Pamela Thalner, 1994
Author's Notes: This story was written in 1994 after a dream I had one night. The character of Lynn Martel, who later became known as Firebrand, also came out of this dream. In order to understand the following writing, this background is helpful but probably not necessary.
Lynn and Remy were captured by a group of mutant hunters (whose name remains unknown at this time). They were thrown together and had to fight for their lives in a jungle setting somewhere in South America. Since Lynn has something of a temper, the two started out arguing and scrapping, but quickly realized their chances for survival would be slim if they didn't work together. At some point, the fighting turned into sparks, though they didn't exactly have the time to act on it. After escaping from their hunters, the two made their way home. Remy stayed at Lynn's apartment for a few days while both recovered from their wounds, but he then returned to the X-Men. A week or so later, however, he has come back.
This story assumes that Remy and Rogue are no longer an item; other than that, it has no particular setting in the Marvel continuity.
Disclaimer: The character of Remy LeBeau is the property of Marvel Comics, Inc., and is used here without permission or profit. Please don't hunt me down and sue me, I hardly have enough money to pay my bills. This is erotica. It graphically describes a heterosexual situation between two consenting adults.
Feedback is welcomed at hutch @ jazmer.com.
He was lying asleep in my bed: Remy LeBeau, known better as Gambit, the sly, charming, card-tossing heartthrob of the X-Men's Blue Team. What he was doing -- how he'd arrived here -- was beyond me, but while the opportunity was here, I certainly wasn't about to waste it.
The tension had been there from the start, crackling in the air between us like live electricity. We'd been herded like cattle, or, more accurately, prey, after having been thrown together by a group of mutant-hunters whose name was still unknown. Teamed in desperation, we'd fought together, working as two parts of a whole. And we'd survived somehow, kept alive in alien forest during the searches, the attacks, and our seemingly nonstop quarrels.
And somewhere along the way, his teasing had ended as my walls came down. One night, burned into my mind: the two of us, hiding in a dark gully, his arms wrapped tight around me as we trembled in fear of a sudden discovery. Yet as the searchlights passed us by, all I could feel was his warmth, the pure heat of his body like fire against me, and I was consumed with the thought of throwing myself into that fire.
And here he was. Next to naked -- clad only in the briefest of black briefs -- he waited, asleep, for me. I paused long enough to pull off my shirt and slacks before climbing on the bed, slowly, attempting not to wake him.
I was partially successful; he stirred a little and mumbled something, and his hands came up as if searching for me. I felt vulnerable and powerful all at once. Shaking, I leaned down and kissed him.
It was incredible; as if he'd slipped easily from dreamstate into waking, he kissed me back. His lips were smooth, sleek, his mouth strong against mine. His hands embraced me, pulling me close against him. Oh God, his bare skin; I was nervous and excited.
"Chére," he murmured in the middle of the kiss, and his fire-on-charcoal eyes opened slowly to gaze into mine. As though he was suddenly becoming aware of the situation, he started to let go of me. "Lynn... You -- you shouldn't be here."
"No, Remy," I begged with both words and eyes. He was the one who had come to me; he couldn't make me go. "Please. Don't push me away. Let us have tonight. I want this. I want you."
Fractionally, his eyes softened and his hands relaxed.
"Besides," I offered helplessly, "I don't have anywhere else to go. You're in my bed."
At that, his face recollected itself into a smile. "You got me there, ma couer." He ran a gentle hand through my thick, curly hair. "Are you sure...?"
Leaning up on my elbow, I kissed him firmly. It was all the answer he seemed to need; we laid back against the pillow, with me securely above him. His palms roamed my back and found the catch to my bra.
"Les' definitely get rid o' this," he muttered, and with a flick of his long fingers, he had it undone. His hot skin burned against mine; our bodies met with a shock that made me gasp. As he kissed me again, his tongue slipping into my mouth, we rolled over until I was on my back. His thumb quickly, expertly, found my hard nipple, and I gasped loudly into his mouth. God, it felt so sweet, igniting fires that ran all the way down to the core of me. His lips trailed wet kisses along my cheek, my jaw, my neck, setting my skin trembling as he worked his sweet way down to my other breast. The doubled sensation -- one hand ruthlessly caressing one breast, his lips and tongue tugging new ecstacy from the other -- was almost more than I could bear. I arched against him, crying out, my hands in his chestnut hair.
He came back up then to kiss me hard, passion-filled and desperate. I clung to him as his hand slipped down to yank my panties off -- and his briefs. His erection was hard and thick against my stomach. I reached down to touch him, and for a moment we paused, while he took in the sensations. Then the storm returned. His hand moved to my crotch, and as my thighs parted, he felt along the sleek, wet folds. "Lord, chére," he breathed in my ear, "you're burnin' up." Kissing me, his tongue in my mouth, he let a finger slide into me. Then another, and another, his thumb working at my clitoris. It felt like I was dying, connected to him in this most intimate, erotic way. But it wasn't enough. My hand moved on his stiff, hard cock; silky smooth, the underlying muscle unyielding as marble. How I wanted to feel him replacing his fingers with this.
It was as if he'd read my mind. The briefest cessation came as I fumbled to the nightstand, found a condom, tore it open and slicked it over him. His hand came away from me as we repositioned ourselves. Once his long, lean body rested over me, he spread my swollen folds and slid slowly into me. God, the rush of sensation, the friction; I clawed at his back, wanting it all immediately. It seemed an eon before he rested, fully buried within me. The sweet penetration of his thick, hard cock was ecstacy without measure. We panted shallowly, in time, on the verge.
Then the slow, intense rhythm began. His hips ground against mine as he slid, deep and hard, into me, withdrawing nearly all the way before thrusting again. With every pounding pulse, my pelvis would rise up to meet his, allowing him even further into me. One of his hands found one breast; he ravaged the stiff nipple with his thumb as his tongue plunged into my mouth. The onslaught of sensation was almost more than I could bear.
"Lynn, chérie," I heard him growling, as caught up in the moment as myself. His deep, Creole-flavored voice pushed buttons inside me, just as his hands found every nub that moved my body, my helpless flesh. It was all too overwhelming; in a rush of heat, wetness, and erotic sound, I came, shuddering, release sweeping through my body. Through the bliss of my own orgasm, I heard him groan, calling my name aloud again as he spent himself.
Slowly, with heaving breath and sweat-slicked skin, we separated, albeit reluctantly. Remy laid himself down by my side, one arm curling under the pillow as the other stretched, somewhat possessively, over my midriff. I touched his face gently, still in awe of what we'd just done together, unwilling to break the intensity of the moment.
"That was... incredible," I finally heard myself say. He smiled and kissed the corner of my mouth.
"I was worried about comin' here tonight," he murmured after a while. "But now I see I shouldn't have been. An' it'll only get better from here, amour."
My heart leaped at his words. I had been so unconsciously afraid that this might be my only chance with him. "Remy... do you mean that?"
"O' course, Lynn, sweetheart. Let me show you." With that, he drew my face to his again.
this page last updated on 28 december 2004