I'm baa-aack. With another chappie for you. Kinda a fluff but still necessary chapter.
Zany: yes, it's a real sequel. Not like a weird spin-off one. An actual, red blooded sequel.
Everyone else, thank you for your reviews. The first chapter was like, five words long but it received such enthusiastic reviews. It's even already been favorited. Your faith in me is so touching. It also adds a lot of pressure to be good but I'm okay with that. I just hope I can live up to your expectations. So here's chapter two.
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The glamorous life of an X-Man.
Rogue sifted through her drawers in search of something to wear that evening. She smiled a little, pleased that she had more options in clothing now that she had gained control. And now that she had a bedroom all to herself, she also pleased at all the closet space she had.
Because of some…strained relationships, some of the girls had traded roommates. Now, in order to avoid any more fights and broken noses, Jean was rooming with Kitty. It was good fit because to the two had pretty much formed a club based solely on not liking Emma Frost. And in regards to the white witch, Rogue feared she would have to room with her but she got lucky. Because Betsy—aka Psylocke—moved into the mansion. The Professor thought having the two telepaths who had faced the Hellfire Club in the same room was a good idea.
Rogue thought so too because now she was the only occupant of her bedroom.
One would assume, having a room to herself, the reclusive Goth would be spending more time alone. Quite the opposite actually.
Because now she had her very own Remy LeBeau.
Before they were a couple, the man was practically a shadow. Now that they were "officially" together, they were attached at the hip. So all that time she could have spent alone was spent sneaking Remy LeBeau in and out of her room.
Despite him being a "master thief" or whatever it was he was always bragging about, she was pretty certain that Logan was on to them. But he was letting them continue with their late night rendezvous because she seemed happy and had yet to get pregnant (yay birth control). It also gave him the ability to interrupt their tender moments whenever he wanted because hey, he was letting him sneak into her room. They had no room to complain.
Stupid Logan.
It wasn't even like they had a lot of alone time anyway. It is so incredibly hard to find a singular moment when there was a mansion of teenagers with boundary problems and an angry man with claws playing mother hen. But that was what tonight was for.
Time alone.
So Rogue continued to shift through her drawers, trying to find a suitable outfit. When she opened her first drawers, she stumbled upon her gloves.
She hadn't needed them for a couple of months now. Force of habit had her pulling them on in the morning before she remembered she didn't need them. It was only when Remy grabbed her hand and questioned it did she realize she had even done it. So she took them off and put them away.
It made her feel naked.
Which was stupid. Winter was approaching fast and so she had to wear more layers. No time for shorts and sleeveless shirts. But without her gloves, she felt like she was very exposed. It was not a sentiment she shared with anyone. Just one of those emotional journeys she had to deal with on her own, or whatever the cliché was.
Now, Rogue was looking into her drawers. And in these drawers were her under garments. And gloves. There were her sturdy gloves for when she went on missions. Her formal occasion gloves. Her day to day use gloves. Her back up gloves in case something happened to her other ones. Wrist length gloves. Black lace gloves. Oddly enough, fingerless gloves. Elbow length gloves. Red gloves. Black gloves. White gloves. Even a pair of green gloves.
She almost had as many gloves a she did socks.
She still needed socks. Only now she didn't need the gloves anymore.
Outside, she heard the thundering sound she came to associate with his motorcycle. Which meant he was here. Which meant she had about two seconds to pull on a shirt and lace up her shoes before Remy got in the door. And if she wasn't ready when he got into the garage, then he would come look for her. And, no matter her state of dress, he would pick her up, toss her over his broad shoulders, and carry her out the house.
She learned her lesson the first time.
Picking up a jade shirt that "complimented her eyes" according to Remy, Rogue stuffed her feet into her shoes and ran out the door. But before she left, she grabbed her old, wrist length black gloves.
Old habits die hard.
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If one were to ask Remy LeBeau to make a list of his favorite things, he would have great difficulty composing said list. Which was odd, because he was a man who organized most things with a series of odd, barely comprehensible lists.
Lists about things to steal. Lists of things he wasn't going to steal. Lists of things to do to irritate others. List of things children should remember**. Lists of all sorts of sexual, chocolate and sock related things he wanted to do with Rogue. Lists about lists.
Remy LeBeau liked having lists. But a list ranking his favorite things in the world? That'd be hard.
Obviously, he liked stealing. Hell, he loved it. But then there was driving fast. He liked that too. And he liked stealing. And sex. He really liked sex. And chocolate. That was pretty amazing. But he also enjoyed annoying people for his entertainment. And stealing. And sex. And fighting. And stealing.
Sex. Did he mention sex? Because he really liked sex.
But, there were only a few things he liked more than the aforementioned items on his list. The first thing had to be, obviously, Rogue. But then there was kissing Rogue. And confusing Rogue. So when he got to do all three at one time?
Remy LeBeau was a happy man.
He had her, pinned to a wall in the garage. They had an exhilarating ride through the streets of Bayville on his bike before stopping off at a restaurant they frequented. He was complete gentleman all night. He opened doors. Paid the bill (but conceded when she insisted on handling the tip). Gave her a heads up before he took off at break neck speeds on his bike. Helped her off his bike like a gentleman. So how does he end a night full of kindness?
By pushing her against the wall and kissing her senseless.
Yup. That's just what he did.
And she was confused. He knew she was expecting a goodnight kiss. Because he had been a good guy all night. What she wasn't expecting was him to…how would the romance novels phrase it?
Strip the air from her lungs with one searing and sensual kiss? Something to that effect.
Not that she seemed to have any problem with it. No, no. Her initial surprise only lasted for a few seconds before she took a handful of his hair in his hands and pulled him even closer. He sighed happily into her mouth.
Kissing was fun.
So was molding his mouth against hers and twining tongues in what romance novels would describe as a "sensual dance." He liked the contrast of being sweet all night and then kiss her in a not so nice way. In fact, the last way their kiss could be described would be "nice." Which was good. Because being nice could only be so much fun.
So he kissed her vigorously, purposely trying to make her head spin and her knees shake. He loved feeling her heart flutter in time with his. She was always perfectly in sync with him. Which proved to be a slight problem because she was returning his enthusiastic kiss with equal zeal. So his head was spinning and his knees were shaking just as bad as hers.
He loved it. Every single moment, he loved it.
He managed to pry his lips from hers in order to drag them along her jawline before dipping down toward her neck. She inhaled sharply when he bit down softly on the skin between her neck and shoulder. He sucked in a breath himself when she let her hands snake beneath his shirt so she could become reacquainted with the stomach muscles she was so fond of.
Washboard abs: a blessing for both of them.
Rogue tugged on his hair once more, urging him to bring his mouth back to hers. He complied only slightly, turning his attention instead to her ears. Ears. Her weak spot. The instant way to make her knees become jelloy and pliant in his arms.
When in doubt, go for the ears.
When he sucked gently on her earlobe, she made a soft sound that typically translated to "Good job. Keep up the good work, Remy." Almost impulsively, her leg jerked forward. He didn't give her time to let it go back down. He took hold of her thigh and hooked it around his hip before closing the limited space between them. She growled softly and he just about lost it then and there.
Unfortunately, he never had a chance to test his self-control.
"Break it up you two," a voice called from the other end of the garage. Groaning in a not sexy way, Remy and Rogue looked up. Logan stood at the other end of the room, a beer dangling casually from his hands. "Dinner is ready."
"We already ate," Remy said as calmly as possible, not releasing Rogue's thigh. Partly because he had no shame. Partly because they were accustomed to being interrupted, embarrassment and modesty long ago went out the window.
Logan shrugged. "Eat again. Now get your asses inside."
Without another word, he turned and walked out the room. Only when the door was shut firmly behind him did Remy release his paramour with a heavy sigh. He smiled at her wistfully. Her cheeks had colored but she managed to muster a small smile for Remy. After a pregnant moment, Remy offered his most charming smile, bowing lavishly.
"Shall we go, Cherie?" he asked, offering her his hand.
She rolled her eyes at the theatrics she pretended not to like. "Let's go."
It was only when he laced his fingers with hers did he notice something was off. He lifted her hand to his face, examining her it curiously. He pouted.
"Why are you still wearin' these gloves, Roguey? I wanna feel your hands wit' mine."
She allowed for him to pull off the gloves and tuck them away into his pockets. Then they smiled at each other, heading for the entrance of the mansion. Honestly, if Remy LeBeau weren't a natural skeptic, he would have thought that the world was right and nothing could go wrong. That life was good and maybe things were looking up for good.
But he saw the brief flash of sadness in Rogue's eyes when he pulled the gloves off and knew it was time for the trouble to brew.
Trouble, a constant companion he always seemed to be courting. It was like he couldn't resist finding it and seducing it.
Old habits die hard, after all.
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**how many of you get it?
Anyway, will update rather soon. At least I hope so. Anyway, review away. They encourage me!
-M.A.