Chapter Text
Shin-Shibuya was alight with the beginnings of a raging battle, compelled by the intergalactic timestream entanglement that led to seemingly never-ending bouts of clashes between heroes. Rain lashed through the air in a torrential downpour. A convoy objective groaned forward at Rogue’s side as she marched forward, the sheen of its metallic armor gleaming off her hardened emerald eyes.
Tonight, Rogue’s team was on the offensive with one sole objective—breach through the defenders’ team, and deliver the convoy to extraction.
Simple enough on paper. But in execution, however…
A concussive blast suddenly rocked the avenue ahead, rattling the convoy violently. Its stabilizers flared bright with warning as Doctor Strange stepped forward, golden sigils spinning around his wrists before snapping into a luminous shield that absorbed the brunt of the impact. The air rang around them with the force of the attack.
To Rogue’s right, Spider-Man vaulted off a fractured holo-billboard, webline snapping taut as he yanked a defender from high ground and delivered a series of blows. Storm hovered overhead in a spiral of thunderclouds, with crackling lightning carving jagged seams across the skyline as she attacked the defenders from afar.
“Tank pushing left!” Rocket barked over comms.
Rogue whirled around just in time to see the bruiser in question, Thor, descend to the pavement right before her with a resounding impact. The enemy tank reared back and his hammer slammed into Strange’s barrier with a thunderous force, golden sigils shuddering violently beneath the blow.
The defenders rallied behind him.
Thor surged forward again, lightning writhing along his arms as he brought the hammer down in a sweeping arc meant to scatter the attackers from the convoy.
“Hold!” Strange shouted, grounding his footing beneath the powerful blow.
Rogue didn’t hesitate to engage.
She sprinted straight into the clash to confront Thor, chronovium flaring around her fists as its power surged through her veins. When Thor swung—she caught the blow on her forearm, her teeth gritting in a brief flare of pain, before driving a brutal fist into his chest that drove the thunder god backwards a full ten meters into a nearby collapsed rail support.
For a brief, glorious second—the enemy tank was stunned.
“Push him!” Rogue shouted.
Together, they surged. Rogue drove forward with Thor’s stolen lightning crackling around her, and Storm reinforced her dive with a weather-induced damage boost. After a couple of devastating blows, Thor skidded backward across neon-slick pavement, finally forced out of the choke point and into cover as he retreated.
The convoy lurched ahead another five meters. Progress.
But then—a sharp crack split the air, whirring with buzzing energy. Except this time, it wasn’t thunder.
Diving through the air ahead, Spider-Man suddenly jerked mid-swing.
A kinetic card, glowing hot pink, had detonated against the support beam he was anchored to. The structure collapsed inward in a shower of pink light and shattered holo-glass. Another card quickly followed up, whirring through the air to collide directly into Spider-Man’s body as the kinetic charge exploded against him—sending her teammate tumbling to the ground in a blur of red and blue.
His HUD marker flickered once, glowing critical—then dimmed.
“Shit! Spidey’s down!” Rocket’s voice snarled over the coms, but Rogue scarcely heard him over the roaring of blood in her ears. Drawing in a sharp breath, her gaze traced the origin of the all-too familiar blast.
There. Beyond the displaced Thor. Just behind the defenders’ repositioning backline.
Crimson eyes glinted in the darkness. A rain-darkened trench coat clung to broad shoulders, droplets glinting upon a familiar magenta chestplate. Cards fanned between elegantly long fingers, their edges still humming with residual kinetic light that set his face aglow. Nearby neon reflections sheened across sharp cheekbones and the unmistakable smirk curving his mouth.
Across the mouth she knew better than her own pulse. Shit.
Even with the red enemy outline flickering around him, even with Spider-Man down and Thor surging forward again under his reinforcement of healing cards, it was still him.
Still Gambit.
Her Remy.
The tilt of his head. The lazy confidence in the way he stood behind his tanks with infuriating calm, impervious to the target on his back. The subtle roll of his wrist before a precise throw, lighting the sharp line of his jaw, illuminating the faint shadow of stubble she’d traced a thousand times before with softer hands. There was no mistaking it.
Rogue’s chest tightened painfully.
For half a heartbeat, the battlefield fell away. For a moment Rogue saw him in a softer light—leaning against their kitchen counter as she sank into his embrace, sleeves rolled up on his tattooed arms, that same smirk warming instead of cutting as he looked down at her through crimson-ringed eyes with undisguised fondness.
Rogue’s mind betrayed her further as it swirled with vivid images of Remy’s dark eyes glinting when he laughed, a rumbling sensation against her chest, the way his warm breath ghosted against her soft skin…the way his hand would fit at the small of her back in a design of perfect intimacy so natural that it felt predestined.
And now, that same loving hand had just flicked a card that knocked her teammate from the very sky in an explosion of pink light. Remy—his hands capable of such warmth and love, whose fingers had traced the curve of her jaw with gentle reverence—simultaneously, in the face of enemies, had just demonstrated how easily those same hands could devastate.
The duality of it burned at the back of Rogue’s throat, but she forced herself to steel her emerald eyes and drag her focus back to the present. She knew Remy wasn’t cruel—wasn’t carelessly violent. He was doing exactly what she would have done in his position. Like Rogue…he also had a mission to complete.
Across the rain-slicked avenue, splicing through the chaos, Remy’s eyes shifted and caught her gaze. The connection struck immediately and electric, and in that moment, a fleeting second so subtle Rogue thought she’d imagined it—his smirk wavered.
Not gone, hadn’t dissipated. But the edge dulled. The bravado on his expression softened for half a breath. Something intimate flickered in the crimson-ringed depths of the eyes she’d always found so beautiful despite their devilish reputation, something that didn’t belong on a battlefield.
But soon enough, it vanished as quickly as it came. The nonchalant smirk slid back into its fabricated place, lazy and dangerously calm. Cards fanned between his fingers, kinetic energy pulsing hot pink against the rain as he watched Rogue from afar.
“Well now,” he called smoothly, voice threading through thunder and rain like silk that set Rogue’s nerves aflame. “You look like you’re havin’ a real hard time worrin’ your pretty lil’ head over there, chère.”
Rogue’s jaw tightened.
“You just dropped my teammate outta the sky,” she shot back, lifting her chin despite the way her pulse hammered. “You expect me to smile about it?”
Remy shrugged lightly, leather coat shifting on his lean frame with the movement, rain catching on the shiny magenta plating at his chest as he held her gaze.
“Non, wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, rain sliding down the sharp line of his cheek. “But I gotta keep my team standin’. Same as you.”
There was a serrated truth behind his words that stung. He wasn’t wrong.
Rogue dragged in a breath that tasted like rainwater and smoke. Around her, Thor’s hammer struck again with a concussive crack that rattled their surroundings. Strange’s magic flared gold, flickering at the distant edges of her vision while Storm ascended in a spiral of lightning to attack their enemies. The convoy shuddered loudly, metal groaning as it attempted to force its way through the choke point.
But every surge her team managed was met by the same infuriating correction each time. A pulse of pink light stitching together the fractured shields of their enemies, healing their wounds. A perfectly placed detonation would force them to reposition. It was a rhythm of brutal effectiveness that kept Rogue’s team on the underhand.
A dark realization settled hard in Rogue’s chest as the chaos raged on.
Remy was classified as a mere healer, a strategist—and yet the underwhelming classification was a far cry from the truth. He was dictating the very momentum of his team’s defense despite his lack of brute force, and as long as he was still standing, her team would never have a hope of breaking through.
Rogue’s gaze lifted and locked onto him once more, now hardened with determination despite the sinking feeling in her gut.
Before her—Storm’s lightning forced Thor to pivot just slightly, cracking open a seam in the frontline formation. In that split second, Rogue surged forth.
She launched forward in a blur of green and gold, boots splashing through neon-lit water as she vaulted off a crumbled pile of debris and cut hard past Thor’s flank. Lightning grazed her shoulder from where he tried to stop her. A whirring bullet from Black Widow’s sniper sliced against her forearm and tore her jacket, but she didn’t relent.
She slipped through the fracture in their line and took off with it full-force.
Remy reacted instantly as she stormed directly towards him. Cards snapped into his fingers, crackling with reignited energy. He pivoted on his footing, coat flaring behind him as he moved for higher ground, anticipating her trajectory with infuriating accuracy.
But Rogue knew his patterns, his methods, far more than anyone else. Knew the angle he’d choose. Knew the decisive instinct to retreat, reset, re-establish rhythm.
She adjusted mid-sprint.
Instead of chasing his initial retreat, she cut across his blind side and intercepted him at the mouth of a narrow alley branching away from the main avenue. Rain streamed down her face and into her lashes as she surged forward, fingers outstretched to grab him as he finally appeared within view.
For a split second, surprise flickered across Remy’s face as her fist caught the back of his coat.
Then she pulled.
Rogue dreaded this part, had tried to mentally prepare for it—but the feel of his weight under her grip, the knowledge that she was about to drive him into unforgiving concrete—her strength subconsciously faltered. Fighting down the sickness rising in her chest, Rogue recollected herself and slammed into him.
The impact drove them both sideways into the shadowed alley wall. The sound of it cracked dull and ugly against brick. Boots skidded violently on wet pavement as they tussled, momentum carrying them deeper down the alley, farther away from the roar of the main fight.
They hit the ground hard.
Rogue rolled instinctively, trying to absorb the brunt of it—trying not to let Remy’s body strike too harshly against the concrete despite knowing he was more than capable of withstanding it. Shifting her weight, she spun him around and pinned him flat against the rain-slick concrete. Even in the struggle, even in the aggression of it all, there was restraint threaded through her movements.
Remy twisted beneath her, fast—far faster than most could manage—but she matched him. However, all too suddenly his hand shot out and caught the front of her torn jacket, and Rogue’s breath caught in her throat.
For a moment, she stiffened as his hands tangled in the fabric, her muscles bracing as she anticipated the subsequent flare of kinetic energy—the burning denotation of a pink bloom searing across her skin.
But it never came.
There was no tingling sensation of pulsing energy. No hot-pink sheen igniting along her clothes.
All Rogue could feel was the steady curl of Remy’s fingers in her jacket, only the stir of his panting breath—close enough that she felt it ghost against her throat.
Rain ran down Remy’s temple, tracing the sharp angle of his cheekbone and catching in the stubble along his jaw. The crimson of his dark eyes gleamed luminously in the dim alley light, thinning into narrow rims as he stared up at her. In those dark depths, Rogue couldn’t detect a single trace of genuine fight within them. She quickly swatted his hands away and pinned them above his head.
“You goin’ soft on me, swamp rat?” Rogue eventually asked, trying to lace her words tauntingly, though her voice came out more hesitant than she would’ve liked. “Ain’t like you to hesitate.”
The weakness of her tone must’ve been painfully evident, because one corner of Remy’s mouth twitched upward and his brow lifted faintly.
“An’ if I didn’t know any better,” Remy drawled in response, velvety-smooth as his dark eyes traced her face, “I’d think you’re pullin’ a punch or two, non?” his wrists twitched beneath her grasp for emphasis.
Rain slid down Rogue’s fringe of white hair and dripped from the ends, pattering softly against Remy’s cheek where she hovered over him. Her knees bracketed his hips; her hands pinned his wrists firmly above his head against wet concrete. She had him. She had him completely, could’ve ended it all by now in a heartbeat.
And yet, despite it all, she didn’t.
“You coulda’ charged my coat,” Rogue murmured as thunder rolled in the distance.
“Oui, could’ve,” Remy replied, eyes flickering as he held her gaze, “An’ you could’ve punched me halfway cross’ the city by now.”
“So why didn’t you?” she challenged.
“Where’s the fun in that, mon cœur?”
The red enemy outline around him flickered uncertainty as it overlapped with her own, glitching in the dim alley light as if unsure how to classify the proximity between them. The mission acknowledged them as opposing forces.
Enemy. Defender. Target.
Husband.
Rogue swallowed, and her grip tightened unconsciously for half of a breath. The warmth of his hands was a heavy contrast to the cool rain slicking their skin. She looked down at him properly—not at the enemy defender, not at the red silhouette that marked him as a target.
He wasn’t her enemy. He was her Remy, mission parameters be damned.
“You’re a real pain, Cajun,” Rogue shifted closer at last, her weight settling more fully over him. The space between them shrank until their breaths mingled in the damp air. “Had to take you out.”
Remy’s mouth curved slowly into a smirk, his lean body tensing beneath her as she leaned closer, “Take me out? Gotta say, chère, this ain’t seem t’ be so bad of a fate.”
“Ah don’t want to hurt you.”
The admission slipped out before she could stop it.
Remy’s expression shifted then—not smug, nor teasing.
“Anna Marie,” he said, the utterance of her name otherworldly on his tongue. “I could never hurt you. Je vous aime.”
Rogue drew in a breath Her grip on his wrists faltered, and it was then that Remy slipped his arms free to lift a hand to her face—slow enough that she could stop him if she wanted. She didn’t. His knuckles brushed the rain from her cheek, thumb tracing lightly along her jaw.
“You ain’t my enemy,” he murmured. “Pas toi. Never you.”
Her breath trembled as she leaned into his palm, eyes slipping closed for a fraction of a second. The red outline flickered faintly around him again, confused by their proximity, by warmth, by the fact that neither combatant seemed inclined to finish the fight.
But nothing could dissuade Rogue from leaning into his warm touch, a sensation that felt like coming home.
Her hands slid from his arms to the collar of his trench coat, fingers curling into the rain-heavy leather. She pulled him closer, emerald eyes glittering in newfound intent. The motion drew Remy upward with her as she shifted her weight, guiding him into a sitting position against the alley wall.
“You make it real hard to focus on a mission,” Rogue murmured, a faint, crooked smile ghosting across her lips as she settled herself in Remy’s lap.
Remy’s smirk widened, and his red on black eyes glinted. “Chère,” he replied softly, battle-calloused hands finding her waist as if they had always belonged there. “I call dis a priority. Mission can wait.”
The storm and battle raged beyond the alley, thunder cracking against the skyline. But here, the world felt narrowed to breath and skin and the steady thrum of two heartbeats beating together as one.
Rogue cupped Remy’s face with one hand, thumb brushing across his lower lip. His breath caught slightly at the touch, gaze dropping to her mouth before lifting back to her eyes. The rain ran cold down her neck, but everywhere he touched her burned with warmth.
Before long, she leaned her head down and kissed him.
The first contact had their senses of rationality unraveling quickly—Rogue’s mouth finding Remy’s in a rush of relief that had been coiled tight since she’d seen him across the battlefield. He answered her instantly, one hand sliding to the small of her back, calloused fingers spreading wide as he drew her flush against his front.
His lips moved against hers, insistent and heated. It took only a fleeting moment for Rogue's body to respond instinctively—her lips parting, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue slipped inside, and a soft moan was pulled from her throat to echo against his smiling mouth. A shiver ran through her, and she struggled—unsuccessfully—to suppress a soft, shaky sigh as Remy’s hands roamed over her backside while they kissed, gliding against her bodysuit.
A sensation of overwhelming relief swept through her—relief that he was so close to her again, that she was in his arms again, being claimed by his lips.
Encouraged by the way her body trembled, Remy tightened his hold around her, pulling her closer into the burning heat of his body. He tilted his head, angling his mouth against hers, a reverberating chuckle vibrating deep in his chest when she instinctively arched into him. His clever hands tightened at her waist, pulling her down more firmly into his lap, groaning when Rogue’s hands threaded through his auburn hair to tug at their roots insistently.
“Mon dieu…” he murmured against her mouth, voice roughened with need.
The sound reignited something feral within Rogue, and she answered by kissing him harder. Her hands slid from his coat to his shoulders, fingers digging into the rain-slick fabric as his mouth left hers and trailed along the line of her jaw. He kissed the corner of her lips, her cheek, then the sensitive spot just below her ear. His breath was impossibly warm there, sending a shiver straight down her spine.
Their kiss deepened into something more frantically desperate, and before long Rogue had pushed off his jacket while Remy had slyly unzipped her bodysuit with the sneaky finesse of a master thief. She gasped softly into the crook of his neck when she felt it glide downward.
“You sneaky bastard,” she breathed.
A smirk brushed her skin as he kissed along her throat.
“Gotta use de talents I got, chère.”
The zipper gave way, and the bodysuit parted along her front. Cool air slipped between the fabric and her exposed skin, but it was immediately chased away by the warmth of Remy’s hand. His palm slid upward along the newly bared strip of her torso, slow and deliberate, fingertips grazing the sensitive curve beneath her ribs before moving higher. Goosebumps rippled in the wake of his touch, and Rogue shuddered against him.
His red-on-black eyes lifted to her green, glowing faintly in the dim alley light with an unspoken question, a challenge, lingering in their depths. Rogue met his gaze steadily, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. She didn’t hesitate to rise to it—her hands flattening against Remy’s magenta chestplate as her hips rolled down against his in a slow, deliberate grind that left no ambiguity in her intentions.
Remy groaned at the sensation, his head tipping back briefly as the friction pulled a sharp breath from his lungs. Through her rain-soaked bodysuit, the warmth of her cunt grinded directly atop his throbbing length within his pants. The thin barrier of clothes between the contact did little to dull the sensation, if their shared heavy breathing was any indication. He leaned back on his forearms, lightly biting upon his bottom lip as he watched Rogue grind on him with unadulterated lust.
“Anna Marie…” he rasped, his hips giving a single involuntary buck. “You playin’ a dangerous game, chère. Fuck…”
She leaned closer with a wicked smile, lips brushing the edge of his mouth without quite kissing him while resuming her grinding ministrations. A particularly rough roll of her hips, and she feels the arousal straining tightly in his pants. The hardness of his length grinding against her clothed clit elicited her own shiver of pleasure and white-hot bolt of need, but Rogue was enjoying his torment far too much.
“Yeah? Too bad ah don’t scare easy. Gon’ do somethin’ about it, Cajun?”
His eyes darkened further, and a thrill sparked in Rogue.
“Oui,” he murmured, flashing his own wicked smirk. “Vilaine fille. I’ll set you straight.”
The shift was immediate.
Remy’s hands slid from her hips to her thighs, gripping their plushness firmly as he stilled her grinding movements. The sudden loss of friction made Rogue inhale sharply and whine in disappointment, but before she could protest, his deft fingers moved—clever and wickedly purposeful.
One hand slipped back beneath the loosened edge of her open bodysuit, tracing a deliberate path downward. His touch was slow, almost teasing at first—mapping her through rain-warmed skin, brushing sensitive curves that made her breath falter.
“Remy—”
“Shh,” he murmured softly, crimson-ringed eyes never leaving hers, entranced by her fluttering expression as his hand traveled further south to where she needed him most. “Gon’ take real good care of you, mon cœur. I’ve gotcha,” A gasp was expelled from Rogue’s mouth as his large palm and long fingers found the delicate area of her glistening sex, his digits caressing her folds in an intoxicating motion. His thumb swiped across her clit, and pleasure swept through Rogue like sweet poison.
“God, yes,” Rogue pants as Remy’s deft fingers curl deeper into her cunt, his thumb circling in time with his digits as he fucked them into her with increasing fervency. Her back arched, fingers clutching at his shoulders as a tremor rippled through her—legs tightening around his hips, her arms hanging heavily around his shoulders. “More, Remy!”
“Yeah? T’ink you can handle it, Rogue?” His sultry tone was thickened with hunger, a cheeky undertone in his words as his fingers slowed. “Wanna hear it.”
“S-Swamp rat, I oughta…” she panted as her threat trailed off, and her hips betrayed her further, pressing closer into his hand. “Just—God, yes—just keep goin’!”
Remy hummed in lust-drunken assent against her flushed throat, lightly nipping at her pulse point, then he crooked his fingers and found that little spot inside her that had electricity shooting up her spine. Her core sings delightfully at the sensation, and soon, Rogue let out a loud cry that quickly transformed into a deep, delicious moan.
Those beautiful sounds were all the encouragement Remy needed to hear as he rapidly picked up the pace, going after that spot again and again with deep thrusts of his dexterous fingers—fucking her in earnest on his hands as he feverishly kissed along her neck and jaw. His breath billows in hot pants, his dark eyes wild as he watched Rogue come unraveled.
“Sweet sounds, ma chérie,” Remy damn-near growls against her throat, his teeth grazing across the crook of her neck before biting down to pull another breathless moan from Rogue’s mouth. “Practically beggin’ for it, hein? Greedy fille,” she’s close, they both know it—between his filthy words and fingers thrusting in her cunt, Rogue’s mind emptied itself of all thought as her body became a flurry of overwhelming sensations.
“F-Fuck—Re—!”
Rogue’s whole body tensed; her legs shaking, and then her hands gripped Remy’s tattooed forearm so tightly that her nails left marks within his skin. Stars exploded in Rogue’s vision as the hot coil within her stomach comes undone, and she wails—the sound suddenly muffled by Remy’s mouth coming over her own fiercely as her orgasm ripped through her. She rocks against his hand hard as the ecstasy bloomed throughout her body, slumping against him as his fingers dutifully fucked her through her high.
“Dat’s it, Anna,” Remy breathed as she shuddered through it, pulling his soaked fingers away from her now-tender sex. “S’ good for me, ma belle.” He sat up fully, holding Rogue in his arms, rubbing her shoulders to give her a few moments to recover—and, perhaps, a few moments to decide if she wanted to continue.
Having recovered from her high, however, the dark look that soon crossed over Rogue’s features as she slowly leaned back was an immediate, telltale sign that he was in trouble.
Before Remy could react, she shifted her weight, bracing her hands against his shoulders. In one fluid, powerful motion, she rose to her footing, hauling him up with her as if he weighed nothing at all. His surprised grunt quickly dissolved into a delighted chuckle as his boots scraped against wet pavement.
“Careful now,” he smirked at her. “I might start thinkin’ you like throwin’ me around if you keep dis up.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rogue shot back, though the grin tugging at her mouth betrayed her.
Soon she backed him toward the nearby brick wall, pressing into him deliberately, forcing his backside flush against it. Rogue’s hands fisted into the collar of his coat, pulling him down so their noses nearly touched. Her breath was warm despite the chill of the rainstorm, lips hovering dangerously close to his.
“Ah oughta throttle you,” she hisses softly, the warmth of it ghosting over his lips as she caged him in against the wall.
Remy’s hands came up instinctively, not to stop her—but to settle at her waist, thumbs grazing the curve there as he tilted his head slightly. His red on black eyes were alight with sultry mischief.
“For what crime, chère?” he asked teasingly, mouth hovering a breath from hers. “Pleasin’ my wife too well?”
Rogue’s green eyes flashed dangerously in the darkness.
“Remy Etienne LeBeau,” she breathed against his lips, tightening her hold on his collar, “if you don’t quit smirkin’ and don’t finish what you started, ah swear ah’ll put you through this damn wall.”
Remy’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, warm and rich.
“Merde,” he said, a smile tugging at his mouth, “Ain’t gon’ see me object. Oui, I’ll finish dis off proper.”
The teasing tone faded from Remy’s voice as his gaze sharpened with determined intent. In one smooth, deliberate motion, he shifted his stance. His hands slid from her waist down to her hips, gripping firmly, and before she could even brace for it, he spun them around. A surprised breath left Rogue’s lips as her back met the brick wall behind her. Rain streaked down the cool stone at her shoulders, but the heat of Remy pressing against her front erased the chill almost instantly.
Remy gently yet firmly kept her pinned to the wall, shooting her a predatory smirk, his hands locking firmly just beneath her rear to keep her steady. Her legs came up instinctively, wrapping around his waist, boots locking behind him as he stepped in close. He settled between her spread legs without hesitation, leveraging his height to lift Rogue higher against the brick so she was completely flush with him.
“Still thinkin’ bout throwin’ me through the wall?” his crimson eyes glinted at her playfully. “Dis far more fun, non?”
Rogue fingers slid into his auburn hair, tugging at their roots enough to tilt his head down toward her. Infuriating bastard.
“Don’t tempt me, Cajun,” she shot back, though her breath had gone uneven.
His mouth brushed against hers then—slow, an unspoken promise—before he pulled back just enough to adjust his stance. Without breaking eye contact, Remy shifted one hand briefly to the fastening at his waist, the other still holding her securely. He absently fumbled with his belt in a quick, efficient motion, dropping his pants just enough for his painfully aching cock to finally spring free. One hand gripped his length, using his tip to tease at her soft, wet entrance.
“Ready, chère?”
Rogue’s pulse roars, and her legs tighten around him.
“Ah swear, if you don’t fuck me right now—”
Her words are stifled by Remy’s hips snapping forward, filling her up so hard and so fast that whatever coherence lingered in Rogue’s mind was quickly dispelled by the sensation of her husband’s cock bottoming out within her in a single, powerful thrust. Within seconds he was rolling his hips against her in an established pace, one that was fast and impossibly rough—punctuated by a filthy symphony that filled the alleyway as he thrust into her soaked cunt.
Rogue’s breath was punched from her lungs from the sheer intensity of his thrusts, her breath ramping up as Remy’s hips repeatedly snapped forward with brutal efficiency—the momentum slamming his pelvis against her front and grinding against her throbbing clit each time. The wet sounds of connection where their bodies met was downright sinful, broken only by Rogue’s gasping mewls and Remy’s grunts as he feverishly pounded into her.
“Mon dieu, fuck—s’ tight,” Remy panted against her neck, delivering another particularly hard thrust that had Rogue gasping. Her body rocked against the brick wall from the force, her hands digging into his shoulders as she held on for dear life. “Merde, you feel so fuckin’ good.”
“Remy, ah’m…oh fuck—” Rogue half-sobbed as her head tipped back against the wall, molten pleasure roiling through her body in intense waves as Remy’s cock dragged in and out of her drenched cunt at a breakneck pace. She let out a breathy moan at the addictive, familiar sensation of being full of him—whining as his long cock slotted perfectly within her. Any and all thoughts were a whirlwind lost in her mind as he fucked her with reckless abandon.
Obscenities seeped from Remy’s tongue as lowers his head to nip at her neck, his own breath coming out utterly ragged and wrecked. “Takin’ me so well…wan’ cum in you so, so bad…” he moaned against her, his hips pistoning with enough force to repeatedly drive Rogue’s backside up and down the wall.
Rogue felt tension rapidly building in her lower stomach, the white-hot coil within her stomach drawing taut as Remy railed her. Her calves tightened around his backside, whining a single “Remy,” to warn him of her impending orgasm before it overtook her. A wail escaped her lips as she fell over the edge, emerald eyes shutting in bliss as scorching pleasure ripped through her body.
She could feel her cunt contract and squeeze the cock inside her as she fell apart, and Remy continued to fuck her through it with frenzied thrusts even as his hips stuttered against the clenching sensation. His breathing became heavy and irregular, his red on black eyes wild as he chased his own release—rhythm faltering as his peak rapidly approached.
“Fuck, chérie,” Remy choked out as he followed her over the edge, and after a few more deep, vigorous thrusts of his cock inside her, he came. With a low, guttural grunt, his hips snapped forward a final time to press flush against her as he spilled everything inside her. Rogue clutched his shoulders as he rode out his orgasm, shivering as her core flooded with the warmth of his cum.
The rainstorm was still raging around them when their movements finally slowed. Remy’s breathing came heavy against her skin, his forehead pressed to hers as he held her against the brick wall. Rain streamed down his disheveled auburn hair, dripping over her face, cooling skin that still burned from exertion. His grip on her was firm but no longer urgent—the edge of frenzied need softened into something satisfied and deeply, unmistakably tender.
After a moment, Remy lightly chuckles against her, voice wrecked, lips brushing across her hair to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Worth the detour, I gotta say, mon cœur.”
Rogue let out a breathless, shaky laugh in return, her fingers still tangled in his damp auburn hair. Her legs loosened around his waist, shakily returning to the ground on unsteady footing as they recollected themselves. Even so…her small smile wavered as the red outline around him flickered once more.
It was then that Remy lifted his head just enough to look down at her, red-on-black eyes softened now.
“You good, chère?” he asked quietly.
She studied his face silently for a moment, then her hands slid from his hair to his face, cupping his stubbled jaw gently. He leaned into the touch without hesitation, dark eyes briefly shutting.
“Anna Marie?” he asked, catching the subtle shift in her expression.
Rogue didn’t answer. She pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes for a brief second.
“Ah’m sorry, love,” she whispered.
And then—just for a single heartbeat—she let her control over her powers drop.
Remy stiffened slightly in her hold, eyes widening for a split second in recognition, and then, understanding. A low groan slipped from his throat as he felt the familiar, dull sting of Rogue’s powers sweeping through him like a numbing electricity. Her distant voice becomes dull to his ears, his vision swirls like he’s underwater, his knees buckle—Rogue catches him before he can fall.
Her hands slide down from Remy’s jaw to his shoulders, guiding his weight carefully as his body slackens. The red glow around his body dims, flickers, then fades as the numbness overtakes him. He exhales once, soft and almost amused, even as consciousness slips away.
Remy meets Rogue’s eyes once more, a warm expression worn on the face of a man that said ‘worth it.’
Then he goes limp, a small grin still faintly visible on his face.
Rogue swallows down against a tight lump in her throat, gently brushing damp strands of auburn hair away from his face and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his temple.
“Ah’m sorry, sugah,” she says again, softer this time and taut with forlornness. “Ah didn’t have much choice.”
She kneels with him for a moment, cradling his head in her lap, rain dripping from her hair onto his forehead. Remy’s lashes rest peacefully against his cheeks, expression relaxed—void of pain or regret. He was beautiful. She wishes she could see his eyes. Rogue’s expression wavers, and she leans down once more to press a fragile kiss to his motionless lips.
“Sleep it off, Cajun.”
Thunder rolled overhead. The rumbles of the distant battle continued.
Carefully, Rogue eventually slides Remy’s coat back over his shoulders, tugging it snug around him. The rain has already soaked through most of his clothes—so she pulls the heavy leather tight, shielding as much of him as she can. She adjusts the collar to protect his neck from the worst of the downpour.
She then shifts her grip beneath his arms and lifts him—effortless as breathing. Without a word she carries him deeper into the alley, away from the open street, until she finds a recessed doorway partially shielded from the rain.
The metal awning above offers at least some protection.
She lowers him gently against the wall there instead, arranging him so he’s seated comfortably, back supported, head tilted slightly to one side. Her fingers brush through his damp hair one last time.
The red enemy outline that had once flickered around him is gone now—mission parameters satisfied. Identifying him as a target neutralized.
Rogue 's breath shudders against the painful tightness in her chest and steps back. She pulls her gloves firmly into place, flexing her fingers once. She turns around and launches skyward, disappearing back into the distant chaos with a steeled expression, failing to ignore the deep guilt gnawing within her soul.
Left behind her, sheltered in the dim doorway, Remy LeBeau rests peacefully—coat wrapped tight around him, rain kept at bay, a faint, warm curve still ghosting at the corner of his mouth.