5 for you, Rogue & Gambit! You go, Rogue & Gambit!
OH MY GOD IT'S 2:30 IN THE MORNING AND I NEED TO STOP.
021. In Too Deep
The look on her face is broken and serious, and having her curled in his lap is far too lovely a thing to be deserved by someone like him. Rogue clings to him like a lifeline. He shouldn’t be holding her back just as tightly, but he can’t bear the thought of her ever letting him go.
Remy wipes away the makeup streaked below her eyes, pressing dry lips to her hair, and he absolutely knows he’s digging himself far into his grave with this one. Funny, he’d always expected to be digging it in New Orleans, over something far more dangerous than a woman.
He’s as good as stringing her along, the longer he delays telling her the truth. But he can’t. How do you go about telling the woman you may or may not be in love with (may) that you just so happen to be married already; but don’t worry, though, it’s only a marriage of convenience and you haven’t seen her in over a year?
He’s stupid and he knows it, but still he won’t take pity on her (by won’t he means can’t) and destroy this…thing that’s welled up and burned his insides raw just by being near her. Instead it’s going to rip him apart (which somehow makes things better in his head). He wants to protect her. He wants to spare her from whatever damages this cat-and-mouse thing they’re doing might incur. But that would be giving himself too much credit, and if he can believe Rogue feels less for him than he does for her (untrue), maybe his conscience will finally give it a rest (not likely).
“Thank you,” she sniffles, and smiles a watery smile into his shirt. Then Remy can’t keep himself from smoothing his fingers through her hair, and he knows he’s gone. Much, much farther than he’d ever intended. Much, much too far to turn back, and much, much too late to spare either of them when he has to do just that.
022. One-Upped
He pushes sweaty hair out of his face and leans over, hands braced on his knees to catch his breath. Rogue, of course, stands against the wall looking fresher than a daisy. She holds out his staff with a smile that’s only a little bit smug, for someone who’s just made him shove his huge, overconfident foot in his mouth.
“What-de hell?” Remy pants, grabbing his staff from her and using it to hoist himself back upright.
“Ah hate t’ say Ah told you so, but ooooh, Ah absolutely told you so,” she gloats sweetly and kisses his shoulder.
“Fine, fine,” he hip-checks her farther towards the exit, leaning on his staff as he follows her prancing to catch her balance. “Dis one knows when he’s beat. Didn’ expect it, but dis one’s beat. An’ badly in need o’ a shower.”
“That’s what y’all get fer thinkin’ y’ could beat me at a program session Ah wrote.” Rogue keys in the shutdown and lock codes for the Danger Room, and stands to the side, bowing exaggeratedly as he trudges forward through the open doors. “After y’all.”
“Yeah, well, nex’ time remind dis one not t’ make stupid bets wit’ you after he’s put away nine shots o’ straight bourbon.”
“Awww, you poor pitiful thing.” She trots up next to him and grabs the hand not occupied by his staff, murmuring wickedly just shy of his ear. “Ah’ll even throw on hose an’ one o’ yer dress shirts an’ help y’all wash yerself up. How’s that fer a consolation prize, sugar?”
One thought of his wet shirt clinging to her curves and Remy’s brain goes numb.
“Remind me t’ lose t’ you mo’ often.”
023. Agonizing
“Chere,” he rasps, fingers digging into Rogue’s hips hard enough to bruise, fighting the urge to pull her head down and kiss her senseless. It’s difficult to do while expending most of his effort to keep his own power controlled; he’s shocked Rogue with it accidentally before, and it hasn’t ended well for either of them. Remy is determined not to ruin this tonight, not while she’s wearing a pair of his pajamas, straddling his hips all hot and soft and agonizing to have pressed against him like that, and she’s biting her lip and Remy thinks he might just die of it, not being able to touch her properly. “On a scale o’ one t’ unbearably horny, how creative are you feelin’ right now?”
“Ah-” he jerks beneath her and she gasps, “Ah’m willin’ t’ try near anythin’ y’all can come up with, honest truth.”
“Den I need you t’-t’ trust me,” he grits his teeth as she twitches in his lap. “Alrigh’?”
Rogue’s pulse picks up and her breath catches in her throat; the words trust me usually end with her being too distracted by fear to enjoy any of the lovely things he does to her, but fear is just a murmur at the very back of her mind and she’s just frustrated enough not to care. “Im-implicitly.”
Remy fumbles for a minute underneath her pillows while she bends her head to nip through his shirt at his collarbone, impatient. His hand comes up with one of her silk scarves, and with the other he pushes her from his lap to settle between his thighs. Rogue smiles wickedly, working her gloved fingers beneath the band of his sleep pants.
“Ah don’t think y’all will be needin’ these anymore, will you, sugar?”
“Dat would be-” he feels cold air on his skin and the slide of fine fabric, and then that sweet wet mouth of hers chases the last conventions of language from his head. “-correct.”
024. Smitten
Kitty dodges the pillow Rogue chucks at her head and rolls onto her back, laughing hysterically and fighting to catch her breath while Rogue waits for the blush in her neck to stop burning.
“Okay, okay, okay! I’m sorry I made fun of the doodles of his name in the back of your notebook! Never again!” Kitty ducks to avoid the projectile teddy bear that’s the next thing aimed at her head.
“Y’all better not.”
“Yeah, but the little hearts around it, though?” Kitty snatches up the bear and hugs it to her chest. “I mean, I expect that sort of thing from me, but from tough-as-nails Rogue?”
Rogue lunges for the stolen bear and misses, phasing right through giggling Kitty and ending up on her stomach with her face in the pillow she’d thrown before. “What? Ah’m entitled to as much gushy foolishness as the next girl! And y’all said you were done with the teasin’, you jerk.”
“I said I was done making fun of your doodles, missy,” Kitty leans back against the foot of Rogue’s bed, knees drawn up with the coveted bear sitting in her lap, grinning like she’s up to something that can only end in deepening Rogue’s less-than-dignified blush, not that Rogue sees it, “There was nothing in that agreement to make me quit laughing at how smitten you are with the handsome Mr. LeBeau.”
Rogue can feel herself reddening preemptively and keeps her face buried in the pillow. “Katherine Pryde, sometimes Ah have no idea why Ah’m still friends with you-”
“Alright, fine, I’ll give it a rest! One more question, though!”
Rogue wraps her arms around her head, holding the sides of the pillow over her ears. “Ah’m probably gonna regret this, but shoot.”
“Did you know that if you pick your head up for a second, you can see Remy making faces at you through the balcony door? He climbed up the trellis five minutes ago.”
025. Good Morning
Through the steam wafting up from his coffee, Logan watches Rogue stalk over to his side of the table, scowling like a wet cat. He can’t say he’s too surprised, but she’s come after him earlier in the morning than he’d expected. “‘S’amatter, kid?”
“Oh, Ah dunno,” Rogue sidles up next to him, leaning heavily on her crossed arms on the table. “Maybe the fact that you stabbed your claws into the wall on either side of mah boyfriend’s neck last night?”
He sips his coffee pensively, far more absorbed in the newspaper than her scolding, though from the look on her face Rogue doesn’t quite grasp how anyone could be more interested in the latest political scandal than in Gambit’s near-murder.
“Don’t see what’s so wrong about putting the fear of God into that Cajun’s head.”
“Fear o’ Gawd? Logan, yer claws were at Remy’s throat. Y’all threatened to castrate him if y’ caught wind he was stayin’ the night in mah room!”
“I just let him know you’re pretty well-liked around here, kid.” He throws back the rest of the mug in one swallow and pours himself another, trudging from the kitchen to find himself somewhere else to read in peace. “Enough that he should understand his ass is gonna be under a microscope.”
“Ah’m a big girl, Logan,” Rogue calls from the table. A little of her righteous anger bleeds away; it does feel kind of nice to be protected. She just wishes he could find a less violent way to show it. “An’ Rem’s a good guy. He’s patient with me. Ah’m happy.”
Logan stops toward the end of the hall, fresh mug halfway to his mouth, his back to her. Rogue almost gets up to follow him, but thinks better of it. “Ah haven’t been able t’ say that fer awhile.”
His gruff rasp echoes off the walls. “If you say so.”
021. In Too Deep
The look on her face is broken and serious, and having her curled in his lap is far too lovely a thing to be deserved by someone like him. Rogue clings to him like a lifeline. He shouldn’t be holding her back just as tightly, but he can’t bear the thought of her ever letting him go.
Remy wipes away the makeup streaked below her eyes, pressing dry lips to her hair, and he absolutely knows he’s digging himself far into his grave with this one. Funny, he’d always expected to be digging it in New Orleans, over something far more dangerous than a woman.
He’s as good as stringing her along, the longer he delays telling her the truth. But he can’t. How do you go about telling the woman you may or may not be in love with (may) that you just so happen to be married already; but don’t worry, though, it’s only a marriage of convenience and you haven’t seen her in over a year?
He’s stupid and he knows it, but still he won’t take pity on her (by won’t he means can’t) and destroy this…thing that’s welled up and burned his insides raw just by being near her. Instead it’s going to rip him apart (which somehow makes things better in his head). He wants to protect her. He wants to spare her from whatever damages this cat-and-mouse thing they’re doing might incur. But that would be giving himself too much credit, and if he can believe Rogue feels less for him than he does for her (untrue), maybe his conscience will finally give it a rest (not likely).
“Thank you,” she sniffles, and smiles a watery smile into his shirt. Then Remy can’t keep himself from smoothing his fingers through her hair, and he knows he’s gone. Much, much farther than he’d ever intended. Much, much too far to turn back, and much, much too late to spare either of them when he has to do just that.
022. One-Upped
He pushes sweaty hair out of his face and leans over, hands braced on his knees to catch his breath. Rogue, of course, stands against the wall looking fresher than a daisy. She holds out his staff with a smile that’s only a little bit smug, for someone who’s just made him shove his huge, overconfident foot in his mouth.
“What-de hell?” Remy pants, grabbing his staff from her and using it to hoist himself back upright.
“Ah hate t’ say Ah told you so, but ooooh, Ah absolutely told you so,” she gloats sweetly and kisses his shoulder.
“Fine, fine,” he hip-checks her farther towards the exit, leaning on his staff as he follows her prancing to catch her balance. “Dis one knows when he’s beat. Didn’ expect it, but dis one’s beat. An’ badly in need o’ a shower.”
“That’s what y’all get fer thinkin’ y’ could beat me at a program session Ah wrote.” Rogue keys in the shutdown and lock codes for the Danger Room, and stands to the side, bowing exaggeratedly as he trudges forward through the open doors. “After y’all.”
“Yeah, well, nex’ time remind dis one not t’ make stupid bets wit’ you after he’s put away nine shots o’ straight bourbon.”
“Awww, you poor pitiful thing.” She trots up next to him and grabs the hand not occupied by his staff, murmuring wickedly just shy of his ear. “Ah’ll even throw on hose an’ one o’ yer dress shirts an’ help y’all wash yerself up. How’s that fer a consolation prize, sugar?”
One thought of his wet shirt clinging to her curves and Remy’s brain goes numb.
“Remind me t’ lose t’ you mo’ often.”
023. Agonizing
“Chere,” he rasps, fingers digging into Rogue’s hips hard enough to bruise, fighting the urge to pull her head down and kiss her senseless. It’s difficult to do while expending most of his effort to keep his own power controlled; he’s shocked Rogue with it accidentally before, and it hasn’t ended well for either of them. Remy is determined not to ruin this tonight, not while she’s wearing a pair of his pajamas, straddling his hips all hot and soft and agonizing to have pressed against him like that, and she’s biting her lip and Remy thinks he might just die of it, not being able to touch her properly. “On a scale o’ one t’ unbearably horny, how creative are you feelin’ right now?”
“Ah-” he jerks beneath her and she gasps, “Ah’m willin’ t’ try near anythin’ y’all can come up with, honest truth.”
“Den I need you t’-t’ trust me,” he grits his teeth as she twitches in his lap. “Alrigh’?”
Rogue’s pulse picks up and her breath catches in her throat; the words trust me usually end with her being too distracted by fear to enjoy any of the lovely things he does to her, but fear is just a murmur at the very back of her mind and she’s just frustrated enough not to care. “Im-implicitly.”
Remy fumbles for a minute underneath her pillows while she bends her head to nip through his shirt at his collarbone, impatient. His hand comes up with one of her silk scarves, and with the other he pushes her from his lap to settle between his thighs. Rogue smiles wickedly, working her gloved fingers beneath the band of his sleep pants.
“Ah don’t think y’all will be needin’ these anymore, will you, sugar?”
“Dat would be-” he feels cold air on his skin and the slide of fine fabric, and then that sweet wet mouth of hers chases the last conventions of language from his head. “-correct.”
024. Smitten
Kitty dodges the pillow Rogue chucks at her head and rolls onto her back, laughing hysterically and fighting to catch her breath while Rogue waits for the blush in her neck to stop burning.
“Okay, okay, okay! I’m sorry I made fun of the doodles of his name in the back of your notebook! Never again!” Kitty ducks to avoid the projectile teddy bear that’s the next thing aimed at her head.
“Y’all better not.”
“Yeah, but the little hearts around it, though?” Kitty snatches up the bear and hugs it to her chest. “I mean, I expect that sort of thing from me, but from tough-as-nails Rogue?”
Rogue lunges for the stolen bear and misses, phasing right through giggling Kitty and ending up on her stomach with her face in the pillow she’d thrown before. “What? Ah’m entitled to as much gushy foolishness as the next girl! And y’all said you were done with the teasin’, you jerk.”
“I said I was done making fun of your doodles, missy,” Kitty leans back against the foot of Rogue’s bed, knees drawn up with the coveted bear sitting in her lap, grinning like she’s up to something that can only end in deepening Rogue’s less-than-dignified blush, not that Rogue sees it, “There was nothing in that agreement to make me quit laughing at how smitten you are with the handsome Mr. LeBeau.”
Rogue can feel herself reddening preemptively and keeps her face buried in the pillow. “Katherine Pryde, sometimes Ah have no idea why Ah’m still friends with you-”
“Alright, fine, I’ll give it a rest! One more question, though!”
Rogue wraps her arms around her head, holding the sides of the pillow over her ears. “Ah’m probably gonna regret this, but shoot.”
“Did you know that if you pick your head up for a second, you can see Remy making faces at you through the balcony door? He climbed up the trellis five minutes ago.”
025. Good Morning
Through the steam wafting up from his coffee, Logan watches Rogue stalk over to his side of the table, scowling like a wet cat. He can’t say he’s too surprised, but she’s come after him earlier in the morning than he’d expected. “‘S’amatter, kid?”
“Oh, Ah dunno,” Rogue sidles up next to him, leaning heavily on her crossed arms on the table. “Maybe the fact that you stabbed your claws into the wall on either side of mah boyfriend’s neck last night?”
He sips his coffee pensively, far more absorbed in the newspaper than her scolding, though from the look on her face Rogue doesn’t quite grasp how anyone could be more interested in the latest political scandal than in Gambit’s near-murder.
“Don’t see what’s so wrong about putting the fear of God into that Cajun’s head.”
“Fear o’ Gawd? Logan, yer claws were at Remy’s throat. Y’all threatened to castrate him if y’ caught wind he was stayin’ the night in mah room!”
“I just let him know you’re pretty well-liked around here, kid.” He throws back the rest of the mug in one swallow and pours himself another, trudging from the kitchen to find himself somewhere else to read in peace. “Enough that he should understand his ass is gonna be under a microscope.”
“Ah’m a big girl, Logan,” Rogue calls from the table. A little of her righteous anger bleeds away; it does feel kind of nice to be protected. She just wishes he could find a less violent way to show it. “An’ Rem’s a good guy. He’s patient with me. Ah’m happy.”
Logan stops toward the end of the hall, fresh mug halfway to his mouth, his back to her. Rogue almost gets up to follow him, but thinks better of it. “Ah haven’t been able t’ say that fer awhile.”
His gruff rasp echoes off the walls. “If you say so.”