Disclaimer: I do not own the xmen
The sun was beating down with a vengeance despite the waning hours in the day. The road was flying past them with a steady progress. Tomorrow if all went well they would be in New Orleans. Home. The thought delighted Remy to no end. He was able to go home after so long thanks to the ravishing creature sitting next to him biting her lower lip in an adorable manner. She was focused intently on her map and not paying him any bit of attention. Rogue was in an ungodly short denim skirt with natural colored stockings and a black tank top. Nothing else, and the sight of her bare arms drove him mad with wanting her. He had promised to be good and keep his hands to himself.
It was a difficult thing to do with her sitting so close. Her vanilla and lavender scent infiltrating his senses. But, Remy would be good. If he screwed up she would slip on that sweater and her gloves, which would be a crime. Besides, he could not let her wear layers in the heat if it was possible. It would be downright wrong.
"Sug, we're lost," Rogue finally announced pushing the map away with a scowl. Remy snorted and ignored her comment focusing on the road ahead. "If ya keep drivin' we're only gonna get more lost."
"Rogue, we are not lost." Women always thought they were lost. He knew perfectly well where they were . . . well at least he had a general idea. They would get there somehow.
"Pull over at the next exit. We'll ask for directions." Remy gritted his teeth.
"Non, we are not lost," he said with a end of discussion voice. Rogue growled next to him.
"Then where the hell are we?" she demanded sharply and crossed her arms over her chest.
Remy squinted at an upcoming sign. "Crossville soon," he answered.
"And should we be heading towards Crossville?" Rogue yelled. "Quit being stubborn! Ah want ta sleep in a decent hotel not some dive. Ya made reservations remember? They'll charge ya even if we don't sleep in that room. What were ya even thinkin' bookin' a one bed suit?"
Remy sighed. Rogue was one frustrating woman. "Because Remy needed to use de famille card. Remy wants dem to know we're comin' to N'Orleans. He does not want to completely surprise dem. Dat's how you end up with bullet holes. It's a honeymoon suit. Remy will sleep on de couch if you want, chere. Mais, quand we are in N'Orleans you will be sleepin' in mon lit," he explained. Rogue growled before turning away from him towards the window drumming her fingers on her arm.
"Remy, please just pull over," she said with a sigh. The sound was almost enough to dissolve his resolve and make him comply to her wishes.
"Non, we ain't lost, chere."
"Ugh!" Rogue growled while throwing her hand up in the air. "Ya are such a boy!"
Remy's jaw fell. No one had called him a boy since, well, probably when he was twelve. "Quoi?" he demanded incredulously and a hint of anger. Rogue then turned to him and smiled that wicked smile only women could manage. It meant that she had him right where she wanted.
"A real man would have no problem askin' for directions. A man would own up and admit he was lost. Look, if you want . . . if you're too afraid . . . too much of a baby ah can ask someone for directions." Remy growled before jerking the car violently over into the exit lane about to end. Rogue screamed as he narrowly avoided the exit sign and gripped the dashboard for dear life as he set the car onto the exit ramp.
"Remy will ask for de directions. Oh, Remy is a man alright, chere. One day he'll show you have you moanin' et screamin' his name. A boy couldn't do dat!" he yelled and slowed the car down a fraction. Rogue's eyes were wide and full of fear. "Merde!" Remy said and suddenly the anger left him in a rush.
The car was deadly silent as they pulled into a gas station. Remy said nothing as he put the car in park and shut off the engine and leaned his head against the steering wheel. No one could get under his skin like Rogue could. The thought of her looking at him as a boy made him see red. He was always cool, collected, and cunningly calculated. Rogue with the simplest ease could turn him into a big pile of mush, a stuttering idiot, or a raging loon.
"Rogue," he whispered softly. She refused to look at him and instead inspected her hands intently. "Rogue," he tried again. When that did not work he carefully turned her face towards his. She allowed his gloved fingers to touch her so it meant he had no permanently ruined whatever they had.
"What?"
"I am sorry, Rogue. Please forgive moi," he apologized. He let his hand move back to run through her hair.
"Don't do that again, swamp rat. What made you so angry? Alright, ah know ah was goadin' ya, but did ya need to nearly kill us?" she demanded looking him square in the eyes.
Remy squirmed before placing his hand on her knee. "Chere, Remy admits he has a lot of pride. He don't like de idea of you seein' him as a boy not one bit. You know Remy cares for you right?" Rogue's eyes widened for a fraction before returning to normal. Remy would have missed it if he had not been staring so intently into her eyes.
"Ya do don't ya?" she asked with uncertainty and a hint of doubt.
"Oui, more den you know, chere." Remy had no idea why for the life of him he could not win with Rogue. No matter what he did nothing went according to plan. "So, you forgive moi?"
Rogue gently bit her bottom lip before answering, "Yeah, ah forgive ya. Now go figure out where we are and buy meh a soda and a candy." Remy laughed and kissed the top of her head. Rogue made a sound of protest and tried to smack him, but he was already getting out of the car.
"No problem, chere." Remy said and darted inside before he could screw up again.
The single mountain room suite at the Mayor's Mansion Inn was stunning to say the least. Rogue had been pleased when she discovered the "hotel" they were staying at in Chattanooga Tennessee was actually a cute eighteen bedroom Bed and Breakfast. Rogue seemed too like old fashion things preferring character to uniformity.
The room was monochrome with black and white French toile wall paper with matching bed comforter. The plush queen sized bed was tucked into a recess in the wall for a more intimate atmosphere. There were a few pieces of furniture. A black vanity, a simple white velvet upholstered couch, a small table with two chairs painted black, and a white marble fireplace with veins of black running throughout. In the bathroom was an enormous marble bathtub in a bay window with half curtains for privacy, which did not hinder the view of the mountain.
Remy tried to hide his smirk at seeing the horror in Rogue's face as she saw the red rose petals on the bed. They stood out like blood on white snow compared to the lack of color in the room. He had paid for the special honeymooner's package which included the rose petals. The outrageous price for it was well worth the look on Rogue's face.
"Ugh why are these here?" she demanded before moving to remove the suggestive rose petals.
"All for the image, chere," he said as he dropped their bags in the corner. He knew someone would be up soon with some Champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. It was part of the package. The idea of paying for room service instead of going to for dinner was rather appealing. Remy was exhausted from driving. Rogue had offered to help, but he had turned her down. He wanted her to feel relaxed and at ease.
A firm knock sounded at their door. Remy who was closest opened it in an instant. Outside their door were two employees . . . an overly buff looking man with sandy hair and a small girl with long black hair and a bright smile. They were wearing the hotel uniform of kakis and white shirt with the Inn's name stitched on the front. The man had a serving cart in front of him with what Remy expected to see Champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. He noticed messaging oil in the man's hand.
"Uh, merci," Remy said as he pulled the cart inside and off to the side.
"We are also your masseuses," the man informed him. Remy frowned he knew he should have read the whole package.
"Remy?" Rogue said in a questioning voice coming to stand beside him. Remy noticed how buff and brainless was staring at her with a hungry gaze.
"My coworker and I are here for your massage," the man told Rogue. Remy could sense her distress immediately. He knew why massages and her power would not mix well.
"Dat won't be necessary. But I'll take dis," Remy said before snatching the massage oil and closing the door in the man's face preventing him from ogling Rogue some more. If anyone was touching her it would be him. Then a wonderfully delicious thought came to mind and Remy smiled from ear to ear.
"Thanks, Rems, ah about died when he said massage. Well he would have about died. Great thinkin'," she said sounding a little disappointed.
"Rogue, how about Remy give you a massage?" Her face flushed a little and she glared at him.
"You know better than that!" she snapped. Remy knew she probably never experienced a massage in her entire life. He wanted to give her one and not for the enjoyment of running his hands all over her body, although that was certainly a wonderful idea. No, he wanted to do it for her to give her pleasure as he worked out the tension in her muscles until she was like putty in his hands and relaxed.
"Remy will wear gloves. Come on you know you want to," he said with a wink. Rogue frowned and bit her lower lips before shaking her head.
"Nope, ah know what ya are up to, Cajun. Ah ain't no fool," she said before storming over to her bag in search of something.
"Chere, come on. Remy promises not to do anything inappropriate. Wouldn't you like a nice massage?" He waved the massage oil in front of her face. She scowled at him for a long moment.
"Ah should say no," she muttered softly. Remy stepped closer and gazed deeply into her eyes. Her gorgeous green eyes stared back into his demon eyes looking lost and uncertain, but at the same time trusting. The notion shocked him thoroughly, and Remy resolved to be worthy of her trust to cherish and treasure it.
"But you won't, Rogue. Please, let Remy do this for you," he said softly before twirling a white strand of hair around his finger.
"Why? Why do you want to so much?" she asked.
"Can't Remy do something nice for his chere?" Then he leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Come on, Rogue, Remy happens to be very good at giving massages."
Sighing, Rogue nodded. "Oh . . . alright. But if yer hands get a little too frisky ah'll drain ya dry!" she warned.
Remy did not even bother to hide his grin. "D'accord. Just go take off your top and get under the sheet and Remy will be out in cinq minutes to give you privacy." he explained.
"Hold it! Ah ain't lettin' ya give meh a massage while ah'm topless!" she yelled. Remy was not discouraged he had expected this reply.
"Chere, we have massage oil. If you have on a top how is Remy supposed to use dis stuff?" he tried. Rogue crossed her arms over her chest. "Rogue, would Remy do somethin' bad to you?" he asked. He saw her eyes soften a fraction. "Remy promises not to peek."
"Okay, fahne. Ah'll take off mah top, but ah swear Cajun! If ya touch meh innaporpritatly ah'll call Logan and tell him where ya are and ah won't stop him from makin' ya a swamp rat kabob," she growled. Remy smiled and nodded his head fervently. "Don't come out for five mintues! No, oops . . . ah didn't mean ta walk in on ya takin' off yer top either."
"Of course, chere. Cinq minutes," he promised before heading to the bathroom and closing the door before she could change her mind. Remy took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm down. He had not really thought this through. It would be hard to contain himself while kneading her soft flesh. It would be sweet torture.
When Remy emerged from the bathroom seven minutes later, he had to calm himself all over again at the sight of Rogue lying on the bed under a thin white sheet on her stomach. Her arms were crossed and her head tilted to the side on top. The sheet was pulled up all the way to her shoulder hiding her bare skin from view, but Remy knew she was topless underneath. She lifted her head and glanced back at him before quickly tucking it back in the crook of her arm to hide her rosy cheeks.
That got Remy moving as he crossed the distance. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it over to one of the chairs. He was about to put the oil on his gloves, when a brilliant idea came to mind. In his bag he had the perfect gloves for this job. They were what he normally wore on the job; his job as a thief. He threw the bottle on the bed before going over to his bag.
"Remy?" Rogue asked. Remy quickly found what he was looking for these were black gloves made of the thinnest fabric imaginable. He was more than willing to sacrifice them to the cause; he had two others packed anyways.
"Just changin' mes gants," he replied slipping into French in his excitement. With his gloves in place he quickly crossed over to her and climbed onto the bed.
He started sitting on the edge next to her, but he planned to change positions after she was a little more relaxed. Leaning over her he grabbed the massage oil and placed the bottle on his lap. Rogue stiffened in anticipation, but Remy had every intention of making her as loose as a wet noodle. Slowly, he pulled back the sheet until he reach the top of her skirt. The sight of her bare back was breathtaking.
Her skin was pure and unblemished. The only color on her lily white skin was the occasional freckle. Remy poured a good amount of oil into his hand and worked it around covering his gloves and warming it up. He placed both his hands gently on her shoulders and Rogue relaxed under his touch.
Pushing aside his desire, Remy quickly got down to business. He was quite serious as he worked out the kinks and knots out of her back. Rogue was more stressed than was probably healthy and was hard to her body. However, after roughly ten minutes Rogue was sighing softly under his ministrations. Remy had calculated every pleasure spot during his work and grinned as he began hitting them with intensity.
Slowly, Remy moved his position so that he was on top of her straddling her hips while his hands continued to work their magic on her back, shoulders, and neck. When he hit a particularly sensitive spot on her shoulder blade, Rogue moaned loudly. Remy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from flipping her over and ravishing her lips.
"How does that feel, chere?" he asked moving away from that spot only to return to it again. Rogue responded the same as before.
"Remy," she growled. However, her threat was hollow due to the moan that followed it.
"You want Remy to stop?" He removed his hands and quickly pulled off his gloves. He had an idea, a hunch. Rogue would forgive him if he was right.
"Who said you could stop, swamp rat?" Rogue demanded. Remy laughed in response and glanced at the clock before placing his hands back on her skin. He waited and nothing happened. There was no pull or drain. With the imminent danger passed Remy reveled in the softness of her skin. He had never felt something so smooth and wonderful in his entire life.
Remy quickly resumed the massage focusing on her lower back, which was free from massage oil. It would serve to prove that she was not absorbing him because of the barrier of the oil. Rogue was back to sighing and at one point giggled as he touched a ticklish place. Quickly her breath became shallow as he was lulling her to sleep.
"Rogue?" he asked.
"Hum?" she mumbled into her arm.
"How long did you say you had control over your power, chere?"
"Oh, uh . . . three minutes. Why?" Rogue asked. Remy glanced to the clock.
"What would you say if Remy has been touchin' you, chere for the past fifteen minutes and you have not absorbed Remy at all?" he asked with a pleased smile. Rogue could react in two ways. One she could be happy, or she could be pissed as hell that he had taken the risk without telling her. Remy prayed her reaction would be the first, but knew it would probably be the second.
"What?" she asked.