Work Text:
Rogue doesn’t waste her time mourning what was never meant to be. She doesn’t pity herself, she doesn’t sigh or hang her head when she realizes what she could never have. It’s been like this for the majority of her life, and probably the rest of it. So why bother? Why feel sorry for herself? It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t make it go away. It wouldn’t fix anything.
She knows it’s pointless, the self-pity. But it still finds her. It finds her in moments of quiet, when she watches others intertwine fingers and brush loose strands of hair away from smiling faces. It finds her in moments of violence, when she can’t take her anger out in any way other than flying somewhere far, far away from the school to find solitude. Even then, it’s not like she can escape her own thoughts. She wonders if Jean felt this pain, constantly bombarded by the mental onslaught of her own negative self talk. Probably not. She was probably alone there, too.
Tonight wasn’t different. Even though she was smiling just hours ago while getting ready with Storm and Jubilee, Rogue found herself once again isolated in the farthest corner of the X-mansion. It was supposed to be a small party, a get-together to share drinks and laughter after a very stressful recent mission. Everywhere she looked, though, was a reminder of a proximity she couldn’t share. A connection that wasn’t hers to make. Small kisses stolen from Scott that landed on Jean’s cheek dug like daggers in her. Even the innocent and mundane handshakes or touches gave her enough reason to silently excuse herself from the social gathering to find quiet. What for? Would it help or make it worse?
An irritating presence soon answered that question.
“Don’t ya have anythin’ better to do?” Rogue asked without turning around. She was in a dark corner of the mansion, a small supply closet filled with books and dust. It hadn’t been touched in years. Something about that brought her comfort. She could empathize.
Gambit quietly closed the door behind him. The only light peeked through the spaces above the door, barely illuminating the small space.
“Was looking everywhere for you, chère . Thought you’d be at the party.” He leaned against a wall, nervous but unwilling to show it. His hands fidget and he bites his lip, trying to make out the shape of Rogue’s face in the dark. Her white strands of hair capture the faint streaks of light that enter their chamber.
“Yeah, what for? Maybe I wanna be alone.” She crosses her arms tightly, creasing the cropped jacket she had picked out for tonight.
“Dat’s what you want, amie. Which Gambit don’t buy, not for a moment.” He hesitantly takes a step closer.
“You don’t get it, Remy.” Rogue sighs, already defeated. “You ain’t got a clue what it’s like not being able to touch , to feel .” She walks over to him, eyes finally adjusting to meet his dark stare. He’s paying close attention, she can tell. Otherwise he wouldn’t be this quiet.
“I just wish I could know what that’s like. To make that kinda… connection.” Her voice drops to a near whisper.
“I think I could help ya.” Gambit whispers back, only to make Rogue roll her eyes in response.
“There’s nothin’ you could do, you hear me?”
Without warning, Gambit grabs both her hips and pulls her towards him in a swift single movement. A surprised gasp escapes her mouth as she realizes she’s flush with him – she can smell his cologne, spiced and dark, alluring and smoky all at once. She can see a faint glow emitting from his red irises that she hadn’t noticed before. His hands feel the fullness of her hips, thumbs pressing into her pelvis and fingers wrapping around her sides. She’s wearing some sort of soft knit shirt and denim jeans beneath her jacket, covering her legs and arms not as a show of modesty but as not to harm anyone. Remy didn’t know she was covered up; he was simply willing to take that risk.
“If you want me to stop, chère , just tell me. No hard feelings. Well, maybe un peu .” The thief smiles.
“What’re you plottin’ to do, Cajun?” Rogue’s face heats up at the close contact.
“Just trust me. Can you do dat?”
She nods her head furiously, anxious to see what he’ll do next. His hands explore more of her body, slowly traveling upwards to feel the small of her back. Instinctively, she wraps her gloved arms around his neck, pressing herself closer into him. She silently thanks whatever God is above that no one had noticed either of them missing, or if they had, would think to check this closet of all places.
Deft hands reach her shoulder blades before traveling back down to her hips. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he smooths over the round of her ass. Rogue sighs at the contact. She moves her own hands down to reach the man’s chest, hard from years of training and physical exertion. She goes lower as he continues to massage and feel her, eventually finding his toned stomach. Through his shirt she can feel his tight muscles, and she bites her lip at the sensation.
Gambit inhales through his nose before one hand slowly snakes itself to touch her inner thigh. She whines, not stopping him. Instead, she mirrors his motions and finds his arousal in his tight pants. She smiles with her teeth, knowing such little touch was able to get this reaction out of him. She could only wonder how much further the two of them could go.
“Did I do this to ya, sugar?” Rogue smiles sweetly in the teasing voice she knew Gambit loved so much. Her gloved hand continues to feel his hardness, gently fondling and petting him all the while making him more hard.
A low growl escapes Gambit’s throat as the hand on her inner thigh reaches her hot center. His other hand travels upwards to grab a breast, paying attention to touch her softly and with care. She moans at the feeling of being held in such a way.
Hands firmly on her, he guides her to stand against a wall. With her pinned in front of him, he raises a knee to rest between her legs. Her legs part open, giving Remy even more access to her aroused center.
“I wanna kiss ya so bad right now, sugar.” Rogue confesses, out of breath. Remy rests a hand right by her head, leaning into her against the wall.
“What is it dey say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder?” For once, he’s able to make Rogue laugh with his dumb remarks. “Here’s what I want you to do, chère .” He grabs her hands with his, holding them up to cradle his own face. He speaks low and deep, careful not to let anyone possibly overhear. “I want you to grind down on mah thigh here, til you feel real good. Want you to use me, amie. Wanna make you feel good.” His hands once again travel to rest at her hips, holding her close. Slowly, she presses herself down on his muscular thigh. The seam on her jeans makes the connection all the more delicious, adding pressure right where she needed it most. Biting her lip, she rests her head against the wall and moves her hips musically.
The sight is glorious. Her hair is tossed over her shoulders, flowing beautifully in strands of white and brown. Her dark eyebrows are knitted together in pleasure, green eyes staring at the man holding onto her so tight. She reaches to hold his shoulders in an attempt to stabilize herself – of course, she could just lift off the ground if she really wanted to, but she’d rather get as close to Remy as she physically could. That is, without hurting him.
Remy is a sight to behold as well. All of his muscles are flexed, tense at the feeling of having such a beautiful woman in his hands. He’s known women, in many different ways, but no one was quite like Rogue. He desperately wanted to be enough for her, for her to notice him, to just be in her life in any capacity. What they had was… undefined. It was flirtatious, exciting, annoying, new. It gave him life. If he could be something as simple as something for her to get off on… literally… that would be enough for him. His mouth was agape, taking in her heavenly presence. It’s hard to ignore the raging hardness that’s ready to spring out of his pants, but for now he has to. It’s something he’ll sort out later. This moment was about Rogue.
Picking up her pace, the southerner begins to mewl at the tight coil twisting inside her. She’s completely damp through her panties, cringing slightly at the thought of her wetness reaching her pants, but nevertheless careless for any mess she makes. She chases the feeling, never ceasing or taking a break to breathe. Whines and half-formed moans tumble from her lips as she continues to put pressure on the bundle of nerves between her legs. Her fingers grab onto Remy, bunching the fabric of his sleeves tight. It would probably leave bruises in the shape of her powerful fingertips, but neither X-men cared. Gambit would be lucky if it did.
“I d’know how much longer I can last, sugar –” a sentence spills from Rogue’s mouth. “It feels so good, Remy…”
“Just like that, baby. C’mon. Don’t stop grinding on me. Ma chérie … don’t you stop. Not til you come for me.” His grip on her hips tighten, guiding her movements as she rocks back and forth on his muscular thigh. Unable to contain himself, he brings a hand down onto one of her ass cheeks, a satisfying slap echoing in the small room. She gasps at the sudden contact, but is too distracted by her building climax to retaliate. She’d just have to remember that for next time.
A desperate moan escapes her lips as she finally finds the perfect angle that sends her over the edge. She buries her head into his chest, hiding her flushed face as her body shivers and shakes through the release that courses through her entire body. Gambit’s arms wrap around the small of her back, holding her close as she continues to cry out in pleasure. A smirk is plastered on his face at the sudden feeling of warm wetness on his leg, soaking a spot onto his pants. He only wished he could taste her release on his tongue. A few more moments pass as she shudders, the feeling of release something she hadn’t had in a long time. Especially not tis close to another human being.
“ Ça va? ” Gambit whispers, carefully holding the back of her head and petting her thick hair. She sighs dramatically, out of breath. Her body limps against his, and he is more than happy to hold her in his arms. “Are you alright?” He repeats himself.
“I…” Rogue has a hard time thinking of what to say. She finally looks up at him and takes in his handsome, proud expression staring intently at her. “Thank you, Remy. I’m fixing to pass out right about now.” A tired, genuine smile is on her glowing face.
“Then let’s go upstairs. Lie down. I can carry you.”
“Like hell you will.”
translations
Amie - “beloved”
Ça va? - “are you okay?”/ “you good?”
Chère - “darling”
Ma chérie - “my darling”
Un peu - "a little"