Okay, so here's a humorous/shamelessly smutty one-shot that I'm actually real hyped up over. It was born in a chat with a friend of mine, and I'mma tell you now, it's pretty funny. Well, it is to me, at any rate. It's perhaps a bit long and rambly, switching back to 3rd ppov was challenging, but I enjoyed writing it, anyway. I hope you enjoy it as much or more! I am considering making this a series, obviously inspired by the recent amazing Rogue and Gambit mini series, let me know if you'd like to see more:)
Also. Those of you following me on Tumblr...that out-take? Yeah. I changed my mind. At least 100 times. It's back in the story. So, feel special- y'all saw it before anyone else did!
Enjoy!
"Alright, kids, don' do nothin' stupid over the weekend, and I see y'all's bright, shinin' faces on Tuesday, yeah?"
Rogue leans back against the wall outside the classroom, smiling with her lip in her teeth at that thick yat dismissing class. She and Remy have been going strong since that trip to Paraiso nearly two years ago, and the sound of his voice can still zip a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
Of course, when one has a plan like her current one, one absolutely cannot be blamed for being a little on the hot-blooded side of things, anyway, and no one's exactly accusing her of being cold. Not anymore, anyway.
She waits til the class has cleared out before stepping into the room, shutting the door behind her. Remy looks up, sees her, his eyes flash, one end of his mouth quirks up, and he calls out an "afternoon, Anna-Marie," and she swears to high heaven her heart's about to explode from the way his accent curls around her name...!
She loves him. Always has, and she's known for a long time that she always will, and now, with all the baggage dealt with, she can love him fully, openly, and never have to guard it again.
"Hey, handsome," she calls, putting a switch in her hips as she saunters into the room. Her heart rate triples up and her breath catches a little as she watches his eyes dip down over her grunge-band t-shirt dress, pause at the flash of leg between the hem and the top of her thigh-high boots, and slide down to her toes and back up again. She knows that look, and she knows she'd best strike before he strikes faster, otherwise, she'll find herself flattened up against a wall or bent over a table real quick.
Both incredible experiences to be had with one Remy LeBeau, for sure, but not quite what she'd had in mind when she'd decided to seek him out on this fine Thursday afternoon off.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of havin' you drop in on me today, chere?" He asks, leaning back on his desk as she approaches. "And lookin' so damn good, too," he adds, eyes snagged on her bit of bared thighs again.
Rogue gives a soft, throaty laugh at that look, stepping in between his legs and leaning forward with her hands on the desk, on either side of his. "The pleasure ain't even started yet, sugar," she flirts, pushing her chest into his as she reaches up to near kissing him, "but don't you worry none, that's on its way."
"Oh, is that so?" He pulls her in and closes the inch between them with a slow, deep kiss that makes her toes curl up in her boots. Pulling back, he slides a hand up around her ponytail for a light tug. "You makin' nice after shovin' me out of bed and damn near through the wall this morning?"
Rogue bites his lip and grins up at him. "Pfft. That was your fault," she starts out, dropping a bit to lick his Adam's apple, "comin' at me with cold as hell hands. So, no," she continues, reaching up to trace his collarbone with fingertips, "this ain't 'cause of that. This," said fingertips skip down the buttons of his shirt to the top of his pants and her eyes fly back up to his, "is just 'cause I feel like suckin' you off right now."
And with that, she slides down his front to a knee, undoes his belt, her eyes up at his the whole time. God above, he's a beautiful man, and right now, with his eyes darkening as she makes short work of his fly, and the warm scent off his skin as she slowly pulls the front of his boxers down...
She glances down as his erection, runs her hand down the length and palming him out of the grip to zip her fingertips back up the underside. Looking back up at his face, she leans in slow and gives him a long lick from his nuts to tip, pausing there to flash him a thick smile before giving him another lick and a deep pull into her mouth.
"Ah, fuck, Anna-chere...tha's good, right there," he groans out low, one hand already white-knuckling his desk, the other slipping up the nape of her neck to grab her hair and push her in.
Rogue hums her agreement as she does it how he wants it, because he's absolutely right, it is good. Real damn good, the best they've ever been, and it just gets better and better, sweeter and hotter, dorkier and sexier...
Okay, well, he's always getting dorkier and sexier. How he manages to get any dorkier than his obsession over Star Trek, and still be utterly delicious while nerding over it is beyond her.
Reaching down between her own legs, she slips her fingers into her panties, humming over him again as she starts to rub hersel—
"LeBeau, you— oh, for fuck's sake, you two are the worst assholes I've ever met—"
"Mmorrugmp—!" The intrusion startles a muffled screech out of Rogue, and she immediately feels her face light up red as she rips hand out of her underwear lightening fast and rolls wild eyes to find Logan standing in the doorway, waving in front of his nose disgustedly. She hears Remy cuss a blue streak in some garble of every language he knows curses in, his fist tightening in her hair for a moment before letting go.
"Goddammit, Logan, ain't you ever learned to fuckin' knock—"
"—and you've been told to cut that shit out here because there are children here with heightened senses—"
Rogue snorts at that, finishing up Remy's fly before standing up to square off at Logan. Which she's certain has to be comical, considering the situation he'd walked in on and her still-flaming face, but that's neither here nor there. "Can it, sugar, it ain't students with heightened senses you're all worried about, now is it?"
Logan's nose flares as he forces out a huff at her. "Darlin', ain't this your day off? The hell are you doing here, anyway? No, nevermind," he cuts her off with a disgusted glance at Remy, "don't answer that. It works that you're here, anyway. There's a lady in Kitty's office now, has a mutant kid she's thinking about sending here. Wants to meet some of the staff. Everyone else is in class, so you two'll work. Clean up, don't be gross, and go make a good impression."
"Right," Rogue drawls out, squinting at him, "and why couldn't you go down and talk to her? You ain't in class." Because this horse's ass had just interrupted her plans, and she is not appreciative—
Logan snorts at her. "Because Kitty says I'm scary and my people skills suck." Then he flashes his teeth at them both and adds in the least apologetic tone ever, "sorry to interrupt you two, but you're it, kids."
"And he says I'm an asshole," Remy remarks after Logan's retreating stomp off to no doubt ruin someone else's afternoon.
Rogue rolls her eyes at her lover's smirk and steps up into him to loop her arms around his neck. "Hmmm, you are an asshole from time to time, Cajun, but at least you're stupid-hot while doing it." She makes a face, and adds saltily, "unlike a certain uncouth old man who is too old to handle adults adulting."
Remy gives her a low, soft laugh at her huffy remarks. "Non? Seems t' me you hadda thing for too-old men wit' bad manners—"
"You shush, swamp rat," she snips and shuts him up with a line licked into the cleft in his chin up and over his lower lip to kiss him. Remy opens up to her, and she stretches up on her tip toes into him. She smiles against his mouth as she notices her foot popping up. Again.
Rogue had never considered herself a romantic. It wasn't in the cards for her, so she'd allowed herself a few fantasies (ninety-six percent of those, uh...few...featuring a certain obnoxiously handsome Cajun), all chick flicks, and every bodice ripper she could get her hands on, and had entertained nothing else. Never once did she actually see herself here, like this, actually doing the thing, not even during their stint at Valle Soleado. That'd always felt superficial, rushed, and like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, though...
Now, they're finally past their pasts, and she will kiss him, lick him, touch him, enjoy him, get embarrassed when people walk in on them getting at it in semi-public places, and pop up her goddamn foot like fucking Mia Thermopolis from The Princess Diaries everytime he kisses her, and she hopes it never gets old, for either of them.
She pulls back with a soft smile up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He'd started growing it out again, the front ends hitting his cheeks and back gone shaggy. She suspects he's doing it because of that time a few months back, when he'd spent exactly thirty-nine minutes with his face between her legs, and she'd gritted out about how she really missed being able to pull his hair. He'd responded with a huff and a tight suck on her clit that had gotten her off with stars in her eyes in short order, and-
"Chere, you just try shushin' me like that again, and I'll drop your pretty little ass to the floor real quick, and fuck you so good, you'll be walkin' outta this place wit' a limp, yeah?"
-and... Well. Here they are. Him with longish hair and promising to ruin her again.
She's not one bit of sorry about it, either.
"Well, then I guess we better tidy up and get goin'," she shoots back, stepping away to reach under her dress to straighten her panties. She flushes hotly, remembering Logan catching her with Remy's...in her mouth!...and her hand in her...
Lord above, this is almost as embarrassing as that time Bobby had caught her bent over the wreck room couch with Remy's hand clapped over her mouth in an attempt at muffling her, uh, enthusiasm. "I sincerely doubt that's a look to greet a potential student's mama with, a wrecked mess with a limp, huh?"
It's a positively filthy leer Remy shoots her as he helps adjust her dress. "Non, but issa damn look on you for me, sweetheart." He tips her chin up and swipes his thumb under her lower lip. "But I gotta say it, if you're set on meetin' mamas, you best finish up in front of a mirror, 'cause y' hair-"
Rogue groans out loud. "You just had to go for the hair, didn't you?" She playfully nips at his thumb, her hands reaching up for her artfully casual, low-slung ponytail, now a complete disaster, no thanks to the gorgeous rat grinning at her right now. "You have no idea how long it took me to get it lookin' like it did, sugar, no appreciation- "
"Mmm-hm, I had all kinds of appreciation messin' it up while balls-deep in your mouth, chere."
She giggles at him for that. "God above, Cajun, you're gross." She steals a quick kiss before giving up on her stylish pony for simply letting it down and flipping her head over to fluff the roots. "At least tell my my lipstick ain't smudged, that stuff's a bitch to wipe off," she adds with a flirty pout at him after straightening up.
"So, y' might've smeared that shit all over my dick, and it ain't comin' off without diesel feul and a scouring pad? Guess it's a good thing I like seein' that red lipstick smudged down clear to my balls-"
"I know all about that, you've been jerkin' it to that fantasy since the first time you saw me wearin' it." She taps her temple with a grin. "I got that one the first time I zapped you, along with a few other fantasies I was too dang chickenshit to trust you with, most of 'em involving me in that ol' green and yellow get-up from back in the day."
He laughs, deep and genuine, and Rogue swears her chest is two sizes too small for her heart, because seeing Remy laugh, a real laugh- "That I have, Anna-Marie, that I have. You 'member when that first time I saw you wearin' red lipstick was?"
She practically melts at the look he's giving her now, his eyes lighting up fire-bright as his expression softens at the memory. "Yeah, sugar. It was our first date, huh?" At his nod, she reaches up to cup his face with both hands. Never gonna get old, touchin' him... "You really are sweet sometimes, swamp rat. Gross, but sweet. And you never did answer me about my lipstick..."
A few minutes later...
"...would you quit it!" Rogue walks into Kitty's office, hissing at Remy over her shoulder after he'd slid his hand from the small of her back down to grab a handful of her ass while holding the door open for her. Not that Rogue is at all opposed to him groping her, she'd just really rather he didn't when a straight face out of her was required. Because unlike Remy, she is incapable of maintaining face while getting felt up.
She might know all about how good at that he is. After all, when your significant other is, without doubt, actually your other half, keeping hands to yourself can be challenging.
And then there's the fact that her other half is...well...Remy. Men like him are hard to not touch, and Rogue would rather indulge than sit on her hands just because he might be slightly in the middle of something with someone el-
"Ahem!"
Rogue's attention immediately snaps out of the gross eyes she was giving Remy and forward to see a posh, slender woman aged somewhere between thirty-five and fifty sitting prettily in the chair across from Kitty's desk. Crystalline, honey-gold eyes narrow in from a classically beautiful face, and her wide mouth pinches in evident disapproval.
"Well. So much for punctuality," the older woman sniffs, then looks to Kitty. "So, this is the sort of staff I can expect for my daughter should she attend here? A," she flicks disdainful eyes at Remy, "teacher and his- excuse me, miss, but are you even a teacher? You look so young." She turns back to a decidedly harried Kitty. "This? Really? Hm. Because I cannot imagine that a place where such obvious intimacy between teachers and students is allowed, let alone flaunted before a concerned parent, is the right place for my child's education. Why, if it's so flagrant in front of me, I positively shudder to think of how it must be in front of children who can't speak up for themselves."
Rogue blinks rapidly at the other woman, completely taken aback by such ridiculousness. A glance at Kitty, and she gets an apologetic quasi shrug, and she doesn't even want to think about what's to come out of Remy's smartass mouth-
To that end, she hastily turns back to the old biddy with a ready smile. "Hi, I'm Rogue, one of the mechanics and flight instructors here, and this is Mr. LeBeau, one of our-"
"Rogue? What kind of name is Rogue? Surely you have a real name, that the students and parents may address you by?"
"I...uh, no, ma'am-"
"Do not call me ma'am. It's intolerably rude, especially in that accent, and it makes me feel old."
Rogue's eyes squint down to slits at that, because the way that lady was talking just now sounded a whole lot like—
Naaah, no way... Rogue mentally shakes her head, because surely not—
"Now, as I was saying," the woman continues in the most condescending tone in the history of ever, "if this is how you present yourselves before me...oh god, I can only imagine what it would be like for my poor daughter to see that...her eyes...!" She makes a horrified noise in the back of her throat and clutches her chest. Not even half a moment later, she's turning sharp eyes on Kitty, "I tell you, if it were up to me, why I'd-"
"Jesus H. Christ, it is yo—Raven!" Rogue irritably barks out her mother's name, whatever patience she'd managed to muster since being interrupted completely evaporating on the spot.
"—yes, Anna?" The woman misses no beats, casually turning to Rogue mid-rant and ripples out of her soft fawns and creams and cashmere to her natural vibrant coloring and black leather get-up, like she hadn't just been called out.
"Rogue. My name is Rogue," Rogue grits out through clenched teeth. Nevermind that she allows Remy to call her by her name, she doesn't like it when anyone else does, and she sure as hell won't tolerate Raven using it again. She gave up that privilege years ago.
"Oh, please," Raven scoffs dramatically, "you cannot expect me to call you Rogue. Such a horrid name." She blinks innocently and needles, "or perhaps you'd prefer Rainbo—"
"Raven." Rogue clips out her name again, perhaps a tad too loudly, going off the looks she'd just earned. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, scowling her worst at her mother for letting that particular bomb drop. The others don't know about that, her birth name, and she has less than zero intentions of sharing that stoned-out, hippie nonsense with any of them.
"Oh come now, darling," Raven rejoins chidingly, now wearing a frown to match her daughter's, "I've tried so many times to tell you it's beautiful, but you've only ever listened to your Aunt Carr—"
"My god, will you shut. Up?"
"And here come the theatrics," Raven comments with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.
Rogue feels a hot color rushing up her neck and over her head. "The theatr- GET OUT," she boils up, feeling her hands start shaking. God, she hates this, how Raven can still yank such a reaction out of her!
"Rogue, maybe you shou—"
"—Honestly, Anna," Raven huffs at her over Kitty's concern, "you'd think I just waltzed in to blow the house down, the way you're acting. I just stopped by visit with you-"
"Lord above, I can't believe-" Rogue starts out incredulously, then she pulls in a deep breath and forces it out her nose. Losing her cool isn't the way to deal with Raven. "You came to see me." She can hear her heart starting to thunder in her ears, can feel the heat of her temper rising again. "After all the crap you've pulled, that's your story?"
Raven shrugs. "Of course, darling. Last I'd heard, you'd had a transformative mission. I wanted to see how you were, like any concerned mother would."
"Yes, so concerned," Rogue scoffs, "like you were that time you shot me in the chest? Or maybe when you tried to, I dunno, seduce my boyfriend?" Rogue hears a groan out of Kitty, and looks over in time to watch the other woman head-desk in defeat. She feels her lower lip poke out as she flushes and turns back to Raven, stubbornly doubling down. "And the hell are you talkin' about, a transformative mission? I ain't even been on one in an age."
After all, she's already embarrassed herself and let Raven win by even responding, might as well dig in, right? In for a penny, in for a pound, and at least she'll feel better if she can just get in the last word...
Well, in theory, anyway. She knows she'll just feel stupid as hell over this as soon as Raven's gone and she calms down.
Raven pffts with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I've told you, those incidents were only me trying to help you. If you would only listen to me, your...tastes," she glances at Remy with a delicate sneer, then rolls her eyes again and tsks at her daughter. "Anna-Marie, I tell you, you have the worst pick in men. You really should listen to me, mothers do know best, dear."
"Welp." Kitty sighs dramatically and stands. "On that note, I think I'll leave you to it. Rogue, Raven," she addresses both women, "don't destroy my office. Or kill each other. Please. Remy?" She nods at him, "make sure they don't kill each other."
Remy gives her a two-fingered salute and sighs heavily, settling into his seat for the long haul.
Rogue ignores them both and stares at Raven in utter disbelief, her blood pressure spiking. Of all the goddamn nerve...! She can't even... What words...? Her mother...!?
She feels Remy nudge her arm, and she flings him a fierce look over her shoulder at his intrusion, ready to—
He offers a small smile and reaches for her hand, fingers lacing through hers, his thumb rubbing small circles into the fleshy part between her thumb and forefinger.
She pulls in a deep breath and looks back to Raven. God, he really is just the best, and she promises herself that as soon as she can get rid of Raven, she's getting down on her knees in front of him right there, on this couch, and she's gonna finish what she'd started—
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Raven huffs, yellow eyes on their joined hands, "and right in front of me, too. Anyway, the mission I'm referring to is the one you took with him," Raven adds with a disdainful flick of her fingers in Remy's direction, which only serves to fry up Rogue's snit even further. She wants to throttle her for every disparaging word she's ever thrown at that wonderful man— "you know, the one to mind control island. Hmm, maybe that's why you're back with hi—"
"NO. NOPE. UH-UH." Rogue finally breaks. Not a chance on this side of the Mississippi is she allowing her adoptive mother to meddle and insult them again. "You go. Git." She stabs a finger toward the door, continuing, "and don't you even try that 'concerned mama' bullshit no more. That mission you're so interested in happened nearly two years ago."
"Well, no need to get so testy. I swear, Anna-Marie, it's like you're thirteen again, and yelling at me about how I don't understand you—"
"Well, you think maybe that's 'cause you didn't then, and still don't now? Now, get the hell outta here—"
"An—Rogue. Rogue, really—"
"Mama, I swear it, if you don't get outta this house two hours ago, I'm gonna—"
"Speaking of concerned mothers checking in on her babies, how are my cats doing?"
"YOUR cats? YOUR CATS?" Rogue can almost feel her jaw hitting the floor, and she sparks up like she's about to spontaneously combust. Because fuuuuuuuck no, Luce isn't hers, that sweet, stupid orange butterball of a cat—
Beside her, she feels Remy stiffen and shift to attention, and his hand clamps down around hers in warning. "Y' mean, my cats?"
Raven blinks innocently and wears a shitsmirk that has never failed to send Rogue into orbit. "Anna, you're going to give yourself wrinkles with that expression," she takes her daughter to task, continuing to ignore Remy, "and yes, my cats. Why, the poor dears would be dead if I hadn't—"
"WE AIN'T YOUR BABIES!" Rogue rips her off with wild eyes and a voice that's a little too unsteady and definitely headed for shrieking-category pitches. She doesn't care. She's already cracked, lost her cool, Raven's already won in that arena. But be damned before that...that monster claims or manipulates any part of her life ever again. "We ain't your babies," she forces out through gritted teeth, "not me. Not the cats. You just..." she shakes with her next words, and digs her fingernails into the palm of Remy's hand, "you stay the hell away from me and my family, ya hearin' me?"
"Here I'd thought all this time I was your family—"
Rogue doesn't even realize she's half up out of her seat til she feels Remy's arm snake around her waist and gently pull her butt back down, and snug into his side.
"You, ma'am, might wanna think about gettin' the fuck on outta here. Our girl here's about to blow a gasket, and when it comes down to it, my bet's on her, yeah?" Remy joins in mildly, his deep, warm yat rasped right over Rogue's ear. She can't help but melt into him just a little, and she knows it was deliberately done on his end; the asshole knows the affect his voice has on her, and he knows her ears are a sensitive spot...
Raven doesn't even look at him. "Anna, dear, next time, please leave your chew toy at home when I visit. They do make the most obnoxious noises when pressed."
Rogue bitch stares her down Vivian Leigh style, then looks pointedly at the door.
"Well." Raven flattens her mouth, "unbelievable. After all that I've done...!" She sighs, shakes her head, picks up her purse and re-assumes her boujee New Yorker look. "But yes, I can see that a mother's love is not appreciated here. I'll go. And dear? Please remember to use protection, I'd rather not have half Cajun rat grandba—"
"OUT." Rogue growls and half lunges off the cushion, ready to peel the blue off her hide one strip at a time. How dare!
Raven flashes her a winning smile as she sweeps out the door, pausing at the threshold to blow Rogue a kiss and daintily wiggle her fingers in goodbye before disappearing.
Rogue slams herself back into the sofa, arms crossed. "God, can you believe that woman? I mean, did you see her face? 'Speaking of concerned mothers checking in on her babies'," she mimics with a face. "Just...ugh."
"Eh, we both know y' mama's her own special brand of awful, beb. Don' let her get you too much, if you can help it, yeah?" He laces his hand up in her hair and pulls her over for a loud lipsmack on the side of her head.
She slumps into him, eyes closed, and sighs heavily. "Yeah, I know. So why can't I help it? I know how rotten she is, I know what she's doin' when she talks, and yet...?" She's so frustrated and angry, the tears are building and she can already feel her face mottling up. God above she hates that woman—
"'Cause she matters, beb," he answers simply, and she's split between wanting to break down and bawl like a baby, and wanting to crawl into his skin and try to kiss him from the inside out.
"Mmmhm, I guess," she murmurs, pressing her face into his throat. She pulls in a deep breath of him, and holds it, letting the familiarity and warmth center her for a moment—
"So. Family, huh?" He drawls out, "that make the cats our Cajun rat babies, then?"
She starts at that. "Huh? What's that, sugar?" She asks, her brain furiously try to catch up through the emotional muddle Raven always leaves her in— "Oh. Oh. That!" Her eyes pop wide in memory of her snap at her mother, something about Remy and the cats and family—
That. No wonder he was asking, and no wonder the man is practically giving her heart-eyes right now. Family isn't a thing he takes lightly, and neither is it for her, and—
She hadn't thought about what she was saying when she'd said it, but it'd come from her soul, and she'd meant it.
"Aww, well, that." She gives him a soft smile and shrugs, suddenly bashful. "Yeah. I mean, of course, y'all are. Luce, Fig..." she laughs, cringing a little at how high-pitched it sounds, "and even Oli. 'Cause he's your baby, even if he hates me." She pauses, fidgets, and wonders if she'd overstepped, overthought, just...over'd them. What if he's not thinking the same? They hadn't really had those kinds of talks, not since Paraiso, but things change, and it's been two years, and what if he didn't...? "I mean, the X-Men are family, too. Kitts and Rachel. Jubes. Bobby. Betsy and Warren. 'Ro and Logan..." She trails off, shoots him a nervous look. "But you... Well. You're family family. If that makes any since?"
"Mmm-hm, I getcha." Remy pauses, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Family." He gives her an odd look, then flashes his teeth and drags her into his lap for a kiss.
Rogue shrieks out a laugh against his mouth, grabs at his shoulders, and then sinks into the kiss, mentally shaking loose the mindfuck of another one of Raven's 'visits'.
And remembering all too well what had been interrupted, and the thought she'd had earlier...
"Please tell me they're gone, please tell m— Jesus, you two!" Kitty phases through the door and shrieks upon spying them. "So gross. Right here? In my office? On my couch? You both need Jesus. I cannot believe- you two are unreal!"
"Oh, relax, Kitts. We ain't doing anything. He was only being' sweet to me after a Raven exposure," Rogue tries to laugh it off, but her face is flushed like Kitty had actually seen her thoughts dropping into the sewers.
Kitty makes a face. "Get up. Go. I need to Lysol that thing now, before someone else sits on it."
Remy grins at her. "C'mon now, 'tite chere. Don' act like you and Rachel ain't already—"
Rogue claps a hand over his mouth. "Yes, we'll get on out, sug. Have fun...Lysoling."
Naturally, because he's really twelve, Remy licks her hand, and Rogue shivers to her toes. Flashing a toothy grin at Kitty in goodbye, she practically drags her boyfriend out into the hallway, and yanks him into the janitor's closet just a few feet from Kitty's office.
"I got plans for you, swamp boy," she informs him with a shove against the wall and a mash of her lips over his, "and I ain't gonna give a damn if we're interrupted again, you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, beb. Best get to it, though. I got my next class in twelve minutes," he manages between kisses.
"Then I suggest you get off fast, Cajun," she grins at him before dropping to her knees and tearing open his pants.
That evening...
"...so yeah, Belle's a lucky gal, and I swear it, she's gushin' all over the dang place about her new man, and she's absolutely adorable doin' it." Anna-Marie pauses long enough to pop another jalapeño hushpuppy in her mouth, alternately chewing her food and sucking her fingertips clean, making Remy think back to earlier that afternoon, in the supplies closet—
"Like, who woulda even thought it, huh? Belladonna Boudreaux, of all people, gettin' all flushed and giddy over a ma— noooooo, Luce, that's mine, bad kitty," she cuts herself off to 'scold' the orange fluff occupying her lap and currently trying to steal her food.
"Well," Remy begins around his last bite of Cajun fried catfish (Anna's favorite, and he isn't ever in it to tell that woman no when she asks for it), "as a matter of fact—"
Anna glances up from spoiling his traitor of a cat (at least Figaro and Oliver still love him best) to give him a look. "Shut it, swamp rat. A sex flush ain't what I'm talkin' about. I can't believe I had to make that distinction just now—she's gettin' married, for gods sake— hey!" She squawks as Oliver darts under her feet to bat at Lucifer's dangling tail. Lucifer startles and gracelessly falls to the floor, then zips off out of the kitchen. "Dumb cat," she mutters, watching Oli running hot after him.
"What else you get up to today? Other than fluffin' all the wedding dresses Belle was tryin' on?" Remy takes advantage of feline drama and steers the conversation off, having absolutely no desire to irritate her out of the soft mood she's been in since he got home nearly an hour ago.
Anna snorts at him, but smiles and happily chatters on about her day prior to dropping in on him earlier that afternoon, and as god watches all the love-struck idiots like him, he watches her, his heart in his head, and his head in the clouds as he listens.
Stares at her, really. She'd switched out the boots, thighs, and red lipped look she'd damn near knocked him over with earlier for a softer one in a ribbed yellow tank, a pair of mismatched yellow silk panties, and a fresh face. And she's been nothing but warm smiles, and even warmer eyes, lashes fluttering, and watching him cook with her chin propped up on her elbow...
She's breathtaking. Stunning. And she's wearing yellow again. He's come to learn that a yellow Rogue is a happy Rogue. She'd worn a lot of yellow back when he'd met her.
Back when he'd fallen completely ass over end in love with her.
Seems like she might be the same about him, if he's to go off the feelings she's practically drowning him with on the daily, and the words Raven had ripped out of her this afternoon.
Family. Not something he takes lightly, definitely something he's always craved, and then something he'd finally let go of til more recently. Ever since she'd accused him of stealing her hypothetical baby's name for his cat right after he'd introduced her to Oliver.
And fuck him, anyway, she'd taken that swiping of her name to heart, too, with the utterly betrayed and hurt look she'd flung at him! Like he'd known she'd even wanted kids, let alone she already had a name, and that that was it!
Oli, the little asswipe, hadn't done him any favors with his immediate declaration of war via pissing all over Anna's shoes about as soon as she'd taken them off and looked away.
He'd later that same night, staring up at the ceiling with her sprawled out over his chest and snoring loud enough to wake the dead, thought about that admission of hers. That she'd once imagined having a kid. His kid. It'd hit him hard, and then he'd promptly let it go. He was a happy man to have this with her, to have her... anything more felt like asking too much. Not to mention the fact that her powers had been as uncooperative as ever, slimming that possibility to none, anyhow.
Anna was it for him, and he'd finally gotten the girl. No need to get greedy, neh?
Except the thoughts were intrusive, and bit him in the ass in off moments, moments where he wasn't expecting it. Moments like today, when a jackass remark out of Raven had yanked a response straight out of Anna's feels.
Her calling him and his cats her folks is still doing funny thing to his insides.
"...and that's what all I've been up to," Anna wraps her day up, standing to take her plate to the sink. She stops by him to take his plate, too, and flashes a flirty smile, bats her lashes at him again for the umpteenth time that evening, and adds in a sugary drawl positively dripping with smug self-satisfaction and meant to put a twitch in his dick, "well. Aside from the little visit I paid you this afternoon, anyhow. But you already know all about that, hmm?"
His eyes nearly cross at the thought, because goddamn, that'd been a hell of a blowie. He can't even be mad at Raven, cockblock extraordinaire, for getting in the middle of it. Not with the way it'd all played out like a big tease, followed up with a bigger blow-out.
And then there was the humor in watching his Anna-Marie's ever-at-odds kink for sex in public places battling it out with her over the top embarrassed reactions over getting caught at it. Sure, he'd been frustrated out of his ever-loving mind, but watching her flush clear down to her fucking toes, her eyes popped wide, and seeing her screech muffled around his dick when Logan's rude ass had come barreling through the door?
Priceless. And he'd teased her mercilessly into an even deeper (and utterly adorable) flush all the way down to Kitty's office.
She'd gotten him back in the janitor's closet. He'd been so damn hard by the time she'd popped the button on his pants, he'd figured he'd make it to maybe three minutes before blowing his nuts out, and have time to return the favor.
Newp. She'd edged him down to the fucking wire, had him sweating and begging to finish him before he had to leave. When she'd finally let him go, it'd been hard, fast, and a complete mess, and his heart had doubled over on itself at the sight of her flushed, still sucking him tight as she got herself off, too. After, she'd grinned up at him, wiped her mouth (that fucking red lipstick still in place— he's absolutely going to ruin her red-lipped look someday, dammit), and laughed at his dazed ass stumbling out of the room after her with less than a minute to spare before his class started.
She's amazing, the absolute love of his sorry life, and he still sometimes has to pinch himself to believe this is real.
"Ouais, I know all about that," he leers, getting up to follow her to the sink, sliding a long, appreciative look from the top of her head to the end of her robin's egg blue painted toenails. He comes up behind her and turns on the water, dropping a series of kisses from her shoulder going up her neck.
She giggles and bunches her shoulders, trying to squeeze his face out of her ticklish spots. "Sugar, what-? Go sit down. You cooked, I clean, and- mmmmmmnumm..."
"Mmm-hm," Remy grins into the side of her neck, two fingers in her panties, rubbing slow, tight circles over her clit. "Yes, you do the dishes, beb. I'm just here to...help," he murmurs with a long lick up the side of her neck and a strategic use of that static they'd discovered they could spark between them back in Paraiso.
A little while later...
Rogue smiles as she presses soft-mouthed kisses across Remy's sweaty collarbone, her breath still half gone, her heart still hammering away, and her body still twitching.
She hadn't finished the dishes. What she had done was get a spectacular start on a great fuck, bent over the countertop, her shirt shoved up and her panties around her ankles, only to have them both nearly die laughing when a particularly hard snap of Remy's hips had sent her forehead crashing into the cabinets in front of her, resulting in a splintered door and a damn near pulverized interior shelf.
Remy had dropped his laughing face onto her back, declaring her a kitchen hazard between kisses (not a lie, really- there's a reason why he cooks and she doesn't), turned her around to kiss the non-existent ouchie on her forehead, and hauled her off to the bedroom with his hand clapped over her ass and his fingers going places.
What had followed was him literally tossing her in the bed and crawling up over her for a rowdy romp with her legs thrown over his shoulders.
And now, he's collapsed out flat on top of her, his arms up under her, his breathing finally slowing down, and...
He's just the most delicious man- everything about him, the way he smells, feels, tastes, the noises he makes, the weight of his body...
She sure as hell hadn't gotten this much enjoyment after with Erik, the lord bless him anyway.
She wraps her legs around Remy's waist, tightens her arms around his neck, and turns her face to kiss the side of his head. God above, she loves him, and ever since he'd pointed out her little family comment at school, she's been...
Well, she's been hit with a lot of things, to be honest. A lot of things she'd already known, felt, but overlooked. Or maybe just took for granted. Like the fact that their shared apartment was theirs, no longer just his with her moved in. The fact that they don't just live together anymore, but rather they're so stinkin' together, period- they have routines, like scheduled date nights, near-daily home cooked meals enjoyed together, always telling each other about their days, what's coming up the next day, and...
And then, there'd been that little, teeny-eensy, itty-itty-ittle-bitty thing this morning, while out with Belle. Honest to Betsy, she hadn't meant a thing by it, but while stuck in that bridal shop, waiting while Belle tried on every blasted high end dress in the house, she'd seen it. A gorgeous Berta by Berta, just right there, screaming at her.
At any rate, it'd been a harmless thing, she hadn't given it another thought after leaving the store. Sure, she's all the way in it with Remy, but he's not exactly the marrying kind, and truthfully, they're happy as they are. Why fix what ain't broke, if it ain't broke for a change?
Still doesn't change the fact that they're so damn domesticated, and it's been flipping her insides out fifty times over for half the day everytime she starts thinking about it.
He huffs out a short laugh, pulls back to kiss her forehead, and rolls off, pulling her with him. Rogue lets him, snuggling into his side and propping her head up on his chest.
"Hey, handsome," she flirts with him, "what's so funny?"
He smiles up at her, tucking one hand behind his head, running his other hand along her spine. "It ain't nothin', really. Jus' a funny thing from this afternoon."
"Yeah? Like what?" A little 'plop' in the mattress behind her, punctuated with a purred meow, announces the cats' arrival. She clucks her tongue and pats Remy's chest, and Lucifer hops over her to flop on his back across them both.
"Luce," she coos over the orange cat's upturned face as Remy reaches down to rub the cat's belly. He meows through another purr at her, squirming up to head-butt her face. "Awww," she laughs softly, pulling her arm out from under Lucifer to grab him to her chest. "You just wanted to snuggle your mama, huh?"
"Mais ouais, can y' blame him?" Remy chuckles, making eyes at her breasts, the hand petting the cat...no longer petting the cat.
Rogue snorts at him. "Stop it," she playfully scolds, swatting his fingers off her nipple, "the children—"
He laughs, and the sound of it brings Oliver and Figaro up in the bed, the first trotting over Remy's chest to hunker down between their faces, purring and rubbing Remy's chin, leaving the second to catloaf on the rumpled sheets between their feet.
Remy reaches down to scratch Fig's ears, upsetting Oli, who yowls his displeasure for all to hear.
"Oh, you hush, you little boob," Rogue admonishes, snatching Oli in next to Luce, "quit your whinin', your papa's right there, and comin' back."
She drops a kiss between his flattened ears, and the indignant cat yowls again and tries to squirm away, his claws finding little purchase on her well nigh impenetrable skin.
"Careful, beb," Remy chuckles, settling back down with her, "he'll take out one of those pretty green eyes, and lose no sleep over it."
"Don't I know it," Rogue snorts, "more like, he'd take out an eyeball, bat it around for hours in a game of which only he knows anything about, and wear the blood splatters as a badge of epic bloodthirsty glory." She gives Oli another snuggle. "We're family, you little asshole," she giggles softly over the cat's ears, "you have to love me, so get over yourself, cat. And quit peein' all over my things," she adds before letting him go.
The outraged feline scurries up over Remy's face, making him laugh and sputter all over the place, and drops on the pillow to curl around Remy's head, kneading his hair and meowing loudly while glaring back at Rogue.
"Oh, non! That right, Oli-puss? That mean old woman over there tell you to quit peein' in her shoes?" Remy reaches up to scratch the snotty little tabby behind the ears. "Attackin' you, of all kitty cats for that, I can't believe it, either."
Rogue nearly snorts out half her brain at that. "I ain't attackin' anyone, Cajun, you just got an ill-mannered cat-beast that needs to be called out on a few things."
Like pissing on her fabulous yellow Balenciaga thigh-highs. Talk about pissing away nearly a thousand bucks.
"Can you believe that woman?" Remy continues on, "blamin' all her attackin' ways on you."
"Mmmm, and you wasn't complainin' one bit about my attackin' ways earlier today," Rogue flirts, smacking her lips loudly over his nipple.
"Hmm, no, I definitely was not, chere," he leers at her, "in fact, if y' of an attackin' mind again—"
He licks her ear and starts talking so damn dirty, she chokes and claps a hand over his mouth, her cheeks blown red. Holy shit, what he'd just suggested— she can't even...no way she could even say...
But she always has kind of wanted to do...that. It...may or may not have been one of those fantasies featuring a certain Cajun she'd allowed herself while rubbing one out back in the day.
He laughs and muffles something about her red cheeks into her palm, and she leans over to kiss the back of her hand. "How's that for retro Rogue lovin', huh?"
He reaches up for her hand, kisses her palm, then gently pulls it off his mouth to kiss each of her fingers. "Hmmm, y' missin' those yellow boots, gloves, and the leather jacket. As I'd said, the panties'r optional, though."
"As is the actual uniform, apparently," she adds with a roll of her eyes.
"Mmmm, no, that wasn't even an option."
"God above, you're a nasty rat, sugar," she laughs, propping her chin on his chest. "You're nasty and gross, and I love it." She leans up for quick kiss. "Love you."
"Yeah? That so?"
She nods, her heart fluttering at the way he's looking at her, eyes all bright, his smile light...
"Hmmm, well, in that case, you still wanna know what I was laughin' at?"
"Well, yeah, of course I do, but," Rogue laughs a little, giving him a funny look, "what's that got to do with anything I just said?"
"Well, if you'd hush y' smart mouth, I might could tell you, yeah?"
"Remy Etienne LeBeau, I swear it, you and your mouth," she huffs at him, "if you—"
"Listen, you wasn't complainin' one bit about my mouth last night—"
"Yeah, and if you weren't so good at that, I wouldn't have much use for that mouth of yours at all, now would I?"
Remy stares up her for a second, then snorts, "C'mere, you," and snatches her down flat on his chest. "Anyway, I was laughin' earlier thinkin' about how Raven's gonna choke when she finds out her bitch's stunt today is what finally got you to claimin' me and the cats, and got me to seriously thinkin' about how I'd like to lock it all down. That's all."
Rogue pops up to stare down at him. She knows she looks like an absolute idiot, all slack-jawed and round-eyed (probably not so far off from a mudcat out of water, actually), but...but... "I...did you just...? You want that? With me? And just what the hell you talkin' about, that's all, huh? 'Cause you just...holy shit, Remy!"
He laughs, and he's so damn beautiful, it actually kind of aches to watch him. "Mais, yeah, wit' you, beb, who else?" He goes a bit serious as he continues, "you, you're it, yeah? And besides, this way, you actually do get a boy named Oliver—"
"Goddammit, Remy," Rogue cuts in, starting to frown, "you just hadda go ruin the moment, huh? I still can't believe you stole my baby's name, and then you gave it to him—"
"Chere, we been through this. Thought we decided Olivier was the answer here?"
Rogue feels tears burning at that, like Olivier is already a reality they'd decided to have, together, and not just her hypothetical baby she's wanted for a long time, but wouldn't ever have, which means that talk back when she'd first told Remy about him...
Pulling in a slow breath, she tries to actually say something. To make sure she'd heard him right? Maybe her hearing is off. Or she'd heard his psyche say the thing, or— "So...that. Liv. You want him, too? Like, a family of our own? As in," she hesitates, "like, gettin' married and suchwhat?"
His brows pop up at that, and she wants to kick herself. Of course he hadn't meant that, he'd have come right out with it and proposed if that's what he'd meant, not— proposed to propose— "well, if that's how you wanna do things, then sure." He shrugs, "you the endgame, chere. Me, I don' much care how I get it."
"Oh my god. Remy, I— oh my god—"
"Now, I understand it ain't an official poppin' of the question, this kinda spur of the moment, but it's—"
"Oh my god, shut up, you beautiful idiot," she laughs, upsetting all three cats out of bed to crawl over him, grab his face, and kiss the ever loving snot out of him. "And I don't care what's official or what ain't, I'm still tellin' you yes," she kisses him again, "yes," more kisses, "absolutely. Yessity-yes, yes, yes," she answers him, the last a murmur smushed over his mouth as everything she'd been feeling since the afternoon bubbles up and spills over into that kiss. God love that man, she's going break him down in the sheets here in a minute—
"Hey!" She yelps as he flips her over, clearly having his own ideas, shoving her hands over her head, fingers lacing through hers as he settles up heavy between her legs.
He only grins and spends the next forever making sure that only noises coming out of her are the ones he pulls out her with every rub and stroke of his hands, every slip and tweak of his fingers, every nip, lick, and I love you mouthed over every inch of skin from her lips all the way down. And since he'd taken his sweet-ass time with all that, and she'd needed to kiss him so damn badly the whole time, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him up, only to have him keep moving down... Well, she's about half mad at him over it, and feels perfectly justified in grabbing handfuls of his hair and practically smothering him with a shove into her pussy.
He's happy to oblige, giving her a low hum as he gives her a quick kiss, then opens her up with a deep lick all the way up over her clit. Her eyes cross and she bites her lip hard enough to split it as he does it again, because lord help her, she hadn't lied even a little bit when she'd told him earlier he was damn good at this. God, if only her younger, angstier self had known what she was missing, she'd have let him get away with far more of his stupid shit back in the day for that wicked tongue!
He quickly gets her close, and when he closes in over her clit in a tight suck, she shoves her hips up and nearly tears the hair out of his head, it feels so good. "Oh...ohhhhhhh...oh my god...that...that right-there-don't-you-dare-stop!"
His answer is to slowly pulls off with a 'pop', and immediately go back in, grabbing her hands out his hair and squeezing her fingers through his as he keeps at her, more and more, hardening his lips and rubbing with his tongue til she arches her back and howls his name at the ceiling.
He doesn't let up after, either. She licks her lips, scrapes back a sweaty curl off her forehead, and watches him with stars still in her eyes as he moves back up, dragging open kisses all the way up her body. When he reaches her throat, she's finally had enough. "You. Up here. Now," she snaps at him, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his mouth up to hers.
And god help her, she can't get him close enough. She reaches down between them, grabs him, pushes him in and closes her legs tight around his waist. It doesn't matter that she'd gotten him less than an hour ago, or that she gets him damn near every night they're both home, it never gets old. It never gets old, it never gets boring, and she knows it never will. Not for her, anyway.
She supposes that's one perk to her stupid power never allowing them to touch for so long- now that she can, whenever the hell she wants, she never takes it for granted.
"My god, Remy," she hisses at him, eyes squeezed shut as he rolls over her hard, deep, and slow, shoving her body up in the bed with each thrust til she has to reach for the headboard to keep him from smashing her into it. She pushes back, grabs his ass with her free hand, trying to set a faster pace, almost frantically chasing his mouth for kisses, and all he does is plant a deep, heavy kiss on her and grind in slower.
"Slow it down, beb. We ain't in no kinda hurry, no?" He laughs over her lips, then licks in her mouth the same time he snaps his hips, and it makes her eyes roll up, her toes curl, and her nails dig into his back.
The sex is slow, it's intense, it's sweaty, flushed faces, and so much kissing, Rogue's sure he's scraped the skin completely off her chin, and she squirms to fight off another orgasm because she's simply not done yet. A push off the bed and a shove of his shoulders, and she's flipped him over, has him pinned down with super strength thighs and hands clamped down over his wrists.
Giving him a wicked grin, she leans down and licks the sweat off his throat. "Your turn, sugar," she purrs all the way up over his mouth. She licks across his upper lip, sucks his lower one, and starts a slow, hungry slide down his body. She teases the hell out of him, brushing a thigh up against him while licking into the dip of his collarbone, rubbing herself on his leg while sucking a nipple, all the while, holding him down and completely ignoring where he really wants it. By the time she's scraping her teeth over his hipbone, he's cursing and struggling to free his hands.
"Goddammit, chere, fuck me already, yeah?" He growls at her, bucking up in an attempt to rub on her breasts.
She pushes down on him so he can't move, smirking at him. "Are you one hundred percent sure about that, sugar? That you want me to fuck you right now?" She wiggles down a little further, continuing with a smack of her lips, "cause see, I had this here idea," he squirms and she feels the heated static ripple up over his skin, "where I went down like this," she gives him a long lick up the side of his balls, "and then maybe like this," a drag of her tongue up the length of him, giggling in delight as the static flares up in a charge he immediately pulls back in, "I mean, I was gonna—"
"Chere, I ain't even playin'," he snaps, "I'm about to blow the whole fuckin' building off the block if y' don'— ohhhhfuckin'...A-Anna-chere...dammit..."
Rogue softly laughs as she pulls him in her mouth and leaves him a choking, hissing wreck, the charge zipping out of his control again to light up the sheets.
Beyond thrilled with the affect she's having on him, she pops off and pats his thigh before tracing a lick up the ridge between his abdominal muscles to drop a kiss in the middle of his chest. "But I guess we'll do it your way, seein' as how I'd hate for you to blow this place to smithereens." She smiles and bats her lashes at him as she straddles his hips, "you know how much I hate movin', huh?"
"Ch-chere," he stutters in a tight, frustrated voice, struggling to pull the charge back in this time.
Oh, she is not having that. As many times as her...future husband?—she giggles at that possibility—has made her lose her hard-won control in the sack? No, he can stand to lose it a little, too, as far as she's concerned. At least she's got him if he does, unlike his idiot ass when he does it to her.
"So I guess what I'm really tryin' to say is," she starts again, showing him her teeth, "you better figure out how to get off without doin' all that nonsense."
The look on his face as she slaps herself back down on his hips is priceless, and the sheets flare up bright-ass pink again in response to his excitement.
And then, it's a race to beat the charge. The sparks between them start popping up everywhere they touch, escalating til it makes them both gasp and squirm, with Rogue quickly getting off again hard enough to see spots, and Remy trying to get his, too, and catch his mutation at the same time.
The charge pitches a higher whine, and Remy cusses a blue streak, slaps a hand over her ass. "Ch-chere...this ain't...I can't—oh fuck!" He groans, screwing up his eyes.
Rogue drops down on him, wants as much of his skin on hers as possible, kisses his panting mouth, and starts telling him a mix of 'I love yous' and the dirtiest talk she can think of. She watches his eyes blow nearly solid black, his irises only a thin, fire-bright ring, and she rides him bucking and frantically pulling the charge out of the sheets, his cheeks flushed, and—
"I love you, I love you, I love you—ohhhhhhhh, fuck me yes, I love you!" He pushes his head back in the pillow, his body shaking as he lets go, and his pillow explodes in a 'pop' of ashes and feathers.
Rogue shoots up off his chest in surprise, spitting out feathers, and then nearly busts her guts wide open laughing. The sight of her normally suave and charming lover all wild-eyed, spitting and spluttering feathers between gasps of air, feathers stuck in his sweaty hair, barely coherent, and just completely undone kills her. He's gorgeous, adorable, dirty-minded, fiendishly clever, obnoxious, the geekiest of Star Trekkies, sexy as all fucking hell, perfect, and she loves him.
She loves him, she loves him, she loves him, she loves him. And it's swelling her heart fifteen sizes too damn big right now.
He finally catches his breath and grins up at her, and she laughs again so hard, she snorts.
"The hell is it you think's so funny?" He demands, eyes flashing with humor as he picks out the pillow bits stuck to his teeth.
"Oh, I dunno," she giggles, leaning over to pluck two more feathers out his hair, "you givin' a whole meaning to 'bed head' might have something to do with it."
He snorts, reaches up to slide a hand along her jaw up into her hair as he leans up for a kiss. "C'mere, you," he nips out over her lips just before crushing her down on his chest.
Rogue snuggles up into his side, rubbing his abdomen and dropping soft kisses over his chest and shoulder as he quietens and stills. His eyes are already closed, and it's not long at all before the long strokes along her back turn into light, sporadic thumb caresses on her shoulder.
She looks up, watches the sharp lines of his face finally give it up for sleep, his head rolling toward her a bit, his mouth falling slightly open, and she smiles. He's a total panty-dropper when awake, but absolutely beautiful when he sleeps.
She impulsively reaches up to gently cup his face and lightly kiss his mouth. His lips twitch, and he smacks them in the kiss.
She giggles softly, and leans in for another quick kiss before settling back down under his arm.
What a day. It'd started with her waking to an empty bed and a grinned idea to visit Remy between classes, followed by an enjoyable girls' day out. Then, there was her mess of a mother, and then...now. Engaged to be engaged, she supposes?
She drowsily turns her face into Remy's shoulder, pulls in his smell, kisses him. She's not terribly concerned about the whole engaged or not engaged thing. So he hasn't asked, and there's no ring. Pfft! She'll let it go. If he asks, he asks; if he doesn't, he doesn't. She knows where his heart is at, always has; she's forever been the one running, not him. And truthfully, she's one hundred percent happy with him as they are.
It's enough to hear him say the things. To talk about Liv, and family, and locking shit down. He's lied about a great many things in his day, but she knows he absolutely wouldn't lie about any of that. So, if that's all the commitment she gets out of him?
Well. Then the good lord bless her meddlesome mother for bringing it along, because she's finally getting exactly what she'd always wanted, thought she'd never possibly have, and was too scared to even dare to hope for.
Now, if Raven might happen to choke, just a teensy weensy bit, once she figures out they're a done deal...
Rogue giggles and shakes her head, rubbing her lips and nose on her Cajun's shoulder, 'cause nah, that might be asking for too much, and no sense in getting greedy, huh?
A/N: Shout-outs and thank yous to both LEGNA and bustedflipflop for letting me throw some of their fantastic headcanons into this fic. If it hadn't been for them, Rogue's whole dynamic with the cats and Remy accidentally 'stealing' her baby name wouldn't have happened, and Anna-Marie really would have been her actual name:) Many, many thanks to LEGNA in particular for letting me run with her story and borrow so heavily from her own words to write this up. Thanks for the inspirations, ladies!