Disclaimer: I stole ‘em, I admit it. And I’m using ‘em for a PWP, too.
No warnings here, just a little bit of fun’n’fluff that popped into my head. Bobby & Remy come in covered in dirt, and this is how they got that way. ;-)
Boys Will Be Boys
That was all I did, honest.
It wasn’t that I was tired. I was bored. We hadn’t gotten into a fight for weeks. Magneto and all them had gone on vacation, I guess, because we hadn’t heard even a hint of trouble.
I suppose, with an adrenaline junkie like Remy around, I should have been a little more careful about what I was doing. But really, how was I supposed to know that he would take a yawn as an invitation to start something?
“Don’t do dat, Bobby,” he said menacingly.
I looked over at him curiously. “Do what?”
“Yawn at me.”
This was getting a little surreal. “I wasn’t yawning at you, I was just yawning. I’m bored.”
He grinned at me, and I started feeling the first stirrings of apprehension. There was a gleam in his eye that I’d seen before, but it had been ages since it was sent my way. I knew that gleam. Usually it was the immediate predecessor of some totally bizarre and embarrassing discussion that left the person it had been aimed at feeling like they’d gotten caught up in one of ‘Roro’s whirlwinds.
I looked behind me, hoping that somebody had walked in while I wasn’t looking.
“What y’ looking for, Bobby?” His voice had gone dangerously smooth, and that gleam in his eye was stronger than ever.
Nobody there. Damn. “Um, I thought I just heard someone calling me.”
“I didn’ hear not’ing,” he said, still in that silky Cajun drawl.
“Um...” Think, Drake! “I think it must’ve been Jean. Lemme go see, I think she... um... wanted me for... um... something.”
The grin widened. “What, y’ having trouble hearing de telepaths now? First time I ever hear of dat happening.”
“Um... I gotta go.” This was very weird. Very, very, very weird. Also nerve-wracking. What’s gotten into you, Remy?
He chuckled, and it was that low, caressing laugh that made my insides clench. “Why, Bobby, you running away from ol’ Remy? Never t’ought I’d see de day.” He began stalking towards me. Sometimes he reminded me of a cat. And I was the mouse.
It finally clicked then. He wanted me to run. After all, if I didn’t run, he couldn’t chase me.
Chasing was good. Chasing was fine. Chasing would drive everyone nuts, which was always fun. And getting caught – or maybe I’ll catch him? – well, that presented all sorts of... interesting possibilities.
“You betcha, Cajun,” I said, with a challenging grin. “Catch me if you can!” I was over the TV room couch and out the door before the words left my mouth.
There’s just one problem with him chasing me, I realized as I ran down the hall. He’s faster. By a lot. And he’s more agile, too. One of those little benefits of his particular mutation.
Of course, the fact that he was using his mutant power (well, kinda) meant that I could use mine. No “sorta” about it, either. A quick gesture created an ice-slide and away I went.
Remy squawked in outrage as I suddenly pulled away from him. “Get back here, Drake!” he bellowed after me. Shyeah. As if.
That’s when he started really putting on the speed, trying to get to me before I could make a break outside. If I got out there, he’d never catch me. I mean, yeah, he’s fast, but I can go a couple hundred miles an hour when I want to.
So I’m sliding through the halls at a semi-high rate of speed, mouth going even faster than my ice slide (gotta warn everybody I’m coming after all) and run into Scott. Literally. Oops.
“Whoops. Sorry, Scott, gotta go. Places ta go, Cajuns to dodge...” I’d shifted totally into ice-form almost as soon as I hit Scott, so when Remy tried to tackle me, I squirmed a bit and slipped right out of his arms. Which I normally wouldn’t have done, but hey, I wanted to play some more. And the game I was thinking of wasn’t a spectator sport....
I don’t think Remy meant to slide into Scott when I slipped out of his hands, but since it was Remy, and Scott, I wouldn’t put it past him. In any case, Scott went down, Remy scrambled up and away before Scott could get his hands on him, and the chase started again.
This time, though, I’d gotten a head start. I managed to get outside before he can stop me, and that’s when things get really wild. Out here I could cut loose – but so could he. Oh, he didn’t charge anything enough to do more than make a real impressive bang, but I still had to dodge them, and that kept me fairly close in. Not that I was really trying to haul it out of there, but appearances had to be maintained.
We gradually worked our way over into the woods. I was seriously hampered in here, which made the chase that much more fun. This kind of terrain favored Remy. He darted through the trees, bounding over bushes, dropping at me from branches. We’re having a ball.
I stayed in ice-form, partly because it’s slippery, partly because I didn’t want to put my eye out sliding through the woods like this. So when Remy finally knocks me off my slide, it doesn’t hurt. Takes a lot to hurt ice. But he’s still not too fond of cold, so I shifted back as soon as we landed, and he yelped as the cold dispersed, flowing away from me into whatever was around. I took advantage of it to roll him over, pinning him to the ground, and we fell quite naturally into a liplock. God, I love him.
Normally it takes a couple minutes for my temperature to get back to normal after I ice up, but Remy managed it in record time, with a touch here and a kiss there. And while he was kissing me, he somehow managed to get me flat on my back with my hands pinned over my head. He’d done it a few times before, but there was something different this time. That gleam was still in his eye. And his mouth... ooh, that mouth. Licking, sucking, then a sharp bite, just barely this side of painful. I yelped and jerked against him.
His breath caught as my hips ground against his, eyes blazing blood-red, and I bit him in the neck, not hard, but enough to make him gasp. I kissed the bitten spot, and licked up the column of his neck. Then again, only this time, I put a little chill into my tongue, and he shuddered, hands splaying out where they’d been holding my wrists down.
That was what I’d been waiting for, him to get distracted enough to loosen his hold. I broke loose of his hold and went straight for the ribcage.
It was summer, so all he was wearing was a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. Plenty thin enough for me to tickle him through.
He shrieked like a little kid, trying to tickle me back. He wasn’t anywhere near as ticklish as I am, but we’d discovered a little cold could go a long way. I hadn’t iced up or anything, that’d be too cold, but just a chilly set of fingers in the right spots could have him doubled up and laughing helplessly.
I think it wasn’t so much the chill that did it as the fact that his mind associated cold with me. Feeling that chill somehow signaled his instincts that it was all right to give in to the tickling.
Or maybe chilly fingers are just better at tickling.
In any case, he returned the tickling, minus the cold of course, and we both wound up squirming and laughing like a couple of kids in the litter of last year’s fallen leaves, covered in dirt and loving it. When we finally had to stop, gasping for air, he laced the fingers of his left hand through my right as we lay side-by-side. He rolled his head over to look at me, and gave me that special smile that I only ever saw when we were alone together.
I gave him a long, slow smile back, and he grinned. “What y’ thinking, Bobby?” he asked curiously.
“Just thinking how lucky I am.”
He lifted our joined hands to his lips. “An’ here I t’ought I was de lucky one,” he said quietly, kissing my knuckles. “Y’ somet’ing real special, mon cher,” he said, Cajun accent thickened with emotion, “and don’t y’ ever f’get dat.” Then his gentle smile caught a spark of mischief. “Guess it true what dey say.”
“What do they say?”
“Cold han’s, warm heart.” He gave me a Gambit-grin, and I rolled over on top of him, laughing as I thumped his chest with my free hand.
He gave an “ow!” of mock pain, then pulled me down to meet his kiss.
And the rest of what happened is nobody’s business but ours. After all, all you did was ask how we managed to get that dirty.
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