So how much does Kitty know? Well, she knows Rogue's sneaking out at night – and that she and Remy are having major tension. Honestly, I think she would be trying not to come to conclusions. Anyway, her and Piotr – shy guys are so much fun, especially when you can contrast with Remy's flamboyancy. (Also, to the complaint he sounded like Kurt, I did research for his accent. And German and Russian struggle with some of the same sounds.)
I'm turning you all into masochists!! Or so I've heard complaints – but why do you keep reading? Because you really think love can triumph, that love is worth it. So we're all love masochists. And Remy is subject to that, even if he's pissed off right now…
Thanks y'all!
lovestoread, twinbuster2, dreamschemer (dun,nuh-na,nuh-na), X-Storm, Comic Chick396, wiccamage (he's about to...), mazdamiatta (devil - well, he did say it first, le diable), cream tea anyone, thesupernugget (erm lol!), ishandahalf, Loralee X5-214, allyg1990 (thanks - they are cute!), DannyPhantomFan06, ShadowFax999 (erm, sorry? -blink, blink- a clone?), Delphine, roguerulez (By this point, they're practically oblivious of others), SouthernLoner, coldqueen, animefan135, New Moon Night (lol)
Chica De Los Ojos Café – lol! I'm honored! "I want them together, but I want the drama, but I want them to be happy too. I want it all and luckily for me, your writing provides me with all! Hehe, unfortunately for Rogue and Remy, though, it means more hell and rings of fire to jump through. Oh well, they're idiots in love, what do they really expect?" LOL!
flaming-mod – thanks. "I can't wait to see where the angst parade stops and they decide to retrieve back their temper and stubbornness soldiers- easy to say, hard to achieve."
Best short review goes to Cory!
"This is angst crack (addicting and angsty as hell). They were never meant to have a simple relationship, were they:)" LOL!
Okay, so this chapter is a tad short, but next chapter – action is kicking up!! –smirk- LYRICS: Maroon 5's Makes Me Wonder and John Legend's Once Again.
16) Spiraling
Gambit had been used for many things in his life.
He'd been used for assigned jobs since he could walk. Since his adoption by the thief royalty of LeBeaus, he'd been used for heists, his connections, to make a peace treaty, to fill contracts. He'd been used for his powers – in general, they'd been viewed by the thieves as a bonus. His eyes' sensitivity to lasers, his agility, the explosive capacity, even his apparent charm; they all simply made him a better thief. They perhaps were the only ones to view them so positively, but – he appreciated that at least, especially since he had come to live alone in the outside world.
And he had used others.
Women for sex, inside information, connections, entertainment, distraction. Men for jobs, releasing aggression, some quick cash, back-up, escape. In many cases, it was mutual. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. It was simple, business-like, the way the world operated. Using was the only way to make a place for yourself – and being used an inevitable price you paid.
He'd had to accept that, especially after Genny…
But this, having Rogue so close, her thighs under his bare palms, his devil eyes bare to her green gaze, interlocked with only a gasp and sweat between them – and yet knowing it was simply that – being used, a convenience – was like letting him caress a top-grade emerald knowing it could never be removed from around the one whose throat displayed it, possessed it.
There was no accomplishment and whatever he had been using her for, food for his ego, an object for his curiosity, his insatiable greed, his own pleasure, now paled at what had become of their arrangement.
She'd ended it once; he had the same capability. He could deny her, turn away from her deep eyes, laugh at her inexperience, show her just what he thought about being a toy.
But he couldn't.
For if one can't have the reality, at least the illusion let him pretend for a while – and for breathless moments, he had her.
Feels so good to be bad
Not worth the aftermath, after that
After that
Try to get you back
But he revenged himself – in her flesh.
That night he told her of Bella, the first, the only woman he had ever loved.
He sketched her blond hair into brunette looks, blue pools in green forests, plush curves over svelte bends, abundant breasts over handful mounds.
He whispered their first meeting, the headiness of their first love, his first kiss into her skin, then spanned its length with murmurs of the kisses after, his first time, the women after, coating her shuddering skin with the echoes of his past intimacies.
The blond bombshell Cindy with the fantastic tongue, the buxom redhead Rochelle who loved eating in bed, the violet-eyed Sherin who'd pop up every few months for a tumble – and Naqueta who had actually been able to name and perform over ten maneuvers from the Kama Sutra. And numerous others.
Sometimes they were nameless, faceless; just places or blurs of memories, an early morning stumbling out of a room he didn't know how he'd gotten into – and he wondered how many it'd really been.
She said nothing in reply, only her own secrets, but…
She can't help the half-cringe, the turning of her face away, the shadows beginning to form under her tired eyes, and he laps at the edgings of her shame, despair and anger like a wounded wolf – even as he draws her into orgasm again, stretching her limbs and his in the contortions of experience, making her hover at the edge of pain and pleasure yet again, drawing it out so delicately until she comes with an intensity that even makes him shudder.
Rogue wants him, thief, slut, murderer that he is – he damns her with that knowledge.
And if he can't just leave, damn it, neither can she.
She can't tell if he is trying to repulse her or make her as obsessed about him as he is about her.
He needn't have bothered.
so we did it again
knowing we should quit it, but we simply won't admit it again
oh it feels good, it's so good, but I won't do it again
it's so dramatic again
They were fighting again; he couldn't even remember what had started it. A flip of her hair, a scornful eye roll, a simpering comment that she just hadn't been able to let pass.
"Can't find any betta place ta drag y' worthless carcass?"
Instead of listening to the words, he read the tension in her shoulders, the distracted flick of her eyes to his fingers when he flexed them, and smirked.
"Yah know what I t'ink?" he gave a pause, drawing out the moment and she clenched her mouth. "Y' need to get laid," it was a smoky voice, deliberately intended for her ears only, so the Boy Scout by her didn't flip out.
For a moment, the shock made her slack, green kaleidoscoping at the audacity, before the tension raced up her body again and her arms crossed, defensively he noted with amusement. It's all too ironic and he let his smirk remain.
And any audience faded away.
"Fuck you," she spat out, all rigid and sharp angles – and for a second, he wanted to just smooth her out, lax like taffy with the ease he had in the darkness of the night – but he ignored the moment of weakness.
"Actually," he drawled, letting his eyes meander down her figure, "wit' all that tension down there," he let his gaze linger at the join of her hips and the pale of her cheeks burned, "bet you could really make me saute." (pop)
He didn't anticipate the violence of her reaction, but he read the sudden coil in her arm and managed to catch the punch, locking it with his twining hands inches from his jaw. She tensed further.
"Get a floozy to do it," she hissed, her impotent rage magnifying with every moment she can't escape his grasp.
He tugged her closer, making her awkwardly stretch forward, her arm now looked under his, their faces inches apart. Remy contemplated her face, her resistance. "You don't show up t'night, I will."
It wasn't a threat or a joke, a lie? – not even he knew. Rogue froze against him for a complete minute, her heart beat throbbing against the thumb affixed to her wrist. She turned away finally with a tight motion, her face blank.
"Let go of me Gambit!" He stared at her and wished he could.
"That's enough!" And Scott separated them. "What is wrong with you two?"
He looked between them, but neither said a word.
after we go at it, we get mad then we go at it again
oh I love it, then I hate it, she's my favorite again
He ambushed her in one of the back hallways, minutes after the youngsters filed into a training session with 'Joseph', the older kids going out for either dates or mall shopping. Unsurprisingly, Rogue had declined all invitations to tag along.
"Wha' da hell?" she hissed, twisting in his arms. But he had her backed up against the wall, pinning her with his larger body.
"What y' do if yah boyfriend can't wait," he rumbled feverishly, needing the thrill, needing her under his hands, "afta seein' y' so feisty and delectable," his fingers were going up her thigh and she swallowed, eyes wide upon his face. But submission was never so easy.
"He wouldn't-" she said unsteadily.
"Y' wanna bet?" he pushed up against her and her body shuddered as she felt his arousal. Burning his eyes into her, he refused to let her look away – and they hung suspended in the surreal non-existent space between practice and reality. Frozen. Her face lay open and flushed before him and he couldn't wait for the confusion in her face to clear, not if it will mean facing… "Trust me?" he breathed, his fingers reached the lining of her underwear.
Her eyes looked like another planet filled with more life than his own.
He crossed the line, but she didn't say no, her eyes just full in his own, her body arching into his as he maps the territory he has gotten to know well.
He knows the exact bend of her hips, the exact crook of his fingers necessary, the exact moment she feels his entrance, the groan she can't suppress, the increasing pressure of her fingers as he leans into her, the flutter of her eyes as she rides the swell of her rising pleasure, the exact way to twist to make her jerk and gasp – this he knows, only him, so well that it almost feels like it's his alone. That this act, this moment, Rogue in her flushing, gasping, sinuous hair-tussled glory – was his.
Possession.
And then she crashed up against him, kissing him as he took her surrender.
I can't invite her again
'cause she'll go from a lover to a fighter
and I'll fight her again
Remy could only be contained by the same four walls for so long – and one night, after Rogue's exit, he just needed to get out of there. His apartment in the city was too far a drive; there was an early team practice the next morning with 'Joseph.' The mere thought gave him a bad taste in his mouth, but revving his bike, his options were limited and he wasn't surprised to find himself in front of the Brotherhood house.
He could count on a spare bed there, even if he'd never taken advantage of the, er, open invitation previously.
Unlike others, he slept well in new locations, if lightly. In his line of work, both skills were necessary and despite what those at the Mansion said sneeringly, he only ever slept late in places he felt safe.
Except apparently, his situation with Rogue had taken more out of him than he expected…because he awoke to the sound of her voice.
"Look, just ansa the question! Is the mud-sucking swamp rat hea or not?"
He couldn't hear the response, but he took his cue, sauntering down the stairs already fully clothed. "Righ' here chere. Miss m' much?"
Her eyes snapped to him without humor as he leaned against the banister.
"What are yah doin' here?" she demanded, picking her way through the trashy room, her distaste clear. Seemed like her time at Xavier's had made her fussy. "Yah weren't even part of the Brothahood."
"You were."
Reaching him, her sharp eyes examined him, seeking the reason underneath the riddle.
"What does that have ta do with anything?" He gave a shrug, withdrawing a cigarette to light up.
Taking a lingering puff, he caught her displeased frown. "Don't see us at de Manor," he defended himself reflexively, "ain't no kiddies t' corrupt here."
Rogue rolled her eyes and turned away, automatically focusing on Lance.
"So how's Kitty doing?" Lance asked, with poorly feigned indifference. Rogue shifted her stance, obviously reluctant to reveal Kitty's obvious re-aligned interest.
"Fahne. How 'bout you guys?" she looked around, quickly changing the subject. Fred snored from the bowed couch, untroubled by the intrusions into the house. Todd stood in another doorway upstairs, his hair messy as he tiredly put a hand through it, though grinning.
"Yo, we're good Roguey."
"Yeah, we're just fine," Lance said bitterly and Remy raised an eyebrow. Belatedly, he wondered exactly who was paying their bills now that Mystique had disappeared and Magneto had turned to the side of light.
"Wanda and Pietro not around?" Rogue asked. Lance's hand immediately fisted and the house rumbled ominously. The ceiling, already been subjected to a number of similar quakes and explosions, crackled as sizable pieces of plaster detaching. Remy cursed, in a swift motion extending his bo staff to shield himself and Rogue, whom he tugged to his side with an arm around her waist, dropping his cigarette. Todd ping-ponged down the stairs to the more secure kitchen. Fred let out a snore, shifting to let a fist-sized piece of plaster slide off his arm.
"Yo man, watch it!" There was another mutter from the kitchen that sounded awfully like, 'an' it wasn't like cuddledums was that bad' – but Remy preferred to chalk that up to his imagination.
"Watch it rock boy," he narrowed his eyes.
Lance crossed his arms, angrily muttering about a card – most likely the little exploding one he'd lobbed into the room to confirm his right to crash there the previous night. Remy regretfully stubbed his smoldering cigarette on the carpet. He didn't let go of Rogue.
"I'll take that as a yes," Rogue muttered.
"Guess they didn't want to stick around the new and improved Magneto," he countered idly, ignoring the glare she threw his way. Oh, of course, she thought Joseph deserved another chance. Unconsciously, he gripped her a little tighter.
Lance eyed them suspiciously. "So I heard you're getting control of y'know, touching," he said casually enough. Rogue nodded.
"Ah'm workin' on it," she said vaguely. Discussing her progress made her edgy, Remy had noticed, and he stroked the strip of skin exposed by her shirt.
"Um hmm," he affirmed. She relaxed incrementally until she realized exactly where Lance's eyes were. There was a snicker from the kitchen from which Todd peeked out.
A slap came down on the hand. "Stop it, Grabby," she said sharply, immediately moving away from him – but he could tell she had forgotten he was touching her and he smirked. Lance's 'innocent' question only increased her fluster.
"Are you two dating?"
"No!" Her vehemence was overstated and she deliberately went on with less heat. "I should think you'd know ah got betta taste," darkened green eyes looked back at Remy with unreadable eyes. "Ah'm smart enough to actually read warnin' labels." Her gaze was intense and it took him a moment to realize she was also holding up a cigarette pack – his brand. It was then he noticed his lightened pocket. Unbelievable.
His eyebrow cocked in perfected nonchalance. "Gotta an addiction yah ain't sharin' chérie?"
Rogue snorted before deliberately turning her back, striding over to the overflowing garbage can and dropping the pack in. "Not likely." She looked back at him in challenge. "Now move it. We're late."
And she turned her back on him and walked out – leaving him no choice but to follow, a hand flicking down to retrieve his pack as he did so.
I still don't have the reason
And you don't have the time
And it really makes me wonder
If I ever gave a f- about you
The two men watched the video from the morning's training session in silent contemplation, picking out areas of improvement mentally.
The one standing sighed, watching as Cyclops' hand automatically went to his visor when Joseph came into view, distracting him from the lasers pingponging the room – and that he was supposed to be deflecting for his teammates. A shriek came from Shadowcat who thankfully phased in time, but drew Cyclops' head back into the game.
"They don't trust me," he stated the obvious.
"Give it some time Erik." He let Charles say it without correction as he had never said it with distrust. "You can only expect so much out-of-hand."
"I need to prove myself elsewhere," he disagreed. "And honestly Charles," he reflexively glanced at the wall, as if expecting a window rather than the steel paneling of the control booth of the Danger Room. "I can only stay within these walls for so long. I can't show my face outside in case of recognition…" he lingered.
"You've decided to take up Moira's offer then?" Charles asked with an air of resignation. Scotland – it was secluded and hardly the weather he preferred, but ideal for his situation; McTaggert wasn't one to hold grudges. He nodded.
Joseph looked back at the video, which now displayed the end of the simulation, his eye catching on the pair exchanging unheard terse words, one smirking, the other with arms defensively crossed.
"I would watch those two Charles," he said suddenly. Charles' eyes flicked, but he maintained a blank expression.
"Oh?" he murmured.
"Gambit has shown a particular interest in Rogue as long as he's been in my employment." Joseph couldn't help recalling the matter of the missing security tapes – Gambit had acted quickly once they'd been shown to Charles.
"You think that is dangerous for her?"
He shrugged. "Rogue is nothing if not strong-willed. If anyone could handle his tricks, it would be her."
"And him?"
He finally shot Charles a look, taking in the composed manner. Obviously the head of the Manor knew more about the situation. But it was no longer his concern and he let it go. "He's a womanizer Charles, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. But otherwise, I don't know. He seems invested in her," he paused, Stay away from her echoing in his ears, "but he knows how to play the game – and he has too much to lose." He thought to warn him – but it was Gambit's life. It wasn't as if Gambit was the kind to stick around long enough for consequences to catch up with him anyway.
Joseph, Erik, Magneto walked out of the room, leaving his old acquaintance staring at the cut-off video with the tips of his mouth pulled down as if by invisible strings.
Give me something to believe in
Cause I don't believe in you anymore
Anymore
I wonder if it even makes a difference to try
Yet she still gave her own confessions, half-whispers of her own pain, somehow still trusting him with her fragments.
"Sometimes I think I should've stayed with the Brotherhood. It would've been," she hesitated and he wished he could draw out her words from inside as easily as he drew out her lust, "easier, simpler."
He doesn't respond though he knows the truth far more intimately than she.
Being the bad guy usually is.
And she retaliated, in her own weak way.
Blond hair, blue eyes, playful smile, shy invitation to dance. A self-conscious golden boy, Cody, football star crushing after the gothic loner – bangs brushing forehead as he leaned to kiss her, her reaching up on tip-toe – he can see it in his mind – "mah first kiss," she whispered and he can't touch that memory.
And another boisterous boy, brunette this time, volunteering so selflessly (something inside of him hisses) and she assents, before the end of their first interlude and the betrayal that lances through him is sharp-edged – it's the closest to romance she's ever exposed, the most traitorous.
She'd never said anything about Scott again and he wondered, listening with only half-attentive ears as she relays the end of that interaction, absorption.
Until she adds a truth, the truth, that throws all else into confusion – all his assumptions, all his conclusions, all his conflicted feelings.
"I knew it wouldn't transfer."
He can't breathe, can't think. His eyes flash to hers, but she's hiding them and he can only bury himself further into her body.
And he's lost, lost in her and him and the all that lies between.
She didn't appear the next night.
He watched her sleep in silence, resisting the impulse even to finger his deck. It had taken him an hour to make this decision, to dare to retrace his old path and intrude into the room she had dismissed him from, and nothing would ruin it. She slept in a state far from peace, tossing every few minutes, rearranging her legs as often, and making half-strangled growls into the thick of her pillow.
The chérie needed sleep – he was no fool. He'd ignored the darkening under her eyes, belied even by her ridiculous makeup – even admittedly taken a vicious thrill in the visible proof of his success, but faced with her restless exhaustion, he found himself unable not to care. Sleep, however, didn't seem to want to lay with his chérie.
His. The possessive lay bitter on his tongue, but he swallowed it.
Muttering an obscure French curse to himself almost comfortingly, he smoothly lowered himself onto the bed, chancing a glance at her soundly sleeping roommate. Rogue rolled toward the motion, but before consciousness could haunt her mind, he tucked her to himself. She took one breath and relaxed as the identity of the presence registered. Managing a sleepy huff, she buried her head against his chest, squirming only a little to attain the most comfortable arrangement.
And at last she slept, anchored in warmth, watched over by the eyes of a devil.
I'm wasting time
but she's always on my mind
I can't let her go
Something had to change. But it could wait until tomorrow.
Only sometimes tomorrow is too late…