Remy LeBeau (52cardpickup) wrote in the_next_step, @ 2009-05-27 18:17:00 |
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Current mood: | satisfied |
An Unexpected Turn of Events
Who: John & Gambit.
What: Avoiding Bobby, a drunk John crashes in Gambit's room.
When: Late night through to the next morning
Rating: Nc-17
Status: Complete & Closed
Warnings: Uh, adult content in the form of sexuality. And it's long (8555 words).
John was drunk.
He had swallowed three quarters of the bar's alcohol after all, varying his tastes from the lighter easier to handle alcoholic beverages to the stronger more intense ones, the sort of alcohol that knocked you on your ass.
It was a miracle he was still upright.
Yay for having a high tolerance to alcohol, something he'd either inherited from his father or it was another quirk of having the power that he did, John didn't care. How he'd managed to slip back into the mansion without waking everybody was... an act of some unknown force, clearly somebody was watching out for him on this particular night.
He stumbled after a moment and slumped against the nearby wall, snorting quietly to himself. Whoops, he'd totally forgotten that there was a step there, his bad. The firestarter tipped his head back and pulled his lower lip into his mouth before he did his best to compose himself, knowing he needed to make it to his room without falling over, again.
John's hair was in slight disarray and his jacket was a little out of sorts given that one side had slipped lower than the other and there might have been blood on his collar, he may or may not have gotten into a fight.
The other guy looked a whole lot worse.
Remy didn't sleep much.
He knew part of it was down to his mutant ability and the kinetic energy that resided within himself that meant he couldn't really stay still for very long, but a larger part of it was because he had nightmares. He had a lot of nightmares that he never wanted to deal with. It was always better to just be doing something and he was in the kitchen, reading books on cooking.
It wasn't the best thing to be doing, but it was something and he was bored.
He heard a thud and the sounds of someone moving in the hallway and it caught his attention, feet making very little noise when he moved; thief training and all that, meant he was very good at moving without making a sound.
He chuckled softly when he saw John.
"A lil' late t'be out an' about, ain' it, John?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice as he closed the distance and came to stand next to John. He could smell alcohol and cigarettes, and the undeniable tang of blood. "You're drunk."
John looked up, his eyes so very obviously glazed and missing their usual sharpness, and he chuckled soft and low. "M'not drunk." When he so was. "Noooo, totally not." He tipped his head at the Cajun and straightened up as best he could, poking the other man in the chest with his finger.
"Lil late t'be up, isn't it? 'less you just enjoy creepin' 'round this late at night." He reached up with those battered hands of his and raked them through his hair, blinking his eyes. "'Sides there's nothin' wrong wit' lettin' loose now and then." Even if John's letting loose was becoming more and more frequent.
Remy poked John back gently, not hard enough to do any damage to the teen's already wobbly balance. "Y' are, cher, very drunk." he tilted his head and met John's eyes. "Dere be no mistakin' de smell of alcohol on a person."
He chuckled, soft and low, similar to the way John had done and just shrugged, "Don' enjoy creepin', per se, it's more dat I don' enjoy sleepin'." It was easy enough to admit that to a drunk person. There was something about John that he trusted anyway, like whatever he told to John wouldn't be told to another soul. He recognised some of himself in the teen. He wondered if the firestarter felt the same way.
He shook his head, "Non, dere's nuttin' wrong wit' lettin' loose, but dis? How many times is dis now?" He held out a hand, "C'mon, best be gettin y' back t'your room before you collapse in de corridor an' I have t'carry you." he winked and tilted his head again, "Dis way, c'mon."
John snorted again before in his alcoholic laden mind he realised Remy was talking about taking him back to his room, the room he shared with Bobby. Oh, no, not going back there just yet. Without really thinking he caught Remy's shirt and tangled his fingers in the older man's collar and just looked up at him, shaking his head. "No, m'not goin' back t'my room. Don't wanna."
His eyes were wide, his cheeks were flushed with colour and blood stained his right temple from where a cut on his eyebrow had been opened. "I'll get outta the corridor, but not t'my room."
Anything Remy or anybody else told John stayed with John, weirdly enough. He was an unexpected secret keeper, but not many people knew that.
Remy looked oddly panicked for a moment as John grabbed his collar, having an unpleasant flashback to Etienne doing something similar when they were in captivity. He shook it off after a moment, merely lifting an eyebrow, and then a hand to gently turn John's head to get a better look at his temple.
"Why don' y' want t' go back to your room?" he asked, mind racing as to where he could take John. "'Cause you're gonna need t'sleep dis off an' you can't do it in de corridor 'cause you'll get stood on an' I t'ink you've been hurt enough." Today, last week, before that... Remy recognised the pain that no one else seemed to see in John. His hand stayed where it was gently touching John's cheek, the other squeezing his wrist before moving to rest at his elbow.
John made a disgruntled sound when Remy seemed to have spotted his injury. It was nothing, a little cut. He couldn't even feel it right now.
"Avoidin' Bobby," he answered honestly before he looked up at Remy through his lashes. "Don't wanna have the sharin' and carin' chat I know he wanna has."
The mention of pain brought about a confused expression, John's lips curling into a small rather odd smile a few moments later. "S'nothin', had worse." His tongue flickered over his lower lip and his teeth idly turned the skin over in them, unwittingly opening the smaller cut on the corner of his mouth.
"An' why does he wanna have a sharin' an' carin' chat?" Remy asked, his hand moving from Johns' cheek to his lips, gently catching the younger man's lower lip and putting one finger against it. "Don' chew dat." It was less of a command and more of a friendly suggestion. He looked down at John and didn't move his finger, "I can imagine y'have, but dat's no reason t'ignore dese."
He sighed, "If y' don' wanna sleep in your room, an' y' can' sleep in de corridor, den where are you gonn' sleep? Wanna crash in my room?" he asked, extending the offer because he knew John needed someone he could trust and if that wasn't his room-mate, and Remy was surprised at that, then it had to be someone. And unfortunately, the adults in this place seemed to be woefully lacking.
John's eyebrow lifted and he nipped at Remy's finger before leaning back, giving a small laugh. "Caught me tryin' t'make a run for it. Had my bag packed and everythin'." He saw that his hands were causing wrinkles to form in Remy's shirt and took his time to smooth them out, apparently focusing on that rather than anything else.
The offer of crashing in Remy's room brought about a tilt of the younger man's head. "That works, be outta your hair before you know it." He rocked back on his unsteady heels and peeled what appeared to be an irritating stray piece of skin from his thumb.
Remy's eyebrow lifted as John nipped his finger, wondering if the younger teen knew just what he looked like doing that. Probably. Remy forced all naughty thoughts out of his head and wrinkled his nose in sympathy. "Dat sucks, mon ami," he said, "An' he convinced y' t'stay?" He felt John's hands smoothing out the wrinkles they had made and wanted to tell John it was okay and to really stop touching him because he was drunk and Remy was only human but he refrained. Apparently it was helping make John feel better or something.
"Ain' gonna be a bother, John, y'can stay dere for as long as y'want." he said, reaching out and taking John's hand, closing his fingers around the thumb John was picking at, "Stop dat." He tutted, glancing around before he said, "C'mon den, follow me. I'll take y'to my room." There was only the one bed in his room, but it was a double, and Remy figured he could crash in the rec room or something.
"In a manner of speakin'," John muttered with a lift of his shoulders. He wet his lower lip again and regarded Remy very closely for a moment, taking in every aspect of the Cajun's face including those strange eyes. "I like your eyes," he shared rather randomly.
He did scowl a second later when Remy stopped him picking, unaware that when he was drunk his body temperature went through the roof. It was some sort of reaction between the alcohol and his powers, not that John knew that.
"Lead the way," he murmured, voice far huskier than it had any right to be.
Remy smiled softly and squeezed John's wrist. "I like your eyes too, cher," he shared, feeling the heat radiating off the younger man and it was pretty intoxicating. Especially since Remy always felt cold. It was why he wore a trench-coat constantly, using his power chilled him and dropped his body temperature.
He cleared his throat, the huskiness of John's voice getting to Remy in a way that was rather more visible than he would have liked. It was late at night, he hadn't been expecting to have all of his guards up. "Uh, oui... follow me." He was halfway down another corridor before he realised he hadn't yet let go of John's wrist, but John didn't seem to be complaining.
"Y' doin' alright back dere?"
Remy's comment brought about a snort from John. "You're jus' sayin' that 'cause I said it to you."
"You're cold," John noted absently when he registered Remy was touching him. "Bobby's always cold, but that's kinda his thing." He wet his lower lip and turned his hand over in Remy's grip, closing his fingers around the other man's hand.
He was managing to stumble along quite sufficiently now he had somebody to lead the way, clearly he was used to being drunk. That was until Remy stopped and John kept going and he soon bumped into him, catching his falling his weight on Remy's arm and forearm, meaning they ended up quite close to each other.
Woah, he blew absently at a stray piece of hair that had flopped over his eyes and offered the Cajun an apologetic smile. "Whoops, my bad."
Remy's shoulders lifted, "Don' t'ink you'd believe me if I said dat wasn't de truth." he said, turning his head to smirk at John as he added, "I like y'r lips too, you didn' say dat to me." He winked.
"Oui, 'm cold. It's part of de problem wit' my power. T'make t'ings get to de point where dey blow up, I t'ink I use some of my own heat or somet'in'. Don' understand it, really." And no, his breathing didn't jump a fraction when John's hand turned in his. He squeezed John's hand gently.
He laughed softly and turned, arm going around John's waist and supporting him, also ironically holding John against him when John walked right into him and lost his balance. He looked down, the hand that wasn't holding John's gently lifting from around his waist to brush that hair back.
Wow, they were quite close. Almost close enough that he could almost feel John's breath on his face.
"S'alright, probably should've warned y' dat we were about t'stop." Remy muttered with a smile. He didn't pull back or move away. He just tucked those strands out of the way of John's face and then his hand moved back to "supporting" John's hip.
"My lips?" John repeated. "Huh, and here I thought everybody in this place hated my smart-mouth. I know my dad did, fuckin' pissed him off all the time." In the back of his mind he thought he should probably move or at the very least make it look like he was trying to move, but he didn't.
It was nice, having that close physical contact, and John found he'd missed it more than he thought possible. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to somebody without them sticking a needle into him or smacking him in the face.
He nodded his head in agreement. "Probably, but m'guessin' by the stop that means we're at your room?" Being this close to Remy made it a whole lot easier to take in his looks and not for the first time John found himself admiring the other man, not that he'd ever melted like everybody else seemed to when met with Gambit.
"It did?" Remy asked, a small part of his brain filing that away for future reference, "Well, I don't t'ink dere's anythin' wrong wit' your smart mouth." He glanced at John again and that smirk settled on his lips once more, "But, I wasn' just talkin' 'bout de smart-mouth." John just generally had quite nice lips. Remy couldn't help but notice. He appreciated aesthetics, no matter what form they came in. He did draw the line at human, though.
Remy loved physical contact, he fed off it and being away from people for so long meant that, to an extent, he, too had missed it. He kept his arm around John's waist, kept him close and he just gave a small smile, more genuine than most of the ones that he gave. This one actually touched his eyes.
"Oui," he said softly, sliding his hand out of John's to brush imaginary hair away from John's forehead again without releasing the younger man from his hold. John was an attractive young man, that was for sure. And he was nineteen, Remy had worked it out. He didn't need to feel guilty being... well, admiring rather strongly someone that was only a couple of years his junior. "Let's get y'into bed, you need to sleep dis off." And Remy really needed to get John to sleep this off because he couldn't be held responsible for what his brain would do if he was allowed to stand in the corridor with John for much longer.
He wet his lower lip, unconsciously drawing it between his teeth for a few seconds, fumbling for the door handle with his free hand, not wanting to let go of John or that warmth just yet.
"Dere's- uh, dere's only one bed. But you c'n have it." He wasn't going to assume that John would let him sleep on the other half.
John smirked ever so slightly and brushed a thumb over his lower lip. "I'll remember that." He inhaled a slow breath and dropped his hand away, feeling himself swaying so he remedied that by holding onto Remy's bicep. Huh, definition. Not that he was surprised, he'd seen the guy in action.
"One bed?" He repeated as he finally stumbled into Remy's room and then he simply tipped his head to look at the bed. "S'a double." He lifted his fingers and scratched at his injured temple, breaking up the dried blood a little.
He reached up and patted Remy's cheek as he drew away. "We can jus' share s'long as you don't kick."
Remy looked confused as John stumbled away again and scratched as his cheek, pushing the door shut as he followed John into the room. "Long as you're sure," he started, not sounding quite so himself, after all, the kid was drunk. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it up behind the door, running a hand through the long strands of his hair. "An' as long as y'don't kick." he added with a grin.
"Y'need anythin' t'sleep in?" he asked, thinking he should sleep in a t-shirt tonight just for propriety's sake. He didn't have a lot of things but he rummaged one out for himself. He'd be able to find another for John if he wanted one.
John shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, I'll jus' sleep in my clothes. No big deal." He shrugged out of his leather jacket and dropped it over a nearby chair before he braced himself against the wall to pull off his trainers and socks.
He licked his lower lip and rubbed at his hair before stumbling in the direction of the bed, collapsing onto one side of it. Unaware that the way he'd fallen had pulled up the back of his t-shirt and had exposed nasty scar tissue on his lower back.
His father had a fondness for a particular belt and a couple of those hits had left behind nasty welts and because they'd gone untreated they had subsequently scarred.
Remy rubbed his hand through his hair again and turned, watching John for a moment. A frown slid across his brow at the sight of the starred welts along John's lower back and wondered what manner of person would do that to a child. Then again, he thought of the Antiquary and shuddered. He scratched at the curve of his jaw before he tugged off his shirt, his jeans riding low on his hips. The removal of his shirt revealed Remy's tanned, defined form, a few scars littered across his chest and back that he didn't seem too conscious of as he reached out and pulled an old, worn t-shirt over his head.
"Get some sleep," he mumbled, not looking at John as he slid out of his jeans and into a pair of sweatpants, flicking the lock on his door; not that it would have stopped someone like him, or anyone that was particularly strong from getting in, but it was the sentiment that counted, and the people here seemed to mostly respect the privacy of people's rooms.
He tugged the covers back and gently laid them over John once he'd taken off his own socks and then slid into the bed. Once settled, he turned his head to look at the younger man. "Y'know, gettin' drunk ain't all it's cracked up t'be, sometimes, homme."
John's only response to that was a snort, neither agreeing or disagreeing with Remy. Drunk was exactly where he needed to be right now. The worst thing of all was the way in which he slept more soundly drunk than he did sober, nightmares couldn't get to him when he was like this.
Eventually whatever tension John might have been holding in his body seemed to drain away and there was a moment where he mumbled something before he just went still.
Mm, alcohol induced slumber, lovely.
Remy sighed and pulled the covers up a little higher over John's shoulder. "Bonne nuit, petite flamme," he murmured, turning onto his side, back to John as he flicked off the light, closing his eyes and letting sleep take hold of him, too.
Well, this was an interesting turn of events.
The next morning was something to behold. Remy stretched leisurely, like a cat as he woke slowly to remember that he had someone else in his bed. He turned his head, glad to see that John was still sleeping as he slid out of the bed. His bare feet touched the floor and it was a little cool. There was an unusual chill in the air, but he didn't think too much on it.
He took another moment to watch John, the peacefulness of an alcohol-induced slumber that was all too fake something that Remy understood and knew quite well himself. He blew out a breath, "C'mon, Remy," he muttered to himself, "vous ne pouvez pas faire des amis." He scrubbed his hand over his face. There was no guarantee he was going to stay. No need to start getting attached to people.
He moved into the adjoining bathroom that he had, wanting to take a shower but knowing to wait until John was awake and moving on his way - something Remy was in no hurry to make him do. He grabbed a drink of water from the tap and then came out of his room, largely trying to ignore John's presence as he rooted in his sparse wardrobe for something to wear. The tattered ends of the sweatpants hung around his feet, the pants themselves were just on this side of tight, as was the shirt. They were both old, what could he say.
John took his time to rouse and when he did he instantly regretted that he had, his head was thudding and his entire body felt like it had gone through extreme physical rigour. When he blinked his eyes open there was a moment where he tensed, not recognising his surroundings, until he recalled last night and exactly where he was.
He was in Remy's room, in the mansion.
It was only when he started to move that he realised that there was a chill in the air and he immediately hunkered down, a brief memory of being strapped down to a table and being covered in ice flashed through his mind. Ugh, not pleasant. John ignored it and sat up slowly, attempting to shake off the fog that had apparently overcome his now very sober mind.
John lifted his head and caught sight of Remy, taking a moment to simply admire what he could when the other man wasn't aware of him. What? Remy was a good looking guy and John had openly admitted his taste for both women and men.
"Morning," he muttered quietly and roughly.
Remy turned to look at John and gave him a warm smile, "Morning," he greeted, rubbing the back of his neck as he pushed the wardrobe door closed. "Y'sleep okay?" he asked, tilting his head. A couple of strands of hair slid across his face and he tucked them behind his ear before he was moving a little, restless.
"Don't much envy de hang over you must be havin' right 'bout now." He turned on his heel again, intending to head back towards the bathroom, "I t'ink I got some aspirin in here somewhere if y'want any?"
John was still for a moment before he decided something. If he got punched then he got punched, but at least he'd given it a shot. "Maybe," he muttered as he got to his feet. "But I've got this sure fire hangover remedy. Never fails."
His hands went to either edge of the hem of his t-shirt and it was pulled off, revealing an expanse of tanned and toned skin, with a fair amount of scarring. His hair was now left dishevelled around his sharp features and there was a moment in which his eyes were dark and intensely focused on Remy. John closed the distance between himself and Remy, immediately claiming the other man's mouth with his in what could only be described as a fierce and demanding kiss which included teeth and tongue.
John's physical presence made itself known in the way he pushed the Cajun up against the nearby wall and sunk a hand into his hair, curling his fingers in the auburn strands.
"Y'do?" Remy asked, stopping in his movements towards the bathroom when he heard the the sound of clothes hitting the floor. A part of him wondered if John wasn't still drunk because there was no way this could be happening. Remy might have had women falling at his feet, but he never understood why, not really.
He didn't get a chance to say anything else, though, because his lips were somewhat busy and he let out a surprised sound when his back made rather hard contact with the wall. His calloused hands, cool in comparison with the warmth of John's body, slid down John's sides as he kissed back with equal passion, long fingers hooking in the belt loops of John's jeans. He slid down a little before putting the younger man's hips against his own, using the hold on John's jeans to keep him there as they kissed.
Normally, now was when he would reverse their positions, have John against the wall, but he figured that considering the comments about John's dad, it was better if they stayed like this. Remy didn't mind handing control over every now and then. To someone that deserved it.
John may have made a sound against Remy's lips when their hips aligned, but it was quickly smothered by another slow kiss. His fingers tightened in Remy's hair and then pulled, tugging Remy's head back so John's mouth could explore the length of his long neck. When he found the taste of the other man's cologne he curled his tongue around it before biting down, gently, but hard enough to leave the feeling of his teeth behind.
"Yeah," he muttered huskily. "I do."
He placed both hands on the edge of Remy's t-shirt and pulled it upwards, scarred tips of fingers touching and exploring the skin the movement of material revealed.
"Y'got a point," Remy mumbled against John's lips, biting down on the lower one and tensing his forearms, causing John's hips to rock into his before he reluctantly let go so that John could work the material of his shirt up and off him fully, "Long as y'r not drunk anymore," he smirked and met John's eyes, his own dark, a faint glow in the depths.
John's fingertips would have been able to feel the scars on Remy's skin from his years of training, those few mistakes he made and was punished for, and then those from his time with the Antiquary, though they were mostly mental scars, the things that man did to the mutant children he got hold of...
He leaned down and kissed John again, his skin tingling from where John had bitten down on his neck. Now was not the time to think about the past. "Dieu."
John snorted quietly and shook his head. "Stone cold sober, Cajun." He tossed the t-shirt aside, just in case Remy got second thoughts and decided that he needed his clothing again. He leaned up into the kiss and closed his hand around the back of Remy's neck, opening his mouth and taking the time to curl his tongue around Remy's
A leg slid between Remy's and his thigh pressed closer as John all but molded their chests together, letting his hands explore the pathways of muscle in Remy's back, tips of blunt nails seeking out the curve of the other man's hipbones before he flattened his palms and turned his thumbs in slow circles.
He caught Remy's lower lip between his teeth and rolled his tongue over it, slipping one hand lower.
Remy's breath caught with the ministrations of John's lips and hands before he leaned his head back a little, breaking the kiss and lifting his hips into the wandering touch. One of his hands slid up to curl in John's hair, gently tipping the firestarter's head back as he leaned down, curling his tongue underneath John's ear before he bit down gently, the mark fading a moment later. The next time it was a little harder, though, lips trailing down to the curve of John's neck and shoulder, leaving a purpling mark there that would not be so quick to fade.
He shifted, so that his hips could be closer to John's hand, but also so that his thigh was pressed against John, adjusting his weight to keep subtle pressure there as his other hand traced over John's back, fingertips skirting over scars that travelled the length of the younger man's skin.
John hissed out a breath at the marking and he seemed to lean into it, even lifting his shoulder as Remy concentrated his attention there. He let out a shaky breath and dropped his chin, meaning it was easier for his teeth to skirt along Remy's jaw.
The hand slipped past the band of leather holding the denim to Remy's hips then went even further, teasingly touching the waistband of boxers. A second later and his hand slipped under and tips sought out Remy, letting the full lengths curl around and move in slow stroke.
"Maybe we should move," he shared heatedly. "'Cause my hand's not the only thing I intend on blowing you with."
"Non?" Remy asked, tipping his head to catch John's ear between his teeth as he pushed off the wall, curling his fingers around John's wrist and separating them briefly, if not just so that he could keep enough higher mental functions until they got to the bed because God, John's hand was hot, in both senses of the word. "Sounds promisin'," he muttered, his voice lower and huskier than it had been before, accent thickening - if that was even possible.
He took in a slow breath, his hands sliding down to get rid of John's belt, hearing it hit the floor with a heavy clunk, hands moving to start undoing the fastenings that made those jeans cling sinfully low on John's hips. A part of him thought maybe he should ask if John had done this before. A bigger part couldn't find it within himself to care because there was no way he wanted to stop this. His other hand moved up to John's chest, thumb brushing over one of his nipples until it hardened beneath his touch. "T'ink we oughta move dis to de bed, den..."
"No," John answered back with a shake of his head. He lifted his hips to allow Remy better access to his belt and his jeans as his hands did much the same thing, opening the denim until his hands could slide over cotton and touch skin not hidden by the material itself.
He pulled in a shallow breath at all the touching and felt his eyes flutter, his skin rising into goosebumps under all the slow touches. Remy needn't have worried about John's experience as he had done this, several times, a virgin he was not.
John stumbled in the direction of the bed with Remy, kicking off his jeans once they hit his ankles. This left him in nothing but a pair of dark boxers, ones that clung to his hips and revealed more of the young man that he usually wasn't comfortable with, but this was sex and everything changed during sex.
Once he was sure they were close to the bed, he pushed Remy back onto it and followed him, flawlessly, thigh slipping between the other man's legs as his mouth broke away from Remy's and began running over his neck. He bit a mark into Remy's shoulder then worked his lips over his collarbone, sliding his hands over Remy's sides and to where the jeans still clung to Remy's hips. Those would definitely have to go.
A thick, low chuckle accompanied Remy's being pushed back onto the bed, even as that thigh slipped between his. He watched John as best he could, back arching as he lifted his hips into John's touches again, his hands wandering over John's sides and back, stopping at his hips briefly before continuing down the outside of his thighs and up again.
One hand moved, finally, cupping the back of John's head in approval of the movements of John's mouth against his skin, causing his eyes to flutter and a groan to escape his lips that he couldn't have hushed if he tried. At the very least, he managed to quieten himself a little. He remembered some of the people in the building had super sensitive hearing and these noises were not ones Remy wanted many people to hear.
He trailed his other hand down, fingertips sliding along the length of John's spine to the waistband of John's underwear, touch slipping to the front where they teasingly ducked beneath the fabric. He was already calculating how he needed to bend to get the things they were going to need. He was... apprehensive about where this was going, but at the same time he was interested enough that he didn't care too much. John was old enough, wanted it to happen, he wanted this too so what was wrong with it? His fingers tightened in John's hair, blunted nails scraping gently over his scalp as his hand finally dipped beneath John's boxers.
John's fingers tightened in Remy's jeans and pulled just as Remy's hand touched him in some very sensitive places, muscles in his stomach cording together as his hips lifted into those wandering touches.
He shoved the jeans down, relying on Remy doing what needed to be done to be rid of them, and worked his mouth low enough that his tongue could curl around Remy's navel. He shifted his weight and rocked back up onto his knees, regarding the older man through his lashes and with a very dark gaze.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," John muttered gruffly. He arched his back and leaned down, planting a hand beside Remy to support his weight so he could lean down and kiss Remy again, allowing his tongue to explore the other man's mouth. "I'll remedy that." He nipped Remy's lower lip and let his fingers curl in the boxers, tugging them down until he was able to just sit back and admire the sight. Mm, and what a sight it was.
John's teeth caught his lower lip for a moment before he seemingly slithered his way down Remy's body, mouth travelling the distance and catching on scars, before he dipped his head and immediately covered the other man in a smooth movement. He hadn't been kidding when he said what he had before, he intended on making Remy feel as good as he possibly could.
He pushed one hand over Remy's abdomen and dipped his finger into the other man's navel.
Remy kicked his jeans off as soon as he could, boxers would have followed but John's mouth kind of stole Remy's ability to think away from him and there was little he could do but tip his head back into the bed and curl his fingers in the sheets at first. He had, for a moment at least before John's mouth had stolen all coherent thought from him, felt self-conscious basically naked in front of the younger man, but even those thoughts had evaporated at that first touch of John's mouth, and even the touch to his navel.
His muscles jumped and twitched underneath John's hand. "Dieu, homme," he breathed, voice a little shaky, breaths coming in sharp and hitched. He swallowed and finally maneuvered his boxers off himself, forcing himself to lift his head to look at John.
The firestarter was... to put it simply, gorgeous. He didn't know how anyone hadn't seen it before. There seemed to be a lot that they didn't see of him, though. "C'est bien," he switched languages without realising it, soft littanys of Cajun French slipping out of his lips. He lifted a hand from where it was curled in the sheets to thread his fingers in John's hair. It was an oddly soft touch, considering.
John took the switch of languages as a sign he was doing something right and he just needed to keep going. He continued to move his head in an obviously well practised movement and stopped for a moment to simply allow Remy to feel every single sensation and the length of the younger man's throat. He continued to smooth his thumb over Remy's stomach, chasing the flickering muscles and paying attention to them with the edge of his nail.
He eventually curled his tongue around the very tip and then ran his mouth back down after he'd toyed with the bundles of nerves enough. Once he was sure he was ready and it wouldn't be too much too soon John gathered a breath and then braced a hand on Remy's hips and the other on the bed as he deepthroated a moment later.
John stilled and waited for his throat to adjust before he attempted moving again, even going so far as to brush his thumb over Remy's hips to encourage movement.
Remy swallowed, lifting his head again before he bit back on a soft sound at the sight. John's gentle encouragement provoked a small rolling of the hips, but little more because Remy didn't want to hurt John - as hard as it was not to just let himself go. His fingers smoothed through John's hair again, lower lip between his teeth.
He was biting down almost hard enough to draw blood, and his fingers went pink, it would been a tingling sensation against John's scalp as Remy's hands worked through the younger man's hair. He slid his other hand into his own hair, head falling back again and lips parting in a silent 'o' of appreciation, babbled French mixed with English generally was telling John that he was doing an amazing job of making Remy genuinely lose it.
John noticed the way in which his scalp tingled with the touches of Remy's fingers and he found that it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, not at all. He pulled back as Remy rolled forward, managing to set a pace and rhythm as Remy started one of his own. He ran both hands over Remy's hips then allowed them to wander along the length of the inside and outside of the other man's thighs.
He continued to work his mouth over Remy, quickening the pace and then slowing it down to a near torturous pace, just to give Remy a taste of something different. Clearly he had done this sort of thing before.
Obviously, and some distant part of Remy's mind registered that John was very good at it too. He couldn't help his reactions when he growled, "Don' tease, cher," because it wasn't a very fair thing to do, not when Remy was so very close. He wet his lower lip, now swollen from where he had been biting it.
That tingling sensation wouldn't have faded as Remy's hand slid to the back of John's neck and over what he could reach of John's back before returning to fist in his hair. It was just hard enough, but not too hard as to hurt. His thigh and stomach muscles were trembling, the pressure at the base of his spine so great it was almost painful.
John would have grinned, but he couldn't, his mouth was busy. No teasing, he could do that. John went right back to the fast movements complete with deepthroating and wandering touches, squeezing the inside of Remy's thighs before brushing his fingertips over Remy's hips.
He eventually actively sought out to take Remy over the edge, changing his rhythm and picking up his pace.
That did it and it only took a few more movements of John's mouth before Remy's eyes glowed again, brighter than even when he was using his powers, both hands glowing pink. He choked out a warning, that pressure finally finding release as the tremors rocked through his body and he flopped, bonelessly, against the sheets.
The tingling sensation intensified along John's scalp the closer Remy got to release and John felt his eyes fluttering in response to it. It was when Remy's entire body tensed that John slid back and opened his mouth just enough to swallow, continuing to guide Remy through the orgasm and ensuring he didn't miss a single drop.
Eventually he leaned back and flicked his tongue over his lower lip, feeling a ripple go through him as he tasted the other man on his skin. He raked his hair back and then dropped his weight forward onto his hands, nudging Remy's jaw in order to catch the man's mouth.
Every movement by John was slow, methodical and thought out, as if his body was a born natural at this sort of thing.
Remy sank both hands into John's hair when the younger man returned up his body, noticing all too easily the sensual movements and how fluid John was in a situation like this where he was confident in what he was doing. He bit at John's lower lip, curling his tongue around the firestarter's even as his hands, still lingeringly charged with his power slid along John's back and moved to push his boxers off his hips.
"Your turn," he murmured, curling his fingers around John again and concentrating on his hand, letting that tingle come back and ripple through his fingers.
John inhaled a breath, attempting to push a stray self conscious thought from his mind. He wasn't the greatest fan of his body, all too aware of the scars and other marks, some self inflicted, like a couple burns on the inside of his forearm. Fresh ones at that.
Thankfully Remy's hand obliterated all thought from John's head and all he could do was lift his hips and let out a sound, tightening his fingers in the sheets. He inhaled a breath and then caught Remy's jaw in a bite, one that was hard enough to leave a mark behind.
Jesus, that felt good.
It was easy enough to know that John was more comfortable in a position where he felt like he had some control and Remy felt more than confident in his ability to make John feel good without having to switch their positions. His fingers held a faint glow as they moved over John, almost vibrating, thumb teasing the sensitive knot of nerves as he tipped his head to the side, allowing his mouth to catch John's ear again and tug on it gently with his teeth, curling his tongue around the lobe.
His other hand moved over John's back, tracing over a few of the scars he had seen. He had also spotted the fresher burns on John's arms but he wasn't going to say anything. Instead he let those fingers that were unoccupied slide up and over John's chest, blunted nails raking over his abdomen and higher, the touch of nail to nipple as Remy's teeth dragged over the skin just underneath John's ear.
John bit his lower lip and muffled the sound he just made at the very expert touch of Remy's hand and how it felt better than anyone else because Remy's hand... it was glowing, and it should have frightened John because he knew what Remy could do, but he wasn't. In fact all he did was lean closer and work his hips until Remy's touch.
He ran a hand into Remy's hair and tightened his fingers, dragging the tips of his nails over Remy's scalp.
Remy would have leaned into the fingers in his hair, but instead focused on making John feel as good as John had made him feel. His other hand roamed restlessly, from calloused fingers teasing the sensitive inside of John's thighs, up his chest and into his hair to tip John's head back so that he could steal a deep kiss.
The hand around John kept working at a steady pace, slowing down occasionally and dragging his thumb over the very tip teasingly, painfully slowly, before speeding up again, barely giving the younger man a chance to catch his breath before he was moving his hand in a different way, heightening the sensations as best he could.
John released a grunt into the kiss and caught a hold of Remy's tongue, not letting them break away for air as he poured everything into that kiss. Given everything that had happened before and with Remy's skilled touch, John knew there was no way he was going to last. He said as much into the other man's mouth.
It was almost embarrassing how fast John had reached a point where climax seemed inevitable.
His hips continued to match Remy's movements until there was a moment where he tensed, muttering a warning, before sure enough he came apart at the seams.
Remy rested his head back into the bed to watch as John fell apart and it was a sight he was pretty sure was going to be burned into his mind from that moment on. Especially since the light caught John's sharp features at that point just right. Amazing.
His hand kept moving to guide John through his orgasm, stretching it out for as long as he could before he eventually removed his hand and lifted it to his mouth, making eye contact with John as he licked his fingers clean.
"How's de hangover feelin'?" he asked finally, voice still a little husky as he finished off cleaning his hand.
John leaned his weight onto his hands and rested his forehead against the Cajun's neck as he recovered his breath, going so far as to catch a wayward beat of sweat with the very tip of his tongue. "Better," he shared roughly. "But... we ain't even halfway there yet."
He caught the previous mark he'd left behind and bit at it again, deepening the shade of purple. John's mouth wandered to Remy's ear and closed around the lobe, tugging on it. "We haven't even fucked yet."
Let it never be said that John was not confident in the bedroom.
Remy laughed softly, his hands sliding into John's hair, gently easing the younger man back so that they could make eye contact. "Mm, den I suggest we go take a shower, non?" he murmured, his eyes dark as he stole another brief kiss, letting his touch slip to John's shoulders. "One now, one after..." He shrugged, "Cleanliness is next t'godliness, after all," he muttered, wetting his lower lip and catching John's in the process.
"'less you don' wanna wait 'fore round two?"
John lifted an eyebrow as Remy spoke about cleanliness and snorted, shaking his head. "Not sure if I oughta be insulted." He wet his lower lip and raked a hand through his hair, pushing the wayward strands of dark hair behind his ears.
Now that the intense moment had been interrupted he felt... self conscious and really uncomfortable, hands itching to find his clothing. "Never figured you for a clean freak." He breathed out a small laugh and sat back, tilting his head to have a look round for his wayward clothes.
Remy's hand moved to John's hips when he spotted the younger man getting self conscious and uncomfortable. He took a breath, other hand moving to catch John's cheek gently, seeing the cut on his temple from the night before didn't look so bad in the morning light. "No need t'be insulted," he reassured, letting his touch slide to the back of John's neck, kissing him again.
"An' calm down," he mumbled between kisses, "Ain' no one here but me." He pressed another light kiss to John's lips. "Y'said somethin' about us not bein' done?" Best to just put John back on track rather than let him distract himself, right?
John lifted his eyes when Remy leaned in and sought out his mouth in a kiss and nodded his head. "Yeah, I might have mentioned that." He pushed a hand into Remy's hair and took the time to curl his fingers in the long strands.
"But then you started talking about how cleanliness is next to Godliness." He tugged on the Cajun's hair and lifted his head, biting a considerable mark in the other man's neck, right over his pulse.
Remy made a disgruntled sound as John tugged on his hair, though it became markedly less disgruntled when John's teeth closed down over his skin and he let out a shaky breath. "Oui..." he agreed, fingers roaming over John's back again, mindful of the fact that the other man was still injured, and the fact that John was able to do this at all was fairly impressive considering the state he had been in when they'd rescued the kids. His touches softened a little more at that thought.
"Mais, I was t'inkin' more 'long de lines of-" he bit down on his lower lip, letting his fingers slide back into John's hair, removing that distracting mouth from where it was against his skin, "Have y'never had sex in de shower before?" he asked, considering that was where his mind had been going rather than what John had taken to be a shower to get clean. "But, here is good too."
There might have been lingering bruises and cuts from the events of before, but John could easily blank them out, the same way he could push past the niggling pain of cracked ribs. He supposed he had that much to be grateful to his father for. Even if the injection mark on the back of his neck still stung like a bitch whenever it was touched.
"Once or twice," John said as his lips curled into a small smirk.
"Certainment, I didn' intend on showerin' alone," Remy muttered softly, tapping John's smirking mouth with one finger. "But if y'd rather stay here..." He shifted a little underneath John and looked up at him with a grin. His tongue caught on the edge of a tooth and his eyebrow twitched.
He certainly hadn't been expecting this outcome.
John watched Remy for a moment before he eased off the bed, ignoring the self conscious feeling that overcame him when he walked to Remy's bathroom completely naked. Hopefully soon when he had enough money he wouldn't feel so self conscious about his arms, he had plans of tattoos.
The sound of the shower could be heard in the otherwise quiet room.
Remy sat up and stretched, back arching before he, too, slid off the bed and followed John into the bathroom. He glanced into the room before he pulled the door shut behind him. It was always better to be safe than sorry.
Steam had started to fill the room and Remy ran a hand through his hair as he approached. This? Well, this was going to be good.
John was already under the stream of water and a hand reached out to tug Remy into the shower with him, lifting his chin to catch his mouth in another kiss. Now that their skin was wet every touch was more electric than the last and John's warmth had intensified now that he was well in the throes of passion.
Now all they had to figure out was who did what part, hopefully that happened naturally.
Remy kissed back deep and passionate, arm going around John's waist as they stood underneath the spray, keeping their bodies flush together.
Whatever happened next, they would work it out as they went. Remy had enough respect for the boundaries he had seen in John to know what not to push and, as he slid to his knees, he figured there was no better way to start than to see just how quick John's recovery rate was.