Chapter 9

Time seemed to have stood still after Rogue and Death had exchanged threats. Death stood motionless, his cold eyes locked on Rogue with an unsettling intensity that Rogue found it hard to stomach. Those were his eyes, but also weren't. The look coming from them was not one Rogue could recognize. There was a dangerous gleam behind the hollow stare, an unsettling combination of desire and hate bubbling inside of him, but she could see beneath the surface. She stood across from him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, still shaken by his attempt to choke her just moments before.

His gaze traveled over her body, lingering on the curve of her lips, the strands of white in her tangled hair, and the faint flush of her skin. For a moment there, it reminded her of him, the real him. The longing, the wanting in the way he looked at her. A tiny fraction of him that was buried deep beneath the layers of Apocalypse's control recognized her. That same part desperately stirred with memories that Death couldn't fully grasp, but he could feel them, have his feelings somewhat touched by them. But those feelings, the ones that used to make him smile at the mere thought of her, were now twisted, reshaped into something darker.

'She had all of that with you, a man that loved her for who she was. Deadly touch and all that came with it, but she still chose another man.' Death repeated as a mantra inside his head, trying to break Remy LeBeau and any attempts on his part to break through the prison he was in, in the inner depths of his brain. 'You fell for her, you stupid. You, a man that charmed all women, that conned, played with them and their feelings, how could you be so reckless? This woman is simply a reminder of your weakness, our weakness. And now, we have no room for weakness. Shall we stop playing games? You know this woman has got to go.'

Rogue held his gaze, fear mixing with something else in her eyes. Hope? Maybe. Desire? Strangely enough, yes, that too. She could see through the monster he had become, she could see the man she missed and mourned for months. Death, on the other hand, felt only desire building up within him, and most importantly, he felt the overwhelming urge to destroy the very thing that tethered Remy to his past, to his essence.

He hated her for it. And yet, there was something about the way she stood before him, defiant even in her fear, that made his fingers twitch with the familiar urge to touch her. His desire for her had not faded, only changed into something more raw, more dangerous.

Death's lips curled into a half-smile; the expression as cold as the grey pallor of his skin. He took a slow step forward, his hand itching to reach for her again, this time not to choke but to possess.

"Do you think you still know me… chére?" His voice was low, laced with mockery. "Because the man you're looking for is long gone."

"I know you're in there, Remy," she replied promptly, without a second of hesitation or uncertainty. His response was a sharp slap across her face, she was caught off guard. She fell backwards, landing on the sofa across from the fireplace. The fabric of the sofa was layered with ashes, smearing her skin. She touched her face where he hit her, her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. She swallowed the urge to cry away and locked eyes with him. Despite the sting, she propped her chin up, giving him a look of defiance.

"Knowing how he treated you like his little princess, so charming, with his cooking, little surprises, romantic dates and acts of kindness, I would imagine that you expected your first time with him, your first real time going all the way with him, would be something out of one those trashy dirty novels you read at night, right?"

She looked away and didn't respond. Her lips were trembling as she fought the tears which were threatening to roll down her pretty face. She knew where he was going with that, and yes, it was true. She pictured it in her head every night before going to sleep, the day she would gain full control of her powers, the day she would surrender her body and soul to Remy LeBeau.

He towered over her as she laid on the sofa, a little stunned after the slap. She looked up to him and for a second, his eyes softened, only to go back to looking at her with disdain. He bent down and leaned into her. An crooked smile crept on the corner of his lips.

"So, let me guess, he would take you out for dinner, to a fancy restaurant. You'd wine and dine, he would reach across the table and the two lovebirds would hold hands. Then, he'd probably take you somewhere pretty for some nice views before going back to the mansion. There, you would go to his room, where he would have set scented candles, and his favorite wine would be ready for the two of you. Or would it be champagne? Champagne and strawberries! Very cliché, but he would expect you to love the gesture and you would," Death whispered in her ear, while his hands started to fumble with what was left of her clothes. Not gently, not like Remy used to do with his gloved hands, he was rough, and she hated it.

"Stop! This is all wrong," Rogue commanded, slapping his hands away from her, stepping away from his reach. She could easily remove herself from that predicament. She could fight him, her power absorbing touch might not work on Death, but she was invulnerable. She was skilled in hand to had combat and Carol Danvers powers still ran through her.

But, she didn't want to leave him with himself. Death was capable of atrocities at the command of Apocalypse. If she had any chance to prevent that from happening, she would. She just had to keep him busy, distracted. She knew just the way to do it, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

It's just her, standing powerless to absorb the man she once trusted with her heart, now turned into something monstrous. If only her powers worked on him, maybe she could extract the evil and only Remy would be remain inside of him. She had dealt with unwanted memories and horrible entities before, she could take care of Death inside her head so he could be free.

"Gambit..." she whispered, her voice trembling but steady. "Remy, my love, I know you're in there."

But the man before her didn't respond. Instead, he moved like a predator. Silent, fluid, and deadly. He lunged at her with terrifying speed, fists raised, aiming to strike her down. Rogue barely ducked in time, her body screaming with the effort to keep up. She was faster than she thought she'd have to be, but not fast enough.

Gambit's fist slammed into her side, and pain exploded through her body. She stumbled backward, clutching her ribs, gasping for air. But he wouldn't allow time for her to pause. He closed the distance between them, striking again. This time aiming for her head. Rogue ducked again, desperation in her every move. She threw a punch of her own, to try to stop him simply, but without her powers, it's like hitting a wall. Death barely registered it. To him, she was like an annoying mosquito buzzing in his ear.

His hand gripped her shoulder, twisting her around before slamming her into the ground. The impact rattled her bones, and for a moment, she felt like she couldn't breathe. She tried to roll away instinctively, but Death was faster, and he held her down, holding both her shoulders and finally, laying on top of her. She tried to scramble and fighting him off her, but his hands went from shoulders to her hips, and he pressed his whole body against hers. His breath was warm on her neck, and it did things to her. It awoke feelings inside of her that she was not expecting. His skin, his smell, so close to her, and she had wanted to feel that his weight on top of her, for so long. His long white hair was covering part of her own torso, and then, unexpectedly, he planted a kiss on her neck. His teeth followed, teasing, nibbling lightly.

"Remy, please!" she gasped, she didn't even know what she was begging for. Their proximity was intoxicating. Her voice cracked with raw emotion, but Gambit, possessed by Death, remained silent, but focused on her.

Rogue's breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of his lips tracing kisses down her neck, the sensation of his lips teasing her skin sending a shiver down her spine. Her heart raced, torn between the intensity of the moment and the confusion swirling in her mind. This was Remy. No, not Remy, Death. But it was him underneath that surface, right? It had to be! He was so close, so consuming. She had dreamt of his touch for so long, but not like this, not in a moment of such conflict.

Her hands trembled as now they rested against his chest, feeling the strong, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. For a moment, her body responded on instinct, leaning into his warmth, the weight of him grounding her in a world that felt like it was slipping out of control. His breath was steady, his movements deliberate, yet beneath the façade of Death's control, she could feel him, her man, her best friend, her Remy. He was fighting, struggling to break through.

"Remy," she whispered yet again, her voice barely more than a breath against his ear. "I know you're still in there."

How many times would she keep calling out for him? As many times as it was needed to wake him up, to break the shackles of the control Apocalypse had in him. For a moment there, it felt like she was winning.

His movements slowed, and for just a second, he froze. She saw it in his eyes—faint, but there—the man she loved, trying to push past the darkness. His grip on her hips softened, the tension in his body easing slightly as if her words had reached him, breaking through the hold of Apocalypse's power. His hand reached for her face and he touched her cheek lovingly.

"Je t'aime, chére," he said, his eyes were sad as he said those words. It was him, the real him. She smiled despite herself, a genuine smile that touched her eyes.

"I love you, too, sugar. I won't ever stop loving you. I haven't stopped loving you a single day," she confessed, tears now rolling freely down her face.

Rogue's heart ached, torn between the fierce desire she felt and the deeper, stronger need to save him, to bring him back to himself. She pressed her forehead against his, eyes closed, letting the closeness of the moment linger, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest.

"It's me and it's you, Remy. We are endgame, sugar," she whispered softly, her voice steady, though her heart was accelerated. "I won't give up on you. Not ever."

For a moment, there was that hint of something real in his gaze, as if her words had stirred something inside him. But just like that, it was gone. The seductress, the liar, the cheat that she was, trying to outsmart Death. He didn't like that one bit. He chuckled, and she could instantly tell that her Remy was gone, slipped through the cracks of his conscience.

Death was on the driver's seat again. He was even more annoyed than before. In a swift move, he held her by the waist and turned her body, as easily as if she were nothing but a rag doll. It was so fast, Rogue had no time to prevent that from happening. He had her face smashed against the floor, one hand of his was now on her hair. He grabbed a handful of her luscious curly hair and pulled it so her head would snap backwards.

"You thought it would be that easy, you stupid bitch? Better think again," he spoke loudly, it hurt her ears because he was already too close to her. She let out a soft cry of pain as he released her hair, causing her forehead to hit the cold floor. With a sudden, forceful motion, he tore away what remained of her uniform, leaving her naked, vulnerable and exposed. He took a deep breath as he took in the sight of her beautiful curves all exposed to him, her round curvy ass was tilted upwards in the position he had left her. An evil smile curled up on his lips and he landed a heavy smack on her ass. It immediately started to sting, and one slap followed, then, another and another.

After a few minutes of that spanking sessions, his hand rested on her hip for a moment, warm against her skin, and then it came down with one last sharp smack. Tears ran down her eyes, this time not because of the emotion of hearing Remy LeBeau declare his love for her. What made her shed silent tears was the fact that Death was in command, using the body of the man she loved to torture, to punish her.

"What was that? Are you planning on killing me by sexy spanking?" she asked in all her sass, glancing over her shoulder at him, her voice breathy but trying hard not to let it show how hurt she was feeling with the whole situation. She didn't want him to feel victorious.

The view before his eyes made his predator's mouth water. Her beautiful body laid bare in front of him, her deliciously curvy ass reddened because of the work of his hands, her pretty face looking over her shoulder at him, faking defiance. What a sight to behold! That luscious curly hair of hers was covering almost all her back, cascading down, in such a way that the main focus was her bright red cheeks.

Death couldn't help but let a self-satisfied smirk slip across his lips. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "That was just the start, chère. Keep testing me, and you're gonna find out just how serious I am. First, we break you by breaking your hopes, by breaking your heart," he threatened her. Just then, he used both hands to hold her waist, and then positioned himself to forcefully penetrate her. He pushed himself inside of her and was surprised to realize that he wouldn't hurt her like he imagined, for she was slick and wet, absolutely ready for him.

She couldn't help it, that was still him, still his body, the body he always wanted inside of her. Besides, if there was a way to get under Death's skin and let the real Remy LeBeau come back to the surface, that would be it. He thrust inside of her, once, twice, three times, as hard, heavy and fast as he possibly could. Much to his disappointment, instead of crying, of hurting or fighting him, Rogue arched her back, and responded with movements on her own accord, matching his rhythm.

"You! I thought you would put up a fight, you sexy bitch," he said in between groans while he kept thrusting hard inside of her.

She didn't respond with words; her moaning filled the room, and it was answer enough.
His jaw went slack, and his body shuddered. He was buried deep within her, but then pulled back and kept working his cock in and out of her.

"Oh, Remy!" she groaned. "Oh, sugar," she tried to evoke her man to answer to her plea. This wasn't how she dreamed, not in a million years. But it was still him, his body, the body she had already seen naked, but could never feel it like she was feeling it at that moment. The situation was horrible, but for that moment, she was loving it.

There was turmoil inside him. Waves of pleasure crashed through his brain as he continued pounding into her, spreading her and filling her. As Death kept his thrust hard and deep, Remy LeBeau felt it too. He was finally loving her body the way he had always wanted, the way they had always dreamed. But unfortunately for him, he couldn't control his actions. He would have been sweeter, would have taken his time to worship her body like she deserved.

"Chére, you feel so good," he panted. She knew it was him, it was Remy. A moment of escape, only to be engulfed by Death's destructive ways again and silenced once more.

That fired her up even more. Despite the fact that they seemed to be going at it for far too long, in that same position, her movements matched every stroke of his cock, her hips keeping up with their sensual dance.

He was fucking her hard and fast, it was too raw, too intimate. But she was invulnerable, two could play at that game. And the way she saw it, Death was the only one who had anything to lose, because Remy had once again broken through the hold.

Using her strength against him for the first time, she twisted her body sharply, arching her back and rolling her hips, forcing him off balance so he wouldn't pin her down like that.
In a swift, impulsive move, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him toward her, their lips colliding with a force that stunned them both. Her white strands mingled with his very own white ones. His hands instinctively gripped her shoulders, not sure whether to push her away or pull her closer. For a split second, they froze, tension sparking in the air between them. Just as she expected, his lips moving against hers, but it wasn't tender. He kissed her back and it was raw, charged with all the hatred Death felt. That woman was the devil in disguise, she was smart, and she was on a mission. He knew what she was trying to do, she wanted to break Remy LeBeau free. But the task was going to prove to be harder than she could ever dream of.

Just as their kiss deepened, he tried to pull back, his grip tightening as if torn between desire and restraint. She wouldn't let him go that easily, though. Using the momentum, she twisted them around, catching him between her legs with surprising strength. His breath hitched, hands now sliding to her waist, but the battle wasn't over. Their mouths fought for control, every touch and motion a clash of wills. It wasn't a kiss of surrender, it was defiance, a wordless struggle for dominance that left them both breathless. She lowered her hips, and his cock slid into her yet again, as the perfect piece of her puzzle that it was. And just like that, she was the one commanding the moves. And that she did. For hours, both of them kept that frenetic sexual dance, battling for dominance and control.

It was already late at night, the whole day had passed them by, and Death was fucking her on her fours, coming inside of her yet again when Apocalypse showed up in the room. He was none the surprised or impressed at catching the two of them like that.

"It seems you enjoy playing with your prey a little too much," he commented dryly. "Come," he added, "I've brought someone you will enjoy meeting, someone who will be transformed to become your next in line, a fellow Horseman."

Without a word, he slipped off Rogue and looked into her eyes for the first time in hours. She was spent from all the sex, her body covered in both their fluids and sweat. He obeyed the command he was given, but not before giving her some water and shackling her to a bed in the room.

"I'll be back," he said.

Rogue could feel her body giving in to the exhaustion, the adrenaline from the hours of sex finally wearing off. Her limbs felt heavy, like lead, as she sank onto the ashes-smeared bed, barely aware of her surroundings. Every muscle ached, a dull throb in her arms and legs from the relentless fighting, her sex too was tender, but all the pain was replaced by an overwhelming drowsiness.

Her eyelids drooped, fluttering against her will, and her breaths came slower, deeper. She tried to stay alert, but her body was betraying her, the weight of fatigue pulling her under. She curled into herself, letting her head rest against her arm, her breath evening out as sleep claimed her.

In that moment, her focus and determination were a world away, and for the first time in hours, her mind finally went still.