Pre-A/N: To everyone who reviewed- WE LOVE YOU!!!! Thanks so much, and we
love hearing from you. It would take too long to respond to everyone, and
you probably just want to get on with the story anyway. Here we go!
Disclaimer: Nothing. Nada. Ziltch.
7: 46 AM
The Professor looked out the window in his office and saw that none of the students had left for school yet. They were already late. If they didn't leave soon they would miss all of first period. He reminded everyone, rather pointedly, that they would not be getting excuses if they were late to class, so everyone scurried out the door that was going out the door. That left the Institute filled only with Logan, Ororo, the Prof, Rogue, and Remy- since he saw no need to go to school in the first place.
After lunch, when Rogue had finished her daily required work to earn her GED, Remy decided to stalk her for a few hours. He was bored, and it was too much fun to pass up. She was such a bad sport about teasing, and it was fun to watch her get all flustered and angry, just so long as she didn't get too angry. Then she was scary and needed a little alone time.
"Come on, chere, we're de o'ly ones here, ya doan hafta play hard t' get anymore," he cajoled, knowing it would piss her off.
"Who's playin'?" she snapped at him.
"Me, always," he smirked.
"How 'bout this: Ah go find out what ya gonna wear on Sataday? Bet that'll be interestin'," she challenged.
"I get to go int' y'r room wit'out ya yellin' at me? Done."
Rogue glared at him, wondering how she got herself into these situations with this guy. "Ah hate you."
"I c'n work wit' dat."
In Rogue's room, she pawed through her nearly barren closet and laundry hamper looking for something that would fit him and she wouldn't mind burning after he gave it back. Of course, knowing him, he may want to keep it as a souvenir. Shudder
"Remembah, swamp rat," she told him, "ya gotta dress just like Ah, do. That includes the make-up."
"I know, cherie," he said. "An' you remember dat I doan wear make-up, so neither c'n you on Saturday."
Rogue grumbled under her breath and slung a few hangers aside with more force than needed. After she had looked from one end of her closet to the other, and the top of her clothes hamper to the bottom, Rogue made a discovery.
"Damn it. Nuthin' Ah have is baggy enough foh ya t' wear without stretchin' it out."
"I'll take dat as a compliment," he leered.
She sneered and made a disgusted noise between her teeth. Suddenly she had a wicked idea and broke into a grin. She knew exactly what she was going to put him in.
"Rogue?" Remy asked, kinda worried.
"Ah don' even care if it gets stretched out," she said to herself gleefully as she went to her dresser and dug around in the back of one of the drawrs. She brought out a black vinyl corset with silver bondage hoops going down the front in two parallel lines.
Remy's eyes got wide. "Why doan ya wear that on a daily basis, chere. Nobody'd complain."
"Shut up," she told him, still maliciously giddy. Rogue went back to her closet and pulled out a skirt that she'd passed by in her original search. She'd probably never be able to wear it again, but this was going to be worth it. It was a black vinyl lace-up skirt that was short on her; it would be very very short on the swamp rat. This was too much fun.
On a whim, she grabbed the matching pair of dominatrix boots- not that she'd ever used them for the intended porpose, but it was fun to show up at the club and let everyone know what she was capable of. They would never fit Remy, but that was just too damn bad for him.
Once the complete outfit was shown to Remy, he was more than a little nervous. How did she expect him to get into those heels? How did she expect him to be able to walk in those heels? How the hell did you put that skirt on; he was pretty sure he could get it off a girl without much fumbling, but on was another matter.
He looked her in the eye, rising to the challenge. "Follow me."
Rogue shoved the clothes into his arms and smirked. "Lead the way."
In Remy's room, Rogue plopped down on the corner of his still-unmade bed and crossed her arms in front of her stomach while he dropped her clothes and started looking through his own.
"Alright, Cajun, impress me."
He couldn't resist the temptation. Remy smirked back at Rogue and said, "Chere, I'd be takin' clothes off ya f'r dat."
"Just gimme y'r clothes, LeBeau."
Remy grinned wider and started pulling up the hem of his T-shirt.
"From the closet, retard," Rogue said.
He chuckled and moved over to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of his boxers. Rogue balked.
"Wait! Ah hafta wear y'r undahwear, too?" she asked. "We never agreed t' that!"
"Yeah, ya do," he insisted. "I mean, ya supposed t' dress like me, an' I put these on ev'ry mornin', so..."
"Don't ya just sleep in 'em?" rogue asked.
One corner of Remy's mouth quirked up. All he did was shake his head. Rogue got the picture, and oh, what a picture it was. (A/N: lets savor for a moment, shall we?) Rogue blushed and had to look away for a minute. She cleared her throat and fired back at him.
"Then you hafta wear panties."
Remy faltered for a second. He wasn't really into wearing chick's underwear. "But, ya underwear isn'... well, big enough," he pointed out. "I mean, b'side ya ass bein' a kinda- never mind."
Rogue jumped to her feet. "Are you sayin' Ah got a fat ass?!?"
[Merde. How'd I get int' dis?] he thought to himself. "Naw, chere, not at all."
"Ya implied it!" she snapped.
"I like ya ass," Remy assured her. "I t'ink it's perfect. A nice firm apple- ass, nothin' better in de world."
Rogue was about to say something else when it occurred to her that that was a compliment of some kind. That was very confusing. "Ah have no idea what tah do with that, so let's just move on, huh?"
"Fine." Remy put the boxers back. He had no doubt that she'd make him wear panties if he forced her to put the boxers on. Instead, he pulled out a tattered wife-beater (1).
"Unless, o'course, you still have dat one ya stole from me?" he smirked at her. She rolled her eyes, but didn't look directly at him.
He picked a pair of grungy jeans that had holes in the knees and on the back near the edges of the pockets up off of his floor. He found a pair of Converse sneakers with the soles worn thin under his bed. He almost added his beloved trench coat, but thought better of it.
Rogue took the clothes, but looked up at him expectantly. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Ah cain't just wear this!" she held up the undershirt. "It's too thin, ya c'n see right through it. Not gonna work if ya gonna made me go without a bra."
Remy hadn't taken that into account. He mulled that thought over. It was a good thought....
"Gettcha mind back here NOW!" she told him, smacking him on the side of the head. "An' second of all, Ah need long sleeves." Rogue realized something. "Yo gonna need gloves."
Remy shook his head while he headed to his closet for something with sleeves. "M' powers doan need 'em."
"Lemme wear a bra an' Ah'll let the gloves go," Rogue tried to negotiate.
Remy grinned over his shoulder at Rogue fiendishly, pulling out the black button-down shirt with red dice and Lucky 13 on it that Rogue had called "Wannabe goth" the night he'd stripped for the girls while he was still working for Magneto (2).
"Chere, I'll take de gloves."
She scowled and wrenched away the shirt, storming out. Post-A/N: Okay, so, how did you like the all ROMY chap? Didn't seem very romantic, you say? You need to read between the lines, and besides, they still hardly know each other, and Remy is Remy, so it's gonna take 'em a little time.
(1)- Somebody- I'm sorry, I can't remember who! Ahhh!- asked what a wife beater is in the last story, Magneto's Mutants/Acolytes (I can never remember which. See a pattern here?) Day Off. It's a kinda muscle shirtish lookin' white cotton undershirt that some guys wear under their regular shirts. Very sexy on the right body.
(2)- Another reference to MM/ADO. Yes, he stripped for them. That was also where Rogue stole his wife beater. It was good. You should go read it. I said this story stands alone, and it does, but there have to be some past references, ya know. There, you're all caught up.
Disclaimer: Nothing. Nada. Ziltch.
7: 46 AM
The Professor looked out the window in his office and saw that none of the students had left for school yet. They were already late. If they didn't leave soon they would miss all of first period. He reminded everyone, rather pointedly, that they would not be getting excuses if they were late to class, so everyone scurried out the door that was going out the door. That left the Institute filled only with Logan, Ororo, the Prof, Rogue, and Remy- since he saw no need to go to school in the first place.
After lunch, when Rogue had finished her daily required work to earn her GED, Remy decided to stalk her for a few hours. He was bored, and it was too much fun to pass up. She was such a bad sport about teasing, and it was fun to watch her get all flustered and angry, just so long as she didn't get too angry. Then she was scary and needed a little alone time.
"Come on, chere, we're de o'ly ones here, ya doan hafta play hard t' get anymore," he cajoled, knowing it would piss her off.
"Who's playin'?" she snapped at him.
"Me, always," he smirked.
"How 'bout this: Ah go find out what ya gonna wear on Sataday? Bet that'll be interestin'," she challenged.
"I get to go int' y'r room wit'out ya yellin' at me? Done."
Rogue glared at him, wondering how she got herself into these situations with this guy. "Ah hate you."
"I c'n work wit' dat."
In Rogue's room, she pawed through her nearly barren closet and laundry hamper looking for something that would fit him and she wouldn't mind burning after he gave it back. Of course, knowing him, he may want to keep it as a souvenir. Shudder
"Remembah, swamp rat," she told him, "ya gotta dress just like Ah, do. That includes the make-up."
"I know, cherie," he said. "An' you remember dat I doan wear make-up, so neither c'n you on Saturday."
Rogue grumbled under her breath and slung a few hangers aside with more force than needed. After she had looked from one end of her closet to the other, and the top of her clothes hamper to the bottom, Rogue made a discovery.
"Damn it. Nuthin' Ah have is baggy enough foh ya t' wear without stretchin' it out."
"I'll take dat as a compliment," he leered.
She sneered and made a disgusted noise between her teeth. Suddenly she had a wicked idea and broke into a grin. She knew exactly what she was going to put him in.
"Rogue?" Remy asked, kinda worried.
"Ah don' even care if it gets stretched out," she said to herself gleefully as she went to her dresser and dug around in the back of one of the drawrs. She brought out a black vinyl corset with silver bondage hoops going down the front in two parallel lines.
Remy's eyes got wide. "Why doan ya wear that on a daily basis, chere. Nobody'd complain."
"Shut up," she told him, still maliciously giddy. Rogue went back to her closet and pulled out a skirt that she'd passed by in her original search. She'd probably never be able to wear it again, but this was going to be worth it. It was a black vinyl lace-up skirt that was short on her; it would be very very short on the swamp rat. This was too much fun.
On a whim, she grabbed the matching pair of dominatrix boots- not that she'd ever used them for the intended porpose, but it was fun to show up at the club and let everyone know what she was capable of. They would never fit Remy, but that was just too damn bad for him.
Once the complete outfit was shown to Remy, he was more than a little nervous. How did she expect him to get into those heels? How did she expect him to be able to walk in those heels? How the hell did you put that skirt on; he was pretty sure he could get it off a girl without much fumbling, but on was another matter.
He looked her in the eye, rising to the challenge. "Follow me."
Rogue shoved the clothes into his arms and smirked. "Lead the way."
In Remy's room, Rogue plopped down on the corner of his still-unmade bed and crossed her arms in front of her stomach while he dropped her clothes and started looking through his own.
"Alright, Cajun, impress me."
He couldn't resist the temptation. Remy smirked back at Rogue and said, "Chere, I'd be takin' clothes off ya f'r dat."
"Just gimme y'r clothes, LeBeau."
Remy grinned wider and started pulling up the hem of his T-shirt.
"From the closet, retard," Rogue said.
He chuckled and moved over to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of his boxers. Rogue balked.
"Wait! Ah hafta wear y'r undahwear, too?" she asked. "We never agreed t' that!"
"Yeah, ya do," he insisted. "I mean, ya supposed t' dress like me, an' I put these on ev'ry mornin', so..."
"Don't ya just sleep in 'em?" rogue asked.
One corner of Remy's mouth quirked up. All he did was shake his head. Rogue got the picture, and oh, what a picture it was. (A/N: lets savor for a moment, shall we?) Rogue blushed and had to look away for a minute. She cleared her throat and fired back at him.
"Then you hafta wear panties."
Remy faltered for a second. He wasn't really into wearing chick's underwear. "But, ya underwear isn'... well, big enough," he pointed out. "I mean, b'side ya ass bein' a kinda- never mind."
Rogue jumped to her feet. "Are you sayin' Ah got a fat ass?!?"
[Merde. How'd I get int' dis?] he thought to himself. "Naw, chere, not at all."
"Ya implied it!" she snapped.
"I like ya ass," Remy assured her. "I t'ink it's perfect. A nice firm apple- ass, nothin' better in de world."
Rogue was about to say something else when it occurred to her that that was a compliment of some kind. That was very confusing. "Ah have no idea what tah do with that, so let's just move on, huh?"
"Fine." Remy put the boxers back. He had no doubt that she'd make him wear panties if he forced her to put the boxers on. Instead, he pulled out a tattered wife-beater (1).
"Unless, o'course, you still have dat one ya stole from me?" he smirked at her. She rolled her eyes, but didn't look directly at him.
He picked a pair of grungy jeans that had holes in the knees and on the back near the edges of the pockets up off of his floor. He found a pair of Converse sneakers with the soles worn thin under his bed. He almost added his beloved trench coat, but thought better of it.
Rogue took the clothes, but looked up at him expectantly. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Ah cain't just wear this!" she held up the undershirt. "It's too thin, ya c'n see right through it. Not gonna work if ya gonna made me go without a bra."
Remy hadn't taken that into account. He mulled that thought over. It was a good thought....
"Gettcha mind back here NOW!" she told him, smacking him on the side of the head. "An' second of all, Ah need long sleeves." Rogue realized something. "Yo gonna need gloves."
Remy shook his head while he headed to his closet for something with sleeves. "M' powers doan need 'em."
"Lemme wear a bra an' Ah'll let the gloves go," Rogue tried to negotiate.
Remy grinned over his shoulder at Rogue fiendishly, pulling out the black button-down shirt with red dice and Lucky 13 on it that Rogue had called "Wannabe goth" the night he'd stripped for the girls while he was still working for Magneto (2).
"Chere, I'll take de gloves."
She scowled and wrenched away the shirt, storming out. Post-A/N: Okay, so, how did you like the all ROMY chap? Didn't seem very romantic, you say? You need to read between the lines, and besides, they still hardly know each other, and Remy is Remy, so it's gonna take 'em a little time.
(1)- Somebody- I'm sorry, I can't remember who! Ahhh!- asked what a wife beater is in the last story, Magneto's Mutants/Acolytes (I can never remember which. See a pattern here?) Day Off. It's a kinda muscle shirtish lookin' white cotton undershirt that some guys wear under their regular shirts. Very sexy on the right body.
(2)- Another reference to MM/ADO. Yes, he stripped for them. That was also where Rogue stole his wife beater. It was good. You should go read it. I said this story stands alone, and it does, but there have to be some past references, ya know. There, you're all caught up.