Author's Notes: So it's been awhile, but here's a little more Gambit/Rogue from yours truly. Some summer nostalgia.
Bronzed
By Nessie
"Ya wanna scoot some of that lemonade over here, sugah?" Not bothering to look over at him, she slips a glove on a sweating hand and reaches out. The side of her mouth quirks up with her palm lands on fingers resting atop a tall glass. "Sorry, Remy. You're about as hot as Ah am right now, and Ah'm needin' somethin' cool."
She feels his eyes smolder against her cheek. "Nobody cooler den me 'round here, petite."
Rogue smirks and adjusts her sunglasses, nipping the lemonade out from under his hand in one smooth movement. "Only sometimes, sugah." Her smile widens at his mock pout, then they both settle back to relax…as if they aren't identity-less superheroes…as if they have all the freedom in the world to sit on the roof of the Institute and soak in as much sun as they want.
She sips from the glass and finally allows her eyes to wander from beneath the shield of her sunglasses. Gambit wears nothing but swim trunks and a designer pair of shades, his ponytail sticks to his sweat-dampened shoulder. She appreciates his body, knowing fully well that he appreciates hers just as much.
Her thoughts turn melancholy for a handful of moments as she pulls off the glove again and chucks it underneath her chair. It's almost as hot in New York as it is back home in ol' Mississippi, but she finds that her brain is really the thing on fire.
She wonders, as always, if he sees someone else when he looked at her. Someone he can hold, can touch, can kiss… "Remy?"
"Hm?" He looks over, and his lazy smile falls because even with her eyes covered he can still read her like a book. "Keep t'inkin' those thoughts, chere, and I gon' toss you offa dis roof an' into de swimmin' pool."
Rogue grins, effectively distracted – for now. She half-squeals when he starts reaching for his own gloves so he can grab her and jumps out of her seat, knowing he'll get to her in half a second. She barely has time to get her own gloves on before his covered hands are on her bare waist and she's supporting him in a half-falling, half-flying leap to the icy pool below.
There are times, she figures, when she has to just be satisfied with a glass of lemonade, a summer tan, and the never-ending fall down with the man she loves.
The End