The most dangerous thing in the world, Betsy Braddock decided, was a bored semi-retired thief. Gambit was curled up on the couch next to her flipping aimlessly through television channels. Her attempts to read were interrupted by the periodic sighs of boredom Gambit was emitting. "What?" she snapped after the tenth time.
"Remy's bored. Y' come wit' him t' cause trouble?"
"Gambit!"
"Go t' de clubs? Roguie wit' her mama and Warren's at his office. We bot' be alone. No reason t' mope in de house de whole time dey gone." She blinked, then smiled.
"The happy couples driving you insane as well? Very well, I'll change. Meet you in twenty minute at your bike. I've got just the place to go." She rose from the couch. "Oh, and wear leather."
Remy grinned. "Y' my kinda girl, Bets."
Betsy took stock of the man leaning against the garage wall. His leather pants looked painted on. A tight green tee was topped by a short black leather jacket. His combat boots shouldn't have been silent as he sauntered to the bike, flicking the butt away and destroying it with a small burst of kinetic energy. He tossed her a helmet, grinning at her leather catsuit and red jacket. "Y' beautiful, chere." He straddled the bike and she climbed on behind him. "Dis gonna be a bit chilly. Gambit warm y' up when we get dere."
"Just be careful. And keep your eyes on the road." He pulled on his helmet and kicked the purring engine as she climbed behind him. She settled her hands on his thighs. Rogue would kill her, or try at least. The rumbling of the well kept machine vibrated through her body. The wind was cold and she pressed closer to her driver. She directed him telepathically. She wondered if he'd let her any further past his shield than surface thoughts. She winced as the shields bit her. That was a definite "no."
Her hands tightened and he shifted closer. Okay, Rogue would kill her after beating the shit out of Gambit. Well, it would be interesting to watch. They pulled to a stop in the alley beside the underground club. Betsy pulled off her helmet as Gambit secured the bike.
The bouncer smiled at them. "I'll watch it," he told her. Betsy was surprised when Remy stood next to her in sunglasses. She took his arm and led him into the club. The music was harsh and throbbing. Strobe lights and color gelled lights spun through the clove and marijuana smoke. A sly smile slid across the sharply angled face next to her. He slithered onto the dance floor, holding her hand. They were headed toward the bar.
She draped herself over his shoulder and ordered for both of them. "Come on, Beautiful," she whispered in his ear. "Take them off."
"Non, chere." Not wit' strobe lights. Betsy tried pouting. He just kissed her fingers. She knocked back a shot of vodka and dragged Remy onto the floor.
"You wanted to make trouble," she purred, the alcohol working almost immediately, warming her blood. He picked out a beat and pulled her into it. One leg pressed between her legs. He was good, she had to admit. His hands never seemed to touch any place important, but her body wasn't listening. She felt her pulse rising as his fingers brushed away a strand of hair from her cheek.
Remy admired the surge of red that followed the path of his fingers across Betsy's cheek. It was time for real fun.
Betsy jerked the first time a strange hand caressed her. That motion brought her into closer contact with Remy's body. Soon there were hands stroking through her hair and down her back. A particularly bold pair of hands settled on her hips and joined the dance. Remy grinned over her shoulder, and the hands traveled up her sides. Betsy rested her hands on Remy's shoulders. She raised a brow.
"Does Rogue know about your ideas on trouble?"
"Oui, chere. She like t' watch too." Hands had loosed Remy's hair and Betsy ran her fingers through it. A wash of lust shorted her mind momentarily. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she regarded the man in front of her. They danced for almost and hour before gathering up some drinks and finding a table in a shadowed corner. Remy held the chilled beer to his temple. A drop of condensation wended its way down the side of his face. "Y' tell Remy a story?" he asked suddenly, leaning in to speak into her ear. "Y' tell him, y' fantasy. One y' know won't come true."
"I'm not so sure dreams can't come true anymore. How on earth did you get them together anyway?"
"Remy talked, chere. Now, y' talk. Tell Remy y' dreams." She ran a finger down his cheek.
"And just why would I want to do that?"
"Cause Remy pay you back wit' somet'ing dat might be true, might not." He smiled and looked over his shades, eyes glowing in the low light. Betsy leaned closer.
"If Rogue finds us here like this, she'll kill you."
"Non, she kill y'." Remy shook his head. "Remy just talk t' her an' tell her whatcha been tellin' me. So, talk, Chere."
"Ro and Jean." Remy coughed as his beer went down the wrong way. The ninja patted his hand comfortingly. "You have noticed she's an adult now, haven't you?" Remy nodded. Betsy removed his sunglasses. "They're out in the garden, surrounded by those flowers, the scent heavy in the air like perfume. It's late spring or early summer, the humidity is starting to gather and there's a faint sheen of sweat on Jean's skin. She's glowing. Ro looks majestic in a flowing blue gown, surrounded by her flowers. They've been weeding the garden and Jean decided to make a crown of Dandelions. The yellow is stunning against Ro's long white hair. She's let it flow free and the slight breeze she summons to cool Jean's skin lifts it up and makes it flow around her shoulders.
"Jean looks up suddenly at the picture, Ro's sleeves flowing in the wind, her hair lifted, a crown on her brow. The sun is shining above them and the flowers frame Ro as she kneels among them. And then Jean is in front of her, bowing down to the woman that looks truly like a goddess at this moment. 'Let me worship you,' she whispers. She runs her hands up, opening the dress and Ro stays as still as a statue, that little mocking, smug smile curving over her lips. She closes her eyes as Jean strokes her body with those slender fingers of hers, teasing that beautiful expanse of chocolate skin. Jean strokes the warm globes of Ro's flesh and leans to take one nipple into her mouth.
"Her mouth roams all over the beautiful, silky skin. It trails down that succulent stomach. As her mouth glides along Ro's body, she pushes her back into the cushioning of her TK and spreads Ro's thighs with a hand, the blue fabric falling to the sides, falling into the green grass. Jean's mouth ranges lower and finds that sweet spot between Ro's legs. The flame red of Jean's hair falls over Ro's thighs obscuring the view. Ro's head falls back and the flowers shift father back. She arches into the touch of Jean's tongue. She shivers so delicately when she comes that it's barely perceptible except for the eddies of wind that start to sweep through the flowers. She slips into sleep, her body lax on the blanket of her dress. Jean crawls up her body, kisses her lips and settles down atop her."
Remy gulped down his beer and signaled the waitress for another. His eyes were wide and more black than red at that moment. "Wow."
"Pay up, Gambit," Betsy purred. Remy took a deep breath to gather his thoughts.
"It's summer. Most of de team's lazing around. Too damn hot f' anyt'ing more than that. De girls are sunbathin'. Most de boys be swimmin' in de lake dat Bobby's cooled down a bit more dan he should. Scott's doing leaderly bullshit in 'is office. Not even de professor's been able to drag him out of it. No one even notices when Logan slinks off into the house. He stops in de kitchen t' grab a six pack and decides dat it's his duty t' take care o' de boy. All work an' no play make Scotty hell t' deal wit'.
"Scotty don' look up when de door open. 'I'm busy, Logan.' Logan don't answer him an' Scott keep on readin' reports and managin' dings. Well, Logan, he don't care 'bout dat stuff. He open up one o' de beers an' set it down by his boy. Scotty look up den. 'Thanks.' He takes a sip and goes back to his reports. Now, ole Wolverine don' like bein' ignored. He grabs de back o' Scott's chair an' rolls it away from de desk. He jams it up against the back wall an' po' Scotty sittin' dere wit' a beer in one hand, file in de ot'er. He opens 'is mout' t' protest an' Logan pops out does shiny blades o' his and de boy's mout' shut wit' a snap. Logan takes away de file. He puts a bit o' de beer in his mouth and leans over t' kiss de Fearless Leader senseless. Scotty, he smart 'nough t' know not t' piss off de man wit' claws an' lets him feed him Logan flavored beer.
"It starts out as not'in' more dan dat. Jus' kissin' an' sharin' a beer. Logan got ot'er plans f' de boy dough. He open Scott's fly and kisses him once more before settlin' down in front of him. He lays does claws along Scotty's chest, de ends prickin' de middle o' de boy's ribs. His fingers run down Scott's sides, claws shreddin' his tee-shirt wit'out even touchin' de man's skin. Scotty gulps and his fingers clench around de beer bottle. Logan frees de now hard cock from its hiding place wit' fingers too gentle f' all his killin' nature. Scotty, he shivers like dere be a cold draft in de room now. 'Don't move, Slim.' Behind those glasses, Scotty closes his eyes. Logan swallows him once, then releases him. Then, he takes a sip of dat beer and plunges Scott's cock into it. De boy sit straight up an' yells. Logan's hands force his hips to stay still and de claws prick against the lightly tanned skin, leaving li'l drops of blood along de edge of de ribs. Scotty whimpers den as Logan continues an all out attack on de man's cock. Scott's free hand grips de short hair on Logan's head. Den, he stroke t'rough it.
"He can' help but squirm, despite de claws markin' 'is skin. Logan love de scent of blood mixin' wit' de lust. Suddenly, Scotty try t' arch int' dat warm wetness, but Logan hold him down, milkin' him till he can' come no more. De bottle fall fr' Scott's fingers...."
//Gambit, Psylocke return to the Mansion immediately!//
"Merde!" said Gambit
"Fuck!" said Psylocke. Her eyes were just as dilated as his. "I'm driving," she snapped. "And don't even think about trying to get the keys from me. I'm more sober than you are."
"Dis is just wonderful." Gambit dropped a twenty on the table and they ran for the door, pulling on coats as they went. He didn't argue as she took control of the motorcycle, though he promised himself that he'd give it a through examination the next day. Betsy wished that Remy would show some control, but his hands settled just a touch too low around her waist and clenched reflexively against her thighs whenever they hit a turn. He looked a touch too pale when he pulled off his helmet. He stroked the handlebars. "Remy take good care of y' tomorrow, Sweetie," he informed the bike. "And de bad lady won't ride you again." Betsy rolled her eyes. She grabbed his wrist and they hurried to the professor's office.
"What's wrong, Professor?"
"Betsy. Remy. Actually, this is more of a problem for Gambit. I want to know why the head of the Met and an Interpol Inspector are calling the mansion. And why they are so desperate to talk to you. Here are the phone numbers." The professor stared down the thief who was regarding the paper as if it would bite him. He took the page and sneered at the names.
"Great."
"Please use my phone. It's no bother." The professor was in his pajamas. Remy winced. He hadn't realized that the professor had been the one to answer the phone. He'd been on his way to bed no doubt. He dialed. Besty settled on the couch as Remy perched on the desk.
"Dr. Pryce? Remy LeBeau. Yes, I'm well. What was this in regards too?... You what! You lost my tablets! How the Hell do you lose something that isn't even on display? You didn't install the security I designed did you?... Didn't think so... I'll speak with you more in the morning. Nine o'clock good for you? I'll see you at your office." Remy slammed the phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think I feel one of Scotty's headaches coming on." He dialed the second number before the professor could comment. He spoke in rapid French. "Hello, you stinking Parisian cur. If I'd wanted you to call me at home I'd have given you this number, oui? This better be good, Paul... Oh, you are? I'm meeting Pryce at nine tomorrow. Will you be there?... Good. Good night." He hung up again. "Remy's goin' t' bed now. Talk t' y' tomorrow, Prof." The two telepaths in the room exchanged a speaking glance as he left.
//It would be undignified to laugh at this point.// Betsy said.
//True. However, that was rather enlightening. I wonder what our little thief has gotten up to.//
//Should be interesting to see him get up at such an early hour.//
Scott was moping again and Remy was sick and tired of it. He'd had a long morning at the museum and had actually been looking forward to a Danger Room session only to find it canceled. Still dressed in the designer three piece suit, the better for intimidation, Remy stalked the older mutant and dragged him away for a talk in the library. "What de hell is wrong, Fearless? You be walkin' around like y' lost y' best friend." Remy's eyes narrowed when Scott didn't respond. "Dis has t' do wit' Logan, non?"
"Yes, satisfied?"
"Non. What happened?"
"We had a fight."
"A fight. Dat's why de man be gone f' two weeks."
"It was a big fight."
"Right. Keep talkin'." Remy perched on the couch as Scott started to pace.
"It was right after New Years. He... he wanted to have a ceremony." Scott sighed. "I can't... I mean really. Jean and I have been together for longer than anything. I can't just give that up to commit to the man. It's not even like I love him. Lust I'll admit to. Enjoying the sex. I'll admit to that. But love? The runt? Yes, I trust him. That's never really been the issue as you know. But, he's loved Jean as long as I've known him. With his last breath he'd reach out to hold her. To be close to her one last time. The two of them belong together, but I can't let him go. Damn the man. He's left and he's still got her."
"Y' jealous."
"Damn straight! He's screwing my wife."
"And you."
"True. With permission even. But..."
"That's what you wan' de homme t' dink. Y' love him. Y' love Jeannie. Jeannie love bot' of y'. What y' really scared of?"
"Fuck this. Why the fuck should I tell you?"
"Because Remy work hard f' dis. He wan' de t'ree o' y' t' be happy. An' right now, no one else be askin'." Remy tracked the man's pacing.
"I'm going to lose both of them," Scott whispered, more to the outside than the sharp ears that wanted the answer. "And it's driving me insane. He always came back before. I thought he'd be back this time. I don't have anyplace else to look."
"Y' love 'im?"
"Yes. I want him back. I want him safe. I don't want him to walk out that door without knowing that ever again."
"Y' ready t' commit t' him an' Jeannie. T' make dis work t'ree ways? He love y'."
"There's no where else to look!"
"Remy give y' a list o' de bars he likes in de city. Remy know y' ain't been dere. Y' don' go out wit'out Jeannie an' y' ain't gonna get in dere wit' her on y' arm."
FINIS
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