Wilkommen, mein fruenden! Here's the next installment in our international adventure. What will our refugees do next? And what of Logan? At the time I'm writing this note, I have no goddamn idea, so let's figure it out together! Whoo! In other news, I'm officially a tumblr addict. Same name, if you want to go follow me (shameless plugging).

Also, the maid outfit sideplot comes from ElvenMuggle. Thank you for you great review, my dear.

Enjoy!

-Forbala-

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: FRENCH MAID

Marielle woke up alone in her bed and with so many strange feelings: loneliness, longing, embarrassment. Last night had her all confused, but she quickly realized it didn't matter. She'd been happy in that moment, and she chose not to dwell on it. Besides, she had to get ready for work.

She took a shower and went to the closet to pull out her uniform. She grimaced as she put it on and looked in the mirror. She was a maid at the hotel but her uniform was anything but cute: it was plain and rather ugly. She was thankful for the long sleeves and high neckline, but the skirt was knee-length so she had to wear hose, just to be safe. She grimaced again and tied her hair up into a ponytail, then went into the kitchen.

Raoul was already sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Across from him was a covered plate. Marielle sat down with an absent-minded greeting and ate as if nothing at all was special, and indeed it wasn't.

Except for Raoul.

When Marielle came from her room, he looked up to admire her and got so much more than he'd bargained for: she was wearing a powder blue dress that fell to the ankle, with a neckline that was actually a collar, long sleeves, white cuffs, and a white apron. The blue dress had a scoop neck but underneath/attached was a piece of white fabric resembling a collared shirt, with a blue ribbon around the neck. She was wearing plain white socks and tennis shoes. He nearly chocked on his food. She was so goddamn sexy.

"Bonjour, chere," he said, trying to maintain his cool exterior.

"Jour," she replied, shoving eggs in her mouth and flicking a strand of white hair out of her face. She didn't even look at him.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Is that your uniform?"

"Yeah. It's so ugly. And it itches."

Raoul laughed. Of course she thought it was ugly. Okay, admittedly, it wasn't particularly flattering or well tailored, but something about it got him going. Regardless, now he had to tease her. "Oh, non, chere. Stand up, let Raoul see you."

"No way."

"Oui. Stand up and let me get a proper look at you."

She sighed and stood, threw her arms out, and spun around quickly. "Satisfied, perv?"

But just then, Raoul snapped a picture with a camera that Marielle didn't know he had. "Yes, I am. You look very—"

"I'm stopping you there. Don't finish that sentence. I'm going to work. Try to behave and keep the apartment clean and not on fire, will you?"

"No promises, chere," he called to her back as she left.

He had most of the day free, as he was working in the casino, so he left the apartment and hurriedly went to find a library or printing store. He found something like a Kinko's and had the picture of Marielle the Maid printed on glossy, 8-by-11 paper. He slipped it in an envelope and raced quickly back home, where he hung it on his bedroom wall with a pushpin.

He sat and started at it for well over fifteen minutes. Just looked at the picture. She was angry and startled, her face warped with the annoyance she so often faced him with. Her ponytail whipped around her head in mid-motion, bits of stray hair in her eyes, and her skirt rustled.

How he would love to bring her uniform into the bedroom. The facts that her skin was poison and she'd hit him hard enough to give him a concussion were non-issues. He wanted to hold her and treat her like a princess and a woman. He wanted to teach her how wonderful and fun touching could be—not just sexually, mind you. Last night, for example, where they curled up on the couch for hours. He wanted that too. The simplicity, the purity of it.

He wanted the sex too.

Don't think for a second he didn't want to have sex with her. But for the first time in his life, he wanted more than sex. He'd had more one-night stands than he ought to say. He'd had a few fuck buddies. But never anything more. Well, there was Belladonna, but that didn't count. God, he didn't even want to think about that bitch.

And then Marielle had come out wearing that maid outfit. Fuck, she was trying to kill him. He moaned as his Little Thief strained against his pants. He quickly unzipped his pants and pulled the front of his boxers down under his balls, his cock standing erect. He licked his palm and fisted himself, slipping into his talented, well-honed imagination.

Rogue came home in her frumpy maid uniform, her ponytail slightly messy from a long day of work. She went straight to Remy, who was sitting on the couch, and sat atop his lap, straddling him. He was wearing full-finger leather gloves, and smoothed her hair back, not worried about her skin. He kissed her gloved hand, then each fingertip.

Rogue pulled her hands away and slowly pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, letting it slip out and cascade over her shoulders and face. She gave it a shake and tossed the ponytail holder away, then ran her hands through Remy's hair and kissed him briefly, just long enough to give him a charge. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, then moved his hands down to her ass and began massaging the muscle there. Rogue leaned back and slipped her hands under Remy's shirt, pushing it up and then pulling it over his head.

Rogue mouthed at Remy's gloved fingers and licked and sucked them, then moved down and nuzzled her face in his chest hair, massaging his shoulders as she did. He felt the sting of her skin, but instead of pulling away, instead of feeling drained, he finger-combed her hair and felt reinvigorated. Although she technically took his energy, she also seemed to double it.

She got up off the couch and knelt before him, running her hands up and down his thighs. She undid his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it. Her silken gloves felt incredible on his manhood and he moaned throatily. Rogue smiled and blushed. She blew on his erection, causing it to twitch with excitement, and stroked it with both hands. She stroked and pumped, ran her thumb over the head, circled her finger around the crown, poked the slit and smeared precum all over her gloves and his cock. Finally, when he was about to blow, she deep-throated him and sucked hard, letting go with a pop. Remy came and Rogue tried to catch it in her mouth, but most of it landed on her cheeks, chin, nose, even her forehead. She wiped up as much cum as she could off Remy, licking it off her silken gloves. Then she crawled up to sit on his lap again and began to clean herself up: swiping at the cum with a delicate finger, putting that finger in her mouth, and slowly pulling her now clean finger out.

Then she kissed him and kissed him, and it was draining him, probably killing him, and he was slipping into blackness and he didn't give a damn.

I felt we needed some more smut, so that's what happened. I hope you like it! ~.^

-Forbala-