Thanks to Brandi, who got me looking for this fic again. And dedicated to the GambitandStorm groups as well as .
everyone who still believes.
More coming soon, just changing the naff ending a wee bit.
Hope you like.
Panic fired her blood, as he leaned forward. Would he dare? She tensed, her heart pounding in her ears. The answer too apparent.
She dredged up stone cold denial as she felt his lips brush against her mouth, before the rough eager skill of Remys tongue slid along her bottom lip, wet and slow, evoking heat to settle deep in her belly.
Oh, yes. Yes - he dared.
He pulled back just enough to allow her to see what restraint he kept - for all the good that would do either of them.
Helplessly he ran his tongue over his own lips, tasting her. Tasting the syrup. But mostly, just the rich sweetness that was his Stormy.
"Ah was talkin' about tastin' de syrup. O'course." he offered, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his oh-so delectable mouth.
He watched bemusedly, as one snowy brow arched in utter disbelief. Dieu, but could he have fun.
Before she could rejoin, he leaned in closer yet again, effectively stilling any outraged protest, by pressing his taut and lean frame against her softer one.
"Stormy," he chided all too softly, placing a whispery kiss along her sable cheek, grazing her jaw as he did, with the warm pads of his fingers. "Wha' eveh else yo' 'ad in mind, mon chere?"
What she had in mind, involved a stick of well aimed dynamite.
The smoldering fire in her belly, shot to her chest, before she could quell it - it was too late. Her gaze zeroed in on him, like a hunter marks his prey. He just managed to catch her breathy response to his challenge.
"Get your own."
Abruptly, the air rushed from Gambit's lungs as he found himself suddenly sandwiched between the unyielding wall to the side and the tigress before him.
With all the practiced grace and dominance of a rake seducing an ingenue, she reclaimed the lingering traces of mocha dark from his lips, his curvaceous and wonderfully silent mouth.
Shame not to take advantage of such a rare opportunity.
Her mouth molded his to her will, and such a will it was.. her agile tongue caressing, teasing and demanding. Her hands reflecting the struggle, clutching at his shoulders, his neck, his hair for purchase. For something more than just a midnight game of dare, between too sleepless companions.
She was rapidly loosing herself to this, as his hands found their way to the small of her back, skimming, floating up her spine.. suddenly they were gone. Briefly contemplating their hungry absence, Ororo wanted to laugh with joy on the realization -- he was far making up for it in other departments.
Their bodies strained to be closer, pressed intimately and securely.
His hands appeared on her skin, as if by magic, again.. happily devoid of restraint. Sliding down along her taut bronze thigh,
curling his warm fingers over the flesh and muscle - trembling with anticipation as the Cajun lifted it to his waist. With great satisfaction he nestled his lower body intimately between her thighs.
The masculine groan of pleasure rumbling from his chest at their powerful embrace, confirmed it. The responding delight in her bones, sealed it.
Fear of the unknown, made her move.
Away.
Still giddily drunk at such wanton behavior from his Stormy girl, he grins impishly down at her, This entire situation to his liking. Here, he is with the only woman in the world to resist his considerable charms and advances, and she's more than making up for it. What he sees in her eyes, instead, makes any brief victory fall silent.
Her eyes were hard as sapphire, but her lips were soft and yielding. Determined to keep her gaze from him, he made sure she'd have a hard time doing that.
"O-Ororo?" Her name sounded like a warning. A plea. Pity she wasn't in the mood to take it. His arms held her tightly, refusing to let her go, trembling with every harsh breath he took -- they both struggled to take after such a delicious long time without. She tugged harder, and felt his frustrated growl shimmer into her own wishful bones.
"Don' fight it, chere."
She shoved him backwards, before she could drag him closer. Frightened by what he was offering her. What they had denied each other too long.
"Stolen," she bit out more harshly than she intended, still reeling from their molten kiss a few moments before. Not speaking of the stolen syrup, they both knew. "Not mine. Never mine."
He held himself still, although Remy wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, so badly, and make her understand there was no escape from this, from him. Shake her till she reached the same conclusion as he had, since Logan had married Rogue in Hong Kong 2 years ago.
Their hearts belonged to the ones they overlooked for so long. There was no denying it, not anymore.
No matter what he did to assure her, how close Stormy came to knowing it - she pulled away.
Now, he neededHER to make the first move.
And she did.
Picking up the abandoned plate of soupy ice-cream, Ororo hurried out of the kitchen swallowing angry sobs down.
Remy growled with frustration. Whether it was her running out, or him letting her do so, without stopping her, he wasn't sure. But in the ensuing, mocking silence - his body thrumming with desire - his eagle eyes took in a slip of card attached to the bottle of syrup.
Picking it up, curiously, he read it quickly, eyebrows rising. What he read made him snatch away from the counter,
his blood boiling in response and surged powerfully from the kitchen in a roaring shaking wildness, he'd ever known.
Dat. Lill'. Brat.
tbc