Chapter Text
Remy Lebeau, feeling rather smug after a successful job, slips into an upscale Chicago hotel suite around 1 a.m. to find his beautiful wife waiting up with a book; the local news droning on quietly in the background. Dressed in a lightweight green robe with two-tone hair falling in loose curls, she looks up with a raised eyebrow and appraises him: worn leather jacket layered over a glossy one-piece jumpsuit and belt. The typical partially-fingerless gloves poking out from long sleeves and soft-soled boots on his feet. A heavyweight infinity scarf around his neck and duffel bag slung over his shoulder. An all-black Crime-Chic ensemble completed by a crooked grin.
“You seen the news, Swamp Rat?” Remy smiles coyly and turns away, depositing his heavy bag on an old corner chair and sliding the leather jacket off his shoulders smoothly. “Can’t say I have, Chère. You know me. Always on de go. Anyt’ing interestin’ I should know bout?” She shifts in her chair, and then stands. “Maaaaybe,” she drawls and pads closer. “Seems some high-and-mighty government official jus’ got robbed blind. Safe cleared out. Vintage cars gone. Small collection of Van Goughs missin’ from their frames.” He chuckles quietly. “Not too far from here actually. Just outside the city limits… they’re even offerin’ a reward.”
“Huh. Dat IS interestin,” he starts, turning with a sparkle in his eye, before being pushed hard against a yellowed wall and grunting with the impact. She holds him there easily then with one strong palm in the middle of his back, but he doesn’t struggle after the initial shock. He just turns his head slow as molasses, rests his cheek against the wallpaper, and peers over his shoulder through half-lidded eyes. “Have I done somet’ing wrong, Sweet?” he inquires innocently in his honeyed voice; fingers flexing in leather gloves as he presses them to the hard surface he’s pinned to. “Surely, you don’ tink I coulda had anyt’ing ta do wit dat heinous crime…” He arches his eyebrows provocatively and twists his head a little further to flash her a shameless smirk.
She collects a fistful of soft auburn hair and uses it to steer his face back to the wall. “Eyes front, Sugah,” she orders. He groans softly but submits, resting his forehead on the hard surface, and waits. “Seems Ah caught a dangerous criminal here,” she continues. “A menace to society even.” She kicks at the inside of each of his ankles. “Spead ‘em, Cajun. Hands behind your head.” His lips curl up at the edges, breathing out slowly, and he obeys. Legs spreading out wide gracefully and threading his fingers together in his hair. “Thinkin’ maybe Ah should call the boys in blue. Get that reward,” Anna Marie whispers into his ear as she captures his surrendered wrists; pinning them to the small of his back while slapping on a pair of metal police-issue handcuffs.
“Anythin’ I can do, ma Chère, to convince you not to turn poor ol’ Remy in?” he asks, amused, twisting his wrists. “Dis face far too pretty fo’ jail.” She spins him around by a firm grip on the shoulder and slams his back into the wall, where he leans back, grinning, with hands tucked away behind him. Rogue pretends to think for a moment. “As a matter of fact, Ah think there is somethin’ you can do,” she replies before her fingers find the tab of his catsuit’s front zipper and start to slowly pull it down. He hits the back of his head and gasps, eyes closed, when the zipper reaches the end of its track and she lightly scratches pink lines into his toned chest and teases his nipples.
At this point, Anna Marie encounters a vexing problem. She’s unable to pull the sleeved one-piece off her husband while keeping his misbehaving hands restrained. After many long years of denial, though, she has absolutely no patience with obstacles between her and his skin. Her strong fingers tightly grip and start to pull hard at the shiny black fabric; threatening to tear it off his body. Red and black eyes widen suddenly; his right hand quickly appearing and grabbing her left fist. She huffs in annoyance at the unauthorized appearance of a loose hand and throws him a harsh look. “Sassarass! Sassafras! S'il vous plaît,” he cries. Gambit rarely invokes his safe word, and she stops quickly, leaning back. “You ok, Dark Eyes? What’s up?” He hangs his head for a moment, and then looks up with a relieved smile. “Oui, ma colombe. Dis suit imported from de Stolen Island, hard ta get tech. You wan’ it off, I take it off…jus’ wait…désolé…”
He awkwardly twists around, pulling his right shoulder out of one painted-on sleeve, cuffs dangling from his left hand. “Merde…” he mutters, and then Rogue fumes as this utter bastard slips his left hand out of the closed cuff effortlessly and replaces it with his right so he can inch out of that sleeve too. When he’s finished, the skintight bottom half is still in place, but the top and sleeves hang down from his waist; partially-fingerless gloves still on. “Alright, Catwoman,” Anna Marie snorts, before grabbing the back of his neck and pressing him facedown onto the bed. “Keep your little burglar outfit, but THESE…” she adds, retrieving the metal cuffs and locking them back on the escapee wrists (possibly a little too tightly). “... Stay on.” She combs her fingers through his hair and waits a moment to make sure he wants to continue. “Ok, Sugah?” He twists his face away from the mattress to look her in the eyes and nods. “Oui, Madame.”
His wife blesses him with a sunny smile before pushing him down to his knees beside the bed and opening her robe. Her curvy and soft, yet superhumanly strong body lounges deliciously in a sheer black lace bra and panties. “Remove them,” she orders firmly and he bends to his task; concentrating with a furrowed brow as he drags the delicate lace underwear down her thighs with his lips and teeth. This gorgeous man obediently serving her on his knees inspires heat to bloom in her core and she makes a concerted effort to remember she’s “in charge” tonight. Once he’s finished pulling the last bit of elastic from around her painted toes, she takes the wet fabric from his mouth like a toy from a dog and tosses it aside. She leans forward then, and pulls him in closer, knees dragging, by the scarf still hanging from his neck. “Ah believe you were convincin’ me to have mercy an’ not turn ya in to Johnny Law. Ah’m lookin’ for a real compellin’ argument and expect ya to deliver. Get to it.”
“Oui, Madame,” he repeats, and leans forward, guided by a hand in his hair. He starts with gentle kisses at the inside of one knee and continues a soft slow trail along her creamy thighs, switching sides occasionally, until he reaches her neatly-trimmed brown curls and exhales a warm breath onto her pink swollen skin. He flattens his tongue then and licks the entire length of her, from taint to clit, in long slow strokes; repeating this move several times when her moans confirm he’s doing something right. He then kisses, sucks, and licks her outer lips and occasionally slips his tongue inside while he hums, providing light vibration. Once Anna Marie starts to quiet and go tense, when drops of sweat begin to appear behind her knees, when her thighs start to quiver ever so slightly, he moves to pay more direct attention to her clit; swirling the sensitive organ around gently, through the hood, in a circular motion for several minutes as her thighs shake harder and anxious little noises start to slip out. She opens her eyes, which had drifted shut in pleasure, and looks down at him as she approaches her release.
And this motherfucker. This… oh god… she’s going to come… this motherfucker… is absently scratching his neck with one hand. “Hey!” she shouts and he jumps, hiding his hand and giving her guilty puppy eyes before performing two last swirling strokes with his tongue that utterly destroy her. “Fuck!” she screams in slightly annoyed ecstacy, riding slow pulsing waves of throbbing delight as he gently continues to lap at her, extending her pleasure for as long as he possibly can; only letting up when she’s stopped twitching and tugs lightly at his hair. He backs away with a slick face, satisfied by a job well done, and looks up at her adoringly. She’s so beautiful like this. Blissed out, glassy eyed and flushed, and… She crosses her arms and looks down at him. Maybe a little angry? Uh-oh…
“Show me your hands, Remy,” she orders, and he bites his lip before warily pulling both hands, wrists naked, out in front of him and shrugging. No handcuffs to be seen. “You are such a little shit,” she starts, reaching forward to grab him, and he playfully rolls to the side and handsprings away, backing up (not so quickly) toward the door. “Non! Dey’ll neva take me alive, Chère,” he grins and this master thief—literal monarch of a worldwide crime syndicate—giggles with glee when she catches him by his dangling sleeves and reels him in effortlessly. Gambit is very athletic, with a slim but muscular gymnast’s build. He can scale any wall, level a building, or hold off an army by himself on a bad day. Compared to her super strength, though, his toned strong muscles are weak as a kitten. And he. Fucking. Loves it.
Once her husband is pulled within reach, she scoops him up by his slim waist and easily tosses him over her shoulder. Remy chuckles and squirms as she carries him back to the bed like a sack of potatoes and throws him down, face-up, onto the mattress. Before he has a chance to react, she’s got a firm hold on the lower opening of his jumpsuit and she pulls it down his legs just past his cock, leaving his thighs wrapped together tightly and his member exposed. “Dis was an ambush. I was set up,” he laughs. “You got that right, Sugah,” she replies with a wink before hopping up on the bed to straddle his legs and pull a silicone ring from her robe pocket. “Tonight, Sunshine, you don’t come til Ah tell you to,” she instructs, running one finger down his stubbled throat while he swallows hard. “But Ah’ll be nice and make it a little easier for you. Cuz Ah’m so generous an’ all,” she adds while securing the ring around the base of his hardening penis and balls to slow the blood-flow. “You be a good boy now and stay hard for me or Ah might have to punish ya.”
“Oui, Madame,” he agrees with shaky breath, as she painfully squeezes his groin and then presses his wrists down firmly into the mattress, holding him down. She licks into his mouth then, Remy obediently opening for her, and travels down his body; leaving a trail of moist kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Sucking on one sensitive nipple before moving to the other, earning cute little gasps, then lightly tickling twitching sculpted abs with her tongue. She moves to languidly kiss the inner slopes of his hipbones next, ignoring his rock-hard manhood while he wriggles hopelessly in her strong grip. After a long look into his smoldering eyes, she lowers her face again and laps lightly at his bound cock and balls; tiny kitten licks, tormenting the whimpering man with her hot wet mouth by not providing the stimulation or permission he needs so terribly.
Aching for her own satisfaction by that point, she straightens up and walks her knees forward to straddle his hips, easily moving his wrists above his head. She lowers her wet pussy then onto his straining hard shaft in relief, sliding him in smoothly; fully seated in one try. The sudden penetration forces a loud involuntary moan from him and his captured hands clutch the hotel pillows urgently. She rides him hard from there, powerful thighs pumping up and down, her inner walls squeezing mercilessly, taking what she wants from him while he tries desperately to remain on the edge and not disobey her. “Oh, Remy… this big magic dick o’ yours better hold out for me, pretty boy, ya feel so fuckin’ good...” He grits his teeth in anguish and struggles not to spill over; reeling as she whispers filthy things into his ear, grinds down, and rolls her hips in a powerful and steady rhythm. “Anna Marie,” he nearly sobs.
“Beg me, Dark Eyes. Beg me,” she commands. He can barely breathe, let alone speak, but he eventually pushes through and slurs a response. “S'il te plaît, Anna Marie, let me…” She squeezes him particularly hard then, nibbling on his ear, and he cries out in distress. “Ah didn’t hear ya, Cajun. Speak up,” she whispers huskily. “S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît…” he pleads. “S'il vous plaît!” he repeats feverishly, and she eventually relents, leaning her face close to his and licking a stripe up his sweaty temple. “Well go on then,” she directs and releases his hands. And he loses it, with an almost-pained groan; spilling into her warm body and tightly gripping her hips as she continues to fuck him through his orgasm, wringing his sensitive cock until his moans quiet down and he eventually softens; whole body gone limp. Once they’ve both come down a bit from their high, she dismounts and snuggles into his side while he peels off the silicone ring; other arm snaking around her waist to pull her in tight.
Her husband turns his head to regard her with a smirk; sweaty hair sticking to the side of his face. “Did I convince you, mon amour?”
“Aw shush, Swamp Rat, playin’ cops an’ robbers is done,” she replies with a yawn, burrowing closer into him and laying her head on his chest.
“Who’s playin’, woman?” he replies incredulously. “You ain't seen the news?”
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The next morning, double-checking some of Remy’s new “acquisitions” and cleaning up the hotel room before check-out, Rogue finally locates the missing cuffs in the bedside table drawer. She holds them up with one finger and gives him a playful but disapproving glare. “Ah wanted to play with these, ya know… it’s fun tossin’ your cute ass around but sometimes it’d nice to have ya at my mercy without all the wrasslin’. Take my time…,” she smiles flirtatiously. “Have my wicked way…”
His eyebrows raise in surprise and he walks closer on silent cat feet before wrapping his arms around her and looking into her green eyes. “Ahhh, mon amour, je suis désolé. I been slippin’ outa dem tings since I was a wee chile. It’s hard ta remember I’m even wearin’ em sometimes. Can I make it up ta you?” he asks, before planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
“Oh, you’re gonna make it up to me,” she replies, poking one strong finger into his chest when he pulls away. “One way or anotha.”
He pops on sunglasses to hide his beautiful demon eyes and grins. “Oui, Madame.”