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Rogue loves Times Square.
She knows it’s corny, and touristy, and overpriced, and she doesn’t care. The little girl from Caldecott County still inside her can’t help but be mesmerized by the lights, the buildings, the people, the noise. Strolling around with Remy’s arm slung over her shoulder and hers around his waist, just two tiny drops in an ocean of people, makes her feel almost normal.
The fact that Remy chooses to spend a summer day here with her among the sweltering concrete when she knows he’d rather be out on a long motorcycle ride through the country or swimming in the lake makes her insides feel warm and sugary as honey on a hot biscuit. Today, she’s placated him with a floppy slice of pizza and a soft-serve ice cream cone as she wanders in and out of shops selling used books and cheap jewelry and other trinkets.
The seedy Times Square of decades past is slowly being replaced by high-end hotels and shops and chain restaurants, but remnants can still be seen in the grimy storefronts with neon signs advertising 25-cent videos and adult toys. Rogue usually hurries past shops like those, too embarrassed to even acknowledge what might be happening inside despite burning with curiosity.
But lately, as she and Remy have gotten, ahem, closer, she’s been more apt to experiment, more curious about what she might like, and more willing to ask for it. Today, she feels bold enough to duck into one of the shops, a little hole in the wall called “Good Vibrations”, dragging a stunned Remy by the hand.
The bells hanging from the top of the door tinkle as it shuts behind them. Inside the store it’s blessedly cool and surprisingly bright, not at all the dim, gritty cave Rogue had been expecting. The Gin Blossoms float out of the speakers and an androgynous-looking person with purple hair and a nose ring hums along behind the counter.
“Hey, welcome!” The employee flashes them a bright smile when they walk in. “Can I help you find anything today?”
Remy glances down at Rogue, one eyebrow lifted and a sly little smile playing at the sides of his mouth. “Well, chère?”
She flushes and stammers something at the person behind the counter about just looking, then pulls Remy behind a shelf lined with colorful bottles labeled things like “UltraSlide” and “LoveSauce”. He just looks at her with an amused expression, waiting for her to pull herself back together.
Once her face returns to a normal shade of pink, he asks patiently, “So? What are we doin’ here?”
Rogue looks around at the bottles, the contraptions hanging from pegboards on the walls, anything except directly at him. “I just thought, maybe, there’s somethin’ in here that could help us. You know, since we can’t—since we ain’t like other couples.”
“No, we ain’t,” Remy concedes. “But we us, and I think we manage just fine. Do you like the things we do?” His voice lowers and vibrates straight through her.
“‘Course I do. But ain’t you frustrated, only bein’ able to do so much, always needin’ some kinda barrier between us? Hell, I get frustrated, and I don’t even really know what I’m missin’, so I can’t imagine that you don’t too.”
Remy places a finger under her chin and tips her face up, then takes her hands in his own. There is nothing but gentleness in his red-and-black eyes. “Rogue. Just to be clear, I ain’t missin’ nothin’. You just lookin’ my way was more than I ever expected. I don’t want you feelin’ like you need to do or be nothin’ else for me.”
She’s not sure how much she believes him, but just the fact that he’d try to reassure her so sincerely makes her feel better and helps relieve some of the embarrassment and doubt. “Okay, if you say so. But we can still have a look around, see what they got. It might be fun, tryin’ new things.” Now that Remy has told her he isn’t wanting for anything, she’s actually curious about what the store offers and if they can make use of any of it.
“I’ll try anyt’ing once,” he says with a wink, making the blood rush back to her cheeks.
They emerge from their hiding spot and wander around the store, hand in hand, pointing out funny names of products and trying to guess the uses for some of the more mysterious gizmos.
For Rogue, sex has only ever been something to fear, then something to weaponize to get what you want. But since meeting Remy, she’s beginning to learn that it can be so much more—a source of pleasure, connection, and most surprisingly, fun.
Just being in this store with him is fun, although she’s starting to doubt there’s much here that will actually be of use to them.
Remy is inspecting a little vibrating metallic oval when Rogue’s eyes drift up the back wall. Hanging just below the ceiling is a partial mannequin, belly button to upper thighs, wearing a contraption made of multiple straps, studs and hooks, with a metal ring just where the genitalia should be. She stares at it intently, trying to work out what its use could be, head tilted like a dog trying to figure out where that sound came from.
Remy notices her puzzling up at it and follows her eyes. “See somethin’ you like, chère?”
“I don’t know. What…is it?”
Remy chuckles and moves toward the shelves at the back of the store. He picks up a hot pink rubber dildo and turns it toward her, showing her the fluted circle at the base, and points up to the similarly-sized metal ring on the mannequin.
As her brain pieces it together, her eyes widen. “Oh,” she gasps, comprehending. “So that would be—”
“For you to wear,” he finishes.
“And it would go—”
“Inside me.”
Rogue’s brain feels like it’s cracking open, being exposed to a world she hadn’t even known existed. Images float through her mind that make her clothes feel hot and itchy.
“Well? What you think?” Remy asks after a minute.
“What do I think? You’d be the one…”
“Takin’ it?” He says with a laugh. “Like I said, I’ll try anything. Especially wit’ you.”
“You ever done anything,” she gestures vaguely below his waist, “like that?”
“You mean, I ever had anything up there?” Remy smiles, and it melts the tension in Rogue’s body just a bit. “The occasional finger. Didn’t mind it. But I’m into whateva you into, chère.”
Ultimately, Rogue decides it’s too much for today, but they do leave with the little vibrating oval, some warming massage oil and a few new ideas.
***
The next time Rogue returns to the store, she goes alone.
She’s been thinking about the harness and dildo (which she’s learned is called a “strap-on”) a lot over the past few weeks. Based on Remy’s responses to her doing some exploring with her fingers, his interest in experimenting is genuine too.
Remy's ass itself has also been on her mind. It's hard not to appreciate it, and she always has—round, high, the perfect ratio of muscle to flesh. But lately, her thoughts have strayed past appreciation toward full-on obsession. No way her teammates haven't caught her staring a little longer than normal when he’s in his uniform.
But the most intriguing part of it all is that it's so relatively low-risk—she could be fully clothed, no chance of accidentally hurting him with her powers. She hates that that's always in the back of her mind when being intimate with him, and the reason she's usually so reluctant to try new things, but that’s her reality.
This, though—with this she can leave her skin completely covered and still be inside him, a thought that unearths a want so intense that it feels like a backhand from a sentinel.
So here she is, back at Good Vibrations, both more and less anxious than the first time she stepped into the store. She’s not quite ready to ask for help yet, so she just goes to the back of the store where they’d looked at the harnesses before and studies them. Upon closer inspection, they’re really not that complicated, sort of like underwear made of leather straps instead of cloth.
“Something I can help you with?” A cheerful voice snaps Rogue out of her contemplation. The purple-haired employee they’d met before—their nametag reads “Lilac”—stands next to her with a patient expression.
“Um,” Rogue mumbles, before clearing her throat and standing up a little straighter, determined to be an adult about this. “Yes,” she says with more conviction, pointing up at the mannequin wearing the harness. “That.”
From there, it’s not unlike buying a pair of shoes—Lilac helps her find a harness that’s good for beginners, helps her step into it and adjust it, and suggests a couple of dildos that could work. There’s only one moment of awkwardness when Lilac shows her a blue dildo and Rogue shouts “NOT BLUE” with such force that the employee winces. Blue just reminds her of too many people in her life that she does NOT want to think about in the bedroom. Rogue apologizes sheepishly before deciding on a hot pink one that’s slightly smaller than a real cock, which Lilac ensures will work just fine for a first time.
Rogue is amazed by the matter-of-fact way Lilac is able to talk about this with a stranger and wishes she could absorb a little of that confidence for talking about it with Remy. Lilac sends her off with an informational booklet called “Bend Over, Boyfriend” and a bottle of lube along with the strap-on. Rogue leaves the shop buzzing, excitement and nerves battling each other in her stomach.
Alas, it’s not to be for a while—first Rogue gets called out on a mission, then Remy does, and a brush of gloved hands as they pass in the hall is the most physical contact they get for a few weeks. So the strap-on sits untouched in the Good Vibrations bag in the corner of her closet, but she reads and rereads the booklet so many times the cover is practically falling off by the time Remy comes home.
***
Rogue stands in the middle of her room, wringing her hands. It’s the first night she and Remy are both home with no other obligations, so she’d taken the opportunity this morning to slip him the booklet and whisper, “tonight?” into his ear. He’d looked at it for a second, then raised an eyebrow and smiled that smile at her that always makes her legs turn to jelly. “I’ll be ready, chère,” he’d practically purred at her.
She’s imagined this so much, but now that the moment is here, she can't stop thinking about all the ways it could go wrong—what if he doesn’t like it, what if it hurts, what if something happens with her powers and she—
Before her mind can spin any more nightmare scenarios, there’s a soft knock on the door, followed by Remy slipping inside with his thief’s grace. He’s fresh from the shower, as evidenced by his still-damp hair and the scent of the piney soap he uses. He looks so vulnerable like this, out of his Gambit uniform, no duster, no headsock, just Remy in his threadbare t-shirt and Xavier’s sweats.
She's about to tell him she's changed her mind, they don't have to do this, they can just watch a movie instead—but then he stalks toward her, red eyes roiling, stops an inch away and growls, “How do you want me?”
He knows exactly what he’s doing, looking down at her with those hooded eyes, using that voice, the one that sends liquid heat shooting through her veins.
It makes her want to take him apart.
With a seductive smile, Rogue lifts the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head, then tugs at the waistband of his pants.
“Gettin’ right into it, I see?” he says eagerly, shoving his pants the rest of the way down and starting on his underwear.
“Easy, tiger,” she says with a chuckle, stilling his hand. “The book said the most important thing is that you’re relaxed, so I was thinkin’ a massage first?” She motions to the bed, over which she’s laid a few towels, and there’s a bottle of warming massage oil and a box of gloves on the nightstand. She flips off the overhead light as he gets settled on the bed, leaving only the ambient glow from the bedside lamp she’s thrown a scarf over. It does look pretty romantic, she must admit.
Louche is the word that pops into her head when she turns back toward the bed. Remy is lounging on his side, propped up on his elbow, one leg bent to draw attention to the scrap of black fabric he calls boxer briefs. His skin glows golden in the low light, his muscles well-defined after today’s grueling Danger Room session. As much as Rogue wants to jump on him right now and ride him senseless, she does have a plan she needs to stick to.
“On your stomach, swamp rat,” she says with a smirk, her voice already gone low and breathy as she walks back to the bed. Tonight she’s worn her closest-fitting leggings and long-sleeved shirt, and she removes her everyday leather gloves to replace them with the ultra-thin latex ones she’d found at a medical supply store a while back.
Kneeling on the bed, she straddles Remy, settling her weight just above his ass. He immediately reaches back to rest his hands on her thighs, his normal handsiness even more heightened in this intimate environment. The same feeling takes hold of Rogue—with the broad expanse of his muscular back stretching out before her, she can’t wait another moment to touch him.
She squirts some of the massage oil onto her hands and starts with long sweeps from his lower back to his shoulders with light pressure, the heat of the oil and his skin seeping through the gloves. He lets out a series of increasingly obscene moans when she applies more pressure with the heels of her hands, circling her thumbs on particularly knotty areas. Just touching him like this, sitting on top of him with her hands all over his back, feels both indulgent and exciting, heat and power surging through her.
After a little while, Remy stops making any noise at all, and she’s worried she may have relaxed him a little too much.
“Sugah?” she asks quietly.
“Hmmmmmmm?”
“You okay?”
“Mmmmmmmmhm.” Remy’s fingers tighten on her thighs, and his hips wiggle underneath her—he must be just as turned on as she is.
Rogue takes the opportunity to slip her fingers under the waistband of his underwear. Remy lifts his hips immediately to assist in her sliding them down and off. She takes a second to appreciate the view of him completely naked and spread out before her like a buffet, his beauty making her breath catch in her chest. His ass is a few shades paler than his back, soft when relaxed, with a dusting of hair. She could sink her teeth into it.
Squirting more massage oil into her hand, she starts at his lower back again, moving down instead of up. Gradually, she begins kneading the flesh of his ass, moving her thumbs slowly toward the center.
She replaces the massage oil with the bottle of lube and trickles it at the top of his crack, spreading it down and between his cheeks with her finger.
“Still good?”
“Oui,” he murmurs, his hips now moving in a slow rhythm, his fists gripping the sheets next to him.
Rogue‘s heart pounds as she slides her finger down, pressing lightly on his hole, then with a little more pressure. She caresses his hip with her other hand in an attempt to keep him relaxed. The tip of her index finger slips inside him, and he lets out a sound between a gasp and a moan. Rogue freezes, about to ask if he’s in pain, but it’s not necessary—Remy pushes his hips backward, sliding her finger deeper.
“Be patient, sugah,” she murmurs, lightly rubbing his back. Rich of her to say that—his eagerness is getting her so wet she’s practically soaked through her leggings.
One finger fully inside him, she pauses to let him adjust before moving it in and out slowly. He’s so tight. She adds more lube and pushes in deeper. When her finger brushes against a rough spot inside him, his body jolts and he whimpers.
“You good?” Rogue sweeps her hand up and down the sheen of sweat building along his spine.
“C'est bon,” Remy pants. “Do it again.”
He’s tight around her as she slides her finger in and out, brushing against that spot and relishing the filthy sounds it produces. If this is even half of what putting a dick inside someone feels like, it’s no wonder most men will put theirs in anything that moves.
“I’m gonna put another one in, okay?” she asks softly, and waits for his confirmation before adding more lube and slipping her middle finger in. This one is easier, and Remy moans breathily, rutting his hips in time with the movement of her fingers.
“Doin’ so good for me, Dark Eyes.” She continues to provide words of encouragement and soothing touches as she stretches him open, adding another finger, then another, until her hand is sunk into him up to the third knuckle. He’s up on his knees now, ass in the air, face buried in the pillow, hands splayed on the headboard and pushing back onto her like a cat in heat. She’s never seen him like this, so unrestrained, so undone, and all she wants is to see how much more she can wreck him.
When his hips start stuttering and his moans take on a familiar cadence, Rogue slows her movements and bends over Remy’s back to whisper in his ear. “Are you ready, sugah?”
“Yes, chére,” he breathes, then hisses when Rogue slowly removes her hand. She gets up from the bed to change her gloves and retrieve the strap-on from the nightstand. Even though she’s practiced putting it on several times, her shaky hands and pounding heart make it a little more difficult. She fumbles with the straps for a minute before Remy sits up and reaches over to assist, his dexterous fingers making easy work of the clasps and buckles. She should feel ridiculous standing in front of him, fully clothed with a hot pink dildo hanging between her legs. But the pure lust in his red-and-black eyes as he looks her over burns away any lingering uncertainty and leaves only hot tingles of desire in its place.
Standing next to the bed, she squirts more lube onto the dildo and starts to move her hand up and down. Remy watches her hungrily, then grabs her wrist and removes her hand, replacing it with his own. “Let me.”
She can almost feel his hand on her—her cock—stroking her, getting her ready for him. Her hips begin moving of their own accord, thrusting into his hand. She could come just like this, her fingers gripping his shoulders, watching him slide his hand up and down. But first—
“I wanna fuck you.” The vulgarity coming out of her own mouth shocks her, and she might be embarrassed if Remy hadn’t let out a low groan, his pupils dilating even more until only a thin red ring remains.
After applying more lube to the cock, she moves to kneel on the bed and expects Remy to return to his previous position on his knees. Instead, he turns over onto his back, throwing his legs above his head. “I wanna see you,” he growls, and her knees almost buckle.
Rogue has always appreciated his flexibility, but this takes it to another level. He’s practically folded in half, presenting himself to her, cock red and hard against his stomach. His face is flushed, eyes hooded, chest heaving. What a beautiful sight he is. The long, sharp lines of his body. The ripple of muscle, the flex of his veins. An image pops into her head of him bound just like this, his wrists tied to his ankles—but that’ll have to wait for another time.
She moves into position between his legs. The angle is a little different this way, and she has to lean farther forward, letting her hair fall over him. With one hand next to his head and the other on her cock, she positions it at his entrance and pauses.
“Remy,” she says, making sure he’s looking right in her eyes. “You ready, sugah?”
He nods.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, chère,” he answers, softly yet firmly, squirming underneath her.
Rogue pushes forward slowly, so slowly, easing the tip inside him. Remy exhales and flinches slightly. She pauses and sweeps a soothing hand up and down his thigh.
“Stay relaxed, darlin’,” she coos.
Remy nods, taking a deep breath in. “What you waitin’ for, femme?” he says, his signature sly smile returning. “Go on.”
She complies, moving her hips forward inch by inch, alternating between watching the cock disappear inside him and watching his face. She’s never seen anything more astonishing.
They both moan when she bottoms out, her hips flush with his ass, cock fully inside him. Remy’s hands move in a frenzy, roaming from her ass to her waist to her arms before settling on her hips, fingers resting on the harness.
“Is that good?”
“Oui.” His head tips back, eyes closed. “More.”
The undisguised need in his voice is like a bolt of white-hot lightning shooting through Rogue’s body.
She begins with shallow little motions at first, rolling her hips, imagining how she’d want him to move if their positions were reversed. When the cock starts sliding easier, she pulls out farther, pushes in harder. His broken little moans and whimpers and wails become louder, more uncontrolled. It’s a struggle to concentrate on her movements when she’s so turned on she’s practically vibrating.
When she thrusts in and rolls her hips simultaneously, he cries out, so she does it again, then again. Her hands find the backs of his thighs, her weight pushing his legs farther apart. God bless this man’s agility.
Finding a rhythm, she moves faster, thrusts harder.
Takes him, fills him, makes him hers.
Remy writhes under her, face flushed and dripping sweat, hands clutching the sheets beside him. This usually smooth, debonair, unflustered man, reduced to a whining, babbling mess underneath her. Not even defeating the strongest villain has ever made her feel this much power.
She’s throbbing almost painfully now, inner walls clenching around nothing, desperate for her own release. The strap of the harness rubs against her clit with every thrust, but not right where she needs it, driving her to the brink of insanity. She can’t stop, though, not when Remy’s moans are becoming more high-pitched, needier, signaling his coming orgasm.
“Rogue, please,” he begs. He could just touch himself, but she knows what he wants. He wants her.
“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Rogue’s face flushes despite being inside him, still not entirely comfortable with any level of dirty talk.
Remy nearly sobs when Rogue reaches down and wraps a gloved hand around his cock, which has been leaking a steady stream of clear liquid. Timing the strokes of her hand with her thrusts, she pumps once, twice, and then his cock pulses in her hand and Remy comes with a breathless cry. He spills forcefully all over his belly, his chest, all the way up to his chin. His body arches off the bed and trembles violently. She’s never seen him come like this. It’s intoxicating.
She strokes him until his moans become hushed sighs, his body relaxes and his cock softens in her hand.
“So good, sugah.” She strokes Remy’s face and hair with her clean hand, then pulls out slowly, making him whine. His body slackens and his legs fall to the bed. His eyes are glazed over, face soft and relaxed. It’s an expression Rogue won’t soon be forgetting.
She hurriedly steps out of the harness and back onto the bed, straddling Remy this time. Even in his fucked-out daze, he still knows exactly what she needs. He reaches between her thighs, rubbing over her leggings at the right spot, with the right pressure, the right rhythm, until wave after wave of pleasure and relief break over her.
She collapses onto the bed next to Remy and he curls into her side like a barnacle, throwing an arm and a leg over her and resting his head on her chest. He’s limp and heavy, face soft as he gazes up at her. She likes that charming thief persona he presents to the world, but this is the man she’s falling in love with.
“How you feel?” she asks as she sweeps her hand up and down his back.
“Spent,” he laughs softly. “In a good way. Might be walkin’ funny tomorrow, though.”
A little rush of pride, knowing it would be because of her.
“So you liked it?”
“Oui. More than liked it. Oughta do it again sometime.”
“You sure your delicate constitution can handle that?” she asks teasingly.
Remy sits up, feigning offense. “Oh, dat sounds like a challenge. And you know Remy never backs away from a challenge.”
“Whatever you say, swamp rat.” Rogue rolls her eyes but can’t disguise the fondness in her voice. “Hey, we got Saturday off. What you say ‘bout makin’ another trip to that store in Times Square? I was thinkin’ we could pick up some rope.”
Remy’s eyebrows fly up, then he grins and pulls Rogue on top of him.
Rogue loves Times Square, but she might just love this man even more.