Disclaimer: These characters belong to Marvel, and I have nothing to do with Marvel.

Rating: Rated M for sex.

Author notes: There will be one more chapter after this. Please read, review and enjoy.

- 96 Hours -

Always Strings Attached

It was Raven who'd first taught her how to do those fancy chignons – those intricate knots and tucks and curls and cow-licks that she's never seen Raven wear herself.

"Why do I haveta wear my hair like this?" she'd once asked her, and Raven had replied flatly:

"Because men like seeing women with their hair up. They like even more taking it all down."

She'd been young then – too young – but Raven hadn't exactly been lying, and this – the hour-long toilette – has become something of a ritual, something to take her mind off the inevitable.

Anna picks up a bobby pin, tucks it into the whorl of hair behind her ear.

She stares in the mirror and thinks about how he'd undone her hair once, slow, unhurried, pin by pin, dropping them to the floor until the locks had all unwound themselves and uncoiled round her shoulders.

She remembers thinking that there'd hardly been anything half so sexy she'd experienced in all her life.

"I still don't know why you're going to all this trouble," Raven is saying from the telescreen at the other end of the hotel room. "You know it's him now. Why make him jump through all these hoops?"

Anna sighs and, having secured the last curl, turns and brushes a hand over the skirt of her velvet cocktail dress. She thinks her palms might actually be sweating.

"You know why, Raven," she says tiredly.

"Do I?" Raven almost glares at her. "So you can snare him with a pretty dress and all that hair?" She snorts. "Anyone would think you were back on one of those sordid missions Essex used to send you on."

The comment angers her. This has nothing to do with that.

"Why do you have to make it sound so fucking cynical?!" she asks angrily.

"Because I was the one who taught you how to approach men like him," Raven replies tautly. "Control the scenario, build the water-tight maze – make them run it like the rats they are. Make yourself into a prize so delectable that they won't be able to refuse."

She's more than just piqued now. This hurts.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" she asks her old mentor outright. "That I'm seducing him?"

"No," Raven retorts with a hint of irritation. "I'm just telling you that you don't need to. Haven't you stopped to think for a second that he might resent you for making him run this maze?"

It isn't the reply she's been expecting. She looks up at Raven with a horrible sensation of dismay zigzagging through her.

"You didn't see how he was when he woke up after you'd left for Caldecott," Raven continues heatedly. "He wouldn't have cared how he got you back. The only thing he would've wanted was you, as you are. Not…" and she makes a frustrated gesture with her hand, "this."

She's silent. She's believes what Raven is saying… knows that she has little enough love for Remy to make up something like this. But so many things could've changed for him the past 14 months. She knows they have for her.

"It wasn't supposed to drag out this long," she admits quietly. "I wasn't planning for it to get to this."

There's a note of contrition, of vulnerability, in her voice, that instantly deflates Raven's ire.

"Then why have you let it?" she asks.

And she lifts her chin, glares at her with shame and defiance and says:

"Because I'm scared!"

The confession leaps from her lips and it stuns her almost as much as it does Raven. There is a silence; and a wet pressure is building behind her eyes.

"Scared?" Raven asks, as if she couldn't possibly be scared of anything. There certainly wasn't much that had scared her in the past. But she's scared now, and she can't deny it.

"Have you seen the way he looks?" she asks helplessly. "Just so…" She works her fingers agitatedly, not wanting to say the words to Raven, but unable to help herself anyway. "Just so damn beautiful?! Confident?! In control?!"

Raven stares at her like she's talking nonsense, and she's moved to continue, saying:

"He's obviously moved on, Raven. There's every possibility he's found someone else, and I—"

She halts, and:

"You're scared of rejection?" Raven interjects, and she can't speak – she nods fiercely.

"Well, in that case," Raven says coolly, "you should've asked me to keep a track on him. Or Katherine – did you think of asking her to find out these things for you?"

"No – no!" she fires back, turning aside and pacing the spot frantically. "That was never an option! It's his life!"

"That's never stopped you before—"

"Don't make out to me that he isn't any different from anyone else, Raven!" she seethes back. "You know what this – he – means to me! And I… I just need to work up the courage. I just need to work up the courage to see him again." She stops pacing, adding in a despairing tone: "What else do you think this is, Raven?" She indicates to herself, all done up to be the most beautiful and tantalising morsel she knows how to be. "This is the only way I know how to be brave right now!"

She whirls around and goes back to the mirror, literally vibrating with pent-up nerves.

"Just let her do it," Katherine Pryde speaks up from her seat in the corner of the room. "She needs to do it this way."

There's silence a moment, and she almost feels Raven's eyes boring into her back.

"All right," the older woman finally speaks. She hesitates, and Anna knows she wants to say more, but she doesn't. "Good luck then, Anna," she says instead, and the vidcall ends.

As soon as she's gone it's like a balloon deflating. The tension begins to bleed out of her – but the doubt doesn't.

Kitty gets up from her seat and slowly crosses the room towards her, puts a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll be fine," she says.

Will she? She doesn't know anymore. It's impossible to her that he can't have somebody else right now. It's impossible to her that she can't be anything more than just this glorious ghost from his past made flesh.

Now she looks up at her reflection and sees what she's made herself into. A woman he'll want when he sees. A woman he won't be able to say no to. Even if it's only for just a few stolen hours of pleasure. Just like it always was.

"You're going to be fine," Kitty says again, giving her a little shake of the shoulders. "You're going to do it, and you're going to be fine. You have nothing to lose right now."

Doesn't she? In a way, no – they'd never been together, never had a life together to fight for.

But there's the future they could have.

And the thought of that… … God, the last time she'd even thought about futures had been with Cody, and look how that had turned out.

"You're right," she says quietly. "The worst he can do is just turn me away. And then I'll just go back to how I've always been."

"And what's that?" Kitty asks seriously, and she lowers her head, answers:

"Running. From intimacy. From all the hurt and pain being close to someone can give you. But I don't want to be alone," she finishes decidedly. "I don't want to be alone anymore. I guess that's why I'm so afraid."

But there are things she'll take. His eyes on her. His name on her lips. If that's all she can get, then that's what she'll take. When all is said and done, it'll have to be enough.

-oOo-

"Mmmm, that feels soooooo damn good," Anna murmured in a tone that could only be described as all-out bliss.

"Chere," Remy replied lazily. "I do hope you know how much I love it when I hear you moan like that."

She opened an eye and glared at him, lying there on the massage table next to hers like butter wouldn't melt.

"I bet y'do," she drawled back at him, too preoccupied to snipe much. "I bet the only reason you suggested this at all was to play voyeur."

"Non," he threw back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "The only reason I took you here was because I couldn't stand hearin' you whine about all the aches and pains you're suff'rin on account of all the gymnastics we been doin' the past couple of days."

"Oh my God, shut up," she groaned, half caught between blushing and laughter. The masseuse working on him sure looked like she was enjoying it, and she was pretty sure her own masseuse was finding it all very amusing too. "I got hickeys in places I didn't even know you could get 'em," she added after a moment, refusing to be embarrassed. "And I swear I've pulled a ton of muscles it shouldn't be possible to pull. So thanks for that, Cajun."

"Hoo!" he crowed with mock surprise. "An' you jes' went and blew our gymnastics cover story, chere. We gonna be a scandal by the time lunch comes round."

"Remy LeBeau," she retorted witheringly, "I can guarantee you that the maids have already made us into a scandal. So you can quit pretendin' t'be coy about it."

"A'right," he said with a small laugh. For the next few minutes he was quiet, and she happily fell into the relaxing cadence of the massage. Earlier on that morning they'd spent time in the hot tub, which had backfired horribly because it had descended into spine-tingling sex – again. And pleasant while that had been, she couldn't deny that her body had begun to protest a bit at all insane acrobatics. This right here – with enough prying eyes around to prevent Remy from getting too frisky – was perfect.

"So," he finally spoke up again in that languid drawl she loved so. "Tell me 'bout Katherine."

She opened her eyes again and saw him looking at her, chin propped up on his arms.

"Katherine?"

"Y'know. Your friend. The one who so skilfully brought us back together."

"Oh." She'd got so used to calling her 'Kitty' the past few months that she'd forgotten what her real name was. At least, she supposed, it was better than the moniker she'd always known her by back when they'd worked for Essex – 'Weapon Six'. "We used to work for the same company," she explained as nonchalantly as she could. "You know… the place I used to work for?"

"Uh huh." He looked suitably disinterested at this subtle reference to Weapon X – but then he was good at his pokerface – it didn't matter how outrageous the lie or the half-truth. She happened to have first-hand knowledge of how good he was at it, much to her chagrin.

"Well, anyway," she continued flippantly. "We bumped into each other again when I got back to NY. She'd started working for Raven while I was away down South."

He looked amused.

"Cute, that you can still be friends again after all this time," he observed.

"Oh, don't get me wrong – we weren't ever friends back in the day," she corrected him quickly. "Let's just say we were more like… teammates. I've learned more about her the past two months than I ever did in all the years I was working with her."

She fell silent, ruminating on it. It was a lie, of course. There was plenty she knew about Kitty, intimate personal details that she had 'faced with on the mem-chips she had once stolen from Essex. Kitty didn't know that – but Remy did. He'd seen those mem-chips in her stash, way back when. Him remembering Kitty's chip was pretty much the entire reason he was here right now, after all.

"So yeah," she finished quietly. "I guess you can say we're closer now than we ever were."

That wasn't a lie – not that it said much. Working for Weapon X had never entertained friendships, or relationships of any kind for that matter. It bothered her that she'd never had a real friend in her entire life. The first person she'd considered a friend had been Cody, but he'd quickly developed into something else.

Truth be told, she felt a little jealous of Kitty. After Weapon X had folded, she'd gone on and made a success of her life – her normal life – whereas Anna... …

Well, that was in the past. She was trying to change that now, and she was grateful to Kitty for being willing to help her do that.

"Well, she sure seems possessive of you now," Remy said with an amused smile. "You should see the texts she's been sendin' me. Considerin' her previous line of work, I wouldn't be surprised if she tore me a new one if she learned I'd done you wrong."

He said it like it was a joke; but only she knew just how serious he'd meant it.

"Oh, don't worry," Anna answered wryly. "Raven's making sure she keeps all her old 'skills' honed."

He propped his head up in his hand and regarded her for a lingering moment, like he had a whole host of interesting questions he suddenly wanted to ask her. After few beats he opted for the least controversial one, considering their current company.

"And how's Raven?"

She grunted.

"Raven's Raven," she replied as diplomatically as she could. "Still thinks she's my mother. I can't lie – being away from her all those months was a very good thing. Especially since I have a hard time forgiving her for that fucking stunt she pulled back when—well, you know when. I mean, I know I have a lot to thank her for it, but… what she did hurt."

She swallowed hard, remembering the way Raven had betrayed her to Essex. Of course, it had been a feint to get Anna the gene therapy that would cure her of her near-acute mem-intoxication, but neither Anna or Remy had known that at the time. For a while, Raven's betrayal had been very real indeed – and a ruse that could've cost both their lives. The bullets Remy had taken because of it, the memory of those shots – they still sometimes haunted Anna's dreams.

"Hey." He was reaching out into the gap between them, putting his hand out to her. "I know. I coulda fuckin' killed her for what she did too. The gamble was insane – but it paid off. And I say dat as someone who makes a livin' from insane gambits."

"I know," she sighed, reaching out to take his hand. "I am thankful for that. But there's a lot she's done to me in the past that she's never said sorry for. And that almost hurts even more."

They were only close enough to link the tips of their fingers; but it was comforting and it was loving, and she held on for what felt like a luxuriously long time before letting go.

"I need to go see her," she murmured morosely, half to herself. "Pick up some stuff for London…"

"You want me to go with you?" he asked; and she shook her head quickly.

"No… no. It's fine. No offence, but having you there would probably make things worse. And I don't exactly need a chaperone. It's just… …"

"Anna, she has t'know this is comin'," he spoke up calmly. "If I was a bettin' man, I'd say she's even expectin' it."

She slid a sideways look at him, knowing full well that if there was anything he was, it was a gambling man.

"Yeah," she answered. "You're right."

She fell silent, absently watching the sweep of the masseuse's hands on his body, mentally struggling with a feeling she'd never really encountered before. It wasn't jealousy – she'd spent enough of her life sharing both herself and other men to be too particular about exclusiveness, but… What she was feeling right now certainly included a level of possessiveness she'd never really had to experience before. It was… pleasant. To know she alone had this beautiful thing that so many others would want.

And goddamn, she was still absolutely relishing the fact that there was no one else waiting for him back home. The idea that she could have him all to herself was making her stomach flutter with anticipation.

In a couple of days, they'd both be doing exactly what they'd promised what seemed like a lifetime ago – travelling on a first-class flight to London Heathrow. And no one – absolutely no one – was going to take that away from her.

-oOo-

The opulent splendour of the Worthington seemed a million miles away from the dank, drab streets that Raven had made her cover for so many years; a place that Anna, too, had called home at various times during her helter-skelter life.

The cab came to halt outside that decrepit old chop shop, and Anna stepped out onto the sidewalk, feeling more than just a little out of place in her heels and her skin-tight pants. It was night-time, and hers was the kind of look that invited all sorts of trouble in this neighbourhood; but she'd come here partly on a whim after an evening out dining and drinking at New York's most exclusive hotspots with Remy, and she hadn't much thought about practicalities.

Their flight left tomorrow evening, and she wanted to get this over and done with. If she left it any longer she'd go mad.

Remy had surreptitiously squeezed her hand as he'd seen her into the taxi, said, "Call me if ya need me. But I know you won't," before shutting the door and watching her from the sidewalk as she'd left.

There'd been this feeling inside her... The desperate feeling that if she let him out of her sight, she'd never see him again. It almost trumped the thin thread of anxiety she felt thinking about Raven's inevitable reaction to all of this.

He ain't gonna walk, she assured herself; but the insecurity she'd first learned to feel in his absence was now ingrained in a way that was frighteningly visceral, and she couldn't shake it.

She roused herself and headed round the back of the crumbling storefronts to Raven's hideout, earning only a single wolf whistle on the way. It was a good sign, and she went right up to the old red door and knocked.

Clunk.

That same old sliding window in the door shot open; those same blue eyes materialised in the gap; and as usual, she didn't bother saying a thing. The window shuttered up again and the door clanked open.

"Hey, St. John," she greeted him, stepping inside.

"Hey."

She heard him close the door behind her, felt his eyes on her body. It made her feel… weird. She'd practically watched St. John grow up, and of course he was a man now, but…

"Is Raven in?" she asked flippantly over her shoulder.

"Umm… Nope. Think she went out to get dinner or something. She should be back soon."

Well, it was a kind of blessing. If she worked quick enough, she might not even need to see her at all.

"Why?" he asked, just as she'd got to the stairs leading down to the basement. She stopped and turned back to him, smiling sweetly.

"Nothing. Just picking up a few things."

"Oh? You stayin' out again?" She stared at him, and he cleared his throat suddenly, adding: "'Cos, like, we ain't see ya the past couple days and…"

He trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh!" she grinned. "I've been on vacation the pass couple of days. Didn't Raven tell you?" He shook his head no, and she continued blithely: "I'm just getting myself reacquainted with New York City. The sights, the sounds… the food and the wine… the hot men and the even hotter sex…"

She didn't wait to see his reaction, hurrying down the stairs and over to the room that Raven always kept for her, feeling a little bad for teasing him – but probably not bad enough.

She threw open the door and stepped inside.

The lights flickered on above her, casting into cold relief the dull, dank box of a room that had been hers for an age. Grey walls and thin, slatted windows at street height, right up near the ceiling. She'd never thought of this as home – just as a stopover on many a journey she had taken. A refuge to lick her wounds, take stock, and rest a little before moving on again.

It was quiet here. So quiet.

With a gentle touch she slid the door shut and looked at the drab décor, the unlived-in sparseness of it all. Right after her year-long trip down South, as soon as she'd arrived back in NYC, she'd come back here, this hovel of a home, knowing that any amount of upscale apartments or hotel rooms were available to her, but also knowing that she didn't want to be alone, and, moreover, that Raven knew how to find people. And that the person she'd wanted found was going to take some hard searching. She'd needed to be close to Raven, directing her, watching her. She'd needed to know Raven wasn't going to do anything but her goddamn best trying to find Remy.

Now that he was found, this room seemed strikingly irrelevant.

Anna took in a shaky breath and went over to her carryall, left unceremoniously opened on the bed. There was still some underwear in the bottom; and, in a corner, a folded-up rectangle of paper.

She took it out, unfolded it.

It was the lop-sided, child-like drawing of a sunflower in a field of corn, executed in vivid primary colours with Magic Markers. The drawing ten or eleven-year-old Anna-Marie Raven had made before being ripped away by social services; the drawing that had been kept all those years by the blind old lady who would've adopted her, and which she had returned to her only a couple of months before.

She traced her fingers over the black outlines and the lurid colours, feeling something snag on her heart and at her throat. She still wasn't used to crying, so she quickly folded the paper up again, and stowed it away in a side pocket. Afterwards the lump was still in her throat, so she busied herself taking the few belongings she had from her drawers and packing them back into the carryall.

She was so immersed in her thoughts that she barely noticed the soft knock at the door, the sound of Raven finally making her entrance.

"Leaving already?" she asked gently.

There was a lot Anna had been expecting from this moment, but not this – her softness. She glanced back over her shoulder slightly, seeing Raven in the open doorway, that same, old inscrutable expression on her face.

"Yeah," she simply answered.

There was a silence – not the prickly kind she had come to expect, but something else. A little awkward, a little sad.

After a moment she heard Raven slide the door shut fully behind her.

"So," she began quietly. "When's your flight?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"And the return flight?"

"It's an open ticket."

More silence, thick with her own guilt.

"I see," Raven said.

There was nothing left in the drawer, and Anna straightened, turned. Raven was sitting on the bed, looking up at her. It was a passive position from someone Anna knew loved to physically dominate a setting. It spoke volumes – yet somehow, she couldn't trust what it entailed.

"Do you?" she asked.

"Of course, I do." Raven's expression was calm, open. "You fought for this, Anna. You went to the Empharma building that day wanting this. For a whole slew of reasons, you didn't get it then – but you can get it now, and I don't blame you for going."

The words were said so neutrally, but there was an undercurrent of something else that she read as disdain.

"I just want to see if this works out, Raven," she said quietly – and that's when her old mentor finally levelled that cold, sardonic smile.

"No, Anna. I don't think you've thought that far enough ahead. I think all you want right now is to be with him. And I don't blame you for that either." Her smile faded, and she continued soberly: "Just know that you have a home here if you ever change your mind about where you want to be."

There was an implication to the words that Anna read loud and clear – something that said that that was exactly what Raven expected to happen. That within a few weeks Anna would change her mind and be back, ready to move onto the bigger and better things that Raven always seemed to think she should be doing.

She bit back on a suddenly flare of anger at the insinuation, walking over to the carryall and placing the clothing neatly inside.

"Why do you hate Remy?" she asked quietly.

"I don't hate Remy," came the unruffled reply.

Anna sniffed disbelievingly.

"Really? Coulda fooled me…"

She moved back to the dresser, agitatedly picking up a few knick-knacks she'd left there.

"I don't," Raven insisted in that same level tone.

"Then what is it about him that bothers you so much?" she shot out from between grit teeth. There was a pause, a silence that she could tell Raven was struggling not to fill, before she said:

"He's beneath you."

She really wanted it. She really wanted Raven to just say she was jealous, leave it at that.

"Beneath me?" She swung round, marched back to the bed, and threw everything, higgledy-piggledy, into the bag. "He's one of us! And even if he wasn't, who isn't beneath me, Raven?! Tell me! Who?! Someone like you?!"

She'd been so adamant not to lose it on this trip that it irked her she was doing it anyway, but… Raven sure as hell knew how to press her buttons, and she was doing it now and then some.

"Someone who will never disappoint you, Anna."

Anna paused, her gaze snapping to Raven's. She was so calm, so composed, it was maddening to her.

"Pffft! I don't think such a person exists. But what makes you think Remy is likely to disappoint me anymore than—"

"Have you seen what he does?" Raven cut across her. "He's nothing more than a common thief. Stealing silly little things for silly little people. And you…"

"And me what? What, Raven! Me, stealing silly little people's lives? How is that any different?"

An almost-smile touched Raven's lips.

"You were made for something with a little more finesse, my dear. I struggle to see how his world could end up satisfying you, in the long term."

She realised she was balling his fists so tight they hurt.

"I wasn't made for anything, except to be some unfeeling monster that didn't give a shit or have a clue about real people's lives!" she raged. "And you know what, Raven – fuck the shit that wanted to make me that way! Fuck it all! I choose him! I choose him, goddammit, and he is every damn thing I want and more!"

"Of course," Raven replied, like she was talking to a child.

She'd had it. She couldn't stay here any longer. She grabbed the last of her belongings, dumped them in the bag, and zipped it up violently.

"Anna—"

"Please, Raven. Don't. You've made your feelings clear, and I can't change them. And you can't change mine. It's an open ticket; there are no strings attached. If I come back, I come back. If I stay, I stay."

She shouldered the bag and headed for the door.

"Anna," Raven spoke up softly. "I think you know that there are very many strings attached."

She stopped, she turned. Raven was still sitting on the bed in this position of perfect passivity – and still she managed to command everything.

She was fuming. She didn't dare to say a word.

"When you love somebody," Raven continued calmly, "there are always strings attached. Always. You've entangled yourself, Anna. And that isn't wrong. It would be hypocritical of me to say so." She paused, a grim smile touching her face, before she continued: "All I'm telling you is – if you ever need to cut those strings, I'm here for you. Because," her voice lowered to a barely-audible undertone, "I know what it's like to have no one."

Those words doused the fire in Anna's gut like nothing else. Only a stone-cold defiance remained.

"Thanks for the room, Raven," she muttered back firmly, sliding the door open. "I'll message you when I arrive in Heathrow."

And she left.

-oOo-

When she got back, the hotel room was dimmed, quiet.

She stood in the vestibule and peeled off her heels.

"Remy?" she called.

There was no answer, and she moved into the room, dropping her bag and switching on one of the side lamps.

"Remy?" she called again.

She was answered by the bathroom door sliding open, and a very naked Cajun standing in the doorway, only a glass of bubbly in his hand.

"Here, chere," he greeted her with that dirty grin she knew so well. "Ran us a bath. You should join me, b'fore it gets cold."

He was already doing a damn fine job of getting her anger at Raven to dissipate. A playful pout slowly worked its way across her lips.

"Well, you sure know how to get a girl to relax," she crooned back sexily.

He grinned.

"Don't keep me waitin'."

He retreated into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Anna bit into her lip and shrugged off her jacket excitedly, finding she didn't want to wait. There was only one tonic for curing her particular ailment this evening, and it happened to be called 'Remy LeBeau'.

She hurried straight over to the bathroom.

He was standing by a champagne stand by the bathtub, pouring her a glass.

"Why you still got your clothes on, p'tit?" he asked her.

"Well," she answered deviously. "Maybe I don't need to take my clothes off for what I have in mind."

He turned to her fully, extended the drink to her.

"Oh, really, chere?" he asked, eyebrow raised. She took the glass and sashayed on over, pressing herself against him.

"Really," she whispered, eating up his mouth greedily. For a few heavenly moments she let herself get lost in the taste and texture of his kiss.

"And how's Raven?" he asked, when they'd backed up a few inches' worth for air.

"Fine," she replied, in a tone that told him that words had been said, and that she wouldn't tolerate any more questions on the subject. She took a quick swig of champagne and kissed him again, the popping of the bubbles complimenting the languid swirl of their tongues. She loved this. She'd never got such tactile pleasure out of anyone or anything in her life.

"And you got everythin'?" he asked breathlessly afterwards.

She kissed his collarbone, smiled.

"Hm, yes. Everything that matters."

A kiss to his chest; a mouthful of champagne. She pressed her tongue against the flat of his nipple and licked, long and slow. She was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath, the softest of groans sounding in his throat.

"Hm. I hope you weren't too ornery with your partin' shots, Anna-Marie, knowin' you like I do."

His fingers were lightly caressing the back of her neck, and she chuckled softly into a kiss as she switched up nipples.

"Oh, I was a very, very good girl," she assured him teasingly. "You woulda been proud of me."

"Aw, chere," he bantered back, "y'know I prefer you when you're bein' bad."

"That so?" She leaned back, giving him the eye. "Guess I'll haveta make up for the disappointment then."

She proceeded to kiss her way down his body, taking long, meandering detours she hoped would drive him crazy. There was plenty to distract her – the finely-sculpted musculature of his rangy body; the beautiful economy of his frame; the myriad marks and blemishes that were evidence of the dangers of his profession; the star-shaped scar of the bullet he'd once taken for her… Jesus, she adored this man. Raven was objectively wrong about her ever being left unsatisfied by him.

Finally on her knees, she swept her gaze right up to his and smiled, taking him in her free hand and fondling him luxuriantly. He watched her intently, and despite that piercing intensity, there was a glaze to his eyes that made her shudder sensually under his scrutiny. God, she loved having his eyes on her like this.

With a wicked grin, she took another mouthful of champagne and slowly, deliberately, ran her tongue right up from the root to the tip of him.

He didn't moan, didn't make a sound – but there was a hitch in his breath that said enough.

"That bad enough for ya?" she whispered. "Or you want more?"

He didn't say a word. She figured she'd maybe tied his tongue, which was okay. This time she took her time with the champagne, tonguing him in all his most sinfully sensitive spots before taking him into her mouth.

This time he did make a sound – a pained groan that told her she was doing exactly the right thing. Maybe too much so – he shot an arm out instinctively to steady himself, finding the champagne stand and nearly toppling over when it shifted and almost made him lose his balance.

Anna backed away, laughing heartlessly at his misfortune. Part of the reason she enjoyed the dynamic between them so much was because she could keep him on his toes – sometimes quite literally. Before he could even think of getting offended at her laughter, she'd backed him up against the wall so he had at least something to stop him from falling over when he got suitably distracted by the attack she was intent on launching.

"Fuck!—that is freezin', femme!" he almost yelled when his back hit the cold tiles. She chuckled, running her hands up and down his thighs as his erection bobbed invitingly in front of her face.

"Darling, I'm gonna warm you up again right quick, stop grousing!"

She grabbed him gently and planted a wet kiss right at the base of him. He huffed a breath, shuddering from something that definitely wasn't the cold; and she was a little amused to see how unfocused his movements were as he placed the champagne flute firmly down by the sink. The glass tottered a little before thankfully coming to a rest.

"You want bad, Cajun," she purred up at him, "you're gonna haveta be prepared t'take it."

She took a final mouthful of champagne, set the nearly-empty glass aside quickly, and sucked him right back into her mouth.

"Fuck, Anna, you are amazin'," he pretty much gasped as she got to work on him, making sure cold tiles were all but forgotten. He palmed her hair and tugged at the roots, his hips moving to the rhythm of her tongue; and she answered by raising her hands and digging the nails into his backside, pulling him in closer. Within seconds he was away, chasing down an orgasm with a roughness that she thought he was entitled to. She'd been the one to run, to leave him in a quandary she figured he wasn't much used to – hanging, for a woman. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it – she was willing to provide. In all sorts of shameless, dirty ways, if she had to.

She was going to go to London with him and it was going to be glorious. They'd be together in this disgustingly beautiful way forever.

When you love somebody, she heard Raven's voice warn sternly in her head, there are always strings attached.

Love! What a strange, mystical word it was. Was this love? Could this, right here, have anything to do with love? Because it felt so damn divorced from it, yet conversely so tightly intertwined… and she wanted to prove Raven wrong, yet she couldn't deny that this was exactly what she felt.

Love.

The sudden knowledge of her own vulnerability made her fiercer, going down on him in a way that defied everything her heart professed to be true – sweet, soft, intimate, tender. She sucked him the way she'd always done – as a distraction, a feint, a ruse, from things she had done or had yet to do – except this time the ruse was all on her, a pathetic attempt to deny what frightened her, that she was a slave to this thing between them.

His breathing was rapidly becoming more ragged; his fingers were pulling at her hair with increasingly aimlessness, and she knew he was close. She redoubled her efforts, and was rewarded with the sexiest damn moan rolling up from his throat as she pretty much ripped the orgasm out him and into her mouth. She didn't let up until every drop of him was inside her and he didn't have a thing left to give.

"Bad enough for ya?" she murmured when he was done, giving him one last, lingering lick. His answer was to slip his hands under her arms and practically drag her up into a deliciously hot kiss.

"You, Anna Raven," he muttered, heartfelt, "are a dirty bitch."

He shoved her back a bit with his shoulders, his fingers feverishly untying the black velvet bodice she was wearing, working the knots like he knew exactly what the hell he was doing. And, of course, he damn well did.

"Well," she bantered back, picking up his champagne from the counter and taking a generous sip, "it takes one dirty bitch to know another." She leaned in to kiss him again, a brief one, however, seeing as he was intent on getting her out of her clothes.

"Fo' sure." He got her out of the fancy laces and shoved the bodice off of her. "You and I need to get some cleanin' in, beb."

He unhooked her bra, letting her get down to the business of removing it, while he unzipped her pants.

"Oh, sugar," she crooned as she leaned into him, taking another sip of champagne and shrugging off the bra while she was at it. "I don't think any amount of scrubbing could make either of us any cleaner than we are already."

He half-laughed, impatient, grabbing the waist of her pants and shoving them down her thighs, panties and all.

"Anna-Marie, that depends on where we focus our scrubbin'."

And he made the point by getting a swift stroke in exactly where he knew it would elicit the best response. Her reaction was instinctive, her body arching into and away from him with a gasp, almost getting her to tip the rest of his drink over in the process.

"Uh huh?" he grinned at her, enjoying her reaction. "Yeah?"

She slapped his hand away from between her legs with only slight outrage evident.

"Don't you dare the fuck think you can pay me back for the world's most amazing blowjob!" she shot at him playfully, teetering a little bit as he backed up and got to his knees, roughly shucking the pants down her legs. The bubbles were definitely starting to get to her head.

"Oh, that was so fuckin' amazin', I ain't even gonna try," he retorted cheerfully, heaving her right up into his arms as she screamed with delight. "I'm just gonna give you a nice, relaxing rubdown for your efforts, and you're gonna shut the fuck up and let me do it."

And without another word he stepped into the bath, splashing soapy, scented water everywhere, making her giggle uncontrollably.

"Oh, I'll let you do it, Cajun," she assured him, grabbing at the hairs behind his head and pulling him in closer. "But don't think I'm gonna be quiet about it. If you don't make me moan at least once, I'm gonna consider this very disappointing indeed."

And she kissed him before he could even think of getting a word in edgeways.

-oOo-