A/N: Going insane here... I don't know who's writing this. I have no definite storyline for this piece but it flows out of me like I'm possessed by the devil who wants to write fanfiction... forgive my absurdity. I have lost my mind.
Tumultuous
His soft breathing assures her that he is sleeping while she sits with her back to his slumbering body. The room is completely enraptured in a blanket of darkness but she knows where it lies. In a few quick strides, she finds it and lights it. A dim light exists in the room now as she walks slowly back to him. Kneeling down so she's at face level with his, she studies him. His aquiline jaw line, those rough thin lips, and his closed eyelids – they all contribute to his tranquil look of what resembles a saint.
But saints do no wrong, and with his nature, wrong is all he does.
A part of her wants to kill him right now for causing her the pain he has for the last eight months. Worrying about his whereabouts. Sitting by the phone waiting for a call. Trying to deal with the absence of her heart, the one he has taken with him. He is right when he said that she has expected him to come back. But whether or not she has expected him to come back to love her or to die at her hands, it is still unknown to her. She will find out in due time as will he.
As if he intuitively knows that it's time for his presence to resume itself again, his eyes pop wide-open, and he grins slyly.
"Still wanna kill me, chere?" He asks her in a mocking tone.
"A stupid question doesn't deserve an answer." She states coldly, not moved at all by his sudden alertness.
"Admit it... just as hard as y' loved me just now, y' wanna kill me just as badly." He jeers further, purposely enticing her to make a move. He knows it's a risky game that he's playing, but with Rogue, everything is a risk.
"Get out of mah bed, Cajun." She orders while trying to remain her distant cool self, but finding it extremely hard to maintain.
"Last I remembered, it's our bed, chere. Let's say we make good use of it again." He proposes suggestively and licks his lips in a crude disgusting manner, intentionally making her feel like just another whore in his life. It does the job as she spills the hot wax from the candle in her hands onto his chest. He yelps out in pain and jumps out of the bed.
"What's de matter wit' you?" He cries angrily at her, while trying to rub the burning sensation from his skin.
Standing still with the candle still in her hands, her eyes are completely mesmerized by the flame while she responds slowly. "Ya wanted it, ah just gave it to ya."
Boldly, he approaches her and grabs her wrist. She looks up at him with confused green eyes; he looks down at her with harsh red ones. "Little girls shouldn't play wit' fire." He states in a low husky voice before he extinguishes the flame with one puff of breath. The room becomes completely dark again and it works to her advantage. In a matter of a few quick moves, she has his naked self pinned to the ground with her naked self right on top of him.
"This girl ain't so little, sugah. Remember that." She whispers into his ear before she promptly gets up and looks for something to slip on. Seconds later, from the corner of the room, a faint light breaks through the velvet black, and he sees her staring down at him from her stance. She is dressed in a long black t-shirt now, one that he recognizes as his own.
"Ya gonna lie here naked all night?" She questions.
"Depends... y' gonna need me in dis position anytime soon?" He queries, not missing a single beat with that delivery. Her foot aims for his head, he reaches for it just in time and twists it so she falls face first into the grey dusty carpet. He climbs on top of her, while holding both of her hands behind her back. She doesn't flinch nor does she struggle. She simply waits for his next move. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, taking a long lingering whiff of her scent.
"Y' still smell like lavender, chere." He murmurs with his hot breath skimming across her neck down to her cheek.
"And you still reek of cigarettes, what's your point?" She retorts, hating the effect he is having on her.
"One night, chere. Dat's all I'm asking." He begins, loosening his hold on her.
"Ah want two then." She replies, without a clue of what she's asking for but just knowing that it's best to take as much as she can from him.
"Fine. Tonight's my night. Tomorrow and de day after, it's yours. Now, get up, chere." He orders and pulls her up along with him. As soon as she is standing again, she pulls her hand away from him. "Now what game are we playin' now, Remy?" She queries with a brow arched and anticipating another senseless answer from him.
"Let's make a deal." He replies coyly.
"Seems like the game's over then." She states with her arms crossed as she blew a strand of white out of her face.
"It's far from over. But tonight is my night. Get undressed." He instructs her. Laughing cynically, she whips the shirt off her body and throws it at him.
"Anything else ah can do for ya, my highness? A blow job perhaps? Or shall ah just spread my legs right now? Tell me what ya want your whore t'do." She mocks bitterly and expects him to grin lustfully at her and playing her as the whore she thinks she is to him. However, his smile will disappear and his eyes will become cold and unresponsive.
"Dis is not what I came back for." He says softly.
"Really now? Well, enlighten me. What did ya come back for? Ah thought Remy LeBeau never looks back, let alone go back." She reminds him.
"Can't go back somewhere I've never left." He replies, meeting her gaze and for a split second, her eyes become soft and accepting. But it will only last a second.
"Ah didn't know ya were here the whole time, Remy! If ah had known that ya were playing hide-and-seek with me, ah would have looked sooner." She responds sarcastically.
"Dere ain't no reasoning with you is dere, Rogue? Dere never is." He begins, his voice raising.
"And ah can never get a straight answer from you! Seems like we're even. Ya won't tell me anything, and ah won't listen to your bullshit. We're a perfect match, eh?" She says mordantly.
"Orphaned when I was an enfant. Used as punching bag when I was a kid until I was old enough t'kill dat bastard dat took me in. Anything else y' wanna know, chere?" He sneers angrily at her with information of his past that he has never shared with anyone.
Her harsh countenance quickly turns into one that he has often dreamt of seeing. Her eyes soften. Her face becomes worried and pensive. She finally looks at him with a rawness that exposes all her intentions for what they really are. She just wants to be free to love him and he knows it. Problem is, he doesn't know how to let her.
He turns his back on her, grabs a chair and seats himself in front of the window. Within moments, she places a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at her, giving her the signal that it's okay. She seats herself down on his lap, wraps both her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. His arms encircle her waist as he holds her close to him. The hatred subsides in both of them, enough for the love to surface. How long it will last? Neither knows, but they're going to take it for all it's worth.
"Does it hurt?" She asks quietly.
"From time t'time." He replies honestly.
"Ah'm sorry, Remy." She says, not quite sure what she is apologizing for but she means the words nonetheless.
"Me too." He whispers his response and tightens his hold on her. He has missed this feeling and at that very moment, he never wants to let it go.
"Just wanted t'watch de sunrise wit' y', chere. Like dis." He finally tells her of his true objective for his request of one night. With a nimble finger, she traces his jaw line down to the small incision she has made in his neck earlier that night. The blood has dried by now as she skims across it. Then, ever so gently, she leans in and licks it off – cleaning his wound and hopefully beginning the first step of healing his soul.
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