Title: Such Is The Life I Lead

Author: Silver ([email protected])

Website

Rating: NC-17

Pairing/main characters: Cyclops/Gambit

Series/Sequel: possibly

Summary: Scott thinks about his 'relationship' with Remy. Scott's POV.

Disclaimer: Only the plot is. The characters belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox. The only payment I receive is in the form of feedback from readers. If sued, I can give you twenty cents, two sticks of gum, and my brother.

Date: Nov 2001

Archive/distribution: Silver's Domain,Logan&Remy, WCG archive. Anyone else? Want? Ask, take, have.

Warning: implied slash, language, mentions of rape and abuse

Notes: Part of this fic was inspired by a line from Spike (from Buffy The Vampire Slayer) The quote is enclosed at the bottom of this fic.

Dedication: Johnny and Jemisard and my cuzzie for telling me in no uncertain terms that it was good and to post it.

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Such Is The Life I Lead

By Silver

 

I hate him. I honestly, truly, completely hate him. I hate what he does to me; I hate how much he controls me. I hate how he rubs it in my face. I just hate him. His stupid auburn hair that looks like fire and rich wine. His pouting lips, lips soft and warm and kissable. I hate his
damned perfect body, even with the scars from Sabertooth, he's still perfect. And I hate him. I guess, if I have to be fair, I hate myself too.
I hate the way my body betrays me when he's near. Even after I've pissed him off and he's yelling and throwing things and ranting about how much I deserve whatever I'm going to get, my body still betrays me. And he feeds off that, the bastard. That fucking empathy lets him know how I feel and he fucking gets off on it. And I hate how much I can be laying face down
on the bed, my wrists clutched in his hands so hard that I have bruises the next day as he violates me. I fucking hate him. I hate the way he kisses, how it always leaves me breathless with my knees weak and my body trembling. I hate how soft and silky his hair and skin is, especially when it's brushing over me. I hate his eyes, those demonic eyes that glow with
this fucking inner fire that I can't help but be amazed by.
Mostly, I just hate losing control. I hate not being able to see him,
but he makes sure that I can't watch him as he fucks me. It's not in 'the rules'. That's all he talks about, if he gets mad. The rules say this and the rules say that. But, and god don't let Logan or the others ever hear this, but sometimes, I'm scared of him. Those eyes get this dark stormy look and I get scared. Because that's when it's like it's not even him.
That's when it's like there's some. *thing* that's taken him over and if I so much as move wrong I'm spending hours in the jacuzzi, trying to stop the aches. Or I'm sitting in the bathroom in front of the toilet, emptying my stomach because the pain's too much to even let me keep down a glass of water. Or sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the first aid kit open and
scattered in front of me, the bandages and peroxide and ointment nearly gone by the time I've finished.
But even after all that, I've got to admit that those morons who create the euphemisms are right. Hate is *not* the opposite of love. Yeah, yeah, I know. You're a sick bastard who's in love with a fucking lunatic.
But it's not that way! He's not always abusive. I mean it! Sometimes he's so gentle and careful I wonder if the other times were just nightmares.
until I look at myself in the mirror or glance down at my body and see the cuts and bruises and remember, "Oh yeah, this is that rare time." But no one knows about us. They think we're friends. We're not friends. We'll never be friends. We fight and we fuck and we hate each other until we can barely stand up from the force of it all. But we will *never* and I mean
*NEVER* be friends. Don't make the mistake of thinking he knows how I feel. That'd be a laugh. "Hey, by the way, I'm in love with you, even when you've got me so bloody and broken that I can barely move without wanting to scream with pain."
Sometimes, when he's really vicious, he'll look at me, maybe an hour or so after he's done, and there's this pain and sorrow and heart
wrenching grief in his eyes and written on his face. I can't tell him it's ok though. I tried that once. He'd cracked one of my ribs and I had tears streaming past my tightly closed eyelids and without even seeing him, I knew he was staring at me with that expression. I'd grabbed my glasses and slid them on, then stumbled towards him, saying that it was all right, I wasn't mad and all that other comforting bullshit that people try to feed you. But I was serious. And then I made the biggest mistake ever. I said, "I love you."
Mysteriously I had the flu for the next three days. That's how long it took for me to be able to crawl out of bed for more than just crawling to the bathroom. No one ever called me on it, but I think Charles knew I wasn't sick. In fact, I'm sure of it. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I could barely even breathe, but I just accepted it. I deserved it. Hell, my entire fucking life has been with me being abused one way or another. At least he doesn't speak when he enforces 'the rules' except to repeat them or say something about it. At least he doesn't prey on my fear of verbal abuse. Physical I can handle. It's the verbal that hurts me.
I'm not deaf, contrary to popular belief. I've heard the whispers and not-so-whispered comments about me being a stick-in-the-mud, pain-in-the-ass, goody-two-shoes, Mr. Perfect Fearless Leader. And yeah, a few months ago, I could just shrug it off because that's what I lived for..
Jean and I both, the team and the school is all we cared about. I had to be the Leader because no one else could. And I had to be infallible because that's what was expected of a Leader. I think that's what I regret the most. I never made any close friends because I thought Leaders weren't supposed to rely on friendship. And now, I'm even more of a pain-in-the-ass because I have to hide not only my mind from Jean and Charles, but I have to hide my pain and scents from Logan and I have to pretend to be ok around the kids. I'm moving on autopilot when I'm around the others, having to be so careful, walking on eggshells around them, terrified to slip up. If only I'd not been so stubborn. If only I hadn't been so dead-set on being unapproachable. If only, if only, if only. If only doesn't cut it.
But I can't dwell in the past. I'm in this too deep and even if someone did find out, I don't think I could change it. I'm in this so fucking deep I couldn't handle it if they tried to do something about it.
Such is the life I lead.

 

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