SI DOUCE

XxFleurdelySxx

R/NC-17, Romy

A/U: “Si douce…” means “So soft...” in French. And cher isn’t a typo, it’s the masculine form for chère.

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He could feel it, like a dream becoming reality. Heat, running from the tips of his fingers and rushing at his heart and slowing down the rushing of blood to his head, and making the beating of his heart quicker.

He always knew she would have soft, down like skin. He couldn’t stop touching her, his fingers, his skin deliberately getting him drunk of her. Of her touch. Finally. His head spun at the smell of her lavender scented hair, brushing against his face as he bent down to kiss her again, tasting her raspberry lips on his. He closed his eyes, letting his senses drive him crazy, and letting him forget everything else than them.

His hands left her waist and reached up, cupping her face. His bare hands against her skin, her soft cheeks flushed with desire against his palms… He moaned, deepening the kiss, and she answered feverishly his call, her hands gripping the hem of his coat, pushing it over his shoulders. They wandered down to slip under his shirt, gently sliding along his flat stomach and chest, tickling him without knowing, light with inexperience. He groaned and gently pushed her, making her lie down on the soft velvet blankets.

Soft, but not as much as her skin.

As if it was meant to be attractive. To draw human skin to it, to better suck out life power and memory from the unlucky human who would dare touch her skin. But not him. Not now. She was harmless. Soft as a dove, warm like a burning coal. She was his.

He kissed her a little bit harder, gently biting her lip and letting his tongue exploring her mouth like he always dreamed to. He gently unbuttoned her white shirt, taking pleasure in taking his time, and in feeling her annoyance. Her hands drifted to her shirt, trying to undo it herself, but he put his hands on hers, stopping her, marvelling at their warmth. “Shh, chere… Let’s make dis slow.” She moaned, but her hands went back at his chest, running over it like light butterflies. Driving him crazy all over again each time they touched him, cold with nervousness.

His hands skilfully unclipped her bra and he discarded it on the floor, bending to her marvellous, white breasts. He cupped it with his two hands, his thumbs softly rubbing circles around the pink rings, making them stand up as she arched her back and ran her fingers through his dark cinnamon hair. He played with them, gently tasting and biting, as his hands went down, looking for the buckle of her belt. She pushed him away though, long enough to get a grip of his buttoned jeans and take them off. He motioned to lie on the bed next to her, but she sat up and put a hand on his chest. “Stay up, hun.” He smiled, his ruby on coal colored eyes burning with desire, and waited as she stood up, taking off his shirt, and got down on her knees in front of him, making his jeans and underwear drop in a puddle at his feet. Her hands made that butterfly move again, running along his thighs, moving behind and sliding on his buttocks, raising hairs wherever it passed. He took a deep intake of breath, trying not to loose control over himself, and ran his fingers in her hair, lifting the heavy mass of auburn and white hair. “Chere…” he breathed, his voice hoarse with desire. She looked up at him with a grin on her face, dark pools of emerald colored eyes smiling up at him.

“Shhh, cher…” she said, mimicking his accent. “Let meh do this fo’yah.” Her fingers found him in a manner of seconds, and he felt all the blood in his head leave it for southern destinations, making him sway and put a hand on the night table for support. When she used her tongue, it wasn’t long before his vision became black, and his fingers tightened on her hair, the muscles in his arms hard with concentration. Concentration on anything else than what was happening below. Think of cold. Think of winter wind, think of snow…

She let go of him and he pushed her back on the bed and bent to retrieve her pants, letting them fall on the cold floor. He kissed her, never getting tired of feeling her skin, so soft everywhere his lips encountered it, the gentle smell of apple soap filling his nose with sweetness, and his hands drifted up, finally finding her crotch, and gently caressed her as her fingers grabbed the velvet blankets under her. He soon took away his hand to use his tongue, and he almost stopped breathing, tasting her.

He felt her hands in his hair, pulling him, urging him up. He quickly wiped his mouth, but she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, her tongue dancing with his. Her taste mingled with his own in her mouth. It drove him crazy, and aroused him like nothing he ever known

She opened her legs, asking for him, and he slowly entered her, careful not to hurt her. He felt resistance and stopped as she bit her bottom lip. He waited, unmoving, as she breathed deeply. She opened her eyes to look into his, and nodded. “Go on, Remy, please.” He pushed a little further, careful not to rush her, and sighed deeply as he joined with her entirely. “Oh my, Remy…” He looked at her.

“I don’ want to hurt’y.” She smiled, her eyes still closed.

“Yah’re not hurting me, hun…” He smiled and bent down to kiss her eyelids.

It had never felt that good with anyone was the only thing he managed to think as she reached her climax, digging her nails in his back. He came a little bit later, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, hugging her hard against his chest as the waves of pleasure washed over him, drowning him. They stayed in that position a few moments before he caught his breath, and whispered in her ear.

“I love you.” He was surprised though, when she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. Her hands were as cold as ice, and the freezing feeling seeped through his pores, and froze his heart. Her eyes were cold, shinning with anger and loathing. He looked at her as she spat her words like a venomous snake.

“You’re honest with the ones you love, Gambit. Otherwise, it’s a gamble.” His chest squeezed and his throat tightened. Unable to breath, he chocked and coughed, closing his eyes.

He opened them again to find himself sitting in the snow under a dark grey sky, his jeans soaked and ice in his hair. He moaned as he coughed again, hugging his trench coat around him to try and protect himself against the hard Antarctica wind. He closed his eyes, trying to get the dream to come back and warm him up.

And maybe, who knows… just maybe…

…maybe the ending would be happy, next time.