Hello there fellow Scribes! Many years have passed since I've graces these hallowed bytes. Just as the disclaimer: I don't own this and I'm rusty in format.
Cajun Summers
"What can Ah say?" What can Ah say? "Ah looked achou wit' lust in my eyes." The Cajun rolls over to the woman
lying next to him. He could tell her it meant nothing. He could tell her that it was all his fault, that she shouldn't
feel guilty, that her husband need never know, that what just happened would never happen again, but that
would all be a lie and the telepath next to him would see right through him, or burn a hole through him one.
"Logan should have been de one here. Not me." This, she knows. He sounds stupid to himself for saying it, but
the look in her deep green eyes lets him know its O.K. Logan. He forgot in the heat of things about Logan. They'd
get back from this stinking waste of a mission to the Bayou and Jean's smell, her perfume, the unwashable e
ssence of her would be on his skin, permeating the air through his pores and Logan would know their shame and
Remy would be a dead man What Logan didn't finish, Rouge would. It would be worth it to be a dead man for
this again. The way she looked as she got out of that pool and the look she gave him, the woman knew exactly
what she was doing to him. Whether she was merely teasing of not, she shouldn't have been surprised what
happened next. How Scott ever let this go and however the Canadian trusted any other man around her, Remy
would never know. She's looking at him again, and the Bayou heat doesn't hold justice to the incendiary warmth
flaming off this woman's beautiful body. She's not through with him. "Remy?" She almost purrs, retracing the
scratch marks now littering his back and arms. Placing her mouth back over where he'd been bitten so tender as
he winces. He should push her away, but so help him, he wants this. Damn being able to hide this or keep this
secret! "Jeannie, you can't do dis to me. Think about who we got waiting for us." Remy gulps hard, sweat rolling
down his Adams apple as he knows he's certainly not going to stop her, not that he could if he wanted to.
"Logan has nothing to say, he's done the same." She snaps at him. "Besides, no one will ever have to know."
She lowers her voice seductively to a low growl. If being naked in the full noon sun trickling through the deep red
curtains didn't do it for him that just did. That, or the deep exciting fear he has for the woman, she just gets his
blood boiling, in so many more ways than one. She always has. He knows she doesn't love him, and he doesn't
her, but this has only to do with strait, raw desire. Right now, not even the age difference matters, right now,
she's exciting parts of his brain telepathically that turns what she's doing right now into something cosmic, and
right now, if she wasn't holding it back, the look she's giving him of pure evil would have had him already panting
on the bed unable to speak. He just can't take it anymore as he pulls her mouth away from him and pulls her on
top. How he's going to hide the bill for the burnt sheets from Scott, he doesn't know. Why in the hell is he
thinking about Scott with this going on? Because Remy feels something hard under his back and comes to realize
it's a communicator. Scott, his half brother and her first ex, has likely heard everything, twice. Scott, unlike Jean is
not good at secrets. He'll want something, Remy knows he's going to face what's been done, until he tries to pull
it out from behind him. Jean, when she came the first time, in addition to setting fire to the bed, must have
completely obliterated it. He knows he's about to get hurt as she goes again, Phoenix flames welting fire
feathers into his exposed skin. "Jean!" he screams her name as she finally lets him go too. "Oh..Oh shit…" The
sirens roaring down the street let him know that they need to get dressed and quick. This time she set the hotel
on fire. "Remy?" She breathes breathlessly almost questioning to see if he survived at all, much less unscathed.
"Ah'm here Cherie. Barely but Ah'm here." He manages to speak. "Tink you can do somethin' bout dis mess b'foa
our goose be cooked?" This time, she gives him that shy, childlike smile she's known for and the room, the hotel
and his bruising melts to normal, and they are clothed as hotel management bursts in on two people playing
cards. "Yes, gentlemen, may I help you?" Jean so sweetly says in an innocence that betrays the sensual creature
she is. "We got reports of a disturbance miss. But we can't see anything wrong here." The flustered red faced fat
man blubbers."We'll leave you to your game." As they leave, Remy notes that while Jean fixed every single
molecule in the room, furniture wise, she left the heady aroma of sex saturating the room. She looks at him
again, and he knows, he's not though with her.