And still 5 more Rogue/Gambit drabbles.
I really just can't leave well enough alone. BUT IT'S OKAY 'CAUSE I'M GOING TO THE ZOO TODAY! Not that that has anything to do with anything.
016. Entertaining
Thirty-seven charged paper-balls to the head later, and Rogue’s patience is wearing severely thin.
“Remy.” She stares at the book in her hands as if it’s the last thing in the world keeping her from wrapping her hands around his throat and squeezing. Which it sort of is.
“Oui?”
She is this close to slapping that angelic I’m-up-to-something smile clean off his smug face.
“For the last time, sugar,” Rogue says, voice sweet as pie to go with the schmaltzy, saccharine grin fixed across her mouth. “Ah’m almost done with mah book. So Ah’d really appreciate it if y’all would bug off just long enough for me t’ finish these last six pages. Y’all can hold out for another five minutes, right?”
“If y’ would pay more attention t’ me, y’ wouldn’ need no kitschy romance novels t’ keep you’self amused.” Remy looks up at her with that same syrupy smile that couldn’t have looked more out-of-place if Wolverine was wearing it.
“Sweetness,” she says in a voice best used for explaining something simple to an extremely dense kindergartener. “Mah books are a self-insertion kind of a thing, if yer under-developed, cob-webby mind can wrap itself around the concept,” she grits.
“Den dis one mos’ definitely ain’t doin’ his sworn duty as you’ significant other if y’ have t’ imagine you’self into fictional relationships t’ get you’ kicks.” He pushes himself up from the chair and moves smoothly to perch instead on the arm of hers. “And I mos’ definitely can’t carry out dat aforementioned sworn duty if I can’t even get you’ attention t’ try an’ keep y’ entertained.”
“Darlin’,” Rogue says, turning back to her book as if he wasn’t leaning over her and breathing down her neck, “has it ever occurred to y’all that I might read romance novels because y’ ain’t entertain’ enough for me?”
He takes it as a personal challenge.
“Not entertainin’, eh? I’ll show y’ entertainin’, chere!” Remy lunges, grabs her around the waist and swings her up over his shoulder, and Rogue squeals like a piglet lassoed at a rodeo when he steadies her with a hand on her ass, of all places. “You won’t be bored when dis one’s through wit’ you, dat’s fo’ sure!”
“Remy Etienne LeBeau, you put me down right now!”
“What for? De homme on de cover of you’ book’s got his pretty lady all swept up like dis, an’ she ain’t carryin’ on somethin’ fierce.”
“Ah hate y’all so much right now.”
He waggles his eyebrows and grins like the randy teenager Rogue absolutely knows he’s about to devolve into. “Hate, love, whatever-dis one’s still got you’ attention, don’ he?”
017. Worth the Risk
“Holy hell, Remy, Ah swear to God…” Rogue bristles as she hefts his hulking, stupid body up to lean against her side. “Get yerself killed, whydon’tcha. That sounds like a goddamn fantastic idea, now, don’t it?”
“Y’-y’ only live once.” Remy grins as roguishly as he can after having all the energy sapped out of him, and expends some of the little he has left to wink at her.
“Yeah, yeah, save it fer someone more easily charmed, Swamp Rat.” Rogue hoists him up and props his dead weight against her hip. “An’ fer the record, that wink loses some of the effect when y’all can’t even keep yer eyes open.”
His smile loses a little of its vigor the longer he fights to stay awake. “De indignity o’ bein’ lifted by a girl…is definitely worth havin’ kissed dat…pretty face o’ yours, though.”
“Flattery will get y’all nowhere.” The venomous glare Remy isn’t totally sure he’s earned looks oddly sexy to his half-conscious brain as Rogue shoulders his slack body onto the couch. She drops to the floor next to his face and checks his pulse, just in case. “And Ah’m not even gonna touch the fact that y’all keep findin’ every excuse fer physical contact without mah permission. Ah’m pretty sure that’s called sexual harassment in most circles these days.”
“Dis one don’…see you…runnin’ t’ get McCoy t’ check…his vitals, chere.”
“Ah swear, LeBeau!” Rogue looks as though she’d rather swallow a fork and stand in front of Magneto than stay another minute in the same room as Remy. But his slowly-closing eyes will swear on his father’s grave that he sees the blush rising up her neck. “Ah’d rather y’all not die b’fore Ah can get to him.”
“Glad y’ t’ink…dis one is worth…keepin’ around.”
“Quit puttin’ words in my mouth, Cajun,” she snaps, but he’s out cold before he ever hears it.
018. Afterglow
Rogue’s breath comes hard and fast and her heartbeat throbs under his cheek and Remy can’t remember a time when he’d been so satisfied to see a woman come undone under his hands. Every other girl he’s ever been with pales beside his sweet Southern belle.
He loves to study her, sated and purring and boneless with pleasure as she chases the last waves of afterglow, warm and pliant in his arms. The white stripes in her hair scatter across the pillow and he wants nothing more in the world than to kiss that pretty flushed face. It kills him to settle for pressing his lips to her collarbone, safely clothed by her shirt, but her silk-covered hands smoothing lazily through his hair almost make up for it-almost. Nothing he imagines would compare to the feel of that soft, poison flesh he would honestly sell his soul to touch. Her chest still heaving beneath him, breath gradually easing back to normal, he feels the languid spill of her laughter vibrate through his body and trails a ribbon of kisses across every inch of her he can reach without leaving her arms.
Slowly, Remy draws his gloved fingers from within her, and Rogue spasms one last time when he strokes just where she’s far too sensitive for touch.
“Ah…should get dressed,” she sighs, loath to push him away, but fear gets the better of her and Remy would much rather let her fall asleep feeling safe and loved than insecure, and so he lets her go. Appreciative eyes trail over her every exposed inch, and Rogue shivers. “Yer shameless.”
“You were born t’ be admired, mon amour,” he says, gaze following the slide of his old sweats up over her hips. “Dis one jus’ wishes he could do more wit’ you than only admire.”
“Ah know, sugar,” she murmurs sleepily, tucking herself back against his body. “Ah’d do almos’ anythin’ t’ get t’ touch you all over. But Ah’ll give y’ everythin’ I can, Rem, Y’ know that.”
“I know, chere.” He kisses the top of her head. “Dis one can’t ask fo’ nothin’ more.”
019. Improvise
“Hey, Rem?”
Rogue hangs back just outside his room, leaning heavily on the doorframe as if nervous she’s intruding. It’s uncharacteristic of her, and Remy doesn’t like it.
“Everyt’in’ okay?”
“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she says, a blush crawling up her neck into her ears. “But, eh-would y’all mind if Ah tried something…a little weird?”
His eyebrows raise. “What sort o’ weird are we talkin’ here?”
“Like…creative…? Is that the word Ah want…?” Rogue bites her lip. “Um, creative physical contact sort o’ weird,” she decides, and her blush intensifies. “Ah can’t really come up with a better term for it.”
If she’s being this timid about it, he wonders for a second if he should be perturbed. But then again, weird to Rogue, the most careful and sexually vanilla individual he’s ever met, let alone dated, most likely won’t be strange at all by Remy’s standards.
Her fear of her own power does a better job of keeping him safe than he himself ever will, and he figures anything physical Rogue is even willing to attempt has to be quite safe. If the color in her face is any indication, she’s more nervous about how he’ll react to the suggestion than what it might actually do.
He leans back in his desk chair and smiles, and her shoulders relax just the slightest bit. “Lay it on me, chere. Dis one promises he won’ laugh.”
“Y’all better not,” she says, and before Remy has time to process Rogue draws a silk scarf from the cleavage of her shirt, holds it to his mouth and kisses him through the fabric.
020. Pink
“I wish I could make dese t’ings go up in diff’rent colors,” Remy muses from where he stands propped up against the remains of a fence, slightly charging and aiming cards one by one at a large rock at the edge of Xavier’s property. “De pink is only slightly emasculatin’.”
“Only slightly?” Rogue says, leaning her arms on the wood. “Ah’d gladly trade with y’all. Pink energy fer poison skin. Ah’d call it a fair exchange.”
“Easy fo’ you t’ say. You a girl. Girls go well wit’ pink.” He chooses to ignore the sarcasm dripping from her every word, and makes light of it. “It don’ look good wit’ my skin tone, neither.”
“Hardy har har.” She rolls her eyes and shoves him with her shoulder. “Y’all would look like a million bucks even wearin’ nothin’ but the skin on your back and Ah know you know it.”
“Dis one hopes his girl would t’ink so highly o’ him!” Remy cuts his eyes sideways at her and winks, grinning when she blushes and glares. Another card explodes against the rock. “Wit’ my dashin’ good looks an’ winning smile an’ all dat. Not to mention my sparklin’ personality. ‘Specially naked.”
“Ah’m sure,” Rogue snarks right back, but at least she’s laughing again, and for that he’ll take any cynicism she can dish out.
“You, on de ot’er hand, with you’ pretty pale skin? You’d look right nice in pink.” The thought of her decked out in something frothy and candyfloss-colored is enough to make his brain go fuzzy, and the next card he flicks out misses the rock completely. “De bein’ a girl t’ing helps, too.”
“Ah’d consider lettin’ you pick somethin’ out fer me, if jus’ thinkin’ about it’s able to put y’all off yer aim like that!” Rogue bites back a grin. “Yer an awful flatterer, Mr. LeBeau.”
“Guilty as charged, chere,” he laughs, tucking the Queen of Hearts behind her ear. “Cuff dis one and book ‘em. But fo’ de record, I should be gettin’ off on de lesser charge o’ worshippin’ de ground you walk on.”
“Ha, ‘gettin’ off,’ mah ass! Ah see what you did there, Cajun.” She pulls the card from her hair and takes the edge between her teeth, grinning wildly. “Y’all cain’t fool me wit’ yer sneaky innuendo. Ah know yer motives.”
“Dis one knows you’ mind is jus’ as deep in de gutter as his,” Remy scolds and shakes a disapproving finger at her. “Don’t try t’ tell me you’ motives are any diff’rent den mine!”
Rogue laughs and trails her silken fingers up his spine, smiling at his full-body shiver. “Ah never said they were, now, did Ah?”
016. Entertaining
Thirty-seven charged paper-balls to the head later, and Rogue’s patience is wearing severely thin.
“Remy.” She stares at the book in her hands as if it’s the last thing in the world keeping her from wrapping her hands around his throat and squeezing. Which it sort of is.
“Oui?”
She is this close to slapping that angelic I’m-up-to-something smile clean off his smug face.
“For the last time, sugar,” Rogue says, voice sweet as pie to go with the schmaltzy, saccharine grin fixed across her mouth. “Ah’m almost done with mah book. So Ah’d really appreciate it if y’all would bug off just long enough for me t’ finish these last six pages. Y’all can hold out for another five minutes, right?”
“If y’ would pay more attention t’ me, y’ wouldn’ need no kitschy romance novels t’ keep you’self amused.” Remy looks up at her with that same syrupy smile that couldn’t have looked more out-of-place if Wolverine was wearing it.
“Sweetness,” she says in a voice best used for explaining something simple to an extremely dense kindergartener. “Mah books are a self-insertion kind of a thing, if yer under-developed, cob-webby mind can wrap itself around the concept,” she grits.
“Den dis one mos’ definitely ain’t doin’ his sworn duty as you’ significant other if y’ have t’ imagine you’self into fictional relationships t’ get you’ kicks.” He pushes himself up from the chair and moves smoothly to perch instead on the arm of hers. “And I mos’ definitely can’t carry out dat aforementioned sworn duty if I can’t even get you’ attention t’ try an’ keep y’ entertained.”
“Darlin’,” Rogue says, turning back to her book as if he wasn’t leaning over her and breathing down her neck, “has it ever occurred to y’all that I might read romance novels because y’ ain’t entertain’ enough for me?”
He takes it as a personal challenge.
“Not entertainin’, eh? I’ll show y’ entertainin’, chere!” Remy lunges, grabs her around the waist and swings her up over his shoulder, and Rogue squeals like a piglet lassoed at a rodeo when he steadies her with a hand on her ass, of all places. “You won’t be bored when dis one’s through wit’ you, dat’s fo’ sure!”
“Remy Etienne LeBeau, you put me down right now!”
“What for? De homme on de cover of you’ book’s got his pretty lady all swept up like dis, an’ she ain’t carryin’ on somethin’ fierce.”
“Ah hate y’all so much right now.”
He waggles his eyebrows and grins like the randy teenager Rogue absolutely knows he’s about to devolve into. “Hate, love, whatever-dis one’s still got you’ attention, don’ he?”
017. Worth the Risk
“Holy hell, Remy, Ah swear to God…” Rogue bristles as she hefts his hulking, stupid body up to lean against her side. “Get yerself killed, whydon’tcha. That sounds like a goddamn fantastic idea, now, don’t it?”
“Y’-y’ only live once.” Remy grins as roguishly as he can after having all the energy sapped out of him, and expends some of the little he has left to wink at her.
“Yeah, yeah, save it fer someone more easily charmed, Swamp Rat.” Rogue hoists him up and props his dead weight against her hip. “An’ fer the record, that wink loses some of the effect when y’all can’t even keep yer eyes open.”
His smile loses a little of its vigor the longer he fights to stay awake. “De indignity o’ bein’ lifted by a girl…is definitely worth havin’ kissed dat…pretty face o’ yours, though.”
“Flattery will get y’all nowhere.” The venomous glare Remy isn’t totally sure he’s earned looks oddly sexy to his half-conscious brain as Rogue shoulders his slack body onto the couch. She drops to the floor next to his face and checks his pulse, just in case. “And Ah’m not even gonna touch the fact that y’all keep findin’ every excuse fer physical contact without mah permission. Ah’m pretty sure that’s called sexual harassment in most circles these days.”
“Dis one don’…see you…runnin’ t’ get McCoy t’ check…his vitals, chere.”
“Ah swear, LeBeau!” Rogue looks as though she’d rather swallow a fork and stand in front of Magneto than stay another minute in the same room as Remy. But his slowly-closing eyes will swear on his father’s grave that he sees the blush rising up her neck. “Ah’d rather y’all not die b’fore Ah can get to him.”
“Glad y’ t’ink…dis one is worth…keepin’ around.”
“Quit puttin’ words in my mouth, Cajun,” she snaps, but he’s out cold before he ever hears it.
018. Afterglow
Rogue’s breath comes hard and fast and her heartbeat throbs under his cheek and Remy can’t remember a time when he’d been so satisfied to see a woman come undone under his hands. Every other girl he’s ever been with pales beside his sweet Southern belle.
He loves to study her, sated and purring and boneless with pleasure as she chases the last waves of afterglow, warm and pliant in his arms. The white stripes in her hair scatter across the pillow and he wants nothing more in the world than to kiss that pretty flushed face. It kills him to settle for pressing his lips to her collarbone, safely clothed by her shirt, but her silk-covered hands smoothing lazily through his hair almost make up for it-almost. Nothing he imagines would compare to the feel of that soft, poison flesh he would honestly sell his soul to touch. Her chest still heaving beneath him, breath gradually easing back to normal, he feels the languid spill of her laughter vibrate through his body and trails a ribbon of kisses across every inch of her he can reach without leaving her arms.
Slowly, Remy draws his gloved fingers from within her, and Rogue spasms one last time when he strokes just where she’s far too sensitive for touch.
“Ah…should get dressed,” she sighs, loath to push him away, but fear gets the better of her and Remy would much rather let her fall asleep feeling safe and loved than insecure, and so he lets her go. Appreciative eyes trail over her every exposed inch, and Rogue shivers. “Yer shameless.”
“You were born t’ be admired, mon amour,” he says, gaze following the slide of his old sweats up over her hips. “Dis one jus’ wishes he could do more wit’ you than only admire.”
“Ah know, sugar,” she murmurs sleepily, tucking herself back against his body. “Ah’d do almos’ anythin’ t’ get t’ touch you all over. But Ah’ll give y’ everythin’ I can, Rem, Y’ know that.”
“I know, chere.” He kisses the top of her head. “Dis one can’t ask fo’ nothin’ more.”
019. Improvise
“Hey, Rem?”
Rogue hangs back just outside his room, leaning heavily on the doorframe as if nervous she’s intruding. It’s uncharacteristic of her, and Remy doesn’t like it.
“Everyt’in’ okay?”
“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she says, a blush crawling up her neck into her ears. “But, eh-would y’all mind if Ah tried something…a little weird?”
His eyebrows raise. “What sort o’ weird are we talkin’ here?”
“Like…creative…? Is that the word Ah want…?” Rogue bites her lip. “Um, creative physical contact sort o’ weird,” she decides, and her blush intensifies. “Ah can’t really come up with a better term for it.”
If she’s being this timid about it, he wonders for a second if he should be perturbed. But then again, weird to Rogue, the most careful and sexually vanilla individual he’s ever met, let alone dated, most likely won’t be strange at all by Remy’s standards.
Her fear of her own power does a better job of keeping him safe than he himself ever will, and he figures anything physical Rogue is even willing to attempt has to be quite safe. If the color in her face is any indication, she’s more nervous about how he’ll react to the suggestion than what it might actually do.
He leans back in his desk chair and smiles, and her shoulders relax just the slightest bit. “Lay it on me, chere. Dis one promises he won’ laugh.”
“Y’all better not,” she says, and before Remy has time to process Rogue draws a silk scarf from the cleavage of her shirt, holds it to his mouth and kisses him through the fabric.
020. Pink
“I wish I could make dese t’ings go up in diff’rent colors,” Remy muses from where he stands propped up against the remains of a fence, slightly charging and aiming cards one by one at a large rock at the edge of Xavier’s property. “De pink is only slightly emasculatin’.”
“Only slightly?” Rogue says, leaning her arms on the wood. “Ah’d gladly trade with y’all. Pink energy fer poison skin. Ah’d call it a fair exchange.”
“Easy fo’ you t’ say. You a girl. Girls go well wit’ pink.” He chooses to ignore the sarcasm dripping from her every word, and makes light of it. “It don’ look good wit’ my skin tone, neither.”
“Hardy har har.” She rolls her eyes and shoves him with her shoulder. “Y’all would look like a million bucks even wearin’ nothin’ but the skin on your back and Ah know you know it.”
“Dis one hopes his girl would t’ink so highly o’ him!” Remy cuts his eyes sideways at her and winks, grinning when she blushes and glares. Another card explodes against the rock. “Wit’ my dashin’ good looks an’ winning smile an’ all dat. Not to mention my sparklin’ personality. ‘Specially naked.”
“Ah’m sure,” Rogue snarks right back, but at least she’s laughing again, and for that he’ll take any cynicism she can dish out.
“You, on de ot’er hand, with you’ pretty pale skin? You’d look right nice in pink.” The thought of her decked out in something frothy and candyfloss-colored is enough to make his brain go fuzzy, and the next card he flicks out misses the rock completely. “De bein’ a girl t’ing helps, too.”
“Ah’d consider lettin’ you pick somethin’ out fer me, if jus’ thinkin’ about it’s able to put y’all off yer aim like that!” Rogue bites back a grin. “Yer an awful flatterer, Mr. LeBeau.”
“Guilty as charged, chere,” he laughs, tucking the Queen of Hearts behind her ear. “Cuff dis one and book ‘em. But fo’ de record, I should be gettin’ off on de lesser charge o’ worshippin’ de ground you walk on.”
“Ha, ‘gettin’ off,’ mah ass! Ah see what you did there, Cajun.” She pulls the card from her hair and takes the edge between her teeth, grinning wildly. “Y’all cain’t fool me wit’ yer sneaky innuendo. Ah know yer motives.”
“Dis one knows you’ mind is jus’ as deep in de gutter as his,” Remy scolds and shakes a disapproving finger at her. “Don’t try t’ tell me you’ motives are any diff’rent den mine!”
Rogue laughs and trails her silken fingers up his spine, smiling at his full-body shiver. “Ah never said they were, now, did Ah?”