You know what's funny about this Knee High Socks series? It was never supposed to be a series. And the mini-sequels? I never think of them. Someone always suggests them. Last time, it was BlueFox. This time, Brsrk.

Without our friend Brsrk, this story would not exist. So thank you, Brsrk. You're the best and I hope you enjoy this funny smut.

And Lina? Wow. Thank you for getting an account just to vote. That is beyond amazing. Seriously. I cannot thank you enough.

Speaking of voting, it ends after the last day of August. So if you haven't voted, do it! I'll be sure to announce the winning story in my next one shot. A one shot that will probably feature Remy, Logan, and everyone's favorite Merc with a Mouth.

So look out for that too.

And Brsrk? This is totally dedicated to you.


Rogue was a happy girl.

She was in love. She was in love and happy to admit it. No more fears about giving herself to the freakishly handsome Remy LeBeau. No more concerns about having her heart broken. No more concerns about breaking his heart.

Just love.

Some much love, she could throw up.

Not only was she in love, but she also had escaped Nathaniel Essex's clutches alive. Admittedly, not in the best condition. She couldn't even say she came out of it in once piece, considering the bones in her arm came out in two. And she and Remy both were healing, leaving them unable to participate in any missions.

But whatever.

And yeah, okay. She was still wearing a cast(which meant she could only wear one of her long black gloves). Still very sore and tender. As was her broken beau.

But they were in love. Surely, that would be enough to help them take the pain. And since, for reasons Rogue would never understand, Logan had left them to their devices after catching them in the midst of a pool table tryst, she planned on taking advantage of their time. Eventually, they decided that while the pool table held some fond memories, it was time to head to a more cushy setting. Remy threw some money Bobby's way, stating not to come into their bedroom. Bobby nodded eagerly and the southerners were off.

They rushed into Remy's bedroom. Slammed the door shut. Locked it for good measure. Then Rogue pressed her back to the door, turning so she could face her boyfriend. She grinned mischievously.

All this love was making her frisky.

"Hi," she drawled.

Remy's eyes lit up. "Bonjour."

He closed the space between them. Rogue watched with anticipation. Maybe it was all the love. Maybe she was just a teenager pumping with excess hormones. Maybe it was because Remy was wearing this gorgeous button down shirt. It fit him perfectly. Made him look as dangerous as he really was. It was perfect. Masculine. Fitting. Well thought out.

Now she wanted to rip it off.

With her teeth.

Geez. She was never the sexual aggressor. She wondered why she hadn't tried it before.

Most have been all the love.

When he was within arms length, she grabbed him by the collar of his seductive button down shirt and yanked him toward her. Instantly, the sexy smile was wiped off of his face, replaced now with a hiss of pain.

"Oww. Careful, Roguey. I'm still sore."

She blushed. "Oh. Sorry."

"Mmmm," was all he said, bending down to kiss her.

A kiss that was soft as silk and hot as fire. He pressed her into the door and encouraged her to tilt her head back so he could dominate their kiss. Rogue tolerated this for only a short period. Then she pulled him closer—ignoring his moan of pain at the sudden movement—and kissed him harder.

His kisses burned her. They always did. Each one was like a little brand, claiming her as his. She was his. She could see it in his blood red eyes. In his crocked smiles. She could feel it in the way he held her. The way he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her unnecessarily close. The way he spoke to her, as if he knew that no matter how stupid he was, she would be sticking around. Even in the way he kissed her.

So intrusive. So demanding. A mouth that never begged for more but claimed it. His mouth and kisses were relentless. His tongue bossy. He overwhelmed her. Engulfed her. Consumed her. And in return, he happily had forsaken his heart to her.

He was hers.

This was her thought when she reached up to take a handful of his hair and pull him closer. Crushed his mouth to hers. Gently bit down on his bottom lip. Demanded some things from him in return. Fought his tongue in a battle for control over the kiss.

And then…

And then his mouth moved over hers—right at the corner of her mouth—in a way that had her yelping in pain, abruptly ending their kiss.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He had an odd look on his face. A mix between something primal that was left unsatisfied and utter confusion.

Rogue reached up to gently rub the spot on the corner of her mouth. "My lips. They got split in the fight. When you kissed that spot…"

"Oh. Desole." He leaned down to press the most tender, goose bump rousing kiss to the corner of her mouth, making sure not to hurt her. He dragged his lips along the length of her jaw until he reached the hollow beneath her ear. "Promise to be gentle."

His voice was temptation. She shivered a little at the baritone that vibrated through his body, then through hers.


Rogue didn't want gentle. Not this time.

"Maybe next time, sugah."

"A woman after ol' Remy's heart."

"Stop talkin' and start sexin'."

His hands were on her upper thighs. "Never let it be said Remy LeBeau didn' give a lady exactly what she wanted."

He hoisted her up in one effortless, Remy LeBeau movement. And Rogue wrapped her legs around his waist, her mouth on his. He moaned. Turned around so he could walk them toward the bed. Took a step. Paused. Took another step. His arms shook. He groaned in a not sexy way. Rogue pulled back just a little.

"Somethin' wrong, Rems?"

He forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His arms continued to shake. "Non, non, non. Not at all." For just one brief moment, his grip slackened and she dropped an inch. His forced smile dropped a little. "It's jus'…"

"Just what?"

His arms quivered violently. "After the whole thing wit' Essex, I still ain't feelin' a hundred percent. Normally, I could do this." He winced. "But today? Remy's back and arms jus' ain't feelin' it."


"Desole, Rogue. I'm so sorry."

She cleared her throat, letting her legs drop back to the ground. "No, no. It's okay."

They watched each other awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something. Rogue realized that the sexual energy that was once crackling between them was fading with each passing second.

She simply couldn't tolerate that.

Channeling her inner seductress, she slinked over to Remy's bed, stepping over a pair of Bobby's boxes in the process. She hoped the dirty boxers didn't make her lose some of her appeal.

It didn't appear to, because Remy's eyes were aglow again with the kind of want she was so pleased to see flare up in his enchanting eyes. Letting her curly locks fall into her make-up free face, Rogue eased herself onto his bed. He watched her intently. She posed, lying on her side, her arm draped along her hip. Then she realized that the hip that was taking on the brunt of her weight and her hip was bruised.

"Ow," she hissed under her breath. So Remy couldn't hear here.

This position, as alluring as it was, was not going to work. Rogue shifted as casually as she could so she was seated normally, leaning back on her elbows. Still sexy, just not as sexy. It still hurt, but not as much.

Remy didn't seem to mind. He was approaching like he just won the prize of a lifetime. When he looked at her like that, all testosteroney and hungry, it not only made her feel like the most desirable woman on the face of the earth, but it made her feel loved.

So much love.

"What's gotten into you today, Roguey?" he asked, now standing at the foot of his bed.

She bat peered at him through her lashes, rolling her shoulder the way Emma taught her to. "Do you really wanna talk 'bout it?"

"Non." He proceeded to crawl up the length of his bed. Up the length of her body. She could feel his eyes hot on her. Even though she was mostly covered, she felt naked. Exposed. "Not at all."

He kissed her again. She slid her arms up his chest. Then he groaned in the "owwy" way, so she settled for wrapping her arms around his neck. This seemed to please him. Murmuring words of love, he trailed kisses down to her neck. He found that spot. That spot that made her insides turn to jelly. Made her completely pliant in his arms. She moaned and writhed under his mouth.

His lips worked on giving her one hell of a hickey. Rogue arched under him, struggling to remain in control. She wasn't an animal. She could do this. She could withstand a little bit of Remy LeBeau's exquisite torture in the form of foreplay awhile longer before she just ripped open his button down shirt. Even if she could only do it with one hand.

Oh, but he made it so hard. The way he unmercifully kissed and licked that sweet spot on her neck. Heat pooled. Pooled in all the right places. Her body ached for him now. Needed him more than she did a few minutes ago. Her hips lifted, trying to find his. Her back arched, her breasts demanded attention he had yet to give. She whimpered. He continued to make a feast of her neck.

She was totally going to have one hell of hickey.

Impulsively, she lifted a still boot clad leg so she could wrap it around his lower back. Pain shot through her calves all the way up to her thighs.

Ow. Okay. So her legs still hurt post-Essex.

Carefully, she let her drop hurt.

She focused on Remy and not the pain that was plaguing every inch of her person. It wasn't hard to focus on the six foot something Cajun man on top of her. She basked in his heat on the cold day. Drowned in his warmth. Vanished in his kiss.

He kissed her neck. Licked. And then he bit her neck, just a little.


Remy jumped back, surprised. "What?"

"Mother Mary and Joseph that hurt!"

"What hurt?"

"You bit me!"

He looked confused. Downright mystified. "You like when I bite you. You like it a lot. In fact, sometimes you ask me to. 'Member when we were in Essex's cell, right after I—"

"Remy!" she yelled over whatever nasty thing he just said.

"—and you were on top of me doin' that one thing—"


"—asked me to bite you. 'Member?"

"Yeah. But I didn't have these damn bruises on my neck from where Essex choked me out."

She gestured at the slowly fading hand shaped bruise around her neck. Remy instantly sobered. He stroked a hand along the bruise on her neck. Her eyes slid shut at the sensation. While not quite as erotic as the kisses he rained down on her before, it certainly had all her nerve endings standing on end. She forgot the pain. Focused on his hands. His thieving and oh so skilled hands. And even with her eyes closed, Rogue was pretty sure she heard Remy grin.

"Like that, do you?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice. He kissed her. More gentle than before. But, as expected, both of their bodies started making demands. Wanting more than kisses. And then Remy's egotistical dominant side made itself known. He reached out to take hold of her wrists, most likely to pin them over her head.

She suppose he forgot that one of her hands was in a cast.

"Jesus Christ, Remy!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Don't touch my bloody arm!"

"I won't!"

"Don't touch me there."

"How 'bout here?"

She stopped, his finger on her collarbone. She nodded, getting comfortable in bed, beneath him. "You can touch me there."

"How 'bout here?" he asked with a grin. His hand dipped lower. She cried out in ecstasy.

"And here?"

She moaned. Too much. Not enough. Never enough. Why were they still wearing clothes again?

Remy most have had a similar thought. Because his taunting hand slipped beneath her blouse. His fingers splayed out across her stomach. Slid upward so he could make her moan his name once more. Leaned down to kiss her some more, while his hands continued to pleasure her. Rogue was puddy.

She was puddy and she was in love.

Remy's hand snaked downward. It was a move Rogue was familiar with. He loved to run his hands along the curves of her body. And he ran his hands along the curves he loved. Over her ribs.

Her bruised ribs.

"Mother f—"


"Maybe…." She drew in a deep breath, pushing the pain away. "How 'bout I get on top?"

Faster than she could comprehend, Remy was on his back and Rogue was straddling him. He grinned up at her. Waiting for her do something.

Rogue was more than happy to indulge him.

First, she took off her one and only black glove, baring her hand. She tossed it on the floor, then got to work on the real show.

She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt. She tugged, revealing inch by inch of her pale torso. His eyes burned holes into her he was watching so closely. And when she pulled the blouse far enough up for him to see the red bra she had on, she could feel his breath hitch.

She pulled one arm from the sleeve. The unharmed arm. But then…

But then the other sleeve got stuck or tangled or something in her cast.


She tried to play it off. Hoping he didn't notice. But after ten seconds and her shirt wasn't off, Remy's smile faded. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"I can't…." She grunted. "I can't get this stupid thing over my stupid cast."

His chuckle vibrated through her body. He reached up. "Lemme help you." He carefully removed the shirt and dropped it on the floor. Then he leaned back so his eyes could rove her almost naked torso. "I like this view much better."

And Rogue liked hers. He looked delicious, lying down beneath her. Eyes dancing naughtily. Hair splayed out across his pillow. Delectable mouth being tugged with a smile.

Before she knew what she was doing, she ripped open his button down shirt. Buttons plopped on the floor. Remy's face was mix of shock and "Oh my god, I just hit the jackpot." Rogue tugged on the ruined shirt, urging him up. She tried to push the shirt from his shoulders.

Remy was the one to howl in pain this time.

She looked and saw a big, unsightly bruise that stretched from his shoulder to his upper arm. They both stared for a moment.

"We can leave it on."

"Yeah. Sure. It looks good like that."

His eyebrow rose. "Dose it, now?"

"Oh, yes," she purred.

He said something in French. She didn't hear or know what. It didn't matter. She focused on his hand sliding beneath her hair. Pulling her in for a kiss. She leaned down. He sat up.

In couple unison, they both swore. Loudly.



Rogue's pain was in her abdomen, from being tossed, punched, and kicked there multiple times. She had forgotten about that pain when Remy kissed her. But thinking back, she remembered how when she got dressed that morning, she struggled to bend down and pull on her boots.

And Remy? Apparently he had been kicked in the gut.

Several times.

No wonder any sort of movement involving their abdominal muscles sent them reeling in a not so good way.

Rogue sat back. Remy laid down. They stared. They stared some more.

Remy was the one to speak up.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah."

Careful, so not to bring any more harm to either one of them, Rogue rolled off of Remy. Reached to the bedside table and grabbed the remote control for the TV. He didn't get another shirt. She didn't put hers back on. They just curled up together and found some action movie to watch, with lots of explosions and car chases.

But on the inside, Rogue was mad. Steaming. Livid. Pissed.

Love was cool and all, but it didn't make the pain go away and it definitely didn't get Remy LeBeau out of his button down shirt.