#internaljohnologue

Over and over again, it was intoxicating. And that’s what he could hear right now, the screams were loud and desperate.  The crowd wanted blood. Logan could hear them all the way from the dressing room, where he was pulling on his too tight yellow spandex and lacing up his blue boots. He took one last puff of his cigar and pulled on his mask before walking out towards the blinding lights and the roaring crowd.

  The bell sounded, the first of three rounds was up and Logan was winning. This was usual. People didn’t come to these matches for the suspense, wondering who would take down who, people came to these matches to watch Logan break bones. Although, on a normal day Logan tried to refrain from actually breaking anything. He did think that he heard a couple of snaps, or maybe they were cracks, while taking down his current opponent. “Couldn’t be helped”, Logan thought, “Kid knew what he was getting into when he signed up for this.”  He leaned back against the railing, cold towel against the back of his neck, pouring water on his face.

And then the guy with the card came out. Logan wasn’t sure of his name, but he’d seen him a lot. Walking back and forth on the ring, getting the crowd all pumped up before the next round started. Getting the blood flowing. Logan had heard things about this guy, this guy who was wearing a black vest, much too small for his lean body, and tight, hot pink, spandex shorts. Things like, he’s skilled with his hands, knows how to work a poll, and you wouldn’t even imagine what he can do with that mouth of his.

Logan closed his eyes the last couple of seconds before the second round started. He was trying not to imagine what this guy would look like, his head bobbing between Logan’s thighs. The bell sounded for the second round to begin. 

This guy was Remy LeBeau, who was referred to by some as Gambit (due to the fact that he seemed to be unbeatable at the poker table), a man who was very well acquainted with the women of this town, and not very foreign to the men either. He took this job because it was simple, mindless, and it paid pretty well. And Remy absolutely loved the spot light, and loved getting people all hot and bothered. It was a rush for him watching all the hyper-masculine wrestlers pop boners in their spandex shorts when they saw him strutting across the ring. Not to mention the fact that it was so easy to swipe wallets off of drunken, disoriented, idiots after a match. Remy was snatching up at least a thousand a night in wallets alone, and no one seemed to notice, let alone suspect that he was the one behind it.

  The crowd was dying down. People were leaving the building. The air was thick, and hot. Logan, or, The Wolverine, had won, of course. No one was surprised. Although the kid might have been, he seemed pretty cocky before he got in the ring. Logan walked back to his changing room, stopping to give a couple of autographs as he did. He was sore, and he needed a drink. He may have been the best of the best but that didn’t mean that it still didn’t hurt like a bitch. His mind suddenly flickered back to image from before, the guy from the ring on his knees. He sat down on the bench and pulled his boots off. Sighing with relief. He tore the mask off of his face and searched for a cigar.

He found one, and that was great, but he couldn’t find his damn lighter. He sore loudly, rummaging through his things, but it was nowhere to be found.

“Need a light, mon ami?” The voice came from the doorway. Remy was disappointed when Logan turned around so quickly, that view in those tights was pretty spectacular.

“Are you French?” He felt like an idiot as soon as he opened his mouth, taking a step closer to the man, who was still wearing bright pink shorts. The vest was unbuttoned though, which was a treat.

“Cajun, actually.” He smirked. Logan had never realised how tall the guy was until he found himself looking up to meet him in the eye. His eyes looked almost red, which was a bit strange, they were hypnotic. “Y’know, I always thought you wrestler types were supposed ta be taller.” Remy smirked a bit more as he pulled a lighter out of the pocket of his vest, a lighter that looked suspiciously like the one Logan had been looking for. Logan held the cigar up to his lips and let Remy light it, saying nothing about the most likely stolen lighter. Remy was actually a little disappointed he didn’t bring it up. 

Remy sat down on the bench, making himself perfectly at home. “You look like a guy who could use a little relaxing. A foot rub perhaps?”

“No thanks, bub.” Logan cocked an eyebrow. Remy had been a lot more intriguing, and a lot less annoying before he had opened his mouth.

“Anythin’ else you’d like me ta rub?” Remy looked smug, but sounded playful. Logan choked on the smoke from his cigar, and went red.

“Get out!” he pointed to the door.

“Don’t be like that,” Remy said, standing up. He was trying not the laugh, Logan’s whole face had gone red. Remy knew Logan would be an easy target, but he didn’t think he would break down that quickly. “Come on, Remy’s just tryna have a good time.” And with that he took another step towards Logan, not away from him like Logan had wanted, and clapped his hand firmly onto Logan’s ass, squeezing it a bit. “See, fun.” He tried to muster up his most innocent smile, thinking that would have a better affect than some sort of devilish smirk.

It didn’t.

Logan grabbed Remy’s wrist and twisted his arm as he moved it away from his ass, and then just as quickly, grabbed the back of Remy’s neck, pull him down to eye level with Logan. “I’m not gonna say it again.” Logan growled as he walked Remy towards the door, still holding the back of his neck. Remy was whining and groaning all the while.

Remy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as the door slammed in his face. “Dangerous business,” he nodded to himself as he walked off with pockets full of Logan’s cash.

  Logan had spent most of the day working out in the gym under the ring. It had been a week since Remy had started regularly harassing Logan. He would never admit this, but Logan was actually starting to like it whenever the Cajun would show up unannounced in his changing room, or come down to torment him while he was working out. The thing is, Logan had seen or heard from Remy today. The building was practically silent. Logan light his cigar as he walked up the stairs, planning on going home, maybe taking a nice hot bath, and then jerking off until he fell asleep. Maybe find time for a cold beer in there, maybe while he was in the bath.

Of course these incredible afternoon plans were shattered when Logan got to the main floor and started heading towards the door. He heard a loud and obvious groan from the middle of the room, it was very obvious. He didn’t respond at first, thinking he would just walk away and ignore it. That would put the kid in his place.

“You smell terrible!” Remy called from the ring looking very eager, “You know they have this thing now called deodorant? Or, this miraculous invention called a shower, perhaps you should try it some time.” He laughed at his own joke.

“You know,” Logan turned to look at the ring, and at Remy, who wasn’t wearing much of anything… tight shorts and some socks, “I was just about to go do that.” Logan turned away again.

“Hold on there, cher, you can’t just leave Remy with that image, and not do somethin’ about it.” Remy draped his arms over the ring and hung though, shooting a pleading glance at Logan. Logan looked back and groaned. He knew Remy wouldn’t give up until he played along. He let out a loud and obvious sigh and started to walk towards Remy.

“Well, what exactly do you want me to do about it, Gumbo?”

Remy pushed himself off the ropes, the smirk returning to his face. “I want a wrestling lesson. Teach me all your dirty trick.”

Logan cocked an eyebrow.

  He couldn’t believe he had agreed to do this. Here he was, standing in the ring in his spandex costume, about to fight some skinny Cajun with a death wish wearing sparkly underwear. This was ridiculous. Although the idea of having Remy pinned under him was very appealing, he refrained from thinking about it too much. “You know I’m going easy on you.” Logan said, getting into the stance. Remy mimicked him, he looked like an idiot.

“Well, ta be honest you probably won’t have to.” Logan cocked an eyebrow. Was Remy actually some sort of wrestling super star that he had never heard of? But no, Logan quickly realised (once Remy opened his mouth) it was just the Cajun being an idiot, like always. “Your smell alone is enough to knock out a whole village, Wolverine.” Remy once again laughed at his own joke. And Logan laughed a bit too.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it kid.”

It didn’t take long for Logan to actually pin him. Getting his hands on Remy was a different story. He was agile, and sneaky, always just slipping out reach. Very annoying about it too, constantly taunting and teasing. But as soon as Logan got his hands on him, it was over. Remy groaned loudly. “You know, I don’t think this is as fun I thought it would be.” He said through gritted teeth.  His face was pressed up against the floor of the ring, his arms pulled back behind him with Logan sitting on his lower back. It wasn’t very technical, something that a real wrestler might be able to work his way out of, but Remy was not a real wrestler. “A lot less fun,” he groaned again.

Logan laughed. “Not so smug now, Gumbo.”

“Y’know,” Remy started, making a small attempt to get himself out of this, but it wasn’t working, “if we were playin’ poker, I’d have you beat like that.” He intended to snap his fingers, but that didn’t seem possible in this position. As uncomfortable as he was, he wouldn’t deny that it was pretty hot. Logan’s muscular body pressed up against his, almost as if he were riding him. If only he were riding him. And Remy noticed, the more that he moved under Logan, the harder he got, which made Remy move even more.

Logan figured out what Remy was doing pretty soon after he started making small, and very fake struggling noises. A lot of soft uuuhs, and things of that sort. Pathetic things that were definitely working on Logan. He let go of Remy’s arm’s and lifted himself off of the man beneath him, just slightly. Just enough so that he could grab Remy by the shoulder and roll him over, before putting his full weight back down on his him. Remy groaned again but his smirking, his hair completely dishevelled and slightly covering his face. He tilted his head slightly.

“See, Remy’ likes this a lot more.” He moved one hand up Logan’s thigh getting dangerously close to his crotch. “D’you get down like this with all your wrestler friends?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“You know I don’t really think you’re an position to– ”

“Of course I am, cher,” Remy interrupted, “I am in the best possible position.” And with that Remy quickly, before Logan had a chance to do anything, grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. He ran his fingers through Logan’s hair and kept his lips against Logan’s as long as he could. Only pulling back slightly (not that he could go very far in the first place, considering he was lying on his back) he began to whisper against Logan’s lips. “Just ‘cause you’re on top, don’t mean you’re in control.”