sultrysirenscripts

[sultrysirenscripts]

Chase Me Down Until You Love Me

Pairing: Logan/Remy LeBeau

Warnings: None

Rating: Mature

Words: 591

The bumping bass of the club’s music thrums through Remy’s entire body as he steps on stage. The tight, red G-string he wears barely contains him as he gyrates and spins around the dancer’s pole. The glitter on his body shimmers in the flashing lights.

Bills, ones, fives, even some twenties flutter around him as they land at his feet. As his body rolls against the metal, the women watching him waste no time cat-calling him, shouting all the obscene things they’d like to do to him.

He thrives on the attention.

His dark eyes look past the women to see a short, burly man lounged back in one of the booths. The man’s blue eyes seem to track his every movement. Remy bites his lip, winking at the man as he drops down into a squat, showing off his ass.

As the song ends, he sashays off the stage to trade places with another dancer. He’s just made it back to the dressing room when one of the staff comes to the door.

“LeBeau, private dance, room two,” she directs before walking away.

Raising an eyebrow, Remy mists himself with cologne and tugs on a short, black silk robe before walking back to the private rooms. When he reaches door two, he takes a deep breath before opening it.

Inside, in the lavish chair, sipping a glass of whiskey, sits the owner of those bright blue eyes. In the steady, dim lighting of the private room, he can see the rest of the man’s features. Sideburns that would look ridiculous on anyone else. Dark hair. Actually, hair everywhere. Remy bites his lip as he notices the hair on the man’s muscular arms.

“Bonsoir, sir,” he greets as he walks over, making sure to swing his hips. Music plays from the speakers on the walls, something slower, more sensual than the party music out in the main club.

The man nods, eyes raking over Remy’s form hungrily. He holds up a hand, a crisp hundred dollar bill between his fingers.

Remy’s familiar enough with this song and dance to know what’s expected of him. Slowly, teasingly, he pulls open the tie on his robe. He turns so his back is to the man as he shrugs the material off his shoulders, leaving them bared. As he turns back around, he rolls his body and lets the robe slip from his arms onto the floor.

Those blue eyes burn his skin as he moves between the man’s splayed legs with a smirk. The man’s thick, calloused fingers slip the bill in the waistband of his G-string, making Remy’s smirk widen. “Merci.”

His client, however, seems to be losing his patience. He grabs Remy by the waist and pulls him onto his lap, grinding up against him.

Remy moans, head tilting back, before cursing. “Dammit, Logan, you’re not supposed to touch!”

“Can’t help it,” Logan says with a smirk as he pulls his boyfriend into a deep kiss.

Melting into the kiss, Remy runs his fingers back through Logan’s messy hair. When they break apart, he pouts. “You don’t see me breaking character when you’re using Shibari on me.”

That gets a chuckle out of Logan. “Well no shit, doll, you’re tied up. You can’t do much.”

“Shuddup.” With a whine, Remy pulls himself out of Logan’s arms. “I’m gonna go get changed and grab my tips. Meet you at the car?”

“You know it.” Logan waits until Remy turns to land a harsh slap to his ass, chuckling at Remy’s offended squeak.

[sultrysirenscripts]

Leather and Sunglasses - Ch. 3 - Whatever You Want

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Scott Summers; implied Logan/Remy LeBeau, mentioned Logan/Remy LeBeau/Kurt Wagner

Warnings: None

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1,025

Description: After Logan has to dip for a different mission, Scott gets put with Gambit on this one. The mission? Infiltrating a dom/sub club for mutants.

Scott eyes the plastic bags sitting on the bed. He can't see through the black plastic, but he knows what the bags hold. 

He had refused to go in the shop with Remy, insisting on staying in the car. Remy hadn’t pushed, but the glint in the man’s eye told Scott it would come back to bite him.

He just wasn’t sure how yet.

“Is this the fun part?” he asks sarcastically.

“Non. This is the unsexy educational part,” Remy says from where he sits behind the bags on the bed. One of his legs hangs off the side, the other stretched out along on the mattress. His shirt has ridden up, showing off tanned skin.

Scott makes himself look away.

The rustling of plastic makes Scott glance over again. Remy pulls out a small bottle. “D’ya least know what this is?” “Yeah, it’s lube…” Scott trails off as he realizes exactly what the gel is for. He looks away from Remy as he blushes furiously.

“That color looks good on you,” Remy comments with a grin, just to see the other man flush even darker. “Yep, water-based.” He reaches into the bag again and pulls out a pair of padded leather cuffs.

“Oh my fucking god, Gambit.” Scott runs a hand back through his hair. “What are you planning on doing to me?”

He immediately regrets the question when Remy smirks.

“Whatever you want me to do to you, gorgeous. I’m just giving you options.” Remy continues unpacking the bags: a paddle, a leash to hook to the collar, a couple different gags, plugs. Scott turns red all the way to his ears at  the sight of the plugs. One has a shiny red gemstone at the base of it.

With all of the purchases on display, neatly laid out on one side of the bed, Remy crooks a single finger. “C’mere Scott.”

Oh Scott hates him. Hates how he looks so calm despite what’s going on. How he has that little smirk and that glimmer in those devilish eyes.Fuck, he’s attractive, that’s not fair either.

Most of all, Scott hates how eager he is to obey.

He practically scrambles to climb on Remy’s lap, straddling him easily. Remy’s hands brush over his hips before squeezing Scott’s ass, making him gasp.

That earns him a sharp-toothed grin from Remy. “So,” he says, completely ignoring that he has done nothing educational nor unsexy in Scott’s eyes. “You said you were into restraints on your list.” “I didn’t expect you to actually get them!” Scott says defensively. His hands tighten in Remy’s shirt. “Do you know how intimidating this is? You have so much more experience than me. What’s the wildest thing you’ve done?”

The corner of Remy’s mouth curls up. “I don’t think you ready to hear about that.” One of his hands moves off Scott’s ass to slip up the back of his shirt. Lightly, he drags his nails across the small of Scott’s back. “What if I tell you one of the things I done.”

Scott considers this offer for a moment before nodding.

“Threesome with Wolverine and Nightcrawler.” Remy bites his bottom lip at the memory. He shifts under Scott, grinding slightly against him. “That was a fun one.”

Swallowing at the sudden mental image, Scott fights the urge to moan. “Wh-when did that-”

“One night after a few drinks.” Remy leans in to kiss Scott, but stops just short. “I tell ya it’s a pretty sight seein’ Kurt pinned ‘neath Logan.” He takes Scott’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging slightly before releasing it. “Almost as good as bein’ the one under Logan.”

“You-” A shudder runs through Scott as the image flashes through his mind: the weight of Logan’s broad frame, the heat of his breath against his throat, the growling. A whimper escapes him. “Fuck.”

“Uh huh.” Remy kisses him for just the briefest moment before pulling away. “This ain’t ‘bout them though. This is ‘bout you.” He squeezes Scott’s ass before drawing his hand back.

Scott’s moan drowns out the slap Remy’s hand makes against his ass.

“Good boy.” Remy’s hand leaves the small of his back to tangle in his hair, bringing him closer. “That’s for not comin’ wit’ me into the store.”

Breathing heavily, Scott nods as best he can with the hand in his hair. “Thank you, sir,” he murmurs, unsure where the words came from. They make Remy grin though and he’ll count that as a win.

“We’ll continue with the toys in the mornin’,” Remy says as he glances over at the clock on the nightstand. “Right now, we’re gonna find something for dinner. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Scott mumbles.

Remy pulls him into a heated kiss. They’ll end up getting takeout later. Remy doesn’t feel like cooking, especially when he has someone so delectable literally in his lap.His hands move to Scott’s hips, holding him in place as he grinds up against him.

Even muffled by the kiss, Scott’s moan is loud. He rolls his hips down, chasing the sensation as he and Remy kiss.The fingers in his hair pull and he whines at the feeling. One of his hands braces against Remy’s shoulder as the other one runs through Remy’s silky locks.

The feeling of a hand at his zipper breaks Scott out of the moment. He jumps slightly, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “Uh… phoenix?” he tries.

Remy nods, moving his hands away to rest on the mattress. “Too much?”

“Y-yeah. I don’t think I’m ready-”

“You don’t gotta explain,” Remy says with a shrug. “You used the safe word, that’s it.” He nudges one of Scott’s knees. “What’chu want for dinner?”

Relief sweeps through Scott’s body. “Mm… how do you feel about pizza?”

“Pizza good,” Remy agrees before adding, “Long as you don’t order any goddamn pineapples on it like last time.”

Scott’s laughter echoes through the room. “I thought you were a man of taste, LeBeau.”

“I am, that’s how I know you wrong for it.”

Their bickering continues as they untangle themselves and head to the kitchen to hunt down a takeout menu.

[sultrysirenscripts]

Leather and Sunglasses - Ch. 2 - Make a List

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Scott Summers; implied Logan/Remy LeBeau

Warnings: None

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1,003

Description: After Logan has to dip for a different mission, Scott gets put with Gambit on this one. The mission? Infiltrating a dom/sub club for mutants.

The next morning, the smell of coffee wakes Scott. He reaches blindly for his sunglasses, sliding them on before opening his eyes.He takes a deep breath and sits up.

The events of the night before come rushing back to him. His cheeks heat up as he remembers the shame he felt when they got back to the apartment, Remy’s offer to sleep on the couch (why they were put into an apartment with only one bedroom, Scott doesn’t understand), and the understanding that today they’d talk about it.

Scott isn’t sure he’s ready for that.

Still, he stands, snatching his robe from where it hangs above the nightstand. As he pulls it on, he walks towards the door and throws it open.

Remy stands in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as he sips from a mug. He’s shirtless. Of course he is. A pair of gray joggers ride low on his hips, showing off his abs and the V-cut of his hips.

When he sees Scott, he raises his mug in greeting. “Bonjour, Scott. Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Scott crosses the kitchen to pour himself his own cup. He adds some sugar to it before sitting at the kitchen table.

The silence builds between them. Scott feels his shoulders tighten and tense with every second he waits for Remy to say something. He takes a long drink from his mug. The heat travels all the way down his throat before dropping like a stone in his gut.

“So, ‘bout last night,” Remy finally says as he sets aside his empty mug. Palms flat against the counter, he lifts himself onto it, legs dangling as he sits.

Scott’s grip on the mug tightens. “Yeah, we should probably talk about that,” he agrees. He takes another large gulp of coffee to try to ease the lump in his throat that’s suddenly formed.

“You ain’t never been with a man ‘fore, have ya?”

Choking, Scott coughs and sputters, getting coffee all over the table.

Remy tries not to smirk and fails. “Well, that answers that question.”

“Are you saying you have?!” Scott demands, sounding scandalized at the thought.

“Oui,” Remy answers nonchalantly with a shrug. He grabs the roll of paper towels off the counter and passes them over to Scott. Humming thoughtfully, he watches Scott as he begins to wipe the table clean. “Good thing we got plenty of time ‘fore our mark is actually supposed to be round these parts.”

Crumpling the coffee-soaked napkin, Scott tosses it at the trashcan and misses. It hits the tiles with a soft, pathetic splat. “You made this mission sound so easy.” He puts on a mocking voice, poorly mimicking Remy’s accent, “Go to dis club, blend in, spend a couple months hangin’ round so nobody pays us no mind.”

Remy’s face twists in distaste. “You lucky we not in our roles, homme, otherwise you’d get a spankin’ for that.”

Something akin to a squawk escapes Scott at that. His entire face feels hot and he’s sure it’s as red as his sunglasses. He drops his head to the table, covering his head with his arms.

“Can I ask you a question?” Remy doesn’t wait for a response. “Why you puttin’ yourself through this?”

Scott tugs at his own hair. “Because,” he starts, his voice muffled. “I can’t fail. How does that look if the leader fails a mission? If I can’t handle it?”

He barely hears Remy’s bare feet hit the tile floor. The chair next to him pulls out before Remy settles himself in it. “Okay.” One of his hands rests on Scott’s back. “So if we gon’ do this, we gon’ do it right.”

“What do you mean?” Scott finally lifts his head, hands dropping to the tabletop.

Remy looks uncharacteristically serious. “You need t’ make me a list. Things you’re comfortable with, things you’re completely against, that sort of thing. If we doin’ this, I want you to feel safe. We got a safeword an’ that’s a good start, there’s jus’ more we need to do.”

His hand moves from Scott’s back to instead cup his cheek. “We prolly need t’ practice being in our roles here too, so we’re not so awkward at the club.”

Without thinking, Scott leans into Remy’s touch. “Y-yeah.” He swallows slightly. “Give me like ten minutes to write out a list and we’ll go from there?”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re in the living room. Scott sits on the armchair, knees drawn up to his chest as he watches Remy read over his list. “Everything good?” he asks, trying not to let his anxiety creep into his voice.

“Yeah,” Remy says, his lips curling up into a smirk despite himself. “You put on here you got a praise kink.

Scott is certain his face is going to permanently stain red. “Yeah and? Isn’t that the kind of thing you want to know?”

“Oh, oui, absolutely. I jus’ didn’t expect you to be aware of it.” Remy sets the list on the coffee table before looking at Scott. Raising a hand, he beckons Scott over with a single finger. “C’mere.”

He’s not sure if it’s the tone of Remy's voice or the look in those dangerous eyes, but Scott finds himself scrambling to obey. He stands in front of Remy, awaiting further instruction.

Remy’s nimble fingers reach out to untie Scott’s robe. The fabric swings open, revealing Scott’s bare torso. “Take that off, chere.”

The words are barely out of Remy’s mouth before the robe falls to the floor in a messy heap.

Smirking, Remy tugs Scott onto his lap. “Good boy,” he purrs before pulling Scott into a kiss. Scott melts into it, fingers tangling in Remy’s messy hair. When they break apart, Remy grins up at him. “I think this is the start of a good thing.” He lifts one of Scott’s hands, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“Go get dressed. We need to hit up a couple shops for supplies.”

“Yes sir.”

[sultrysirenscripts]

Leather and Sunglasses - Ch. 1 - Know Your Limits

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Scott Summers; implied Logan/Remy LeBeau

Warnings: None

Rating: Explicit

Words: 805

Description: After Logan has to dip for a different mission, Scott gets put with Gambit on this one. The mission? Infiltrating a dom/sub club for mutants.

It's well past sunset when they make it to the club. A well dressed man opens the door for Scott as soon as the car stops. 

Remy follows him out of the backseat of the taxi, his hand resting on the small of Scott's back. He guides him towards the doors, which are also opened by men dressed similar to the first.

As they step into the foyer of the club, Scott can feel the bassline of the music playing thrum through his entire body. A woman with blond curls stands by a coat check closet, wearing a tight red dress. “Take your jacket for you?” she asks with a coy smile. Remy leans in, his lips brushing against Scott’s ear. “Give the nice lady your coat,” he murmurs, obviously already stepping into his role for the mission.

“Yes sir,” Scott whispers back, more mouthing the words than actually saying them. His hands fumble with the tie and buttons of his coat before he shrugs it off, revealing his outfit: The knee high boots paired with the tight black shorts; the straps of the  leather body harness against his torso; and a black collar around his throat.

Scott blushes as Remy hooks a finger through the D-ring at the front of his collar as he takes the coat check ticket. “Merci.” He begins to walk forward, guiding Scott through the double doors in front of them.

Inside, everything seems so much darker. Dim lighting casts several areas into shadows. From the dark, he can hear moaning and the slapping of skin on skin.

It feels like his cheeks are on fire as it dawns on him exactly what kind of club this is. "Remy," he hisses, leaning into the pull of the collar. "What is this?"

 "What'chu mean, chere?" Remy over his shoulder at him. "You know what this is, we talked 'bout it ‘fore we came out."

"Not to this extent!" Scott whispers in a panic. His eyes stay firmly on Remy so he doesn't catch sight of any of the other people.

Remy starts walking again, leading them to an open couch in a semi-lit area. He sits before pulling Scott down onto his lap.

Scott's hands land on Remy's shoulders as he catches himself, cheeks getting even hotter. Remy releases the collar to slide his hand through the hair at the back of Scott's head while his other one cradles Scott's waist.

The skin on skin contact makes Scott shiver as he stares down into Remy’s red irises. Without realizing, he bites his bottom lip.

A sharp gasp escapes him as the fingers in his hair suddenly tighten, pulling on the strands as Remy guides his head down so he can whisper in his ear. It’s a sight for sure, commonplace here. 

Remy’s words, however, are not. “You knew we was comin’ to a sex club,” he murmurs almost comfortingly in Scott’s ear, “If you don’ wanna keep goin’, use the safe word. We leave an’ Gambit get a new partner.”

The idea of failing a mission terrifies Scott. He can feel his heart drop at the very idea of having to go back to the mansion, to having to admit he can’t handle it. It makes him sick. He shakes his head best he can. “Please no,” he mutters.

Gently, Remy lifts his head again before releasing his hair. He takes Scott’s chin in his hand, forcing him to look at him as he traces his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Then you’re gonna have t’ play nice.” Remy gives him a serious look. “You wanna keep goin’?”

Scott nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“I need t’ hear you say it, beautiful.” Remy slips back into his role easily. His eyes study Scott intensely.

Shuddering slightly at the unexpected compliment, Scott practically whimpers out a “yes.”

Tenderly, Remy’s hand moves to cradle Scott’s jaw as he guides him into a kiss. It’s slow, sensual. Scott practically melts into it. One of his hands comes up to play with Gambit’s hair. A smal, broken little moan escapes him as Remy’s teeth graze his bottom lip.

As the kiss breaks, Remy smirks. “Think we maybe moved a bit too fast,” he says, “Think we need a little more practice ‘fore we come back. What’chu think?” His thumb strokes across Scott’s cheek.

“Y-yeah.” Scott nods, leaning into Remy’s touch without thinking. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Remy brings him in again, this time pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Good boy, knowing your limits,” he praises, still putting on a show for anyone who may be watching them.

Scott feels his cock twitch in his shorts at the praise. His mind flits to what the ‘practice’ Gambit had mentioned would entail and immediately feels his cheeks burning again. 

“Thank you… sir.”

[sultrysirenscripts]

Leather and Sunglasses - Prologue

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Scott Summers; implied Logan/Remy LeBeau

Warnings: None

Rating: Explicit

Words: 470

Description: After Logan has to dip for a different mission, Scott gets put with Gambit on this one. The mission? Infiltrating a dom/sub club for mutants.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, Scott thinks to himself as he watches Remy walk in front of him. His mouth feels dry as his eyes trace the curve of Gambit’s ass that the leather of his pants hugs oh so tightly.He coughs slightly as he forces himself to look away.

Remy looks over his shoulder at him, smirking as he notices the redness gradually spreading across Scott’s face. “Get it together, Summer,” he chides as he comes to a stop. Instead of his usual traditional trench, he’s wearing a black one over a fishnet top. “We gotta blend in an’ we’re not gonna do that if you’re blushing like a schoolgirl.”

“I am not,” Scott immediately defends. He pretends he doesn’t notice Remy’s smirk grow wider. Stupid Cajun, stupid enchanting eyes, stupid tousled hair that just begs for Scott to run his fingers through it. “Wasn’t Logan supposed to go on this mission with you?”

“He got called away for somethin’ else,” Remy answers with a shrug. “If Logan was with me, I’d be in your shoes.”

Scott swallows softly. Behind his sunglasses, he watches Remy carefully. “And what does that mean exactly?”

Gesturing at Scott with one hand, Remy says, “Y’know, the sub… the bottom as it were.”

Flushing even darker, Scott pulls his coat tighter around him. The length of the coat and the height of his boots hides what lies underneath well. God, they haven’t even left the apartment yet, how is he going to get through the whole night like this?

“If you were supposed to be the sub with Logan, why aren’t you with me?” Scott demands.

“Cause, mon ami, you jus’ have that energy,” Remy explains. He looks Scott up and down, something glinting in those odd eyes that Scott can’t name. “Plus, you can be a real brat and that’s perfect for this mission.”

Hidden by his lenses, Scott widens. “I’m not a brat!”

Remy chuckles. “‘xactly what a brat would say.” He walks closer to Scott, taking his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Be a good boy an’ save it for the club,” he teases.

Ignoring how his entire body shudders at that, Scott forces himself to speak in a steady voice. “You remember the safe word we decided on, right?”

“Oui, ‘phoenix.’” Remy raises an eyebrow. “Do you remember what you’re s’posed to call me?”

Scott’s blush runs all the way up to his ears and down the back of his neck. “...Sir,” he finally whispers.

Remy grins. “Good boy. Kiss for good luck?”

The praise makes Scott start leaning in. He catches himself before pulling back out of Remy’s hold. “We’re just on a mission, Gambit, remember that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Remy turns around, leading the way to the door again.

Scott’s eyes trail down to his ass again.

[sultrysirenscripts]

The Sweet Taste of Sin

Pairing: Zoey/wolf hybrid!Sam

Warnings: dubcon

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2, 255

Description: Zoey just needs to cross through the Witchwood to take her basket of goodies to Mimaw's house. She knows the rules though, so it shouldn't be a problem...

...as long as she doesn't get distracted.

read here