Title: Stolen Overture
Author: Eightcrayondon
Pairing: OreO
Rating: M
Summary: Remy reflects on his relationship with Ororo, his Relationship with Rogue and the difference between the two. Too hot for TV.
This is the answer to the challenge from Elfkid/Bastet05 posed about three months ago. This is two months late and you gotta love her because she said that I still passed.
Challenge; Write a fic about your least favorite character from that characters POV and with that character in a positive light. The positive light thingy might be tricky because I write angsty fics.
I'm playing solitaire in Stormy's attic; she don't care about uninvited guests, as long as I don't smoke or go in her nursery. I'm waiting for her, hoping that this ain't poor timing.
She was a kid when we met; younger than Jubilee but she had more street smarts than most adults. We were partners in our spree and there was something familiar about her; despite her Robin Hood complex she was as free as I am.
Free? I think, dealing the cards and fully appreciating the irony and melodrama of my game of solitaire.
Sometimes, to get away from herself, she'll go out late at night to fly. It's easy to forget how much we share whether it be the difficult childhoods, adults that pushed us to thievery or the ways that we handle it. Both of us are used to masks; the parts of us that we show our friends wrapping up the parts that we keep inside and while my wickedness is the mask that I wear, she covers the stuff inside or behind her that cannot be redeemed.
Everybody knows right from wrong and for a long time I rejected that while she carries an angel in white on her shoulder nagging everybody. I love her standards and morality but she's got this streak in her, this grit that I'd put it up against anybody.
I flirt, fearlessly. People wanna know where I find the courage, I shrug: No woman could hurt me when my mother and father rejected me before the doctors cleaned me off.
I've flirted with Ororo and she's challenged me, kissing me and they were the best moments of my life.
With Rogue it was just flirting at first but then she fell for me and I fell for the idea of saving her; our relationship was like a chase. I love chases, it's always the best part but for some reason that changed when Stormy was pressed against me; catching her became the best part.
I hear her feet tap, landing on the skylight.
Merde.
She's naked; she's always been a little shy about her sexuality but for some reason she's never connected sexuality and her body. I got no trouble matching up the two.
"Hello, Remy," she says, her back (what a back) turned to me.
She hasn't seen me but something about her power; she can sense the difference in the air when I breathe.
"Hey Stormy," I say, standing and approaching her.
"What inspires such a late night visit?"
"Ain't that late, huh?"
"True," she says, facing me and meeting my eyes with her own as though she were wearing a potato sack "You do not usually go to bed until the larks get up."
"Why don't you tell me to stop calling you 'Stormy' no more?"
She smiles, it's bright almost like she has a halo or something.
"I had not even noticed. Maybe it has grown on me."
"I miss seeing you mad." I say, she looks startled when I raise my hand to touch her face, embarrassed at first but then she closes her eyes and leans into my palm. She lifts her hand to cup mine like she's helping me support her head.
"This isn't fair," she whispers her objection, opening her eyes to stare into mine.
"Since when do we know anything about the breaks in life, Chere?"
She's right. What we're doing is wrong; Rogue doesn't deserve this and no matter how hard life has been for me there's no excuse for what we're doing.
I'm not replacing Rogue with Storm because honestly what I got with Rogue isn't real. It was a flirtation that became something that I didn't want. I care about her but the truth is that I stayed with her, giving up what I wanted out of a sense of obligation. How do you tell a woman that can never be what a man needs in a woman, physically or emotionally, that you're in love with her best friend.
A silence follows, a still silence; she stares at me and I return the look. I jump, leaning forward kissing her lightly and pressing myself against her again. She leans away from my hand and I kiss her long neck; she moans her enthusiasm.
Carefully, she unbuttons my shirt, wrapping her arms around me touching my bare back lightly and pulling me close so that we're cheek to cheek.
"A true thief, yes?" I say, laughing; she unbuckled my pants without me knowing.
I grab her by her bare ass and lift her, sliding inside of her and it already feels like the Fourth Of July.
A. B. C. D. E. F. G …
Using my hands, I lift her and lower her until she takes control, wrapping her legs around me she bounces up and down; never breaking eye contact and speaking Bayou French. I never knew she had such a dirty mouth.
I grunt. She moans, bringing her face close to mine.
We are like that for a while, me still inside of her and her lips casually resting against my neck. I carry her to the bed like that, afraid that if I let her outside of this embrace things with get awkward and we'll lose what we have.
I rest my head on her stomach and she touches my hair, breathing lightly and we fall asleep there tangle in each other.