Midnight Syrups by wahinetoa rating: PG13 - R (for safety sake)
Letter in italics.
The Mansion kitchen door exploded outward. The force behind which, feverly stalked out, intent, trench coat billowing like a thundercloud. Mostly, Remy LeBeau was already a force to be reckoned with - but when riled, such as he was - pray you weren't the one he is focused on.
And there she is.
Dear Ororo;...
Relief sluiced through his veins she had not run, as well as some other bidden arousal.
His gaze sort, found and devoured hers. Blatant primal awareness swelled between them on a tidal wave intent on making, and crashing, its way to shore.
What he found there made him cry out.
Find enclosed Logans Syrup for your express use. Don't ask how I acquired it. Some things, rightfully, elude definition.
A primal male sound that whetted the air, erasing the scarce space between them. Her breath hitched, heart racing towards an endless fall.
That slow easy grace that maddening cock-sure grin - boyish enough to be disarming, dangerous nonetheless, of a man in possession of a womans heart and body.
She was never sure of what lay beyond it - but she knew, as he did now, she would be finding out.
Remys been after this for years, never knowing that the trick was not to steal it - but for it to be given...
Something snapped in his mind, and he's moving before he knows quite what is happening.
His body slammed against her unresisting own, planting themselves against the hard surface of the wall. The plate clatters, loudly to the floor. Discarded from trembling fingers, clawing, instead, at another brazen mark.
So many ways for those wicked, wicked cocoa warm hands to content themselves.
Your unexpected gift, of which, I'm sure - he will be more than happy to repay in kind...
His muscled arms either side of Ororo, flexing tight about her scantily clad form. Almost bruising and tender, catching her to him.
Images flash through his muddled brain, pleasing. A great deal of fantasies started such as this - against a wall.
Dieu, he could show her...
That's if you let him...
Ororo gasps, a strangled sound when his body joins hers. Blue eyes are wet and alive with the passion, the achingly familiar waiting and smoldering victory.
Admiration for her increased. Yes, he had been well and truly caught. The trickster, tricked. Brava, Stormy. Now she had him, did she know what to do with him?
Beware, the Cajuns skills might surprise you,
and he turn the tables...
Gambits thigh between her own, hard and pressing. An illicit groan blooms in her throat, shimmering into his skin, his blood. Boiling.
"Mine!" he ground out brusquely, his body surged with burning arousal, ready to do what was long overdue between them.
But he needs her to say the words. Not a game between them - both would loose, and loose willingly, this and every night after - but first, he needed...
"Say it, chere."
Her response, immediate. Eyes flashing, mouth twisted into a delicious grin, her clever hand found its way into his unruly hair at the nape of his neck, hauling him in and down...
.. in a way befitting your pleasure, no doubt, will find a suitable goddessly reply.
... "Yes."
He's not waiting; because Mon Dieu! - he's waited long enough. His fist is in her hair, taking possession of her neck, fingers plying their yearning as his mouth descends on hers.
Devouring her softness with unapologetic glee. She parted her lips in a sigh, accepting his urgency, his thrusting masculine demand - that there will be no ease and calm in their long overdue union.
No.
It would be full of passion, vigor and hunger. It would be unrelenting, unforgiving and she would scream his name a thousand times before they reached his room.
If they reached his room.
..Wish him a Happy Birthday from me too...
Then he'd make sure to thank her again.
His hand at the small of her back, bending her body to his.
Snatching, clasping her closer.. near weeping for wanting.
Their panting sobs, swallowed by murmuring, thrilling exhilaration. Her hands pulling at the material of his attire, stripping in their questing need, nails raking on his skin.
He tears his mouth from hers, hissing her name with delight. But she is far from through with that delectable mouth of hers, as he feels its velvet depth on his heated skin. Tasting. Marking.
Hellion.
Love Jean.
His red on black orbs peel open, settle on her, heavy with need.
Her eyes contain a dark fervor that he's always suspected, but never imagined like this.
She doesn't kiss him again, but bites his bottom lip and growls.
"Now."
Suddenly, he's not capable of standing on his own.
PS
Capable of other things though.
He rears back, pushing his hips forward, grinding their lower bodies harder. She whimpers, and it's all he needs to take back control.
Moves her blindly along the wall, pictures, hall tables are turned over and fall to the floor, in their wake. Ororo is stumbling along in his footsteps, trusting him to lead them.
Take them where they need to be.
The door of his bedroom falls open under their combined weight.
Stuck, maddeningly, on the threshold?
I'd absolutely love --
Panic again fires through her. He's changed his mind?
He pulses forward against her once, fighting his need to continue the erotic foreplay. He might be lost, if he's not careful.
It manages however to still the doubt he sees there in her eyes.
She's struggling for lucidity, but he's got no intention of letting her reach it.
He holds one hand outstretched from his side, eyes focused and hot on the object floating into his grasp. She wonders at this new power of his, before a chuckle erupts from her throat.
What he holds in one hand is the pilfered bottle of syrup. What he's holding in the other.. is a future worth keeping.
Ororos dark shoulders and that beautiful neck that seems to go on forever, just like the python strong legs hooked about his hips,
tremble with her laughter. Tighten with confidence.
Audacious. Wonderful. Remy.
When she feels his hands framing her face, the whispered endearment, she finally meets his wild eyes. Knowing. He loves her.
"Stormy..."
And that all it takes.
Her delectable mouth finds his, disclaiming any other words, with a vigor and passion that drove the air from his lungs, and kicked his blood, pulsing...
Pulling him across the threshold into their room. She's got plans for the syrup and for him.
Coincidentally, they're one in the same.
to see the look on his face, when he gets it.
Oh, sweet mercy.
The End.