[gambit x nightcrawler; nc-17] Hot Summer Night Title: Hot Summer Night Author:emilie_burns Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Remy LeBeau (Gambit) x Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) Rating: NC-17 Wordcount: 4506 Warnings: None. Disclaimer: Gambit, Nightcrawler, and all other known characters herein are the intellectual property of Marvel, Inc., and used without permission for personal entertainment only. Notes: I don't believe in seme/uke stereotypes. I also haven't touched anything Marvel in nigh on eight years, so my canon points of reference are from the '90s era. Kurt is not fuzzy. I'm also not touching Gambit's accent. A smattering of French, but otherwise written without need of a phonetic translator and he does not speak of himself in the third person every damn sentence. (wtfmarvellol) I thought I'd never go back to writing Marvel, and don't expect this to be a revival here. It's a giftfic for Eden (Wajas #514). ♥ I hope you enjoy it, dear. ^_^ And thank you for the divine and for helping give motivation to break a long, dry, writingless spell. Summary:Kurt tensed against him in surprise as Gambit closed the distance in a blink, capturing the other man's face in his hands, and his lips with his own. The return was hesitant, uncertain, as if he was still making up his mind what he thought of the experience.
Hot Summer Night
"It was a hot summer night And the beach was burning, There was a fog crawling over the sand." - Meat Loaf
To the average passerby, the dive was nondescript, nothing to set it apart from the multitude of others in the lower-class neighborhoods of Montego Bay. The same booze and beer, the same hypnotic reggae beat by the same small local band, the same smells of liquor and various other things best left unidentified, the same scarred tabletops and battered chairs. The chatter was the same; the musical lilt of Jamaican dialect peppered with English. Nothing to warrant a second look.
Even the two American men seated across from each other in a far corner booth were remarkably ordinary. The taller of the two men kept an eye on the doorway through a tinted pair of round glasses made famous by Lennon, and sported a rough day's growth of stubble on his chin. Every now and then, he took a sip of the glass of rum in front of him, and his gaze wandered to the other occupants of the tavern. His partner appeared smaller, of a lighter build, and fine light brown hair long enough to get in his eyes, which almost never left the half-empty bottle of beer he rolled between his palms in a lazy, bored fashion.
Everything looked ordinary, commonplace and status quo, and in that neighborhood, everyone was happy to mind their own business and leave others to theirs. Only the truly remarkable and out of place happenings would garner even a bit of attention, and there was nothing of the sort there.
Appearances were deceiving.
The rum was getting close to empty, and he debated ordering another. In truth, Remy LeBeau could have easily put away several more glasses in the time it took him to reach the bottom of that, but he didn't really care to deal with Cyke bitching at him if the call came in and he was a bit on the tipsy side.
Fuck it. He signaled for another glass and picked up his pack of Marlboros, shaking one out and lighting it. Cyclops could pull the broomstick out of his ass and deal. Besides, if they'd spent much longer there and still on their first drinks, the bartender would either get suspicious or throw them out, which wouldn't make the leader of the X-Men happy either. With that as justification, it was his obligation to have another glass of rum.
Life was full of hardships. Really.
He looked across the table at his partner, and no matter if he knew the truth, no matter how often he saw that face, it still gave him a jolt. Kurt looked so... ordinary. It was hard to reconcile that pale, guileless, and completely normal face of illusion generated by an image inducer with the reality. The sooner they got out of there and the sooner he could ditch that inducer, the better. But it was unavoidable; a blue-skinned demon-like mutant like Nightcrawler would be a little too much into the realm of unusual for people to overlook and forget them.
Gambit dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin of local currency, and passed it over his fingers with practiced ease before using his thumb to flick it high into the air on an arc toward Kurt, spinning rapidly. "Quick hands, homme," he said, his tone casual, almost as if the warning were an afterthought.
Kurt's reflexes kicked in before the other man put any thought into it, and he grabbed the coin out of the air. "What is this for?"
"Penny for your thoughts."
"Here I believed this to be a twenty-five cent coin," Kurt mused, looking it over.
That drew a soft chuckle out of him. "A figure of speech was never so apt, ja?"
Gambit grinned. "Oui."
Kurt shrugged and slid the coin back across the table toward him. "Nothing in particular, just... waiting. Why?"
"I'm bored. Amusez-moi."
Now he smirked, and shook his head slightly. "If what I know of your preference of entertainment is to believed, I'm afraid you've been assigned the wrong partner." He paused. "And the wrong gender."
"Oh, my dear naive friend."
The smirk disappeared as Kurt arched a questioning eyebrow. "I thought you were interested in women."
"Oui, oui. Most definitely. The femmes, nothing can compare to the soft curves, sweet lips, juicy--"
"I get the point!"
Damn. A shame image inducers didn't factor in blushes. Kurt's natural form was a great disguise against it too. Otherwise, Gambit would have been willing to place a bet that the other man's face turned vivid red.
"So you know how it is, oui?" Gambit couldn't resist giving him a wicked grin. Kurt merely coughed and took the longest swallow of that beer that Gambit had seen him take since they arrived.
"Are you amused enough yet?" Kurt asked, his tone exasperated.
"Non." Gambit grinned wider.
"Return the coin to me."
Gambit shoved it back to him. "Why?"
Kurt picked it up and threw it back. "I needed something to throw at you besides this bottle."
Gambit laughed, and picked up the new glass of rum that the waiter brought over. "But mon ami, you look too adorable when you get flustered."
Kurt's reply was a long-suffering stare.
This was definitely entertaining. "But while I do prefer the femmes, there's a certain... je ne sais quoi about the hommes too."
"It cannot be the supple curves," Kurt replied, his tone dry.
"Non, but there is something to be said for toned muscles..." Gambit paused, watching as Kurt lifted his beer bottle again. Tsk. Didn't the man know any better? "And a hard dick."
Score. Nightcrawler choked and spluttered on the amber liquid, and shot him another one of those fun long-suffering stares. "You, my friend, are far too long overdue for a trip to a confessional."
"You're right, mon ami." Gambit took a long sip of the rum, not taking his eyes off Kurt as the beginnings of an idea began to form. Well, so far, the mission was boring, and if it panned out, 'entertaining' would certainly be a way to describe it.
Then his comm buzzed silently. He briefly entertained the thought of sneaking a charged card behind Scott's latrine for his timing as he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it on. "Oui?"
"Remy, ya don't need to answer th' phone like it's a cow pattie yer wantin' to scrape off the bottom'a yer boot," Rogue drawled.
"Oh, it's you, mon belle. A thousand pardons, I thought it would be our noble leader."
"Scott's not that bad." Rogue paused. "Usually."
Across the table, Kurt waved.
"Your brother says hello and passes along his love, while I am eternally grateful for your gracing us with your lovely presence and bringing a bit of delight to a long and--"
"Stuff it, Remy. Does that crap ever work on anybody?"
He laughed. "You'd be surprised, cheri."
"Ah just bet Ah would," she retorted. "And yer not gonna be so cozy when Ah tell ya why Ah called."
He sighed, already not liking the sound of that. "Oui?"
"We tapped into a call and found out th' meetin' ain't takin' place 'til tomorrow."
"So, another night here, then, and we repeat this?" Gambit looked up at the ceiling. "Tell Scott he owes us."
"Hey, Cyke!" Gambit could just make out Rogue's voice over the comm. "Remy said ya owe them one." There was a pause, then her voice was clearer again. "He jes' rolled his eyes at ya."
"I don't suppose I could convince you to come keep us company?" Gambit asked while Kurt went to pay for the tab.
"We can't draw too much attention to us, ya know that. If they get wind we're here and trackin' the sales, they're gonna disappear again."
"No one would think anything of a lovely lady in fishnets, a miniskirt, a too-small halter top--"
"Dream on, Remy."
"Believe me, cheri, I am."
"Ya make me jes' tired all over sometimes."
"Only sometimes? I must be losing my touch. But alas, we're ready to leave. I'm going to have to hang up, and deprive myself of--" He looked at the comm as a steady buzz informed him she disconnected, and grinned. Fun times.
The time for banter was over as he joined Kurt at the door, and they both kept alert for trouble and stayed silent as they walked down the humid street, the late afternoon sunlight overwhelming in its intensity. The seedy motel where they'd booked double rooms was a perfect match to the tavern they'd just left. Gambit watched Kurt disappear into his own room, adjoining to Gambit's, and grinned.
There was still plenty of opportunity for entertainment.
He tossed his cigarettes and sunglasses on the scuffed dresser, and pulled a couple decks of playing cards out of his pocket before removing his boots. As an afterthought, he retrieved a small bottle from his bag and slipped it in his jeans before knocking on the adjoining door.
"Ja?" The door opened and Gambit was greeted with the far more familiar blue face.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been too long since my last confession." He couldn't keep the grin off his face.
Kurt looked heavenward as if praying for divine patience. "I am no longer ordained, Gambit, you know that."
"Oui." He struggled to look properly contrite. "But what other priest could I safely confess to, mon ami?"
"The innocent look does not work on you."
"Really? Damn."
"Sorry." Kurt smiled, amused.
"Will you still hear my confession anyway?" he asked, taking a step into Kurt's personal space, grinning wider.
The smile slipped off his lips, faltering in wide-eyed flustered look as he took a step back. "Ah, what would... well... this--"
Gambit stepped into his room. "You seemed curious back in the bar."
"Well, it was just that it wasn't part of how I thought of you."
"You think of me? I'm touched."
The flustered look evaporated into that tired stare. "You know what I meant."
"Oui." He grinned.
From Kurt's body language, he seemed to roll his eyes, but it was hard to tell with the solid yellow. "So I suppose you've come in here to seduce me?"
"We have all night to kill, and unless you'd rather spend it bar-hopping and drinking..."
Kurt stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head as he chuckled. "You, my friend, are a true piece of work."
"That's also not a no." Gambit stepped closer, watching Kurt's expression, his body language. As fun as the idea seemed, he wasn't really inclined to wreck a friendship with a teammate over a tryst.
"I do love Amanda."
"Still not a no. And I'm not proposing that we run away to Jamaica together and open a tiki bar and get married. We're already in Jamaica, and you don't know the first thing about running a tiki bar. And marriage, not for me."
"A one-night stand, then?" His tone sounded more amused than insulted.
"Only the French can make 'friends with benefits' sound elegant."
"A loving friendship, but oui."
A silence settled over the room then as the immediate conversation tapered off. Kurt still appeared indecisive, and Gambit was amused at the subconscious way the tip of his prehensile tail flicked to and fro like an agitated cat's. He decided the other man had made up his mind as far as anyone could without more input, and since he hadn't said or even really implied a no...
Kurt tensed against him in surprise as Gambit closed the distance in a blink, capturing the other man's face in his hands, and his lips with his own. The return was hesitant, uncertain, as if he was still making up his mind what he thought of the experience.
To help along his indecision into more favorable zones, Gambit ran his fingers down Kurt's spine, tracing the curve of it to the base of his tale and grinned into the kiss when he felt rather than heard as the other man sucked in a quick gasp. His nimble fingers followed the curve of his hipbone through the skintight spandex, and pressed against him, Gambit could detect a noticeable sign of the other man's interest.
"Oui?" he whispered, and deliberately stroked his fingertips between them, against the change in Kurt's spandex, causing the blue mutant to choke on a gasp, and mutely, he nodded, a mere shaky jerk of his head.
Gambit grinned. "You won't regret this, mon ami," he whispered, punctuating it with a light nip to the lobe of Kurt's tapered ear.
Strong fingers dug into his shoulders in response, and Gambit could feel the pulse jump, then skip, then take off double-time under his lips, under the heated skin. He slid a hand to Kurt's lower back, keeping their hips pressed together, teasing him with the friction through Kurt's spandex, through the faded civilian jeans Gambit still wore. As he teased his fingertips around the base of Kurt's tail, it elicited a favorable response. Kurt turned his head to meet Gambit's lips again as his hips jerked forward, pressing harder against him.
There was an old saying that getting there was half the fun. While typically applied to travel, it could just as easily be applied to sex as far as Gambit was concerned. Quickies had their place, but not when prehensile tails were involved. There was too much potential fun to be had there.
Besides, Kurt seemed to like the friction as Gambit pressed his hips harder against him and gyrated slightly. Liked it quite a bit, in fact, if what he was feeling poking against him through the spandex was any indication. The other man might not have been a priest any longer, but as far as Gambit knew, he sure seemed to live like one. A bit of teasing to knock off the edge wouldn't hurt anybody.
But as fun as the frottage was, even if he did have a fairly decent turn-around time for a man his age, he wasn't an energizer bunny. Kurt could stand a bit of play before they got into anything heavier, and if he was wrong in his estimation about the other man being able to keep up with him, well, there was always the old standby if he wasn't finished by then.
Gambit slipped a hand between them, and practiced fingers traced the hard outline through the spandex, stroking and teasing, and Kurt gasped, his hips jerking forward in a thrust as he closed his hand partially around it in a light squeeze. A frustrated noise was caught in Kurt's throat as he pulled his hand away, and Gambit grinned. "The fun is just beginning, mon ami," he assured him as he began to pull off Kurt's spandex.
The other man shuddered and tugged at Gambit's civilian t-shirt, trying to pull it up while shrugging his shoulders out of the uniform he wore. Gambit obliged him, shedding the cotton before pushing the spandex down past Kurt's hips, and followed the progress with his hands as he lowered himself to his knees.
Kurt's yellow eyes widened in shock and realization before Gambit even had a chance to close his lips over his now-exposed cock. The solid, velvety indigo skin tasted salty, and felt burning warm against his tongue. He really didn't understand why some women seemed to dislike the act; he liked it just fine, and not just as the receiver. There was something to be said for the control it gave, using his tongue and lips to reduce his partner to a trembling jangle of hormones and nerves barely able to keep his knees from giving out, as Kurt was now.
Gambit slid more of the other man's cock into his mouth and began to suck lightly -- on air and a taste of sulfur. Startled, he fell back on his ass and blinked, looking across the room where Kurt sat on the bed, equally surprised and just as sheepish.
"Uh, reflex."
"You bamf into bed whenever someone goes down on you, homme?" he asked, amused. That feeling increased when Kurt shut his eyes with a flustered expression.
"No, my knees were starting to give out," he gritted around clenched teeth.
Gambit laughed outright at that. "Sex with mutants is always interesting," he said as he shifted position to launch himself at the bed and pin the smaller man.
Or at least attempt to. He landed on his stomach with nothing under him but the bedspread, and Kurt reappeared on his back. "You were saying?" he asked, and Gambit twisted his neck around to see his amused, fangy grin.
With hands spread in mock surrender, he shrugged. "You've proved my point." Immediately and without warning, he twisted on the mattress to throw Kurt off, and that time succeeded in pinning him down on his back. Kurt's cock was buried in his mouth barely seconds later, drawing a startled groan of pleasure from him as he arched his back off the bed. In their new position, it was even easier to lavish attention on him, using his hand in tandem with his mouth, licking and sucking with an intensity that gave Kurt no chance to breathe, to think, pushing him higher to the edge at a rapid pace.
Just when Kurt seemed to reach a plateau of pleasure and stimulation not quite to the level where Gambit was trying to take him, Gambit slid his saliva-and-precome-slick hand between Kurt's legs, and gently probed his fingertips against the other man's puckered opening. He felt the powerful shudder of climax build low in Kurt's groin, where it quickly snapped and sent trembling shockwaves through him.
Although he cried out as he came, Kurt was too winded for the sound to have much force or volume behind it, and sharp fingernails tore into the bedspread, gathering the fabric into his fists. Gambit used his weight to keep his hips from bucking too much as he continued to suck at him through the orgasm, keeping up the stimulation to prevent a crash from the heat of the moment, to keep his cock at the ready.
Kurt was flushed; for the first time, Gambit could see telltale signs of it as he sat back, the way his face had gone from indigo to something more akin to black, and his breathing was harsh and ragged.
"You like that, oui?" He couldn't keep the grin off his face.
"I don't-- that-- I--" Kurt wasn't coherent yet. Gambit grinned wider. "You don't have to look so smug." Coherency had returned.
"Gambit isn't smug, mon ami. Gambit is just proud of a job well-done." That earned him getting hit with an airborne rectangular lump the third-rate motel tried to pass off for a pillow, and he knocked it aside, laughing as he got to feet. It was utter bliss when he unzipped the jeans and released the now painfully-tight constraints of the fabric to shed them.
Kurt watched him, a mixture of arousal, fascination, and a bit of nervous fear playing over his expression. "Ahh... now what? Do I... do the same to you?"
"Only if you want to, homme," Gambit answered. "If not, I had something else in mind." With his foot, he lifted his jeans off the floor high enough to grab them, and retrieve the bottle. Kurt's expression became noticeably more nervous as he began to add up the math. "Relax, mon ami," he said, and grinned a bit as he crawled onto the bed. "I think you'll like what I have in mind."
Before the other man could protest, he'd snapped open the bottle and with his hand, began to stroke Kurt's still-erect cock, coating it with lubricant. "I said, lie back. Let me do all the work."
"I, ah, while I'd admit I'm... hardly as practiced in this as you are, um... aren't you putting that in the wrong place?"
"Non. Gambit puts it exactly where he wants it." He drew his hand back and squirted a generous amount onto his palm before closing the lid and tossing it aside, and slipped his hand between his legs.
His partner seemed torn between wanting to watch, and averting his eyes in awkward embarrassment. "Are you... uh... wha... is tha- this... are you... is it even possible like this?"
He grinned. "Oui. It takes a certain degree of flexibility, but flexibility is something we both have, hm?"
Kurt cleared his throat. "I, ah, I suppose so..."
If he'd been about to stammer over anything else, it died out and faded away as Gambit moved over him, kneeling, straddling Kurt's hips. With practiced balance and control, he reached behind and stroked Kurt's cock with his fingertips a few moments longer before guiding it to the entrance. Kurt was barely breathing, staring up at him with wide eyes.
Gambit carefully eased himself down, little by little, and grinned at the feel of the shudders rippling through the other man, matching his own. Once Kurt was completely buried in him and his body felt sufficiently adjusted, Gambit began to move. A strangled cry caught in Kurt's throat, and Gambit felt his nerves shatter and spark in pleasure as Kurt bucked his hips up, the uncontrolled motion a very fun reflex. He kept the pace steady and slow, enjoying the slow build of roiling fire deep in his belly and tightening balls, the way it felt like his nerves tangled and caught fire and evaporated along his spine only to reform again.
Kurt's eyes lost a bit of that glassy, dazed look as the shock of the new experience and sensations faded, and the uncontrolled bucking of his hips was replaced with a more regular rhythm. Gambit closed his eyes and let his head fall back, basking in the feel, the tight fullness that made his balls feel heavy and his cock throb in near-unison to the thrusts. He gasped in pleasure and looked down at his partner as Kurt moved his hands, heated and strong, over his thighs and raked his sharp talons over sweat-slicked flesh, leaving faint red furrows that would fade in less than a day.
It was Kurt's turn to grin, albeit a shaky, breathless one. "You like that, oui?" he said, echoing Gambit's earlier query in light mockery.
Gambit replied by gyrating his hips a bit as he thrust down, causing Kurt to gasp, and quite possibly his eyes to cross as well, though that was just speculation on his part. "Don't do that, homme," he grumbled. "Your accent is atrocious to my language."
"Ja, little lost love exists between Germany and France, so small wonder."
"And yet here we are... hmm..." Gambit closed his eyes and shifted his hips again with another thrust. "Fucking for world peace. I can get behind that."
Kurt laughed. "Behind or on top, I believe you have it covered either way." Gambit groaned as he underscored his words with a thrust, his hands tightening on Gambit's thighs.
He'd only just closed his eyes to get lost in the pleasurable feel of his nerves coiling and shattering and melting over and over, building just a little higher each time than before when they snapped open in shock at the feel of something wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke it.
Breathless and shaky, Gambit grinned. "I wondered what sort of fun could be had with your tail, mon ami." Another groan obliterated his ability for speech when Kurt's tail tightened even more, stopping just shy of where the line would blur over into pain, and all thought save for reaching that peak fled.
Their thrusts became rougher then, more urgent and needy as both bodies began to push toward the breaking point of climax. Sweat beaded and dripped down Gambit's back, the humidity in the air preventing its evaporation, and skin was slick, making delightful sounds as they moved together, slipping in and out of coordination.
He felt the familiar tightness build, the heaviness building to a near-unbearable degree deep in his balls, and tried to distract it, tried to delay it to prolong the moment, but then Kurt raised his upper back off the bed, nimble and flexible, and the feel of his hot mouth closing over the blood-engorged head of his cock was more than Gambit could handle. He came hard, not caring if anyone overheard him, and pressed down on Kurt's cock, burying it deep inside him as his muscles tensed and tightened in response to his shattering nerves.
That was enough to finish off Kurt, who followed him over the breaking edge a minute later, thrusting furiously up into him until every muscle was strained taut and his hips pressed up from the bed with enough strength to raise Gambit just a bit and screamed. Taloned fingers tore into the bedding a second time, and he'd barely started to return before Gambit collapsed on top of him, all strength gone in the aftermath.
They lay like that, entwined and sweat-slicked and breathing hard as if they'd just put in hours in the Institute's Danger Room. Little by little, fragments of awareness flittered back in, and their positions became uncomfortable, the feel of overheated flesh pressed against flesh less pleasant than before. Carefully, Gambit moved off from Kurt and rolled onto his side, letting his knees have another moment to regain strength as the last residual aftershocks left his system, then padded into the room's small bathroom to retrieve a wet, threadbare washrag.
"Here, homme," he said, casually tossing it at Kurt as he returned to the bed. "You'll be wanting that to clean up." Kurt caught it and hesitated a moment before wiping down his softening cock. "So. Verdict?"
"Verdict?"
"What did you think?"
"It's... different from what I'm accustomed to, but not unpleasant."
"Not unpleasant?" Gambit echoed, and splayed a hand over his chest. "You wound me. Gambit thought his skills in bed are better than 'not unpleasant'."
Kurt threw the rag at him which he nimbly dodged. "I stroked your dick, and now you expect me to stroke your ego?"
"Well, you did such a good job with the first one..." Gambit gave him a wide grin, making the other man laugh.
"It's only my first time, I do not have sufficient information to draw a fair conclusion yet."
He quirked an eyebrow. "So you are saying you wish to do this again sometime, mon ami?"
"What was it you said earlier?" Kurt asked, his lips curling into a slow grin. "We have all night to kill?"
Gambit grinned, and climbed back onto the bed. "Oui, mon ami. We do at that."