Disclaimer: If I owned anything related to X-Men, I wouldn't just be writing fan fiction.
30 Days of Multi-Fandom Fanfiction Challenge Day Six
Write a short fanfiction that features a male and female character.
She runs her finger along the cell phone she took from him, weighing it in her hand, the metal smooth beneath her fingertips. She can see him in her mind; his plans for tonight were simple. He would go out and drink, just enough to feel good, to attract some pretty little woman that looked something like her, and then he would take her to a motel, not someplace so nice as where he took Rogue when they got together, but somewhere safe, private, and dark. He would guide her down the hall, his hands on her waist, her neck, her breasts.
He wants to fuck her.
If he has followed those plans, he should be in his club of choice by now and sipping a rum and coke.
Making her move, she dials his number.
She can picture it perfectly, the brief moment of confusion. The woman he's entertaining won't notice anything wrong as he slides her phone from his pocket and answers it, "Rogue."
No endearing remark this time. He's still angry, but she can hear it in his voice, the raw lust he's been trying to rub off onto some other woman.
"Ah think you have something that belongs to me."
"Ah have something that belongs to you, too."
"I see. And y' wanted to talk about hostage negotiations."
"Where you want t' meet?" he asks begrudgingly, and she licks her lips, spreading some moisture over them and purring.
"My room?" She asks.
"Don't think that's the best idea right now, Chere."
"Can't go anywhere else right now, wouldn't be right."
"I'm not decent."
"Got your PJs on this early? Logan reinforcin' those old rules from when you were a student?"
She chuckles nervously, and trying to pass it off for sexiness answers, "I'm naked actually."
He chokes on his drink, and she hears the bimbo on the other end asking him what's wrong. He shushes her and asks, "Oh?"
"No. Ah mean, this big coat you left here covers near everything if I hold it closed, but I supposed you want it back too."
"Such a shame, the material feels so nice against my skin. All rough and hot."
She can hear rustling in the background, a whiny voice asking him why he's leaving without her and then the music fades into the distance and she can picture him, alone in the darkness of the alley beside the club, his warm breath visible in the cold air. She pulls his coat tighter against her and runs her hand up and down her exposed midriff.
"What are you doin' chere?" His voice is pleading, and she isn't sure what he's asking her. Is she pleasuring herself while imagining his touch? Is she trying to lure him back, promise something she is physically incapable of giving him? Is she teasing him, testing him? Does she want him, or does she just want him to be as far from other women as possible?
"Where?" His mind is racing, and she decides to let him imagine it himself.
"Where do you think?"
"Where do you think I should be touching?"
"Your lips," he's trying to avoid it, avoid sullying her, and she isn't going to let him get away with it any longer.
"Where should I touch myself Gambit?"
He moans his answer.
"I didn't catch that Gambit. Where are you touching yourself?"
"Your pussy, goddammit."
She runs her fingers along her outer folds and murmurs his name.
"Inside of you."
She grinds herself against her fingers.
The noise she makes is completely unexpected, but he doesn't seem to mind. She hears him swear, "Fuck."
"You know, I kind of like this phone." she whispers. She can still hear the rustling of his clothes, but it is now accompanied by the sounds of his footsteps. "I wonder what it's like on vibrate."
"Fuck," he repeats as his motorcycle roars to life and she hangs up.