburn hair washed away from that sharp, excruciatingly handsome face. Hard muscles etched in fine detail, all impossibly graceful and perfect. The long sweep of his back, the narrow waist, the slender legs that never seemed to end, no artist could possibly capture such unworldly beauty. Hank was swept up with a terrible, mad longing, wondering what it would be like to taste the rain on that supple skin, run his lips over that strong chest, touch a small pink nipple with a bite and a kiss. Would Remy groan, clutch at his fur, look at Hank with desire in those burning eyes?
Hank's penis raged at this forbidden fantasy, straining against the fabric of his trunks. He had never been so aroused or embarrassed in all his life. He knew if Remy looked over at him at this moment he would die. He frantically tried to put the brakes on is out of control libido by reciting the periodic table of elements backwards,
an old trick. Luckily it worked, and along with the cold rainwater; Hank managed to master himself.
And almost as suddenly as it started, the storm ceased. Hank pretended to be interested in a small flock of toucans in a nearby tree as Remy wrung the water out of his hair. Why did every move the Cajun made have to be as erotic as hell, Hank thought in frustration.
"Man, dat was great!" Remy commented. "Nice to get de stink off, neh?"
"Uh, yes, most assuredly." Hank shook the raindrops off his glasses.
He kept them off while Remy got mercifully dressed again. For once in his life, Hank was grateful that he was so nearsighted.
They continued on their journey, Henry bracing himself for the conversation that had been halted by the rain. But Gambit said nothing and they walked in relative silence. As they wound their way through the dense vegetation, Hank tortured himself, hating his confusion and cowardice. Why was he so hesitant and afraid?
Remy was also very preoccupied. His expression was withdrawn, and he hummed quietly to himself. Hank didn't recognize the tune, but it sounded like a Cajun song, full of longing and sadness. It didn't help Hank's spirits.
After another slow mile, Hank came to a decision. When they made camp for the night, he'd spill his guts; tell Remy everything. He'd look Gambit right in the eyes and announce; "Remy, I have been attracted to you for quite some time." Hank was of course, capable of much more flowery sentiments, but in this circumstance, simple was best. He just hoped he wouldn't fall over in a quivering faint.
As he was mulling this over, Hank broke through a tight weave of vines and found himself standing on a riverbank. The water was still, dark green and not terribly deep. It was not the mighty Amazon itself, but a small tributary.
"Was wonderin' when we'd finally come across de damn river." Remy commented wryly.
Hank's bad mood was instantly lifted. "Ah! This is a marvelous bit of luck! I believe if we go upstream, we will eventually connect to the Amazon itself. " His quick brain clicked rapidly along like an express train." Perhaps we should construct a raft of some sort? Travel by water would be much preferable to slogging through the forest."
"Brilliant idea, Huckleberry." Remy smiled and patted Hank's shoulder. "We certainly got more den enough wood around, and we can use vines to-"
Whatever else Gambit was going to say was stopped by the sound of splashing. They both looked in the direction of the noise and saw several largish somethings gliding rapidly under the water.
"What de hell is dat?" Remy's query was answered a moment later when one of the creatures popped to the surface, its dorsal fin gleaming in the light. The Cajun's face took on an expression of pure astonishment. "Henri- is dat what I t'ink it is? But dat can't be!"
Hank was utterly delighted, his innate scientific curiosity bubbling like a coffee percolator. "You are not imagining things, my Cajun comrade. We are both very fortunate to see a few of the very rare Amazon River dolphins. They are endangered creatures, sadly, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Drat! If only I had a camera!"
"Well, slap me naked and sell my clothes!" Remy said a wide, childlike smile of wonder covering his face. "Dolphins in de Amazon. Never heard of such a t'ing. What y' t'ink dey are up to?"
"Hmm?" Hank mused. "It looks as if they are-"
There was a pause, as Hank and Remy stared at each other. "Fishing!" they yelled in unison.
Both Gambit and Hank were immediately captivated by the same thought.
They rushed downstream, grinning crazily, both raft and dolphins completely forgotten. When they found a likely spot, Hank grabbed a young sapling, snapping it like a stick of celery.
"As a youngster, I came to be quite adept at using a rod and reel, tutored by my dear paternal Grandpa. Together we bagged many a small mouthed bass and crappie in the depths of Lake Wocohiscan." Hank rapidly stripped the small tree of its branches and leaves. "But in this particular scenario, lacking the obvious equipment, I shall endeavor to practice the most ancient art of spear fishing."
"Hank..."
"I just need to sharpen the tip of this sapling with our knife, then voila! We are, as they say, in business."
"Henry?"
Hank tested the heft of the pole experimentally. "Now, I don't have any experience in this sort of thing, mind you. But I imagine stealth and patience would be the key to success."
"Dr. McCoy!"
"My, there certainly nothing like fresh fish, is there? Just thinking about it makes my taste buds tingle. And there are so many interesting species in this ecosystem; I am very curious to see what we will encounter."
Hank finally heard an exasperated sigh from Remy. He paused and turned just in time to see Gambit launch a kinetically charged rock into the river. There was a dull explosion, like a small depth charge, and then a shower of water and about a dozen gasping fish pelted them both. Hank stood in open-mouthed astonishment, surveying the handsome catch with wide eyes. He dropped his would-be spear into the sand.
Remy grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Henri. Know y' was all excited about playing Neolithic hunter and stuff, but shit, I'm hungry! It's sort of overkill I know, but what we don't eat now we can save for later. Didn't mean to spoil y' fun though."
Hank, by this time, had recovered. He let out a loud, bellowing whoop of delight and ran to Gambit, picking him up. He embraced the young man tightly, pulling the lanky Cajun right off the ground. Remy laughed a deep, Louisiana laugh.
"Oh, Remy LeBeau, I absolutely adore you!" Hank cried out.
Henry's words caused the Cajun to look him right in the eyes, the laughter gone suddenly. "Do y', Hank?" he whispered, ever so softly.
And with that, the world stopped. Hank continued to hold Remy, and Gambit's face was so close to his own. Hank drank in the sharp, foxy features he had become to hold so dear. And with a combination of panic and a reckless, wild joy, Hank finally answered Remy's question.
"Yes, Remy. I do."
"T'ought so." With exquisite slowness, Gambit pressed a long fingered hand to Hank's cheek, and gave it the gentlest caress. "Y' ever going to do anyt'ing about it, mon ami?"
"Yes, my dear, I will." Then Hank committed one of the bravest acts he ever had in his life. He brushed the longish hair away from Remy's face and kissed him.

 

Chapter Four
It was better than he ever imagined. Remy's mouth, that is. Hank kissed him softly, gently, and Remy responded in kind. He gave a little sigh, and threw his arms around Hank's massive neck. Henry continued to hold Gambit's long body close to his, as delicately as one would a china doll.
The blood was whispering in Hank's ears, and there was a crazed, happy pounding in his heart. And he couldn't help but smile against those wonderful lips. Remy drew away and looked into his eyes. He grinned, and Hank smiled even wider.
"So Remy, was that what you had in mind? As far as `doing something about it', that is?" He stroked the lean, graceful lines of Remy's back.
"Ummhmmm..." Remy purred, his velvet voice giving Hank the good kind of shivers. "Glad to see dat we finally on de same page." He ran his fingers through McCoy's wiry hair. "So?you up for another go `round, mon ami?"
" I think I can manage, yes."
Remy chuckled, and abruptly caught Hank's mouth with his. The sweetness was gone though, and the Cajun's lips held both fire and passion. Hank felt a beautiful shockwave. `Great Googly Moogly!' he thought, quite stunned, `Where in the Nine Hells did he learn to kiss like this?'
Hank didn't have much time to ponder the question. Remy deepened the kiss; a clever tongue found its way into Henry's somewhat surprised mouth. It was heaven, and Hank got lost in the feeling, and let own tongue plunge into that very willing, wanton mouth. Hank heard himself moan, low and aching. And to his surprise, Remy groaned in return, fingers clinging tightly to Hank's thick pelt.
They finally broke apart, breathing very hard, nose-to-nose. Hank pulled Gambit even closer, and covered Remy's face with light butterfly kisses. He found an ear, nuzzled it, the still damp auburn hair tickling his nose, smelling like rainwater.
Remy sighed, and rested his head on Hank's shoulder. He felt tremors running through Remy's body; the Cajun actually seemed more overwhelmed about this than he was. It was totally contrary to how he had pictured Gambit sexually, cool and always in control. But then he reminded himself that the face Remy presented to the world was false, and he was perhaps holding the real Remy LeBeau in his arms. He would have to tread very carefully now.
Hank's knees were shaking anyway; a pause would be good. "Remy, I think I need to sit down for a moment. This is all rather overwhelming."
"Yah, Henri, d'accord." Remy said simply, kissing his nose.
Hank plopped himself down on a convenient nearby log; Remy curled up gracefully on the ground beside him. McCoy took a few slow, steadying breaths, and then looked down at Gambit.
"So?how long have you known?" Henry began slowly. "About how I felt towards you? Was I that terribly obvious?"
Remy shook his head. "Non, mon ami, you hid it pretty well. But I was aware of it for a long, long time." Gambit seemed to tense up, and picked at a piece of bark on the log. "But how I knew ain't exactly kosher. See, Remy got a extra hidden card up his sleeve."
Hank suddenly had an inkling of just what that might be. "Remy?are you a telepath?"
"Non." A slight smile. "Dere's enough of dem hanging around de mansion as it is. I'm an empath, Henri."
Hank blinked for a moment, and some missing pieces of the puzzle that was Gambit fell into place. Remy seemed to be able to `charm' people, but it had always been unclear if this was a mutant ability or just him. And according to the professor and Jean, Gambit was always notoriously hard to read telepathically. If Remy was an empath, this made perfect sense, as he would have strong mental shields of his own to block them.
"I see." Hank carefully reached out his hand, and stroked Remy's shoulder. "Why have you hidden this, Remy?"
Remy flushed. " I was?afraid. I always hated de empathy anyways. And I wasn't trusted much at de mansion to begin with, I figured revealing I was an empath would make it even worse. Figured dat everyone would t'ink dat I was manipulating dem somehow. Especially Rogue. I'm sure she would have t'ought dat I was makin' her love me."
Remy chewed on his lower lip, and then looked Henry directly in his eyes. "But I swear, Hank, I would never do dat. When de power first kicked in, I played around with it a bit, but it was just?wrong. Creepy. I want people to like me for real, not because I made dem. Y' believe me?"
Remy seemed so distressed that Hank picked up his hand and squeezed it. "Of course I do, Remy. If you really had been misusing your powers, wouldn't you be the most popular person at the mansion? The apple of Rogue's eye?" Hank sighed deeply. "And I honestly don't blame you for not telling anyone. You have always been the scapegoat in our little group, unfairly so." Hank rubbed Remy's knuckles with a thumb. "It must be so hard, picking up emotions. Knowing what people are really feeling behind their words and actions."
A slight Cajun shrug. "I admit, it was really a bitch at first. Nearly drove me insane for a while. But den I learned to throw up some pretty thick shields, so I can keep all of y' out of my head. Most of de time." Remy traced the fur on the back of Hank's hand. "Every so often, real strong emotions leak through. Like what you have been feeling for me. First time I felt it, Henry, I was so damn surprised." A wide smile. "And very flattered. I always liked y' Hank, from Day One." The smile faded. "And I also knew dat it scared y'. Real bad. And I didn't t'ink it was because y' were afraid of being labeled queer, y' always seem so comfortable in y' own skin. So I figured y' were just afraid of getting' tangled up with someone like me. And I don't blame y'. I somehow manage to totally fuck up just about every relationship I've ever been in. Look how Rogue and I turned out. Wasn't dat a mess and a half?" The Cajun sighed deeply, ran a hand through already messy hair. "It's good dat we're finally talkin' about dis, `cuz you were about to drive me plumb crazy lately. I threw up enough hints to let y' know I was interested, but I knew if I just jumped on you, I would have given you a heart attack."
"The little strip tease in the rain nearly killed me, Remy LeBeau," Hank commented dryly. "Is that what you call a `hint'?"
Remy chuckled. "Well, I have never been known to be, uh, subtle. It didn't work, anyways. You always a gentleman, Henri."
Hank snorted. "I came very close to not being one, you scamp!"
Remy laughed, then the amusement faded. He picked up Hank's hand, and pressed it to a sharp cheekbone. "I promise dat I'm not playing with y' though, Henri. I t'ought dat if y' finally made a move, we'd see what was what. But y' friendship means so much to me, I don't want to screw dat up. Maybe it would be for de best if we just don't go dere." There was an aching sadness, there, behind the words.
Hank cupped Remy's face in his hand. "My dear, dear Remy. Logan has often said that telepaths can't see what is in front of their very noses. I guess that must be true of empaths, too." Remy's eyebrows shot up. "Yes, I was scared of declaring my feelings for you, but not for the reasons you just cited. It is a lot simpler than that." Hank gave a soft laugh, mostly at himself. "You just totally intimidated me, Remy. And I came to the now obviously erroneous conclusion that you would never be interested. Yes, I am comfortable in my own skin, and I accept the fact that I'm big and blue and furry. But faced with someone as beautiful as you, my confidence vanished. I thought you would never come to care for someone who resembled McGilla Gorilla."
Hank was so deeply touched by the surprise covering Gambit's face; this apparently had never crossed his mind. The Cajun knelt between Hank's legs, pressed a hand against McCoy's heart. "Henry, bein' an empath and all, I know what's inside folks. And so much of it's bad. People got a lot of ugliness squirreled away, all hidden in dark corners. But you, Hank, you don't. I always have loved bein' around y' `cuz y' feel so wonderful. Dere's so much kindness and warmth in y' heart. You have no idea how rare dat is. Y' down to de bone good, Henry McCoy." Remy took a deep breath, and his voice shook a little. " And Hank - y' de only one, de ONLY one dat came to me, said dat y'were sorry `bout Antarctica. You always cared about my worthless ass, Hank, even when I didn't deserve it." And with that Remy leaned up and gave Hank another kiss. And there was so much emotion in that kiss; so much said. Stunned, Hank almost forgot to kiss Remy back.
He wrapped his big arms around that slender body, hugging him as hard as he dared. Remy pulled himself closer, snuggling himself tight to Henry's chest. They stayed that way for a very long time.
Finally there was a chuckle, slightly muffled by fuzz. "And Henri, for what it's worth, I always t'ought dat blue fur was pretty damn sexy." Remy rubbed his face in Hank's chest, like a contented cat. "Feels wonderful too." Another snicker. "Had me a lot of fantasies about what it would feel like bein' all naked against y'."
Hank blushed, and couldn't help smiling, either. That Gambit actually fantasized about him was an enormous and terribly flattering revelation. It gave Henry a surge of confidence. "You dear, wicked creature," he said, in a teasing tone.
Remy smiled seductively. "Y' already know dat Remy is a bad boy, Hank." His fingers ruffling the fur on Hank's chest "But de t'ing is, I pretty sure dat y' can be a bad boy too, Dr McCoy." Remy grinned and very lazily licked the contours of Hank's mouth with his tongue. "And we can be oh so very bad together."
Hank managed an answer. " I certainly hope so, Mr. LeBeau." Then Henry pulled Gambit to him and kissed him. Not gently, or reverently. Hard. Hot. Demanding. He enticed a low, satisfying moan from the Cajun. It made Hank even bolder; he let his hands finally roam over Remy's body, touching everywhere. The feel of him was wondrous, sleek and sexual. The spandex actually enhanced the experience, Hank's fingers whispering over bowstring taut muscle.
Remy, in the meantime, was also very busy. Those hands, that could pick a lock in seconds, moved quickly and deftly over the doctor's furry hide. Kneading, exploring, teasing, finding sensitive places that even Henry wasn't aware of. Hank shuddered when the Cajun's tongue explored the sensitive contours of his ear, hot breath rasping loudly. McCoy gave a hiss through bared fangs, one that became louder when the thief discovered one of Hank's nipples. The calloused fingers pinched and taunted a dark nub, causing electric shocks to go directly to Hank's very erect cock. Then Remy went even further, warm lips suckling and biting that now oh so sensitive nipple. Hank gasped, and his hips unconsciously thrust forward, erection rubbing into Gambit's hard chest. It was much too much all at once.
"Remy, my God, you are driving me crazy!" Hank panted into Gambit's hair.
Remy gave the nipple another bite. "Ain't dat de point, cher?" The Acadian leaned back a bit, and gently removed Henry's now very fogged up glasses. Hank could see an expression of concern form on his predatory features, albeit a now bit blurry.
"Am I goin' too fast for y', Hank?" Remy asked quietly. "I do dat."
"Well?" Hank gathered his scattered thoughts. "This is truly divine Remy, I am not exactly protesting. But?" Hank gave a sigh. " I want you to know that this is not all that I'm after. Just being with you, knowing you is enough."
Gambit swallowed hard, rocked backward for a moment. Henry couldn't see very well now, but the loving, affectionate look Remy was giving him was enough to evaporate an iceberg, and it melted his heart completely.
Remy kissed Hank's huge palm, a tiny, worshipful kiss. "I know, Hank," the thief whispered. "I know."
Before Hank could answer, Remy pulled him to the ground, pushing him into a lying position. Then the Cajun slid his full length on top of his. Hank had a brief glimpse of that reckless face, covered with strands of auburn, hooded red eyes glittering. He knew at that moment that Remy was going to claim him, make him his. And without a shadow of a doubt, Henry also knew that he was going to mark the beautiful thief as his lover.
Remy made his attack, mouth and tongue kissing deeper and deeper and deeper. So sure, so giving, so demanding.
All Hank was aware of that point was Remy LeBeau, the weight of him, the scent of him, the texture of his lips and skin. He let go of all his hesitation, although always conscious of his great strength. He knew he could never lose himself entirely, no matter how heated the circumstances. And this particular circumstance was becoming very flammable indeed.
Remy started to really stoke the fire. With total abandon, Gambit rubbed his crotch against Henry's hardened member. It was a sensation so dirty and exquisite that Hank found himself moaning, grinning and sighing all at the same time.
"You like dat, cher?" Remy whispered hoarsely before doing something so erotic to his earlobe that Hank seriously thought his penis was going to burst through his trunks. "Dat feel good?" The Cajun gave another wicked thrust of his hips, grinding down on Hank once more.
Hank actually managed to laugh. "Duh! Remy, quite frankly, that about the silliest question I have ever been asked." Remy laughed in return, then gasped as Hank's hands glided over the Cajun's tight ass, cupping it for a moment He hooked his fingers under Remy's shirt, and with the thief's help, he yanked it off. He put both hands around Gambit's waist, pulling him forward a bit, Remy's hands clutching Hank's strong shoulders. Without much preamble, he let his tongue explore Remy's chest, tasting and savoring the pale, slightly sweaty skin. His new lover tasted so deliciously sweet, and Hank swore he could almost hear the young man's rapidly beating heart.
Clawed fingers scratched lightly over Remy's back, racking his lover with the most pleasurable shivers.
Remy sighed onto the top of Hank's hair, and then bucked a bit when Henry began to suck fiercely at a tiny nipple. Remy made a little mewling sound when Hank reached between them and massaged a prominent hipbone, getting closer and closer to his ultimate goal. When he finally began to trace the contours of Remy's erection, the Cajun went quite still at first; then he moaned like an animal, so loudly that Hank's cock twitched in response.
"Ooooh Hank, y' so good to Remy." Gambit panted softly. He rubbed himself shamelessly for a moment against Hank's willing hand, eyes closed, pure undistilled sensuality. Then he gave Henry a kiss and Hank drank the sweat from his lips. "Now Remy be real good to you, cher."
With a casual air, the Cajun slid his body down Hank's abdomen, hands busy all the while, making Hank squirm and tremble. Finally, Remy positioned himself between Hanks' thighs, still caressing, kneading.
The hungry look in Remy's half closed eyes gave Hank a dangerous thrill. In anticipation, he found himself clenching at the earth.
"Gonna make y' forget d' T'eory of Relativity now, Dr. McCoy." Gambit said in his most seductive tone, all warm whiskey and heat. He rubbed his face, cat-like, over Hank's now much too tight shorts. Henry was amazed at this, and even more amazed at the incredible sensation caused by Gambit's ravenous mouth. Hot breath through cloth aroused his cock even further; the delicious agony made McCoy throw an arm over his face, whimpering.
Remy had him prisoner, those sinful, knowing lips, so tantalizingly close. Hank was lost, and loved every second of it. He nearly screamed when the Cajun abruptly yanked his shorts down. He arched his back, his large, fully erect cock thrusting forward. Slick with precum, it was a deep, throbbing blue.
"Mmmmm?" Gambit murmured. "Yup. Blue is my favorite color, alright." Before Henry could even cry out or even chuckle, Remy nearly drove him out of his mind by lapping a silky tongue over his balls. His claws dug further and further into the ground with each deliberate, wet lick. Remy lovingly explored every inch of his penis; rough fingers massaging spot behind his scrotum. Remy seemed to savor all of it; he played with the head of his cock, delicately probed the weeping slit, nibbled the pulsing veins. Hank was pretty sure he was in a place beyond aroused; this was ecstasy, mindless and wild.
And, oh. Oh. Just when Hank thought he was going to actually expire, Remy opened wide, and took his entire length far, far down into his throat. Hank lay completely, perfectly still, eyes screwed shut, as Gambit pleasured him. That tongue swirled and coaxed; all of Hank's attention was focused on it. Warmwetsweet. His body was an inferno, and an orgasm of cataclysmic proportions was screaming at the top of its lungs to be let out. Hank, normally a quiet lover, found himself pleading like he never had before, voice fevered, snarling and rough.
"OhRemyholysweetGodcan'ttake itOHFUCKmmmmmmyouarewonderfyesyesyesohyesYESYESYES!!!!!"
A release, a shaking, 8.0 earthquake of a release that roared throughout Hank's big body. His claws unconsciously tore up clumps of earth as he bucked skyward. Remy somehow managed to keep sucking on his pulsing hard-on, drinking up a mad, endless flow of hot seed. When the climax finally finished with him, Hank felt almost faint, lungs bellowing in and out.
Remy slid back on top of him, looking a bit smug. The Cajun tenderly kissed him, lips whispering over Henry's forehead, brow, eyelids, nose, finally resting on his mouth. Hank sighed and gently kissed back, tasting both Gambit and himself. Remy chuckled after a moment.
"So, Dr. Einstein, mind telling me about dat ol' T'eory of Relativity?"
"Hmmm?" Hank grinned and pretended to ponder. " I do believe it is ib=e2. In other words, incredible blowjob equals ecstacy squared." He traced the line of Remy's jaw. "Would you perhaps like to find out if this particular equation works on you?"
"No need to bother y'self, cher." Remy actually blushed. " I, uh, already came. Couldn't block y' out empathy-wise, didn't really want to anyways. Sometimes mutant powers can be fun."
Hank was momentarily disappointed, but realized he could literally take matters into his own hands. "Well, my dear, you seem to be made of sturdy Acadian stock. Are you sure I can't interest you in another orgasm?"
A mischievous, delighted smile. "Mmmm, might be persuaded. Gambit does take his vitamins."
"He'd better, as I am his consulting physician. Now stand up, Mr. LeBeau, and let the doctor take care of you."
Remy got to his feet, laughing all the while. "Henry, you even naughtier den I t'ought."
"You are about to find out. Now, hush, my dear." Hank stood up behind his lover, took him by his shoulders, turned him around. "Close your eyes."
Remy swallowed, breathing a little hard, and obeyed. Hank could tell he was more than a little surprised by the turn this was taking, as well as very excited. The evidence was there, hard under his trousers.
Hank carefully lifted the longish hair at the nape of Remy's neck, ran his tongue down the pale length. Gambit sighed and murmured as Henry explored his shoulders, licking, nibbling lightly. The slick skin was warm and so delectable; Hank was momentarily lost in the sensation. But he forced himself to concentrate; he wanted to give Remy as much pleasure as he has just been given.
He encircled Remy's slight waist with his large muscular arms, ran fingers up and down his torso, feeling the arch of the ribs, the flat belly, and the soft chest hair brushed over the pectorals. He rubbed both nipples, skillfully rolled then into peaks, causing Remy to lean backwards with a deep, lustful moan. He carefully bit Remy's neck, licked an ear, his own breath as rasping now as the Cajun's.
"This is so wonderful Remy. I love the touch of you, the feel of you." Hank said, a slight growl in his voice. "I want to give you so much, make you come, make you scream. Will you do that for me?"
Remy drew a shuddery breath. " Oui, Henri. Oui."
Hank leaned down and pulled off Remy's boots. The young man's body was trembling as he did this; it got worse as Henry divested him of both pants and underwear. Now enticingly naked again, eyes shut tight, aching hard-on released. Hank almost salivated at the tantalizing sight, wanting to devour that sweet cock, still wet with the previous ejaculation. But knew that he had to be patient.
Instead, he continued to tease with his large fingers. He found Remy's small navel, a graceful, thrusting hipbone, and an endlessly long thigh. He worshipped Remy LeBeau with his hands, the way he was meant to be adored. Remy became lost in the touching, almost swooning in his enjoyment. Hank smiled at Remy's abandon and the display of utter trust.
Blue furred hands circled the young man's cock, nearer, nearer, feeling rough hair and delicate skin. Hank brought his lips close to Remy's ear once again, knowing also that words were the most effective of erotic weapons.
"You want to come very badly now, don't you, my dear? Want me to touch that gorgeous cock of yours and stroke it?"
Remy gasped slightly in response at the dirty talk. He arched his back with an agonized sigh as Henry finally made good his promise, fingers brushing over the head of his penis, now bleeding with helpless moisture. "Ah, Remy, you are so hard, so hard. Let me watch you come, darling."
Hank started to expertly fist Remy, getting frenzied panting from the Cajun. Remy's handsome head lolled back, hips thrusting in time to his lover's ministrations. A crazy French patois rang in his Hank's ears when careful physician's finger's discovered that secret place behind the scrotum.
"Oh, Henri! Sil vou plais! Oh, fuck!" Gambit begged shamelessy. Henry loved what he was doing to him, Remy was beyond beautiful when aroused, pale face flushed, eyes shut tight. But Hank knew Remy wasn't going to last much longer. He spun the young man around, and knelt before him. Before Remy even knew what was happening, Hank swallowed his raging cock. He adored having that perfect hardness deep in his mouth; Remy tasted divine. His lover was now totally silent, but every muscle was vibrating, long fingers clenched in Hank's fur so tight that he was afraid he'd pull it out. Hank continued to torture him, sucking as if his life depended on it. And when Remy finally climaxed, he let out a long wail that rang out against the forest canopy. There was a salty gush of cum, and just as Hank was savoring it, he got hit with an enormous surprise. Gambit's orgasm flooded his body, an electric tsunami. Henry released Gambit's still pulsing dick and let out a shout of his own. Henry's penis throbbed and released a hard jet of semen on to the ground.
Remy collapsed, and Hank had enough presence of mind to catch him before he fell. Remy was shuddering violently; Henry wasn't much better. They clung to each other, kneeling on the forest floor, gasping. When his breathing got close to normal, Remy pressed sweet, sweaty kisses on Henry's very bewildered countenance.
"All right. I hope you managed to get the number of that bus." McCoy sighed and brushed some tangled hair from Remy's eyes. "I wish you had given me some sort of warning though, dear. While empathically sharing your climax was a terribly generous gesture on your part, I might have bitten you in the throes of ecstasy."
"Aww, Hank. Remy know y' don't bite." Gambit chuckled, kissing Hank's nose. He pushed McCoy on his back again, sliding on the doctor's stomach. "Didn't know though, dat y' could be so hot, cher. T'ought y' had a wicked streak, but lordy! Y' took dis boy to heaven and back. Gonna have to watch out when y' take off y' glasses." Remy grinned for a moment, and stroked Hank's face. "T'ank you for bein' so good to me."
"You deserve nothing less, Remy." Hank said simply. And because this was a day for taking impossible risks, Henry added, " That's because I love you.".
Remy sobered instantly, and a look of pure panic flashed in his eyes. For a second, Hank was hurt, and in another second, he remembered how hard all this was for his lover. He understood Remy LeBeau now, and knew he always had to be careful of that frightened, ragged child that wasn't buried very far under the cool façade.
Remy wasn't looking at him now, shame covering his features. "Hank, I'm sorry, I?"
Henry put a large finger over Gambit's lips. "Sush, my dear. No apologies, no pressure, no demands. I just wanted to say what was in my heart." He gave that troubled, handsome face a soft caress. " I know how much you trust me and care for me, Remy, and that's certainly enough for now. We have all the time in the world to figure this relationship out, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."
Remy's body relaxed and he gave Henry an almost shy smile. "Me too, cher." Hank smiled back, and Remy rested his head on the doctor's chest.
They lay in contented, perfect silence for a while, McCoy tracing the sensuous contours of his lover's back, Remy brushing Hank's fur into little patterns. Henry found himself staring at the sky, treasuring the moment. He was filled with a deep, all- encompassing happiness.
Spoiling this intimate moment was a large rumbling noise, coming directly from Hank's interior. Gambit's eyes grew large, and then he roared with laughter.
"Holy shit, Henri, dat come outta you? T'ought we might be havin us an eart'quake or somet'in'. Woowee!" Remy slid forward and smooched the more than a little mortified doctor. "Gambit better feed y', pronto. Lord knows what y' might start chewin' on, otherwise. Gotta keep y' away from de damn bugs."
In spite of the embarrassment, Hank began to chortle. "Oh hush, Remy."
"Sorry, Hank. Y' going to have to get used to me teasin' y'. Too much fun." Remy rewarded him with another messy kiss." And, uh, wait until I tell Bobby `bout de grubs on a stick episode. You ain't never gonna hear de end of it, cher."
Hank just sighed.

 

Chapter Five

Note: A < > will indicate a foreign language.

Hank gazed up at the sky, small patches of rich turquoise visible now and then amid the ever-shifting green of the forest canopy. Here and there he saw traces of white puffy cumulus clouds, arranging themselves in interesting shapes. Hank smiled at the scene, smiled at himself. He felt like a glowing, golden Bodhisattva, at one with the whole world. It was certainly a stark contrast to the misery he had been experiencing only a short time ago. Hank couldn't help but think of that oft quoted line from "Forest Gump," that life was a box of chocolates, and you never knew what you were going to get. Right now Hank thought he had scored a piece of the richest, sweetest candy, the one with the caramel center.
They had made a cozy little camp at the river's edge. A soft breeze blew, and a fire burned low, slowly roasting some of the catfish that Remy had expertly gutted and cleaned. They both had feasted royally on fresh fish, having well, worked up quite an appetite.
Henry gave a sigh of utter satisfaction, which caused Remy to cuddle closer. They had both curled up for a nap after eating. Hank looked at his lover in happy amazement. He had really never expected this, and was truly grateful.
Remy was fast asleep, head resting on Hank's blue shoulder. He slept like a trusting child, long legs wrapped around Henry's heavily muscled ones, a pale hand clutched in Hank's pelt. Regrettably, Gambit was fully clothed again, not wanting to expose that ivory skin to the rigors of the elements. Hank grinned, looking forward to removing that clothing many more times.
Careful not to awaken his lover, Henry rubbed a small circle between sharp shoulder blades, gazed some more at that beautiful, sleeping face. The innocence he once saw in Remy was there, as well as peace and contentment. More than anything, Hank wanted to keep that expression on his lover's handsome face.
Henry gazed skyward once more, and found himself murmuring a few lines from one of his favorite poems. It fit his mood perfectly.
"Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset-earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping-"
"Elbowed Earth-" a sleepy, molasses drawl continued. "Rich apple blossomed Earth-"
Hank looked into garnet eyes, now crinkling and full of the devil. "Smile, for your lover?. comes." LeBeau put a very lascivious emphasis on the last word, giving it a spin that the great poet surely never intended.
Hank, of course, broke up, although mildly scandalized. "Remy!" he scolded. "While I love that you can also quote Whitman, how can you treat poor Walt so shabbily?"
A naughty snicker. "Don't t'ink Wally would have minded all dat much. He had a sense of humor, and was kinda a randy old queen anyways. He did write dat "limpid jets of love" line, cher."
Henry returned Remy's knowing smirk. " Ah yes, I had forgotten about that. Walter could be a bit dirty at times, bless him." Hank placed a soft kiss on Remy's forehead. "So, my dear, did you have a restful slumber?"
Remy smiled lazily. " Yah." A yawn. " Could probably sleep some more. Feelin' like an old turtle, dozin' in de sun. I notice we sorta abandoned de whole raft idea."
"Well, that certainly can wait until tomorrow. All of a sudden, I'm not in that much of a hurry to get rescued."
Gambit moved close and kissed a furry cheek. " Hmm. Neither am I. What a nice coincidence."
The young Cajun sat up and stretched, arms thrown back. Henry quietly admired his lover's unconscious grace, so effortless and feline. Remy stood up after a moment, rubbing the delicious dip in his lower back. Hank began to wonder what it was going to be like witnessing little rituals like that every day. Sheer bliss, most likely.
The kinks gone, LeBeau squatted bonelessly by the fire. He poked at the fish with a twig.
"Y' want some more to eat, Henri? Dese here catfish, dey look about done."
"Perhaps later. I am rather pleasantly sated at the moment, thanks to your fine culinary skills."
Remy snorted. "You easily impressed, cuz you been so hungry. Soon as we get out of de jungle, I'm gonna really cook for y', boy. Whip you up some of my Tante Mattie's special jambalaya and cornbread."
Hank got up, bent over and lightly kissed the top of Remy's auburn head. "That sounds perfectly lovely. One of the many things I shall look forward to sharing with you."
Remy shyly glanced up at him through tangled hair, and they both shared a very warm, affectionate glance. Hank experienced a surge of total happiness. `How on earth did you get so lucky, Henry McCoy?', he privately mused.
Hank finally had to break the spell, as he had something rather urgent to attend to. "My dear, if you will excuse me for a brief moment, I have to answer a rather frantic call of Mother Nature."
Remy nodded, stirring at the fire's embers with his twig. That devil look was back. "Which leads us to de question-does a PhD. shit in de woods?"
Hank cracked up. "Apparently so." He ambled off into some heavy underbrush, merrily chuckling all the while. Finding a fairly isolated area, he pulled down his trunks. With a sigh, he rested a hand against a tree and began a very long, soul satisfying piss.
As he did, he hummed a little Mozart and thought about Remy. He wanted to hold his lover some more, talk some more, laugh with him some more, and kiss him some more. Make love some more. With that thought, there was a hot surge in his groin, despite the fact that his cock was currently preoccupied with other matters.
Hank chuckled at himself, although secretly very pleased. It seemed that he was going to finally, finally be allowed to express the wild and sensual side of his nature. With his other lovers, Hank always felt the need to hold back. His most serious relationship, with Trish Tilby, had been frustrating at times, both mentally and physically.
Remy was so different. The thief was utterly shameless when it came to sex, as well as surprisingly playful and gentle. Hank knew there wouldn't be anything that he could do that would shock Remy.
Together, perhaps, they could satisfy each other's secret desires.
Some interesting and highly charged scenarios romping happily in his mind, Hank finally finished his business and shook off. At that moment, a soft, almost imperceptible sound reached his ears, and all thoughts of Remy suddenly left his head.
Henry McCoy's senses were not as acute as Wolverine's, but they were still far superior in comparison to average humans. And his hearing told him that he and Remy were suddenly not the only people occupying this particular corner of the rainforest.
Gambit was only a few feet away, and Henry calmly called out to him. "Remy?"
"Yah Hank, I know." The Cajun's voice was tense and alert. "Birds certainly got all quiet, didn't dey?"
Hank blessed Remy's Guild training and made a slight move to go join his companion. He froze when another tiny noise sounded in his ears. Hank knew then that he was surrounded.
Suddenly, a small group of people just melted out of the forest. They circled Hank, bows drawn, arrows pointing directly at McCoy's furry hide. They were all men, short and muscular, completely naked. There was great fear in their eyes, tremors in their limbs. They obviously had no idea what to make of the big and furry Henry J. McCoy, PhD.
Hank took a deep silent breath. With his mutant ability and great speed, he could easily defeat them. But a fight was the last thing he wanted. These people were defending their home against a very alien looking trespasser.
"Hank," Remy called out softly. "Y' need me?"
"No Remy, I have it all under control." The Indians started a bit, pulling the bows even tauter. Hank gave a nervous swallow, hoping he could live up to his claim. He began to address the people in the Ge dialect, infinitely grateful that he had spent a little time studying native Brazilian languages.
<Hello, > he began quietly. < My friend and I mean you no harm. If we have trespassed, forgive us. We are strangers in your land, and have become lost. >
Hank was more than a little amused by their thunderstruck faces. They had obviously assumed he wasn't intelligent, his command of their language proving otherwise. Unfortunately, not the first people to make this particular error, nor the last.
The men all glanced at each other in confusion, and one stepped tentatively forward. Like his companions, he was short, barely five feet, and completely nude. His mahogany skin was decorated with stripes of black, and he wore the bowl cut hairstyle popular among Amazon tribes. He had a blunt featured face, like carved wood, and his narrow eyes shone with both bravado and intelligence.
<Are you a spirit? > The man asked hesitantly.
Hank smiled in the friendliest fashion possible. < No. My friend and I come from a far-off place. I am called Henry McCoy, and my friend is Remy LeBeau. Who are you? >
<I am Chief Krekon, and we are the Quetzal People. > The man gave Henry a long, measuring glance, and then he signaled to his men. They slowly lowered their bows, and Hank sighed inwardly in relief, as no doubt those arrows were tipped in poison. He also now knew that Krekon was obviously a man of reason, having displayed far more trust than the people back home. There, they generally shot at mutants first, asked questions later.
<I would be honored, Krekon, if you and your fellow warriors would sit with us at our fire. > Krekon nodded slowly after a long moment. Hank grinned wide, and began to lead the group back to camp.
"Remy, we have company." Hank said as they all entered the clearing. Gambit was seated on a log near the fire, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. The young Cajun took one look at Henry though and burst out in loud laughter. His howls of merriment caused a bit consternation among the Quetzal warriors.
"Remy!" Hank hissed. "What the hell are you doing? Don't let these people think you are insulting them!"
"Merde, Henry, je suis desole." Remy wiped at his eyes, and pointed at Hank's trunks. "Its just dat you, umm, are at half mast dere, Dr. Livingston."
Hank glanced downward, and was mortified to see that his trunks were riding quite low. In all the excitement, he had forgotten to pull them up. Henry gave them a quick yank, and with ruffled dignity, turned to the chief to explain.
< I hope you don't think that my friend was laughing at you or our warriors. He was just amused by me. It is not our usual custom to be naked, and he thought this was funny. Please do not be offended.>
<There is no insult, Henrymccoy,." Krekon began in a respectful tone. < It has been said that the ways of the spirit people are strange ones. >
Hank wanted to dissuade the chief from this false notion, but he knew it was going to be an uphill battle. And at the moment, It was much better to play gracious host.
<I thank you for understanding our peculiar ways. > Hank shot Remy a dirty look. < Would you and your brave warriors share some food with us? >
Krekon nodded gravely, and the Indians all arranged themselves around their small fire. Henry sat down next to Gambit, now thankfully straight faced and sober as a judge. As the doctor handed round portions of roasted fish, the Cajun gave him a wide smile.
"Well, trust you to know de local lingo, Henri. What's de scoop?"
"This is Chief Krekon," Hank indicated with a wave of his vast hand, "and his warriors from the Quetzal tribe. For good or ill, they think we are spirit people, due to our rather obvious mutations. I certainly hope I can convince them otherwise."
"I don't t'ink dat's really such a bad t'ing, cher," Remy commented quietly. "If it keeps dem from turning us into poison arrow pincushions, well, so much de better."
Hank frowned. "I really hate establishing a relationship based on a falsehood."
Remy shook his head, and acted if he was explaining something to a slow, obstinate child. " I understand where y' comin' from Henry, I really do. But I don't t'ink you will ever make dese folks understand de whys and wherefores of mutant DNA." Remy's face was suddenly split by a truly wicked grin. " "Sides, Henry , what else could you be besides a god? One look at dat big blue dick of yours, and dey all must have t'ought dat dey hit de spirit world jackpot."
Hank's brows went up, and for a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or turn the naughty Cajun over his knee. Since the latter conjured up some very unwanted erotic imagery, all Hank ended up doing was fiercely blushing and spluttering. In the meantime, Remy smiled at their guests in a very friendly way, slowly standing up and moving towards his leather duster. All eyes were suddenly glued to the young man.
"From de little I know about customs round here, I'm guessin' dat a gift to de head honcho would be a good t'ing." Remy rummaged around in the coat's hidden pockets. "What do y' t'ink-de compass or de flashlight? We can still navigate by de stars and sun, and de flashlight, while mighty impressive, will run out of juice real quick."
"The compass is definitely a better choice." Hank answered, impressed with Remy's wisdom. He turned to Krekon. <Great chief, both my friend and I wish to give you a small gift. >
Remy presented the compass to Krekon with elaborate flourish, and the chief took it from his hands with somber courtesy. His warriors crowded around, peering at the peculiar object with enormous interest.
<I thank you, O Henrymccoy and Remylebeau. > Krekon said, turning the object over and over in his brown fingers. Hank was beginning to like Krekon very much. He was a born diplomat and unfailingly polite. It
was also quite obvious he didn't have a clue as to what Remy had just handed him.
<It is called a compass, > Henry began in his best teacher's voice, < It will help you find your way. As you can see, no matter which way you turn it, the small arrow in the middle will always point in the same direction. >
Krekon fiddled with the compass a moment more, then understanding lit his eyes. His wood carved face creased with a wide, rare smile. <Ah! A great and wonderful gift, Henrymccoy. > He paused, struggling for a few seconds. <But I must ask, O spirit, if you possess such magic, how did you and Remylebeau become lost in the first place? >
A good question. A very, very good question. And Henry was rather flummoxed as to how to answer.
<Errr...well, Krekon, it is a long story. Remy and I came to this place to fight an enemy of ours. After the battle, we could not find the right path home. >
<I see?> Krekon rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. < Perhaps your enemy put a curse on you? One that would cause you to be lost. You must come to our village and speak to our wise one. I am sure Pila can help you lift this curse and regain your power. >
Now Henry was really in a quandary. He didn't want to mislead these people any more; the spirit thing was bad enough. As he was debating on how to proceed, Remy nudged him with a sharp elbow.
"What's up, Henri? Y' look all upset, cher." Henry quickly explained the situation, and the Cajun just chuckled, shaking his head.
"Henry, you are honest as de day is long. And I admire dat, I really do. But in dis situation, let's just go with the flow. Dere's nothin' wrong with accepting' a little hospitality. Plus, y' don't want to insult de chief, who seems like a right nice fella. So, dey treat us like celebrities for a little while? As long as we don't take advantage of dem, where's de harm?"
"Well?" Henry waffled.
"And Hank, I do recall a time when I heard a certain doctor say; " Oh, if only I had the opportunity to visit the Amazon rainforest! The things one could discover, talking to the indigenous people, studying the medicinal plants!" Well, Dr. McCoy, here's y' chance, all wrapped up in a pretty red bow."
Hank tried not to laugh at Remy's imitation of him, which was dead on accurate, flat Midwestern vowels and all. And he had to admit that his lover was right. "Remy, you win. I have a feeling it won't be the last argument I lose, either."
Remy grinned. "Yup."
The doctor turned his attention to Krekon, who had been patiently waiting for them to finish their exchange. <Chief, Remy and I have agreed to accept your offer and speak to your wise one. We thank you for your kindness. >
Krekon smiled again. <Very good, Henrymccoy! Our village is not very far. We will go there now? >
<Yes, of course. > Hank concurred, rising to his feet.
As they were gathering up their few belongings and putting out the fire, Remy kept grinning at Henry, red eyes twinkling with amusement. Hank couldn't resist smiling back, although he wasn't sure what the joke was.
"Okay, I'll be daring and bite. What's so funny?"
"Oh, I wish I could have put money down on you going to de village. I would have won big. You de Elephant's Child, Henri."
"The Elephant's Child?" Hank was normally lightning fast on the uptake, but this reference escaped him.
"Hank, I'm surprised-don't y' remember your Kipling?" Remy tsked. "In his story about de Elephant's Child, he was always asking questions, `cuz he was full of-"
" `Satiable curiosity." Hank said, remembering the children's tale. A charming reference, although an odd one coming from Remy.
Gambit seemed to read his mind. " Was my favorite story as a kid, had Poppa read it to me over and over. Anyways cher, de Elephant's Child is you to a `t'." Remy very lightly touched his shoulder. "One of de many t'ings dat makes y' so wonderful."
Hank blushed and suddenly wanted to pull Remy in his arms and kiss him. But Hank wasn't too sure how the Quetzal people would react to this. Instead, he brushed the Cajun's face ever so lightly with his fingertips.
"I think there is a bit of Kipling in you as well, O My Best Beloved." Hank said tenderly. " You are a Man of Infinite Resource and Sagacity."
Remy winked. "Of course."

The village turned out to be about two and half miles upstream. It hugged a bend in the tributary, and was a loose circle of about fifteen huts. Beyond the huts were some carefully maintained vegetable patches. However the entire place seemed completely deserted, the only sound coming from a squawking pet parrot, tied to a post.
While Hank and Remy exchanged quizzical glances, Krekon made his way to the center of the village, near a smoldering cook fire. He loudly called out, <My people, do not fear! These are visiting spirits, and they honor us with their presence! They will do us no harm! >
Very, very slowly the villagers shyly crept out of their hiding places, wide-eyed at the sight of the two mutants. To appear less threatening, Hank crouched down low, and Gambit quickly followed suit.
Small children immediately ringed them; the most curious and apparently, the least intimidated. A tiny girl of about three couldn't resist the lure of Hank's fur for long; she rushed up and petted him. Hank smiled at her, and she, in turn, broke out in an enormous, happy grin. He tickled her small, rounded tummy; she giggled and leapt into his arms for a hug.
<I am Ani! > She announced loudly, tickling Henry back.
<I am Hank! > The doctor chuckled.
After this exchange, all the tension left the villagers. Hank found himself softly touched by wondering hands, murmurs of amazement reaching his ears. He glanced at Remy, and saw that he was receiving similar treatment. The Indians were especially interested in his auburn hair, black, smooth clothing, and of course, his strange eyes.
<They burn like fire! > Hank heard one woman exclaim.
They both bore this with grace, as there was no hostility behind the touching, only gentleness. And Gambit proved equally adept at tickling little children.
The examinations ceased when an old woman approached them. By the looks she garnered from the other people, Hank knew this was a person who commanded great respect. Tiny and wizened as an old walnut, her snow-white hair was decorated with blue and green quetzal feathers. Bright eyes gazed out of a thousand wrinkles, and she rewarded Hank with a wide, toothless grin. Then she leaned forward, cupped Hank's chin, and blew warm air into his face.
Knowing this to be a customary greeting among Amazon native people, Hank returned the gesture. The old woman chuckled like a creaky hinge.
<Greetings, O spirits! Your coming was foretold to me, whispered in a vision. I am Pila, shaman of this village. >
<I am so glad to meet you, Pila. I am called Henry McCoy, and this is my friend, Remy LeBeau. > Still holding Ani, Hank rose to his feet.
The tiny shaman took Hank's hand, her gnarled fingers dwarfed by his enormous digits. <I have much to talk to you about, Henrymccoy, and much to learn from you. >
<I am looking forward to it, Pila. > Hank answered happily. He glanced at Remy, now holding an ecstatic young boy piggyback.
"Glad we came now, cher?" Remy asked with a smile.
"Indeed, my dear Acadian," Hank said as Ani playfully pinched his nose. " It looks to be a most delightful and educational visit." Hank sighed. "My only regret is that I have nothing to take notes with."
"Now Henri, didn't y' just call me a Man of Infinite Resource and Sagacity?" Remy said, laughing his deep Cajun laugh. The young man dug into his duster once more, tied around his waist. He then magically produced a small waterproof note pad and a pen. "Ask, and you shall receive."
"You incredible man!" Hank cried out. Not really thinking, Hank kissed Gambit hard on the mouth. There was a slight gasp of surprise from the crowd, then laughter. Face a bit hot, Hank looked around, and saw no anger or hostility. Both Pila and Krekon were nodding sagely to one another.
<Yes, the ways of the spirit people are most mysterious. > Krekon observed.
<So it is said. > Pila agreed.
"So, I guess we didn't scandalize everyone." Remy said with a crooked grin. "Pays to be a spirit, I guess. Plus, dese people are more open-minded den de usual crowd."
"Too bad the rest of the world isn't like this." Hank commented. <What do you think, Ani? > He playfully threw the little girl up in the air, and after catching her, blew a loud raspberry on her stomach.
<Do it again! > The little girl squealed.
The Quetzal people turned out to be the most courteous of hosts. Both hank and Remy were treated like visiting royalty. A large feast was hastily put together, and the two mutants dined on breadfruit, roast turtle and armadillo. (The latter tasting much better than Hank ever expected.) It was a friendly, happy meal, and Hank did his best to be the life of the party. He amused everyone with little jokes, songs and stories. And Gambit also was a hit. He rapidly picked up a number of words in Ge, and also was very adept at sign language. He demonstrated a few slight of hand tricks, pulling Brazil nuts out of the ears of astonished children.
As the evening wore on, however, Hank found himself stifling a number of yawns. Krekon took the matter into his hands, and directed his two very exhausted guests to a small hut near the edge of the village. They were finally left alone after much hugging and touching. Pila was the last to depart, with a promise of a long talk in the morning.
Remy flopped down on a pile of woven grass mats. He pulled off a boot with a groan, rubbed a foot.
"I gotta hand it to dese folks, dey sure know how to treat dere company. And, y'know, armadillo would be really great with a little cayenne pepper."
"They have been utterly gracious. Thank you again for persuading me to come." Hank stretched his big blue length out next to his lover. "And I might add, from my understanding of your native cuisine, a little cayenne pepper improves just about everything."
"You learnin', cher, y' learnin." Remy finished with his boots, and leaned over Hank, handsome face very close. " Dere might be hope for y' yet."
"I'm a quick study." Henry replied, and reached up to cup Remy's chin in both hands. He caught the young man's mouth and kissed him slowly, deeply. Remy sighed, and relaxed against Hank's body, thief's hands stroking Henry's hair. It was a sweet moment, quiet and intimate, and Henry cherished it with all his heart.
He also wished he could respond with more passion, but he was frankly exhausted. When they finally broke apart, Hank smiled up at his lover, drinking in the sharp planes of his features, now rimmed in moonlight.
"It has been quite an amazing day, Remy LeBeau. Probably the best day of my entire life. I thank you for that."
Remy blinked rapidly, garnet eyes oddly bright in the shadowed hut. "Y' welcome, Hank. De same goes for me. I just hope?" Hank could feel Remy's body tense up against his. "I just hope dat I don't ever let y' down. Or hurt you."
"I believe in you Remy." Hank answered simply. Remy swallowed, looked away for a moment, and then lay down in the crook of Henry's arm. Hank pulled him close, rubbing his back, trying to ease the tremors out of Remy's muscles. After a long while it worked, and the Cajun's breathing became peaceful and even.
" `Night, Henri. " Remy said in a whisper. A pale hand reached out and long fingers caressed Henry's face.
"Good night my dear, "Hank said kissing Remy's palm. "The sweetest of dreams."
After a few minutes, Remy was asleep, breath soft in Hank's ear. And as tired as he was, Hank lay awake for quite some time, thinking. He wondered about what the future was going to hold for the both of them. What was the reaction going to be to their relationship once they returned home? As optimistic as he was, Henry knew in deep down it wasn't going to be remotely positive.
Hank drew Remy closer, and decided that it didn't matter. A wild child thief had stolen his heart, and he never wanted it back. He also knew that despite all his insecurity and self-doubt, Remy LeBeau would indeed never let him down. And perhaps someday soon, he would also hear the words, "I love you, Hank." from Remy's lips. That would be the sweetest, most precious thing of all.
Hank finally dozed off, smiling slightly, his lover in his arms.

 

Chapter Six
Hank woke up to the soft sounds of rain dripping on the roof of the hut, and an even louder noise-Remy LeBeau, the Prince of the New Orleans Thieves Guild, was snoring. Henry opened his eyes, blinking a bit in the soft, early morning light. He raised his head to look at Gambit, deeply asleep, beautiful head resting in the crook of his arm. Another snore rattled the walls, and Hank couldn't help it, his shoulders began to shake with silent merriment. Somehow it was incredibly funny hearing the elegant, dashing Cajun mundanely sawing logs.
Hank snuggled closer to his lover and snickered quietly into the back of Remy's neck. They had ended up lying spoon fashion, Remy's slender form cupped by Hank's large body. It was a very cozy arrangement, and Hank threw an arm over Remy's narrow hips. Gambit in turn drew closer, his small, very firm ass rubbing directly into Hank's crotch.
Which felt ever so good. And after a while, a little too good. Henry's cock, already semi erect, responded happily to the idea that a gorgeous Cajun ass was very, very near.
At that moment, Gambit gave a sharp, startled snort and woke himself up. There was a moment of silence, then a sigh. "Merde. I was snorin', wasn't I?"
Hank chuckled. "Like a buzz saw, my dear."
Remy laughed his deep, Louisiana laugh. "Well, now y' know. Sorry about dat."
Hank smiled into auburn hair. "Don't be sorry, I was mightily amused."
Remy yawned and stretched his feline body, ass inadvertently pushing further into Hank's crotch. "S' rainin.'"
Hank stifled a groan. "Yes, it is."
Henry could hear the grin in Remy's voice. "I love listening to de rain." And with that little comment Remy backed further into Henry's body, causing the doctor to bite his lip. He thought very hard about pouncing on his lover and yanking off all his clothing, but he wanted to let Remy wake up first. Hank was always, above all, a gentleman.
But Remy obviously knew what was going on. "Henry, I t'ink we got a good t'ing goin', sex wise, but cher, y' don't have to be so polite all de time." Remy reached out an arm, and without turning around, began to caress Hank's now raging hard-on with expert fingers. " `Specially when y' wake up with such a nice present for Remy."
Hank sucked in a sharp breath as Remy explored the warm shape of his penis. He nibbled Gambit's ear. "I do solemnly swear next time I will just ravish you."
"Ummhmm, y' better. Remy loves to be ravished." Remy gave an impossibly sexy chuckle. Hank huffed warm breath into his ear, and traced a sharp hipbone. Remy murmured something low and unintelligible, then arched into Hank's hand when McCoy found his erection, the heat pouring through his trousers.
They massaged each other for a few long, exquisite minutes. Henry probed Remy's ear with a long tongue, traced the line of his neck. Remy shivered; then coaxed a most desperate sigh from the doctor in turn. Warm, rough fingers roughly freed his cock from the confines of his trunks. They whispered over his dick, coating precum over the head.
Without preamble, Henry yanked Gambit's trousers and underwear down, slightly tearing them as he did. No complaint from Remy, only a low, yielding whimper that nearly drove Hank crazy. He ran his thick, clawed fingers over those graceful hips, down trembling thighs, loving the feel of that soft, ivory skin. He grazed Remy's navel, then stroked the crisp auburn hair near the base of a now very stiff cock. Another pleading whimper, followed by a growl of pure pleasure when Hank finally closed his big fist over a pulsing, weeping shaft.
Remy shoved his bare, enticing ass even closer to Hank's hard-on, the head rubbed delectably against a firm cheek. And Hank suddenly thought the young Cajun was demanding something Henry couldn't deliver at the moment. As much as Hank ached for the final, ultimate intimacy, he knew he was much too large to enter his lover's body with just spit and a prayer. And causing Remy pain would be just unbearable.
Remy obviously read Hank's sudden hesitation, looking back over his shoulder with red, glittering eyes.
"Remy, I don't think we should."
Those sexy demon eyes glinted with lust and affection. "Wasn't suggesting dat at all, mon ami. Much as I want y' dat way, I ain't crazy." Gambit took hold of Hank's cock and somehow managed to slide it in the space between his long thighs. "So until we get a hold of some lube, friction is just gonna have to do."
Hank made an experimental thrust, grunting at the incredible sensation, slick cock against hot, sweaty skin. Sheer, lusty, utter heaven. "Well, friction works rather well, my clever, darling thief." Hank kissed a damp cheek.
"Yes, ain't I clever?" Remy laughed. "And as a reward for my ingenuity, I say dat you get busy and fuck de daylights out of me, s'il vous plait."
"Your wish is my command." Hank rumbled, and began to fist Remy's hard on once more, slowly, slowly. He timed his thrusts to his strokes, starting a lovely, sweet rhythm. Their ragged breathing also found this primal rhythm, interspersed with aching, deep sighs. Hank decided to take it to an even higher level, putting his lips near Remy's ear, making his voice as low and sexy as possible.
"You want me to fuck you, nothing would give me more pleasure. You feel so good, my darling, I love having my hands on your beautiful body, your hard cock."
"Goddamn, Hank!" Remy gasped, and moaned. "Keep talking cher, please, please."
Hank swallowed, thrusting harder between Remy's thighs, the tight space there growing more and more slippery. His heart was pounding in his chest, the dirty talk getting him even more excited.
"Remy, just the sight of you makes me ache, makes me hard. I want to fuck you and fuck you and worship you, make you cry out with pleasure, make you beg for more."
Remy threw back his head and cried out, lost in the sensations. He was trembling, and his cock pulsed and lept in Hank's palm. He was teetering on the edge, and Henry wasn't trailing too far behind.
"Cum for me my dear, I know you want to so badly, you're just dying to, cum hard for me, beautiful lover."
And Remy obeyed, jaw clenched tight to prevent a loud scream, pearly white semen spilling thick and hot over Hank's dark blue hand. The erotic sight aroused Hank beyond measure. He released Gambit's still spurting dick and clutching his lover's body tight, he gave three hard, merciless thrusts. He climaxed, the orgasm roaring through him like a runaway train, endless and sweet. He felt it from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. He luckily managed to keep silent, as he certainly didn't want to alert the entire village with an orgasmic howl.
It took more than a few seconds to get back to reality. When he could string a few thoughts together, he found that Remy had rolled over and was pattering soft, loving kisses all over his face.
"Welcome back, cher." Remy grinned and kissed him some more.
"Glad to be here. Didn't know I was going to take a tour of the upper stratosphere. Nice place, I enjoyed it immensely." He pulled Remy close. "Thank you, that was lovely."
"No kidding." Gambit purred contentedly, like a well-fed tabby cat. "I hit de upper stratosphere myself, had quite de tour." Remy nibbled on Hank's lower lip. " Man, Henri you some talker. You get ol' Remy's motor runnin' like nobody's business."
Hank bared his fangs in a grin that could only be described as shit eating. " Really?"
"Really. I must admit cher; I didn't see it hidden under de lab coat. But you one very sexy man, Henry McCoy. And I am one very lucky Cajun." Remy pulled Hank close, kissing him deeply, fingers wrapped in Hank's blue/black hair. Henry sighed into his lover's mouth, thinking this was beyond wonderful.
They lay with their arms entwined for a long while, content and silent, the delicate sound of the rain whispering outside. Hank enjoyed every second, and had an idle fantasy about future mornings. Long, lazy Sundays in bed, with coffee and the Times crossword, talk and laughter and lovemaking. Bliss. Total bliss.
Remy gave Hank one more sweet kiss, and glanced down at the both of them. A smile snuck across his face.
"We a big mess, Henry."
"And a damn fine mess it is." Hank nuzzled Remy's cheek with his nose, savoring his scent.
"I agree, but I t'ink we better clean ourselves up `fore company comes. And we will be havin' us some company, I guarantee."
Remy was no doubt correct, and Hank didn't like it one bit. As much as he liked the Quetzel people, he really wanted to just hold his lover for a while longer. He frowned into Remy's hair.
"You have a point. But they might not be up for hours yet. It's still early."
Remy laughed, and shook his head. "Henry McCoy, y' got no idea at all when dese folks rise and shine. But hey, if you want dem to see us in dis obvious post-coital state, it's your call."
Hank sighed in a very put-upon way, and sat up, scratching his head. "No, I would prefer not to, thank you very much." Another sigh. "And I apologize for turning into a class A, bonafide, pain in the derriere whiner, but gee, I wish we had a shower. Logan would no doubt call me a candy ass, but a hot shower would be just heaven right now. That and a cup of coffee."
"You not a whiner, Henry, I was t'inkin' de same t'ing. Although I much prefer baths, me. With bubbles." Remy winked.
Hank smiled at him indulgently. "You would, you decadent boy."
"But dere's no sense makin' myself all miserable over it." Remy peeled off his pants, which were at half-mast anyway, then his shirt. He stood, in all his naked glory, and started to walk out the hut door. "So when in Rome."
Hank's eyebrows went to the top of his head. "Remy, you aren't going outside, are you?"
Remy cocked his head. "Uh, yah. It's rainin', and dis is about de closest t'ing we gonna get to a shower."
"But.umm.there are, well, you know, uh."
Gambit burst out laughing. "Henry, you worried about someone seeing? Cher, I hate to point dis out to a fellow who has more degrees den Bill Gates has computers, but I guess I'm gonna have to. Shit, boy, de entire population of dis village is totally buck-naked! To tell you de truth, I felt kinda weird bein' de only one dressed for dinner last night. In other words, dey won't care."
Hank blushed furiously, feeling very much a prude and a midwestern farm boy. Remy reached out his hands, and Hank took them, allowing his lover to pull him to his feet. The Cajun kissed him on his nose. "You cute."
"Actually, I feel like a total ass at the moment."
"Nah. You just cute. Now get y' pants de rest of de way off, shrinking violet, and come on outside." Gambit exited the hut and Hank divested himself of his trunks. Feeling foolish, he followed his lover outside into the rain.
He would never admit this to Remy, of course, but Hank was vastly relieved to see that there was no one in sight. And after a moment, the self-consciousness left, as the cool morning shower felt so good on his overheated skin. And there was the extra-added bonus of being able to watch Remy again, naked in the rain. His face was to the sky, and raindrops traced lovely pathways down ivory skin. And this time, Hank could unabashedly ogle as much as he wanted.
"You know, I wonder if the villagers have some kind of soap." Hank said after a few extremely pleasant minutes. "I'll have to ask Pila about it."
Remy arched a brow, a mischievous look in his eyes. " Do y' really use soap anyways, Henri? With all dat fur, I would have guessed shampoo would be more practical."
Hank chuckled. " You are correct, my dear Acadian. I have my own formula, with special conditioners. Gives me a nice, lustrous sheen."
Remy ran an approving hand across Hank's doublewide chest. "Mmmm, indeed it does, cher." He stood very close. "Maybe someday you let Remy do de honors of puttin' it on, neh?" A very sexy smile, which made Hank's knees quite weak. " I would do such a good job, too." A low whisper. "One y' would never forget."
Hank felt hot and cold at the same time, and gathered his lover's slender form in his arms. "I hope that's a promise," he murmured, voice a bit shaky.
Remy put his warm, wet lips on Hank's mouth. "Count on it, cher. Count on it."
They kissed, and the small part of Hank's brain that wasn't shorting out reveled in the fact that this was one of the most sensual moments of his entire life. French kissing Remy Lebeau in a tropical rain shower. He smiled into Remy's mouth; pulled the Cajun even closer, let his tongue probe deep. It was so good, so very good. Hank soon forgot where he was, he just allowed himself to feel. There was a hot surge in his groin, he moaned softly.
A small creaky chuckle sounded from behind, and Hank instantly froze. `Shit.' he thought, trying to think of a good way to get out of this. Nothing came to mind. `Shitshitshitshitohshit.' He finally looked around and saw Pila standing there, a very wide grin creasing her brown walnut face.
<Greetings, O Henrymccoy and Remylebeau! I see that you are enjoying both the rain and the morning. > The tiny shaman gave Hank's semi erect penis an appreciative look. < My, you are a big one! You must be a very potent lover. >
Hank decided at this point this was the most embarrassed he had ever been, topping the infamous `super glue on the toilet seat incident', and the time he had gotten fleas. No, this was embarrassment at a cosmic scale. Remy, on the other hand, was taking an opposite view of the situation. He had buried his head in Hank's shoulder, and was currently shaking with laughter.
"This is not funny, LeBeau." Hank fumed. "Not funny at all."
Remy, of course, laughed even harder. "Yes it is, Henry. One of de most fucking funny moments in my entire life, as a matter of fact."
Pila got Remy's attention by touching him on the arm. The Cajun beamed down at her, and Pila grinned back. <Tell the Red Eyed One that he looks much better without the black thing covering him. Maybe a little too pale and skinny, but still very nice. > The shaman sighed, and gave Remy's butt a small pat, which caused Gambit no end of amusement. < It is too bad that I am an old woman now. In my prime I was a beauty, and warriors fought for my favors. I would have taken you both on and made you howl at the moon. >
Hank's jaw nearly dropped to his chest.
In return, Pila's eyes twinkled merrily.< Well, this old, meddling woman will not bother you anymore. When you are ready, come over to my hut, and I will feed you. Then we will have our talk, Henrymccoy. > She gave Hank's penis one last wistful look and ambled off, remarkably spry for a woman of her years.
"Okay Henry, I'm dyin' here. What did she say?"
Hank sighed, still rather stunned. "Something I can't quite believe."
Remy snickered. "I don't doubt it had somet'ing to do with your magnificent, throbbing manhood. Dat lady was lookin' at your equipment like an art matron at a Soho gallery."
In spite of himself, Hank had to laugh. "Remy, for the love of God, please shut up."
Gambit was unfortunately on a roll, though. "Betcha she talks de villagers to put up a statue in your honor, her. Big ol' monument to de wondrous schlong of Dr. Henry McCoy, PhD."
Hank gave Remy a withering stare. "All right. That's absolutely it." And Henry suddenly reached out and grabbed his lover, who was still in the throes of hilarity. The blue furred mutant tossed LeBeau into a convenient, nearby mud puddle, which caused Remy to laugh even harder. The Cajun managed to snag Hank's ankle, and nearly pulled McCoy on top of him. Hank got a face full of mud, and at that point, he regained his sense of humor. The two of them began to pitch globs of mud at each other like crazed toddlers. Neither noticed the large crowd of villagers standing and staring, totally confused now by the very peculiar behavior of the spirit people.

A while later, Hank was sitting cross-legged next to Pila in front of her little home. His fur was dampish and cowlicky, but at least cleaned of all offending mud.
Pila had greeted both mutants with an enormous, amused smile, and to Henry's vast relief, did not make any mention of his splendid penis. Instead, she fed them a tasty stew that contained turtle meat and roasted cashews, a dish that Hank thought would have been welcome in any of Wolfgang Puck's restaurants. He had seconds and thirds.
When they had finished eating, Remy had gotten himself dragged off by a large knot of giggling children. The rain had ceased, and Gambit was now playing a rather wild game with them, sort of a combination catch/hide and seek/red rover heaven knew what. Everyone was having the most splendid time; laughter rang out amongst the huts. Hank was also struck by how different his lover seemed, away from the cares and worries of the X-men. He realized how young Gambit actually was, and how that world-weary arrogance was just another concealing mask.
He loved this Remy so much, it made his heart ache.
Hank and the shaman watched the game for a few minutes, both quietly smiling. Then Pila spoke.
<I had a vision of you coming to our village, Henrymccoy.>
<Really?> Hank commented politely.
<Yes. Three moons ago. As I have gotten older, my visions have become few, but this one was very strong. I saw a man as blue as the sky and as big as a mountain, wearing the fur of the forest people. With him was his heart brother, who had the power of fire in his fingertips. >
A very cold chill zipped down Henry's spine. Remy had not demonstrated his kinetic charge to any of the villagers. Pila now had his full and complete attention, and even more of his respect. Hank was a scientist, first and foremost, but he had learned with the X-Men never to discount a mystical event. And now it looked as if he was going to have yet another close encounter of the occult kind.
<Both the blue man and his heart brother had been traveling a very long and hard path. They had lost their way, and were tired of the journey. They came to our village, where the blue one did a great deed, a warrior's deed. There was also a terrible price to be paid, but the blue man did it with courage. And the spirits rewarded him with what he most longed for in his secret heart. And he was lost no more. >
Hank gazed into Pila's eyes, dark and kind, full of ancient wisdom, older than time. His mouth was dry, and gooseflesh prickled his fur. He was both utterly fascinated and more than a little spooked by all this.
<I thank you, great shaman, for sharing this with me. It was indeed a powerful vision. May I ask though, what sort of price I had to pay? >
Pila sighed. <That I cannot answer, Henrymccoy. I do not know exactly. Visions, they are tricky, and sometimes they make no sense until many moons later. And even if I did know, I still could not tell you. If the spirits have made it so, perhaps it would be best not to alter their plans. >
Hank fidgeted and Pila put her old, gnarled hand in his. <Do not fear, my friend. We are both on the Wheel of Life and change is all a part of it. >
Hank sighed and took heart at her words. He squeezed her small hand. <I thank you again, old mother. >
Pila smiled her wonderful, toothless smile. <Now. Let me teach you some of our healing ways, and you can teach me some of yours. For you are a shaman to your people, are you not? >
Henry got another of those chills again, and then he smiled. He was going to learn so much from this tiny woman, and it was best to get started.

For the next few hours, Henry J. McCoy was, as his Uncle Ed always said, happier than a pig in shit. Pila may have been a naked woman with feathers in her hair, but her knowledge of native Amazon plants and their uses would have awed the most prestigious, Harvard educated botanist. Hank gleefully jotted down ant track sized notes in his memo pad. He was enraptured, delighted, inundating the Quetzal shaman with a flash flood of questions. She was, in turn, infinitely patient with him, and seemed to be enjoying the exchange as much as he was. In an odd sort of way, it was almost like falling in love, two sharp and highly intelligent minds joyously communicating.
Hanks realized he could spend years at her side, and only absorb a fraction of her knowledge. She had already introduced him to two plant species that the scientific world was totally unaware of. Henry almost cackled with anticipation over the papers he could publish.
It wasn't all a one-way street. Pila also received a great deal of information from McCoy. She already had a pretty astute grasp of basic human anatomy, but many things were still quite puzzling to her. She was especially delighted with Henry's explanation of just what blood was for, and how it moved around the body. She quickly managed to grasp the most abstract of concepts. Hank thought if she had been born into his world, she would have been the head of some university, a wall full of degrees behind her desk.
They finally exhausted discussing the dried plant specimens in her hut, all carefully bundled in leather. After a quick fruit snack, Pila suggested that they go into the rain forest. Hank was overjoyed with the prospect of a field study, but then it dawned on him that he hadn't seen Remy in quite some time. He was startled when he glanced at the position of the sun; they had been talking for at least five hours.
<Pila, I would like nothing more than to go into the forest with you, > Hank said as he helped the elderly shaman to her feet. <But I would first like to tell Remy where I am going. >
<Of course. > Pila looked around, a frown on her face. < I wonder where the children have dragged him off ?>
She led Hank to the center of the village, where she approached a young mother nursing a tiny baby.
<Una, have you seen where the Red-Eyed One has gone? >
Una gave Hank a shy smile, and nodded her head. <Yes, Pila. Krekon and some of the other men took Remylebeau to the river to fish. >
<Fishing? > Hank began to chuckle merrily. <They took Remy fishing? Oh my! >
Pila arched a brow. <Is he not a good fisherman? I hope they will not shame him. >
<Err.no Pila; Remy is actually very, very good at catching fish. LOTS of fish. Poor Krekon! > Hank snorted at a vision of the stoic Quetzal chief witnessing a forty-pound Amazon River catfish getting blown sky high out of the water. Krekon might never recover. < We will definitely be eating very well tonight. >
<I see.> Pila took Hank's arm, and she started to lead him away from the huts. <What is it your are not telling me, O Henrymccoy? >
Hank patted her hand, grinning smugly. <Just wait until everyone gets back. >
They began to cross the large garden plots that circled the village. A number of women were working there, and they all smiled and greeted the doctor and their shaman. Hank paused for a moment to admire their handiwork.
It was then that it happened. Henry was chatting amiably with a pleasantly chubby woman about her irrigation methods, when a movement on the edge of the garden caught his eye. Hank glanced up, and saw little Ani, his four-year-old charmer, standing there.
Hank instantly knew that something was very, very wrong. She was standing completely still; her body was rigid with fear, eyes wide. And Henry's heart plummeted when he saw why. A mere foot away from the little girl was an enormous snake. It's patterned scales made it almost blend into the forest backdrop. The flat, wicked head was raised in a threatening manner; its thick, shiny body weaved back and forth. At any second it was going to viciously strike.
He had no real time to think; he just acted. The girl and the snake were about twelve feet away, not an easy distance to reach from a standing position. But Hank knew he could do it. He had to.
Big mutant thigh muscles gathered and coiled like giant springs, and Hank was suddenly airborne, wind whistling through his fur. He had a brief flash of the astounded faces he was leaving behind, but it barely registered. He was totally focused on getting between Ani and the snake.
In mid leap he gracefully twisted, knowing that timing was everything. He landed on his side, hard earth knocking out his breath, pain shooting across his ribs. But he was on target, all that mattered, his big body between the girl and perhaps certain death.
He had a quick glimpse of Ani's black eyes, saucer huge. He gathered her lightning fast in his corded gorilla arms and rolled, sending clouds of dirt in the air. There was a sharp, burning sensation in his upper arm as they tumbled away from danger, and Hank could hear the child's panicked breathing as they bounced along.
Henry finally halted, lying on his back, Ani clinging to his stomach like a baby gibbon. He was about to turn his head to see just how far away they were from the snake, when a familiar crimson flash zinged through the air. Hank followed the its trail, and saw the reptile, apparently still on the attack, get blown to smithereens by Remy's kinetic charge.
Hank took a very deep, shuddery breath, which felt good-he'd been holding it in for some time. He patted Ani's trembling back with one giant hand, voice soothing. The child wept into his fur.
<It's all right, little one, > Hank murmured in Ge. < You're safe now. >
Remy was the first to reach them. The young Cajun was wild-eyed and ghost pale. He knelt beside the doctor, his voice shaky.
"Henry, I saw de whole t'ing. How's de petite?"
Hank managed to find his voice. " She's scared, but okay. I managed to make it in time. That was one aggressive reptile."
Remy cautiously touched Hank's arm. There was fear on his handsome face. "It didn't get you, did it cher?"
Hank shut his eyes. The burning sensation in his arm had increased. He opened his eyes again, forced himself to look at Gambit. "I am afraid it did, my dear."
"FUCK! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Remy screamed. He hit the ground several times with his fist; Hank doubted he had ever seen Gambit so angry, but the Cajun quickly reined in his fury. He swallowed hard, and said in a low, trembling voice, "Tell me what to do, Hank. Tell me what to do."
Hank was eerily calm. "First of all, we need to determine whether the snake was poisonous or not. I only got the briefest glimpse of the creature, and my knowledge of herpetology is a tad limited. However, since you blew the snake to Kingdom Come, it might take a while to identify the remains."
Hank didn't think it could have been possible, but Remy actually got even paler. "Saints. I didn't even stop to t'ink. I just saw dat it was comin' at you and I-"
Hank gave his lover a soothing pat on he arm. "Remy, you did nothing wrong. God knows what would have happened if you hadn't intervened. And I am sure there is enough left of that nasty critter to give us a clue."
By now almost the entire village was gathered around them. One woman was in tears, and Hank correctly guessed her to be Ani's mother. The child wiggled out of Hank's arms and ran into hers. The woman hugged the little girl frantically. <Thank you, O spirit, > she whispered over Ani's dark head.
Henry managed a smile. <You are most welcome. >
Pila came forward, cupping something in her hands. Her wrinkled face was grave. <You did a very brave thing, Henrymccoy. And our angry snake brother made you pay didn't he? >
Hank suddenly tasted something metallic at the back of his dry throat. <Yes, Pila. Did you see what sort of snake it was? >
The shaman said nothing, but opened her hands. Resting in her palm was the snake's head. It was triangular in shape, the scales a brownish red, with blotches of black and white. And Henry suddenly experienced a stab of very real, terrible fear. It was a fer-de-lance, perhaps one of the deadliest creatures in the Amazon.
<I will help you all I can, my friend. > Pila said quietly.
<I know you will. > Hank replied, her words giving him courage. He then summoned what he called his doctor Zen, turning to his lover. "Remy, I am afraid it's bad news. I have gotten myself bitten by bothrops atox, otherwise known as a fer-de-lance."
Remy blinked, but he remained focused on Hank, displaying the usual X-Man grace under pressure. Henry knew he could count on him not to get upset again. And he needed Remy as calm as possible.
"So what are our options, cher?"
"I have a number of factors in my favor. The snake only struck me once, and it was a glancing blow. And sometimes vipers don't discharge all their venom, so it's hard to tell what kind of dose I got. I am also physically large, so it would take a lot of poison to really harm me. If the snake had bitten Ani, it would have surely
killed her."
Hank paused for a moment, thinking hard. " We have no anti venin, of course, so this is what I need you to do: The old ` cut the wound, suck out the venom method' does not really work, in fact, it causes more harm than good. Get the first aid kit, clean the wound as best you can. Wrap a bandage about four inches above the bite, tight, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. I am most likely to go into some kind of shock, so keep an eye on my vital signs, raise my feet, and keep me covered. I guess I am somewhat fortunate that the fer-de-lance's venom is hemo toxic, which means it won't affect my breathing. Some snake venom will suffocate its victims. I will also probably experience dizziness, extreme nausea, blurred vision, vomiting, a high fever, and convulsions."
Remy covered his face with a hand, trying to steady himself. And after listing all the possible symptoms, Henry felt the icy cold finger of fear travel down his spine. He also was struck by the irony that after facing the likes of the Sentinels, Juggernaut, Sabertooth and Magneto, there was now the very strong possibility that he was going to die from something as stupid as a snake bite.
There was a gentle touch on his cheek. "We best get started den cher, neh?"
"Yes." Hank took Remy's hand in his. "And my dear, you can trust Pila. She is a very wise soul, and she might be able to save my blue, furry ass."
Gambit gave his lover the bravest smile imaginable. "We both pull you through dis, mon ami, don't you worry."
Hank nodded and began to pray that Remy would be right.

 

Chapter Seven
Pila suddenly turned into a tiny five star general, barking orders left and right. While Remy ran for the first aid kit, the Quetzal shaman had a group of men heft Hank to his feet and half-carry him to Pila's hut. Despite the situation, McCoy was impressed by their strength, as moving his bulk was not an easy thing. He briefly thought about trying to get there under his own steam, but he was starting to feel quite strange. His legs were like limp pasta, and that weird metallic taste in his mouth had increased. A queasy dizziness also began, like riding the roller coaster at Coney Island far too many times.
Once they reached the hut, the men lay the doctor on a pile of woven grass mats. Remy arrived moments after Henry was settled, the precious first aid kit in hand, as well as his much-used leather duster. Gambit threw the latter over Hank, and got his feet elevated with several folded mats. The thief found the puncture wounds on Hank's upper bicep. Using their knife, Remy carefully shaved the fur away, and cleaned the punctures with what was left of their antiseptic. With dexterous fingers he wrapped a bandage tightly above the wound. Hank examined the bite himself; it seemed such a small, insignificant thing. He began to have the faintest hope that things really weren't as bad as they appeared to be.
Pila, in the mean time, was also very busy. She mixed up a poultice that had a sharp, pungent smell, like a mixture of caraway and licorice. She smeared the paste thickly over the bite. When it was applied to her satisfaction, she gave Henry a terribly bitter liquid to drink, one that numbed his whole mouth. It was incredibly difficult to get down, and he gagged several times before swallowing. He had no idea what she was giving him, but he trusted the little woman implicitly. There weren't many other options anyway.
As time passed, Hank tried to stay on top of things, (he really did.) He took his own pulse, which was very rapid; had Remy take his temperature, which grew higher and higher. But about an hour later, all comprehensive thought left, except for the fact that Hank finally understood what `sick to death' really meant.
He vomited a number of times into a large turtle shell; one that Pila had set-aside for just such a purpose. Each time he was sick, Remy held his head, rubbed the back of his neck. His entire body ached; the pain made him clench his jaw so tight the muscles cracked. He had uncontrollable shakes, and his fever raged like a burning building.
Time got slower and slower, and things suddenly seemed far away, as if watched from a distance. He could hear his own voice, shouting senseless things, and his lover's heavy accent, soothing and warm.
And all of a sudden, a moment of perfect, crystal clarity. The world came back into focus, sharp and hard. He saw a tiny fire in the corner of the hut, weaving golden light. It seemed very late-there was nothing but inky blackness outside. Remy was still beside him, cross-legged in elegant origami, the glow of the fire bathing his features as he stared at the flames. So beautiful, so beautiful, like a grave angel hovering near. Hank loved him more than ever.
"Remy." he croaked, his throat dry as sand.
Remy immediately turned to him, cool fingers brushing his burning forehead. "Henri." His voice was gentle and infinitely sad.
"I've been delirious, haven't I?"
"Oui, cher." A small smile. "But y' said not'ing incriminating. Mostly ranting `bout Bobby getting into y' Twinkie stash."
Hank laughed, a strained, weak little thing, but still a laugh. He gave himself a few more seconds, just gazing at Remy's dear face, gathering his strength. "Where's Pila?" he finally asked.
Gambit gestured with his head to the right of the hut, where Henry saw the old woman curled up, quietly asleep. "She been with y' through most of dis, Hank, tryin' hard to keep y' fever down. But she's old, needed a rest. Y' want me to wake her?"
"No, no - please don't." Hank looked into Remy's eyes, and slowly lifted his hand. Gambit took it, long fingers wrapping around Hank's big paw. "I need to talk, to tell you some things, before I become delirious again. Important things."
Remy kissed Hank's knuckles, his gaze never wavering. "I'm listening, cher."
"First, practical matters: being an X-Man, I have a will and a pretty trustworthy lawyer. I don't have a huge estate, but there are a number of fairly lucrative patents. I want my parents to get them. They have had a hard time holding on to the farm; I want them to be able to live there as long as they wish."
"I'll watch over dem, Hank. Y' got no worries dere."
Hank experienced a surge of relief; this was a huge load off his mind. "Please give them my love. I was so lucky to have them, such special people. They loved me with or without the fur. I was always just Henry." Hank's eyes began to grow wet with tears; he allowed them to flow freely. "And tell my other family - Scotty, Jean, Warren, Charles, `Ro, Logan, and my God, dear, dear Bobby. What an honor it was to stand with them, fighting the good fight. It was indeed both the best and worst of times, and I am utterly grateful to have been allowed to share it with them."
Hank swallowed hard; he was starting to feel really bad again. But he had to stay strong and focused, as this was the most important part.
"I think I really have only one regret, when it all comes down to it."
Remy wiped the tears away from Hank's cheeks; he could feel Gambit's hand trembling. "And what's dat, Henri?"
"I waited far too long to tell you how I felt. I should have been braver and trusted my heart. I would give anything to have had more time with you, Remy. I'm glad I finally said something, but now it seems too late." Hank took a long and painful breath. "I love you so very much."
His lover shut his eyes for a moment, and two tears trailed down his sharp face. Hank had never seen Remy cry, so he knew what a precious gift he was being given.
"Hank, we were both foolish," Remy whispered. "I could have said something much, much sooner, too, but I was afraid. And Henry, I am sorry from de bottom of my heart for not saying dis when y' wanted to hear it: J'taime, mon brave. I will love you forever." And Remy bent down and kissed him, an angel's kiss, and Hank tasted his lover's tears.
There were no words after that, just a silence, both sad and joyous. Remy lay down beside Hank and held him close. Henry's thoughts started to become more and more muddled; he was terrifyingly weak. But the fear was gone somehow, and the pain did not matter. He was probably going to die in his lovers' arms, a sweet way to depart from this life.
He began to slip further and further away; there were dark spots before his eyes. And he had one final thought before he slipped into blackness; he realized that Pila's vision had come true. He had committed a brave act and paid the highest price. And for this he had been rewarded; Remy LeBeau loved him. Somehow, it made it all worthwhile.

Darkness. Endless darkness, so peaceful and quiet. Womb dark. And all of a sudden, a small pinpoint of light. Closer and closer, finally filling everything, blinding and warm.
And Hank McCoy found himself standing in the middle of a very familiar gravel road.
It was early summer and a light breeze was blowing, ruffling his fur. He was on the road between Old Man Pulaski's place and the Abernathy farm. Young corn sparkled in fields as far as the eye could see; Queen Anne's lace and blue cornflowers crowded the roadside. In the distance, a red winged blackbird was singing, and the grasshoppers droned.
Hank stood still, not sure how he had gotten here or why. He blinked in confusion, trying very hard to puzzle it all out.
A loud honk of a horn jolted him from his thoughts, and Hank turned around to see an old green Chevy pickup barreling towards him. Hank stepped to the side of the road, a grin splitting his face. The Chevy slowed, and leaning out of its window was his Grampa Claude, big as life. Same leathery face, same white walrus mustache, same twinkling blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, same battered John Deere cap.
Claude spat and smiled at Hank. "Hey there, ya gol' durn Greenie! What in the Sam Hell ya standing in the middle of the road for? You must get it from the other side of the family."
"Hi, Grampa." Hank chuckled.
"Well, get that big hind end of yours in the truck. We're burnin' daylight." Claude spat again.
Hank laughed and quickly obeyed, running around to the other side of the truck. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a joyful bark. A furry brown and white missile leapt into his arms, and Hank's face was covered with dog slobber.
"Scout! How are ya, boy?" Hank said to the dog, part Springer, part Jack Russell, the rest a mystery. Scout gave Hank a wide doggy grin, small dynamo body vibrating with happiness.
Holding his dog tight, Henry clambered into the cab, which smelled like tobacco, motor oil, dust and fish. As soon as Hank slammed the door shut, Claude put the truck back in gear and they lumbered off.
"So, Buddy, ya busy this afternoon?" Claude asked as they bounced along.
"No, Grampa, can't say that I am," Hank answered as he pulled a cocklebur from Scout's pelt.
"Good. Just so happens I have your tackle in the back. Thought we would mosey over to the lake for a spell. I was just talking to Bill Baird out at the feed store. Said he caught a twenty-five pounder the other day. Now Bill is usually full of horse hockey, but I thought it might be worth checking out."
"That sounds just great."
Claude squinted a bit down the road. "I thought we might stop by your Aunt Tildy's place and see if she would pack us up a picnic basket. Ya can't fish without proper sustenance."
"Especially without beer." Henry added, scratching Scout behind one ear.
"Buddy, that goes without saying. `Gainst the law." Claude winked.
Henry chuckled and glanced out the window. He felt so good and carefree, and it seemed like ages that he had been this happy. There was a small, nagging thing at the back of his mind, like the feeling he had forgotten to lock the door, or left the iron on. But it didn't detract from this wonderful sense of well-being.
They passed by a large open field, all rolling hills and green grass. A man was out there, riding bareback on a wild looking brown and white pinto. He and the horse galloped near the fence, the man's long ebony hair streaming out behind him. Hank's breath caught at the sight; the man seemed so gloriously free. Henry waved and the man waved back, and Hank finally recognized him: John Proudstar.
As John and his mount headed back over a hill, that nagging feeling returned, a lot stronger now. He had forgotten something very important. But Hank ultimately decided not to worry it to death; it would come to him soon enough.
Grampa Claude turned down a winding lane, edged by spreading elms. At the end of the road was his Aunt Tildy's place, a tall and narrow farmhouse, white with neat blue trim. Claude stopped the pickup in the circular drive, and when he cut the engine, Hank could hear the lowing of cattle and the clucking of hens. Good sounds, farm sounds.
Hank opened the truck door and Scout bounded out, Henry following. Claude disembarked after refreshing his chaw of tobacco. "Buddy, I'm gonna head down to the barn for a minute. Tildy's got a new bull, I wanna have me a look-see."
"'Kay, Grampa." Hank said as the old man stumped away to the barn, big and red in the distance. The doctor stood awhile in the drive after he left, admiring his aunt's colorful crop of snapdragons and four o'clocks decorating the plot in front of the porch. He had to scold Scout for pestering Tildy's regal calico, Queenie, seated in feline splendor on the porch steps. Queenie took it in her stride, and after giving them both a disdainful look, she stood and headed up to the front door. Henry followed her lead.
He was about to open the rickety screen door, when a sweet, slightly accented voice halted him.
"Hello, Dr. Hank." Henry turned and saw a little blond girl, seated in the shadows on the porch swing. She was wearing a bright sundress; her bare legs and feet tanned brown, a daisy chain woven around her neck. She grinned, revealing teeth that would need braces. Hank's heart melted instantly.
"Illyana!" The girl gave a happy squeal and Hank gathered her in his big arms. Tears stung his eyes as they touched noses.
"My dear darling girl, it is so lovely to see you!"
"And it is good to see you, Dr. Hank!" She kissed him on the cheek.
"Tovarish!" A big voice boomed from behind. Hank whirled around and there was Piotr Rasputin. The young Siberian was clad in dusty overalls, a red bandanna around his throat, heavily muscled arms streaked with dirt and sweat. He bounced up the porch, making the boards creak, and wrapped both Hank and his sister in a grizzly bear hug.
"Hey! Stupid! You happen to be totally squashing the both of us!" Illyana protested after a moment.
"Sorry, Snowflake." Piotr laughed. "Just got carried away seeing Hank here. He is, as they say, `A sore sight for these eyes.'"
"That's `a sight for sore eyes', dope." Illyana said, rolling her own. She shook her head at Hank. "His English is just hopeless at times."
Piotr chuckled and Hank joined him. "As you can see, my baby sister is still a brat." The Russian thumped Hank on the shoulder. "So come inside and we shall have a long visit, a glass of tea. I have been helping your aunt out a little. I put in a couple acres of barley and soybeans."
Illyana wriggled out of Hank's embrace and on to the floor. "Oh boy, here we go. I'm sure Dr. Hank would LOVE to hear about soybeans, brother." She took Hank's enormous hand in her small one. "Let's go see if Tildy made cookies."
Hank let her lead him inside, Piotr, Scout and the still miffed Queenie in tow. He blinked a bit, eyes adjusting to the cool, dark interior. They walked past a big Victorian hall tree and Tildy's neatly hung collection of calendar plates. As they went by the parlor, a loud voice rang out.
"Why, Henry J. McCoy! Is that you? My stars and garters!"
Hank grinned. "Yes, ma'am!" He turned to Illyana and Piotr. "I think I should say hello to Tildy first, before raiding her kitchen."
"Of course, tovarish." Piotr smiled back, and Hank felt himself inexplicably happy at the sight. It was so very good to see him, solid, dependable, gentle Piotr. "I will try and save you some cookies."
"I'll make SURE he save some cookies," Illyana commented archly. She pulled her brother in the direction of the kitchen, Scout following, perhaps hoping for a treat as well.
Hank watched brother and sister for a moment, and then ambled into the parlor. Tildy greeted her nephew with a loving look. She was seated on an old horsehair sofa, her hair a determined beehive, a blinding pink sweatshirt on that said `Born to Bingo'. She was holding a huge photo album in her lap, showing it to the woman seated next to her.
And Hank was suddenly completely fuddled. The woman on the sofa was dark brown and small, wrinkled as a winter crabapple and totally naked. There were feathers in her snowy hair and she gazed up at Hank in a calm, knowing way.
"Pila." Hank whispered, and he then knew what had been bothering him all this time.
Grampa Claude was dead, felled by a stroke two years ago. Tildy had passed away when he was fifteen, a victim of breast cancer. Scout was his childhood dog, killed by a milk truck on Hollings road one tragic winter day. And John Proudstar, Illyana and Piotr, they also were. which meant he must be.
Pila smiled up at him and spoke, and Hank was not sure if it was her native language or English. "No, Henrymccoy, not just yet. And I have come here to speak with you for a moment." The shaman stood and lightly touched Tildy's pink shoulder. "I thank you for showing me the magic picture things. Your nephew was a very fat baby."
Tildy beamed. "Wasn't he though? A real porker. We thought about entering him in the State Fair."
Pila laughed. "And now I must talk to him alone, if you do not mind."
"Of course." Tildy got off the sofa and smiled at them both. "After you're finished, we can have some iced tea and molasses cookies out on the porch, have us a nice visit. That is, if that Russian boy hasn't emptied the cookie jar." Tildy reached up and pulled Hank's face close to hers. "Lovely to see you, honey," she said as she planted a bright lipstick print on his cheek.
Hank couldn't answer her; he was still in shock. After his aunt left the room, he turned wondering eyes to Pila.
"That - that felt so real! This all seems so real!" Hank touched his cheek where Tildy had kissed it.
Pila sighed impatiently. "Of course it did. The Land of the Dead is just as real as the Living World, my friend."
She took Henry's hand. "You should know that there are many places a soul can travel to, different worlds, different paths. All these places have their own mysteries and challenges. And I would have let you follow this road, Henrymccoy, but my own soul was touched. I consulted the spirits, and they said, perhaps, that it wasn't quite your time to leave the Living World yet."
Pila began to lead Hank towards the hall. "Come with me now. I wish to show you something."
Hank allowed Pila to lead him to a room across the hallway, Tildy's sewing room. But when they entered, instead of finding a jumble of quilts and fabric, they stepped into another world, another place. A small hut woven from leaves and grasses, the sounds of the Amazon rainforest outside. And in the center of the hut lay.himself. Sick to death, sunken-eyed, chest barely moving.
Hank gazed at his body with both fear and wonder, and then stared at the young man kneeling beside him. Remy. Somehow in all of this, he had forgotten Remy. His lover's face was marked with such terrible grief and suffering, Hank's heart broke at the sight. He was murmuring soft French to the inert form beside him, a prayer of some kind. He stroked a blue, furry forehead with infinite care, hand shaking as he did.
Hank had to close his eyes; it was almost too much to bear. "He is a strong man, your heart brother, but he has also had an unfair share of burdens in this life. I do not know if his poor spirit can stand to lose you. That is why I brought you here, to make you remember."
Almost angry, Hank turned on the shaman. "What can I possibly do about it, Pila -?" Whatever else Hank was going to say was suddenly forgotten. For she had changed. Gazing up at him was a young woman in her early twenties, lovely as a summer's day, golden brown skin, her hair an endless river of midnight. Only the dark eyes were the same, full of Pila's kindness and wisdom.
Hank gasped. "What?!"
She gave him a dazzling smile. "I told you that I was beautiful."
Henry was reduced, for once, to single syllables. "How?"
Her expression was amused. "Because at the place we are now, time has no meaning. We are at a crossroads, where the Worlds meet. And it is here you can change your destiny, Henrymccoy."
She cupped his hand in hers, traced the lines in it. "The Wheel turns and turns my friend, that is the only constant thing. You have been brave and kind in this life, and have earned a rest. But you are also joined to this man, your lover, in spirit. Do you want to come back to him now?"
Hank took a deep breath and thought. On the one hand, staying with Grampa, Tildy, and Piotr.it all seemed so peaceful. No hatred or fear or struggling, just an endless afternoon out on the lake, with the water lapping against Claude's boat.
But turning back to look at his lover once more, Hank realized he had no choice. Remy was suffering. And the love he had for him made it worth coming back to a world full of chaos and anger. With Remy at his side, he could endure it; he could endure anything.
"Pila, I would like to go back to the Living World. Thank you for giving me this chance."
"You are most welcome, Henrymccoy, although this is all your doing, you understand." She suddenly wrapped her arms about his waist. "Now kiss me."
He was more than a little startled by the request, but he did what he was told. He bent over and brushed his lips against hers. It was a sweet kiss, and she tasted like honey, and for a tiny second, Hank sensed all of her bright, glorious soul. He seemed to dissolve, become liquid, falling far into that peaceful darkness once again. But he wasn't afraid, and he smiled at his last sight; of Pila's lovely face; the green and blue feathers glinting in her hair.

Henry slowly opened his eyes. The light hurt; in fact everything hurt. He lay there quietly, trying to remember. After awhile he recalled the plane crash, the trek through the rainforest, Pila, and being bitten by the snake. And most importantly, he remembered Remy. Who was suddenly bending over him, his face so worn and haggard that Hank was shocked.
"R.em.y." Hank didn't recognize his own voice; it was so hoarse. His throat ached and was as dry as a desert riverbed.
"Cher?" His lover's thin face took on an expression of hope. "Y' know me?"
"Y.. essss." Hank was finally able to choke out.
"Oh, Hank." Remy own voice shook. "Don't try to talk no more." With infinite care, Remy slowly brought a cup to Henry's parched lips. Hank swallowed; the cool fresh water was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life.
"Try not to drink too fast, Henri.dat's it." Hank finished the water, and felt Gambit's fingers touch his forehead. The Cajun stared down at him in wonder. "Praise de saints.y' fever's gone!"
"Remy.how long?"
Gambit continued to stroke his forehead. "T'ree days, mon brave." He swallowed hard. "T'ought.t'ought I was gonna lose y' for sure."
"I was lost." Hank said, his thoughts all jumbled every which way. "Had the strangest dream.thought I was back home, my childhood home. Saw my Grampa Claude, my Aunt Tildy, my old dog Scout, Illyana, Piotr, even John Proudstar. It was so real, Remy."
Remy nodded slowly. "Maybe it was, cher."
"I loved it there- it was so beautiful and peaceful. But I couldn't stay Remy; I had to come back. I couldn't leave you behind, my dear."
Suddenly his lover's face crumpled, and all of Remy LeBeau's defenses vanished. He curled into himself, hands covering his face, and just sobbed. Hank's eyes grew wet too. He understood that this was all the fear and terrible heartbreak Remy had undergone in the last few days, finally being released. Hank managed to find a little strength, enough to grab hold of Gambit and pull him to his chest. There, Remy dissolved in a flood of tears, clinging tightly to Hank like a life preserver. Henry was able to stroke his back, and although the evident pain was hard to take, Hank knew Remy needed to get it out. No one should have to carry such an awful burden.
When Remy finally calmed down, he peered up at Hank in shame. "Sorry," he whispered. "You de one dat almost dies, and I go and act like a fool."
"Crying is never foolish, my love, and you need to do it more often." Hank smiled. "Doctor's orders."
Remy didn't smile back or laugh at the lame joke, for a second, Hank thought he was going to cry again. But he got himself under control and instead, brought his face near Hank's. "J'taime, Henry McCoy. Was like to die myself wit' de t'ought of losin' y'."
It was now Hank's turn to burst into tears, but he didn't quite have the energy. Besides, Remy began to kiss him, and everything fled from his head. Hank kissed him back, hoping that the sudden flood of joy didn't cause them both to explode. `So glad to be alive, so glad to be alive', their sweet kisses said.
They were eventually interrupted by a soft and familiar chuckle. The lovers broke apart, and Hank saw Pila entering the hut. Her small figure was outlined by the morning sunlight, and for a second or two, Henry thought he saw her looking like a young girl of twenty years. He blinked, confused, and the odd illusion was gone. The old shaman smiled her wide, toothless smile.
<So, you two did not waste any time. > She sat beside them and pressed a hand to Hank's head. <Welcome back to this world, my dear friend. > She then patted Remy's face. <This one missed you so much. >
Hank was amazed when Gambit replied in nearly- flawless Ge dialect. < I thank you for bringing him back to me, old mother.> His words also caused Henry to wonder just how much of a hand the shaman had in his recovery. There was this strange image in his head of Pila standing in his Aunt Tildy's parlor, although it did not make much sense.
Hank shook himself out of his daze. <Yes, thank you, mother. I will be forever grateful. >
<You are welcome. > Pila stood again, and Henry marveled at her spryness. < And now, this old and annoying woman will leave you alone for a little while.> Her dark eyes twinkled as she gazed at Hank.< My, you were such a fat baby.> Laughing to herself, she left the hut.
Remy glanced at Hank, eyebrows raised. "Did I hear that right? Did she just say you were a fat baby?"
Hank frowned, utterly at sea. "Yes. And I most certainly was, bless my poor mother's heart. But I have no idea why Pila just said it." He sighed and smiled, looking into his lover's garnet eyes. "No matter. Now, could I be terribly needy and ask you to hold me for awhile?"
Remy pressed his lips to Hank's furry face. "Oui, mon couer. Remy hold y' for de end of time."

 

Chapter Eight
It is said that those in the medical profession prove to be the most miserable patients; Dr. McCoy happily proved to be otherwise. He was ecstatic just to be alive and breathing, and madly in love. What else could one ask for?
For at least a week, Henry was an invalid; he had all the strength of a tottery newborn lamb. But both Remy and Pila were excellent caregivers- he wanted for nothing, save maybe to go to the bathroom by himself. He slept a great deal those first few days and was given a rich and satisfying broth made by Pila. He discovered later it that contained kinkajou and some kind of root. When he was able, Hank dutifully jotted down the recipe.
Remy was constantly at his side. The Cajun napped with him at times, which was delightful as well as necessary. Remy wouldn't exactly admit it, but he was quite wrung out and exhausted from their recent ordeal. Both Hank and Gambit had dropped a great deal of weight, and Remy certainly had less to lose than Henry did. Hank was going to put them both on the inactive list when they finally made it back to the mansion.
In spite of their somewhat shaky physical condition, both men were in excellent spirits, and happy in that universally annoying way all lovers are. When Henry was up to it, they talked, so much so that Pila jokingly called them the two macaws. They spent long afternoons under a large rosewood tree, lying on mats, watching the villagers go about their business. They dozed and made future plans. Remy told Hank about this great soul food restaurant in New York he wanted to take Hank to. "Cher, you haven't lived until y' tried deir chitlins and cornbread. Outta dis world". Hank in turn, knew of a wondrous jazz club in the Village that they had to visit. And both men solemnly agreed that their first trip together would be to Venice.
They also played cards, continuing the infamous Gin Rummy tournament, varied by hands of Canasta. The cards captured the interest of the villagers, and Remy taught all who wanted to know the basics. Go Fish was an early favorite, and poker gradually became the rage, Texas Hold `em and Red Dog being the most popular variations. The Indians played for fishhooks and arrowheads; Remy gave away all his spare decks. It rather amused Hank to see these dignified people of the Stone Age, in their paint and feathers, playing Blackjack like Vegas cardsharps. Pila, not surprisingly proved to be an especially deadly player. Remy almost lost his pants to her during one memorable game.
One morning found Hank outside, under the favored rosewood tree. He was walking on his own now, and he could feel his energy and strength returning. Remy had gone fishing with Krekon; the chief couldn't quite get enough of that miraculous kinetic charge. Henry had played a little with Ani, and when she had wandered off, he took the opportunity to go over his notes. He was making a tiny sketch of a hut when Pila sat down quietly beside him. She studied his drawing for a moment and smiled, then without preamble, she said;
< You will be going home soon, Henrymccoy. >
Hank put down his notepad. < Really? >
<Yes. I had an interesting vision last night. A beautiful woman with dark skin and white hair came from the sky to fetch you. Does she sound familiar? >
< Uh.very. > Hank felt like someone had rubbed his fur the wrong way.
Pila's gifts, no matter how many times she used them, would always give him the shivers. He took a deep breath, and picked up the shaman's tiny, knotted hand. < I will miss you very much, mother. I can't tell you how much our friendship has meant. And I thank you for all you have done. > Henry was struck by a thought. < Would you like to come with me? See my world? >
Pila became thoughtful, wrinkled mouth pursed in a slight frown.
<Hmm. That would be interesting. I have always wanted to see what was outside the forest. I am sure there are countless wonders. > She finally shook her head. < But I cannot leave my people, dear friend. I am nearing the end of my time, and I must finish training one who will replace me. And that is the way of things. >
Hank felt a stab of terrible sadness, but he understood. He gently patted Pila's hand, and they quietly smiled at each other. The old woman leaned forward, and kissed Hank softly on his cheek. The she rose and walked away, leaving Henry with tears in his eyes. He managed to return to his sketch, vision blurry for a long while.
Remy and Krekon returned in triumph half an hour later, bearing a handsome and singed catch. It caused a minor hubbub, making Hank smile widely. He watched Remy laugh with everyone, teasing the kids, flirting a little with the women. So much more at ease then back home. Hank hoped that would change someday, although it would be an uphill battle. Here, Remy had no past; the villagers took him at face value, never judging. At the mansion, an entirely different story.
Henry silently vowed to help bury those things, for once and for all.
He was so lost in thought; he didn't realize that the tall thief had somehow melted away from the crowd. He blinked in surprise when Remy's deep, Cajun patois came from out of the greenery some distance behind him.
"Hey - Henri - c'mere." Hank dutifully got up and moved over to the edge of the forest, in the direction of the voice. He moved a ways through the underbrush, trying to spot the Cajun, impressed with Remy's abilities. There was a light tap on his shoulder, and Remy slipped out of a shadow. His battered leather duster was under one arm, and his expression was full of anticipation and mischief. He leaned forward and brushed Hank's lips with his own. "You up for a little walk, mon ami? Don't t'ink dat anybody miss us for awhile."
Hank kissed his lover back. "What a lovely idea, my dear. You lead, and I will follow."
Remy smiled his most charming Southern smile and took Henry's big, clawed hand in his. He led the doctor down a narrow twisting path, away from the village.
It was so nice to be alone, just the two of them. Hank had come to love the Quetzal people, but they had no real concept of privacy. The forest was rather quiet and still at the moment, and Hank loved holding Remy's hand as they walked. His lover had a definite destination in mind, but he wasn't talking about it, nary a hint.
Instead, he hummed a soft tune in his bourbon on the rocks voice, lazily smiling at Hank all the while. It made a few butterflies careen about in Hank's stomach.
After about ten minutes, Remy stopped, sexy grin even wider. "Now close y' eyes, Henry. Gotta surprise for y'."
"A surprise? How delightful!" Hank chuckled a bit at Remy's look; his poker game face replaced by a four year old kid at Christmas. He dutifully shut his eyelids, and Remy clasped Hank's hand even tighter. He guided the doctor forward, carefully navigating Hank over rocks and a large fallen log. Henry's butterflies changed into big, wild bats, and he fought an ungentlemanly urge to peek.
He had a good idea what was up after another fifty feet. There was the sound of rushing water and the air had gotten perceptibly cooler. "Open y' eyes now, cher." Remy whispered.
Henry's eyes fluttered open and his mouth made a big, round `o'. He had figured that they were at the local swimming hole, but lord god, what a swimming hole it was! A small waterfall splashed from the side of the cliff, empting into a emptying into a crystal clear jewel of a pool. Ferns and flowers decorated the water's edge, along with golden sand. It was perfect and primordial, the kind of place Adam and Eve would have whiled away the time in Paradise.
Remy threw a hand across Hank's shoulder. "Ain't dis somet'ing? De kids brought me here a couple of times while you was napping. Water's nice and cool, spring fed, and fast, so dere ain't no danger of piranhas. Just had to show y', Hank. Knew y' would just love it."
Hank was beaming. " Indeed, it's breathtaking. Like some kind of tropical dream. Where on earth is the camera crew?"
Remy's smile became a bit wicked. "Now dat I know you approve, what de hell we wastin' valuble skinny-dipping time for? Usually dis place got `bout half de village in it." He gave Hank a very sloppy Bugs Bunny smooch. "Last one in is a rotten egg!"
Hank laughed and easily won the stripping race, as he only had trunks to shed. He left Remy on the shore, cheerfully cursing and still yanking off his boots. Hank splashed his way to the pool's deep center, the pure water like silk against his skin. He dove underneath and resurfaced on his back, gently floating. Memories of childhood swims of the past filled his head, long days on lake Wocohiscan. This felt as good and carefree.
He glanced back at his lover, now almost naked, pale sculpted body gleaming in the soft light. He seemed unworldly and beautifully strange, some elven being coming to an enchanted pool for a dip. A sweet tingle skittered through his body; he had a feeling that the Cajun's nakedness would undo him now and forever. But there was now no shame; his lust was honest and natural as their surroundings.
Remy threw the last of his clothing in a small pile, and with his usual casual grace, he dove in. He surfaced near Hank, dark red hair slicked back, accentuating his sharp features. He paddled near, otter confident in the water.
"So, you finally join me, Misuer Rotten Egg."
Remy chuckled. "Don't know what in de hell I was t'inkin', makin' dat kinda bet, me. I'm losin' my touch."
"Indeed. And since I am the victor, I should claim my prize." Hank reached out and grabbed the Cajun, pulling him close. He found a spot where they could both stand, hugging Remy tightly to his muscular frame. He cupped Remy's face in both hands, kissing him, tasting both cool water and Remy's warm, yielding lips. Remy sighed into Hank's mouth, and then he chuckled.
"Well, mercy, Henri. You ARE feelin' better." He rubbed catlike against Hank, one hand clutching the doctor's ass. "And uh, looks like de cold water ain't done nothin' to dampen y' enthusiasm."
Thief's fingers discovered Hank's newly formed erection and teased. "My, oh my. Dat for me?"
Hank groaned at the touch, and managed a laugh. "All for you, my darling." Hank wrapped his lover tight in his arms, kissing him harder and deeper. His tongue found Remy's, and they playfully taunted each other. Hank's hands got busy gliding over smooth wet skin, feeling the hard muscle underneath. He traced the endless, willowy spine, cupped a taunt ass. He somehow managed to pull away from Gambit's dangerous mouth, burying his face in the long neck.
Remy shuddered, and then gave a small grunt when Hank placed a careful bite. Remy's hands grasped Henry's shoulders in a death grip as Hank licked his collarbone, and ended up at a very vulnerable nipple. He sucked at the enticing little nub, getting all sorts of throaty sounds from Remy, sounds that made his own cock twitch in response.
He reached underwater and between Remy's legs was a lovely answer to his torture, a heated shaft begging to be touched. Hank stroked, making Remy squirm in happy agony. Hank renewed the attack on his nipple, and Remy went a bit crazy, muttering in fast French, fingers clutching his back fur almost painfully. He panted into Hank's ear, "Oh, Hank, want you, want you. Do anyt'ing for y', mon couer."
Hank took a deep breath, Remy's tone almost undoing him. He nearly lost his balance when Gambit's tongue flicked into his ear. "Let's go back to shore, Hank. Got `nother surprise."
"Another one?" Henry couldn't imagine what it could be, but knowing Remy, he was sure it was going to be good. Not wanting to stand on ceremony, Hank grabbed the Cajun and hoisted him over his shoulder.
Remy burst out laughing.
"Saints, Henry, didn't t'ink you was de caveman type."
Hank chuckled as he splashed over to the shore. " Well, now, you did say there was a surprise involved, and if you are the culprit, there's no telling what I have in store for me. First Amazon Jacuzzi? A harem of exotic dancing girls? Whipped cream and handcuffs?" Remy continued to laugh, then managed to pinch Hank's ass in spite of his position. "Just you wait, cher. It gonna be worth it."
Hank found a likely spot near Remy's discarded clothing and laid his lover down in the soft, warm sand. Henry sprawled. on top of him, resting most of his weight on his elbows. He kissed Remy, teasing and lightly nipping, rubbing his erection against Gambit's. Remy moaned and gasped.
"So spill, Grand Master Thief ! What did you get out of the crackerjack box?" Hank managed to reach down and gave Remy's cock a few deft, punishing strokes.
Remy arched against him, face flushed, "Oh god, Hank! In my coat, left inner pocket!"
Henry smiled and kissed Remy breathless. "Good - now don't you dare move." Remy gazed up at him, red eyes slitted. "Wouldn't t'ink of goin' anywhere, mon amor."
Hank rolled off Remy and found the coat, so ragged and torn. He fumbled in the pocket and pulled out - a gourd?
McCoy was treated to the sound of rich, Louisiana laughter, and Remy clutched at his sides. "Oh - oh - Hank! You face!" He went into another fresh torrent of hysteria.
Henry squatted down beside him, bemused. As Remy continued to laugh, he examined the dried gourd with greater care. The Quetzal tribe used gourds to store things in, and, after shaking it slightly, Hank felt something swishing around inside. He twisted the top, which functioned as a lid. He sniffed at the contents, dipped a finger in.
Pulling it out, it was covered with a heavy, golden oil. And a light bulb went off over Hank's head. He stared at his lover.
"Remy - really? You think we could use this to..?"
Remy was suddenly very serious. "Yah. Want y' in de worst way, Henry McCoy. Don't want to wait no more. Been t'inkin' and t'inkin' about it, and Remy, he clever boy. Saw de women using dis stuff to cook with, and I said to myself.hmmm." A devilish smile slid across Remy's face, making Hank's knees go weak. He took the gourd from Henry's hand, setting it carefully in the sand. He got to his knees, garnet eyes shining with both love and lust.
"Stand up, Henri. Let's get dis show on de road." Hank obeyed, trying hard not to keel over. Remy ran his hands up Henry's thighs, fingers playing with the fur, kneading caressing. He explored the small of Henry's back, massaged his ass. He rubbed his face into Hank's belly, a gesture so erotic that Hank's erection bobbed upward. Remy grinned, and with a sly glance, began to delicately nibble on the tip. Hank groaned, long and low.
"Oh my god, Remy! Yesyesyesyes."
"Keep talkin', Henri " Remy purred. "Love to hear y' voice, makes me sooo hot." He lapped his tongue over Hank's penis, velvety and warm.
Hank reached down and tangled his hands in Gambit's wet hair. "Suck me then, Remy, let me feel that talented mouth on my cock." Remy smiled and with exquisite slowness, took Henry into his mouth. Hank's toes curled into the sand, wildfire traveling through his body. He watched as Remy took him deep, then pulled away, leaving Hank's hard-on glistening with spit and pre-cum.
"Oh god, Remy, find that sweet spot. And your mouth, your mouth-it's heaven." His lover cupped Henry's balls for a moment, and clever fingers touched a place that made Hank think the top of his head was going to blow off. He thrust his hips forward, fighting the urge to just slam into Remy's mouth. Remy sensed his need, and picked up the pace, that tongue making Hank gasp and sob.
"Ahh, ahh, oh, Remy, you are so good to me, yes, oh yes." Hank thrust harder then he intended, and there was a muffled grunt from Gambit. The young man didn't slow, but continued to adore Henry with his wicked mouth. Hank's hand's caressed Remy's head, the fine-boned skull. "I think - I think - ooooh-god, I'm going to." Remy took him deeper than ever and Hank helplessly climaxed, heart pounding, cock spurting down his lover's throat. Remy drank it down, and managed to catch Hank as his knees gave out.
He lay on his back and shuddered, and Remy slid on top of him. The Cajun licked his lips, kissed Hank very slowly. Hank tasted himself, sweet and salty. Remy pulled away, staring down, auburn hair a curtain over both of them.
"And now for round two," Remy said, want and dark heat in his voice.
Henry's eyes grew wide. "My dear, I'm not sure I can-"
"Yes y' can, mon amour. Don't worry none, Remy can get y' all hot and bothered again. Be my pleasure." Remy captured his mouth once more, chewed on a lower lip, then that tongue, that marvelous wicked tongue flicked inside. And while he was doing this, Remy rubbed up against him, his erection causing a down and dirty friction against his own limp cock. Which began to harden, the dead miraculously coming back to life.
Mouth on his mouth, an assault on an ear, tender nipples half hidden by fur were bitten and ravished into painful peaks. Hank was being hit with an erotic natural force, and he was helpless and driven delightfully mad by the onslaught. He came out of his stupor and attacked back, swept up into the savage jungle fever. He couldn't get enough of Remy's skin and scent, the feel of his hot, sinful body.
Remy gave Hank a surprisingly sharp bite on his neck, but before Henry could scold, he was arrested by the sight of Remy pouring a large amount of oil into his hand. Which in turned was stroked lovingly over his penis, now getting harder and harder by the second.
Hank threw back his head and closed his eyes, a slave to the sensation.
"Yeah, Henry, y' just let go, let me take care of y'." A quick kiss on the nose, and Remy shifted his weight. Hank opened his eyes and gasped. With sure, deft grace, his lover mounted himself on top of Hank slowly, slowly. And oh. God oh god. So tight, so amazing. Remy acted like he was in a trance, mouth half opened, every muscle etched in sharp relief. Henry belatedly thought, in his pleasure-fogged haze, that they should have stretched Remy some before attempting this. Remy gave a sharp hiss, which added to his worry. Finally, the red eyes opened, and there was no pain there, just desire.
"Remy - I'm not hurting you, am I -?"
"Sssshhh.non, chere, feels bien. Used more den enough oil. Hurts so good, y'know? Don't worry, mon couer, I'm more den fine." A wide, satanic grin, and Remy began to grind down on Hank, taking his time, stroking himself, unafraid, unashamed. He played with his own nipples and made himself moan, and Hank began to have serious doubts he would survive this encounter.
Gambit fixed him with a demanding stare. "C'mon, Hank - fuck me! Give it to me good, chere."
Hank grabbed Gambit's narrow hips and began to do just that. He stopped thinking. And began to fuck Remy LeBeau with sweet, careless, joyous, abandon. Remy accepted his upward thrusts with crooning encouragement and cries of mad pleasure. Skin smacked against fur, a good hard rhythm was found and both of them were soon panting in time.
With a grunt, Hank slid one of his hands down to Remy's jutting hardness. He roughly pumped it in time to his thrusts, and Remy seemed to lose his mind.
"Ahhh - oh Hank, yeah - oh man - gonna cum, I -"
Another big thrust and Remy screamed his release to the skies, seed gushing over Hank's belly. Hank gasped at the sight, breath literally stolen from him as Remy's empathy suddenly went to work. Remy's orgasm was there, but that almost took a back seat to the feeling of trust and love that poured over him. It shattered him, and made him cry soundlessly, tears leaking from his eyes.
When the pleasure abated, the love was still there, quilt soft, almost a touchable thing. Hank felt so cherished and safe, as well as like a warm puddle of melted ice cream. Remy had collapsed on top of him, and Hank could feel him smiling into his chest. He smiled in return, and stroked Remy's back, a bit surprised that his hands were trembling.
"Wow."
Remy lifted his head and stared. "Wow? Dat's it? Wow? From Dr. Henry McCoy, de walking thesaurus? Well, I am very disappointed, Henry. Wow. What de hell?"
Hnak kissed Remy's chin, pretended to be chagrined. "As I now have no frontal lobes, that's going to be the best I can do. Take wow or leave it, LeBeau."
Remy smiled, red eyes crinkling. "Maybe dis ain't such a good t'ing after all, cher. Y' might lose too much IQ points. Remy could be bad for y'."
Hank wrapped the slender form in his big arms. He knew Remy was just teasing, but there was seriousness in his own voice. "Never, my dear. You are the best thing to enter into my life. It seems so strange that when we first came here, I was so lost and alone. And now." Hank couldn't finish; he kissed Remy instead.
And Remy quietly kissed him back. "Found y'."

 

END