Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Author's Notes: More story. It's been a really slow day at work, so I've had lots of good writing time. Thanks for all the feedback, and for putting up with this Antarctica-free alternate universe;)
****
Manumission
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
He watched her as she slept, as he had on that first miserably hot night they'd spent in the city. On the opposite side of the big bed, so close, but so far away from him, she'd cried, quietly, softly, obviously never intending him to notice. But he had. Because he'd felt the same way.
That night, however, Remy was able to run his fingers across her smooth skin as she dozed after their latest lovemaking. He delighted in seeing her smile in her sleep. When she shifted, the sheet that she'd drawn up around her breasts slipped down, offering him a view he'd memorized over the past hours.
His hand slid down to one full, perfect mound, and he cupped it lovingly, his thumb gently agitating the rosy nipple. Satin, he thought. Satin that tasted like fresh peaches and cream.
Rogue's eyes slowly opened, emerald green peeking out from behind her long lashes. "What time is it?" she whispered.
"After five in de mornin'," he replied just as softly. "W'at you dreamin' bout, chere?"
"What Ah always do." She took his hand and kissed the center of his palm. "An' ya know yer it." Rogue grasped his hand harder, squeezing her eyes shut in agony. "We're runnin' outta time!"
"Shh…" Remy moved closer to her in order to wrap his arms around her bare, slender shoulders. "Take it easy, chere. We still got time." He kissed her hair. "We're gonna be jus' fine."
Her nose got squashed against the hard muscles of his chest, but she didn't care. He smelled like sex and aftershave, a surprisingly appealing combination. She clung to him, pressing her lips to his hot skin as he held her. "Promise me, Remy."
"We come back from worse t'ings de a nigh' o' great sex," he laughed, a valiant attempt to lighten the mood.
"More than that," Rogue mumbled. She tilted her chin up to see his face. "Righ'? It was more than that."
Remy kissed her; even if she were allowed to kiss him every day for a hundred years, she knew she could never get tired of the feeling. "'Course it was, chere."
"It was magic."
He rolled onto his back and pulled her along with him to lie on his chest. "Dis city…it be all 'bout magic." She shivered as he traced patterns on her back with the very tips of his fingers. "We be 'bout magic, too."
"What're we gonna do, Remy?" Rogue asked a moment later. His heart beat steadily underneath her ear. "How're we supposed to go back to jus' bein'…what were we 'fore this?"
"Gambit been t'inking you his femme," he replied. "But he know you don' like dat."
She sniffed, indignant. "That's some o' my momma comin' through there. She'd skin me alive if Ah let some man call me his." Rogue lifted her head. "But Ah don' got a big, ol' stick up my butt like she does, so yeah…Ah'm yers. Jus' don' forget, swamp rat…yer mine, too."
"Never been any question 'bout dat."
Rogue settled back against him. His legs entwined with hers, hairy and sinewy wrapped around smooth and shapely. "Don' forget," she repeated, almost to herself.
"Dere no way I could," Remy answered. He looked down at her; she molded so perfectly against his body, curves and angles disappearing into each other, merging as they'd merged so many times that night. How could he ever forget? The images had been burned into his brain. When he was old and crippled and couldn't remember his own name, he'd still be able to remember what she looked like the throes of orgasm, her head thrown back, hair flying, teeth digging into her lip…what she tasted like, hot sugar and spice…how she cried out his name, begging and commanding at the same time. He couldn't forget. He wouldn't forget.
To ensure this, he drew her up for another kiss, losing himself in the heat of her mouth once more. "One more time, chere," he breathed. His hands stroked her, pleading. "Jus' one more time…"
Rogue nodded as she kissed him back, shifting until she could feel his newly-roused flesh against the center of her body. "Come into me, sugah."
A mingled cry of pleasure echoed throughout the room. Remy looked up at the woman riding his body. Her hair, tangled beyond the help of any comb, tumbled over her breasts; she was every goddess, the Madonna and the whore, the princess in the tower and the sorceress in the dungeon. When she opened her eyes and looked down at him, he was pierced through, stunned out of his very breath.
She paused, and ran her hands over his chest. "What's wrong?"
"Not'ing," he managed to reply. "I jus'…I love you, Rogue."
A tear trickled down her cheek, catching the weak light and shining. Seconds later, her back arched as the first wave of pleasure hit her. Remy took the opportunity to sit up, pulling her against his chest. They sat, joined, and he kissed her throat, her collar, her shoulders until she was ready to go on.
Rogue met his stare. He was perfectly still within in her, waiting. "More, sugah," she whispered.
He pitched forward, covering her body with his and she found herself back in the very first position in which they'd come together. She licked her lip and hooked her legs around his lower back.
Almost there, Remy kissed her fiercely. His lips fell from hers and his forehead dropped to her shoulder as he came, losing himself within her depths. "Ah love ya, too," she told him, running her fingers through his hair. Sated and completely content to let him stay inside of her forever, Rogue turned her head towards the windows. And immediately, her entire body felt cold.
There was a light in the east, heralding the sun's daily appearance. She stared at it until she began to tremble.
Remy pulled himself together and looked down at his lover. "W'at, chere?" He followed her gaze and his heart missed a few beats. Pinks and oranges appeared in the sky, bleeding into the lingering night air.
She turned her watery gaze back up to him. "Ah can't lose ya!" Rogue cried. She shook her head against the sheets, struggling not against him, but against their very cruel fate. "Ah was wrong. This is too much…too big a price to pay!! Ah can't…Remy, please!" Her hands cupped his face. "We didn' get enough time!"
"Not enough be better den not'ing at all, chere," he gently reminded her. His own hands found her face, holding her as she held him. "Now...we let go. An' we go on rememberin' dis…" He choked on the words. "…was our nigh'. Dere weren't no one else in dis damn city but de two o' us."
Rogue tried to let his words relax her. But she was seconds away from losing his touch forever. And all she could do was cry. "Ah won' forget, Remy," she sobbed into his strong shoulder.
"Never," he whispered back. "Never."
He stayed within her until the pinks turned to reds and yellows. Just before dawn, he withdrew and wrapped her up in the sheets. When the sun peeked up over the French Quarter, he was still holding her, protected by soft, white cotton.
His lips found hers as the first rays hit them and after only a second, he felt it. The delirious sensation of having his soul sucked away from him. Rogue turned her head, breaking the kiss before she could do him any real harm.
Eventually, the harsh glare of the sun became too much. She stood first, trailing the sheets as she started towards the bathroom. "Ah'll just be a second, sugah." Her voice was flat. Lifeless. Nothing seemed to remain of the woman who'd made love to him all night. "Ah don' want ya to be late for yer meetin's."
She disappeared into the bathroom and he balled up his fist. The Guild. Like he gave a damn about alliances anymore. The only alliance he cared about was his relationship with her. Once again, they teetered on the edge, ready to plummet into nothingness. He fell back into the sheets, cursing her, himself, their mutations, the damn bag of charms that had given them so much, and the sun that had taken it away.
Their scent was all around him, forever imprinted on the sheets. He wrestled his way out of them, and went in search of his clothes. He could hear the water running in the shower, and it was all he could do to stop himself from joining her in it.
Tante Mattie had always told him to stay away from voodoo. Now, he realized why.
****
Tired, sore, and paralyzed with loss, Rogue somehow managed to drag herself out of the shower after he left on his daily round of meetings. She had to get out, had to get away from all the memories. They were like a fresh wound, painful and raw. She was afraid that the wound might never heal. Maybe it would be better if she could forget. How long could she live with the memories before they drove her insane? His one ticklish spot, his hair against her inner thigh, his tongue dipping into her wetness, the jerk of his sex in her hand, the salt of his essence, her name groaned in pleasure…
She grabbed her purse and ran. It was early, but the Quarter was wide awake, ready to start a new day. Children getting ready for school, husbands and wives kissing each other goodbye, looking forward to later when they could be alone again. She hated them, and her hate was heavy in her stomach.
Once again, Rogue existed outside of the world. She'd been allowed one night's glimpse into what everyone else had…and she wanted it back.
The door was still set back from the rest of the sidewalk, still painted black. Taking a breath, she went to push it open. But it didn't budge.
She tried again, and then a third time, contemplating a fourth and a fifth until she realized it was hopeless. A sign just to the left of the door announced an official foreclosure on the building, as well a seizure of property and contents within.
Rogue slipped to the hard, hot cement, drawing her knees up under her chin. She didn't cry; all the rest of her tears had flown down the drain with the water from the shower. She just remained there for hours, she didn't really know how long exactly, until a patrolling police officer stopped in front of the doorway.
"Miss," he began. "Do ya need some help?" When she didn't reply, he bent over and reached for her bare hand. "C'mon, miss. Let's get you up an'…"
"Don' touch me," Rogue said numbly. She tucked her hands against her chest. "No one…can touch me."
The man backed off. "It's jus'…ya can't loiter 'round here. It's not safe." He paused. "Ah'm sorry."
She nodded and stood up. "Me, too."
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: More story. It's been a really slow day at work, so I've had lots of good writing time. Thanks for all the feedback, and for putting up with this Antarctica-free alternate universe;)
****
Manumission
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
He watched her as she slept, as he had on that first miserably hot night they'd spent in the city. On the opposite side of the big bed, so close, but so far away from him, she'd cried, quietly, softly, obviously never intending him to notice. But he had. Because he'd felt the same way.
That night, however, Remy was able to run his fingers across her smooth skin as she dozed after their latest lovemaking. He delighted in seeing her smile in her sleep. When she shifted, the sheet that she'd drawn up around her breasts slipped down, offering him a view he'd memorized over the past hours.
His hand slid down to one full, perfect mound, and he cupped it lovingly, his thumb gently agitating the rosy nipple. Satin, he thought. Satin that tasted like fresh peaches and cream.
Rogue's eyes slowly opened, emerald green peeking out from behind her long lashes. "What time is it?" she whispered.
"After five in de mornin'," he replied just as softly. "W'at you dreamin' bout, chere?"
"What Ah always do." She took his hand and kissed the center of his palm. "An' ya know yer it." Rogue grasped his hand harder, squeezing her eyes shut in agony. "We're runnin' outta time!"
"Shh…" Remy moved closer to her in order to wrap his arms around her bare, slender shoulders. "Take it easy, chere. We still got time." He kissed her hair. "We're gonna be jus' fine."
Her nose got squashed against the hard muscles of his chest, but she didn't care. He smelled like sex and aftershave, a surprisingly appealing combination. She clung to him, pressing her lips to his hot skin as he held her. "Promise me, Remy."
"We come back from worse t'ings de a nigh' o' great sex," he laughed, a valiant attempt to lighten the mood.
"More than that," Rogue mumbled. She tilted her chin up to see his face. "Righ'? It was more than that."
Remy kissed her; even if she were allowed to kiss him every day for a hundred years, she knew she could never get tired of the feeling. "'Course it was, chere."
"It was magic."
He rolled onto his back and pulled her along with him to lie on his chest. "Dis city…it be all 'bout magic." She shivered as he traced patterns on her back with the very tips of his fingers. "We be 'bout magic, too."
"What're we gonna do, Remy?" Rogue asked a moment later. His heart beat steadily underneath her ear. "How're we supposed to go back to jus' bein'…what were we 'fore this?"
"Gambit been t'inking you his femme," he replied. "But he know you don' like dat."
She sniffed, indignant. "That's some o' my momma comin' through there. She'd skin me alive if Ah let some man call me his." Rogue lifted her head. "But Ah don' got a big, ol' stick up my butt like she does, so yeah…Ah'm yers. Jus' don' forget, swamp rat…yer mine, too."
"Never been any question 'bout dat."
Rogue settled back against him. His legs entwined with hers, hairy and sinewy wrapped around smooth and shapely. "Don' forget," she repeated, almost to herself.
"Dere no way I could," Remy answered. He looked down at her; she molded so perfectly against his body, curves and angles disappearing into each other, merging as they'd merged so many times that night. How could he ever forget? The images had been burned into his brain. When he was old and crippled and couldn't remember his own name, he'd still be able to remember what she looked like the throes of orgasm, her head thrown back, hair flying, teeth digging into her lip…what she tasted like, hot sugar and spice…how she cried out his name, begging and commanding at the same time. He couldn't forget. He wouldn't forget.
To ensure this, he drew her up for another kiss, losing himself in the heat of her mouth once more. "One more time, chere," he breathed. His hands stroked her, pleading. "Jus' one more time…"
Rogue nodded as she kissed him back, shifting until she could feel his newly-roused flesh against the center of her body. "Come into me, sugah."
A mingled cry of pleasure echoed throughout the room. Remy looked up at the woman riding his body. Her hair, tangled beyond the help of any comb, tumbled over her breasts; she was every goddess, the Madonna and the whore, the princess in the tower and the sorceress in the dungeon. When she opened her eyes and looked down at him, he was pierced through, stunned out of his very breath.
She paused, and ran her hands over his chest. "What's wrong?"
"Not'ing," he managed to reply. "I jus'…I love you, Rogue."
A tear trickled down her cheek, catching the weak light and shining. Seconds later, her back arched as the first wave of pleasure hit her. Remy took the opportunity to sit up, pulling her against his chest. They sat, joined, and he kissed her throat, her collar, her shoulders until she was ready to go on.
Rogue met his stare. He was perfectly still within in her, waiting. "More, sugah," she whispered.
He pitched forward, covering her body with his and she found herself back in the very first position in which they'd come together. She licked her lip and hooked her legs around his lower back.
Almost there, Remy kissed her fiercely. His lips fell from hers and his forehead dropped to her shoulder as he came, losing himself within her depths. "Ah love ya, too," she told him, running her fingers through his hair. Sated and completely content to let him stay inside of her forever, Rogue turned her head towards the windows. And immediately, her entire body felt cold.
There was a light in the east, heralding the sun's daily appearance. She stared at it until she began to tremble.
Remy pulled himself together and looked down at his lover. "W'at, chere?" He followed her gaze and his heart missed a few beats. Pinks and oranges appeared in the sky, bleeding into the lingering night air.
She turned her watery gaze back up to him. "Ah can't lose ya!" Rogue cried. She shook her head against the sheets, struggling not against him, but against their very cruel fate. "Ah was wrong. This is too much…too big a price to pay!! Ah can't…Remy, please!" Her hands cupped his face. "We didn' get enough time!"
"Not enough be better den not'ing at all, chere," he gently reminded her. His own hands found her face, holding her as she held him. "Now...we let go. An' we go on rememberin' dis…" He choked on the words. "…was our nigh'. Dere weren't no one else in dis damn city but de two o' us."
Rogue tried to let his words relax her. But she was seconds away from losing his touch forever. And all she could do was cry. "Ah won' forget, Remy," she sobbed into his strong shoulder.
"Never," he whispered back. "Never."
He stayed within her until the pinks turned to reds and yellows. Just before dawn, he withdrew and wrapped her up in the sheets. When the sun peeked up over the French Quarter, he was still holding her, protected by soft, white cotton.
His lips found hers as the first rays hit them and after only a second, he felt it. The delirious sensation of having his soul sucked away from him. Rogue turned her head, breaking the kiss before she could do him any real harm.
Eventually, the harsh glare of the sun became too much. She stood first, trailing the sheets as she started towards the bathroom. "Ah'll just be a second, sugah." Her voice was flat. Lifeless. Nothing seemed to remain of the woman who'd made love to him all night. "Ah don' want ya to be late for yer meetin's."
She disappeared into the bathroom and he balled up his fist. The Guild. Like he gave a damn about alliances anymore. The only alliance he cared about was his relationship with her. Once again, they teetered on the edge, ready to plummet into nothingness. He fell back into the sheets, cursing her, himself, their mutations, the damn bag of charms that had given them so much, and the sun that had taken it away.
Their scent was all around him, forever imprinted on the sheets. He wrestled his way out of them, and went in search of his clothes. He could hear the water running in the shower, and it was all he could do to stop himself from joining her in it.
Tante Mattie had always told him to stay away from voodoo. Now, he realized why.
****
Tired, sore, and paralyzed with loss, Rogue somehow managed to drag herself out of the shower after he left on his daily round of meetings. She had to get out, had to get away from all the memories. They were like a fresh wound, painful and raw. She was afraid that the wound might never heal. Maybe it would be better if she could forget. How long could she live with the memories before they drove her insane? His one ticklish spot, his hair against her inner thigh, his tongue dipping into her wetness, the jerk of his sex in her hand, the salt of his essence, her name groaned in pleasure…
She grabbed her purse and ran. It was early, but the Quarter was wide awake, ready to start a new day. Children getting ready for school, husbands and wives kissing each other goodbye, looking forward to later when they could be alone again. She hated them, and her hate was heavy in her stomach.
Once again, Rogue existed outside of the world. She'd been allowed one night's glimpse into what everyone else had…and she wanted it back.
The door was still set back from the rest of the sidewalk, still painted black. Taking a breath, she went to push it open. But it didn't budge.
She tried again, and then a third time, contemplating a fourth and a fifth until she realized it was hopeless. A sign just to the left of the door announced an official foreclosure on the building, as well a seizure of property and contents within.
Rogue slipped to the hard, hot cement, drawing her knees up under her chin. She didn't cry; all the rest of her tears had flown down the drain with the water from the shower. She just remained there for hours, she didn't really know how long exactly, until a patrolling police officer stopped in front of the doorway.
"Miss," he began. "Do ya need some help?" When she didn't reply, he bent over and reached for her bare hand. "C'mon, miss. Let's get you up an'…"
"Don' touch me," Rogue said numbly. She tucked her hands against her chest. "No one…can touch me."
The man backed off. "It's jus'…ya can't loiter 'round here. It's not safe." He paused. "Ah'm sorry."
She nodded and stood up. "Me, too."
****
To Be Continued
