fanfic, Momentary Distractions
Jul. 20th, 2006 05:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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pervyficgirl's fault, though she'll blame merfilly, because Filly created The Big Event, your source for quick-and-easy DC/Marvel crossover fun. *G*
'Filly did this in the stunningly hot Remy/Dick Cards on the Wing. Then there'samarin_rose's The Things You Learn In Jail Cells, also Remy/Dick but not porny. Pervyficgirl followed 'Filly with the equally smoking Freely Given, a Daredevil/Nightwing that will blow your mind. When I commented on 'Freely Given', she said she wanted Remy/Roy. Well, gorgeous lady, here you go. Here's my take on The Event, and on two lonely, hurting, too-gorgeous redheads.
Title: Momentary Distractions
Fandom: DC/Marvel
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Remy
Rating: NC-17
Momentary Distractions
Roy walked out of the mall entrance with a large, stuffed coyote under his arm and headed for the bus stop in the late evening light. He'd liked it, and the maker didn't exist in his universe, so this was kind of a one-time shot, due to the "smooshing"--he couldn't help grinning at the thought of his daughter's words--of his world with this other, drastically different reality. Bits and pieces of two versions of New York had been jammed together for almost a week, somehow managing to continue to function, but the skyline he knew was changed by the offices of newspapers and lawfirms and the "Fantastic Four" tower, among other things.... Then again, Outsiders' HQ and the other hero-centric buildings that had survived the "smooshing" were probably just as weird to the othe--//SHIT!// The scream brought his rambling thoughts to a standstill and he tucked the coyote up onto the top of the bus stop and took off towards it at a dead run.
//Sounded like a kid, what the--oh, Fuck. This. Shit.// He'd whipped around the corner into an alleyway and laid eyes on the problem, and it pissed him off. One terrified couldn't-be-twelve-years-old kid running his way with what looked like the last of it's strength followed by... eightee--no, crap, twenty; angry-looking people waving fists (and more dangerous things). Kid had had a decent lead at one point, obviously, but it was shrinking fast. Kid was also kind of cute if you looked past the short crop of red-brown fur and the pointy ears and teeth //could be Gar's kid brother!//... but the bigots chasing it obviously couldn't be bothered. He and Grace had broken up one of these damned mobs already, it wasn't hard to figure out the problem. Kid was only a few feet away now, and he saw the dark eyes widen in fear--//thinks I'm going to join in. God damn it.//
"Get behind me, kid!" he barked, hands going for weapons he--//damn it// wasn't carrying. Public transport didn't like them, for some reason. //Not the first time I've done crowd control bare-handed,// he shrugged and took running steps forward to get between the terrified kid and the mob chasing him/her. "What in God's name do you people think you're doing?!" he bellowed, channeling Ollie in full cry--to disturbingly little effect.
He tuned out the yells that answered him when they didn't involve the words "killed" "stole" or "attacked" as typical bigoted bullshit... and they weren't stopping. The fist to the front-runner's jaw, the kick to his closest buddy's chest and the elbow he slammed into the temple of the third did put them off for a moment and he tried to reach back and urge the kid down the alley some more--but the little thing had apparently run out of gas and could barely stagger. //Three downed for the moment, seventeen to go--joy// His lips thinned some more as the tail-end of the crowd swung around him and the kid and--//we're trapped. Shit. I'm going to have to hurt these people. All I wanted was a souvenir for Lian. What do I get? Alley brawl with bunch of bigo--what the hell?//
The crack of an explosion had made him jump--but when one of the mob abruptly fell forward with it, he kicked her in the jaw, sending her backwards away from the kid. He looked around, trying not to take his eyes completely off the now-gawking mob... and found the source first--//Pink and blue armor and a brown trenchcoat?! And here I thought Dick's taste was bad!// flashed through his mind as he spotted the stranger crouched on the second floor railing of a fire escape. //Idiots never look up,// he thought in disgust, watching them still throwing frightened glances around. Like Donna and Kory hadn't cured him of that when he still wore the feather-hat?
"How 'bout you leave de petit and Messieur Red alone, non? 'Cause Gambit not in a good mood, and he be happy to make you, but he not think you enjoy it so much, n'est pas?" Roy thought the glowing red //is that a damned playing card?// held up in one hand emphasized his point nicely. //Now, what is a Cajun with an accent that strong doing up here in NYC?//
"Dere be plen'y more where dat first card came from, hommes..." he added with a twist of that left wrist--and the reactions of the crowd told Roy this was a local, someone they hated (feared) obvious in the way they started to back away, spewing more of their filth into the air as they turned tail and ran, taking their wounded with them. //And, who are you, Cajun?// he wondered as he watched his trouble evaporate.
'Cajun' jumped down off the railing with a grace that so reminded him of Dick, all easy flare and casual acrobatics. Then he smiled, teeth flashing in the gold sunset-light, eyes hidden by sunglasses, and his heart seized up. This was another heartbreaker, all charm and flash and promises--//uh-huh and you know how well you deal with this type,// he snorted at himself.
The stranger's smile widened as he came forward and crouched down in front of the panting child. "Y' Morlock, petit?"
The words made no sense to Roy but the fuzzy kid nodded rapidly.
"Best be getting underground, den, 'fore anyone else tries for you," he warned, pulling a wad of cash from a pocket and pressing it into the kid's hand. 'Fuzzy' nodded and spoke, //oh. It's a boy// "Tunnel access there," pointing at a grating, "was trying. Grating stuck. I go, now." The boy nodded sharply, cash vanished into the ratty pants, and he staggered down to pull on the grating until it swung up. H turned and dropped down into it, foot catching some hold to catch the grating and pull it down. "My thanks, upworlders," he called, then he dropped, the grating clanged, and he was gone.
"That was weird," Roy muttered, and the Cajun laughed, a low, rippling honest sound that he could tell didn't get enough use. "Non, dat be pretty normal for Morlock--Oooh. You not from around here, oui?"
"No, I'm not," with a shake of his head. "I'd'a killed anybody that tried to treat Gar like that, I wasn't about to let anyone go after a kid.... Roy Harper," he tagged onto the end, sticking his hand out.
The stranger's head tilted appraisingly, and one half-gloved hand wrapped hard around his. "Dey call me Gambit, mais... you can call me Remy, mon ami… T'ank you, for helping de petit. Most people won' get involved, don' care... I 'preciate it." The hand in his slowly slipped away, fingers sliding over his palm as Remy pushed his sunglasses back with his left hand, revealing his--//red-on-black? Explains the shades//--eyes.
He shrugged, "I heard the kid scream, I couldn't not help. People call me Arsenal, if we're trading codenames...." He'd let himself hold onto that hand a moment as it slipped away.
Glowing eyes widened in a way Roy hadn't seen for years and had almost forgotten, "Oh, oui? An' why dat be?"
Roy cussed himself for ten kinds of a fool as he felt himself flush at the innuendo-laden tone and the slow curve of Remy's smile. "I outgrew my first one... and finding a name that fit with my "clan" was a bitch," he answered with a shrug. "Arsenal fit well enough. If I'd had my bow, I wouldn't have needed the hand, but thanks..."
"Hmm..." low, thoughtful noise, and suddenly Remy tilted his head curiously. "Y' said something in'resting to Remy, earlier.... Who's Gar, an' why you link him with de petit?"
"Garfield Logan, Beast Boy. He's a friend, was a teammate. He's a shapechanger, but he normally looks a lot like that kid's big brother, except green."
"Oh, oui? An' he no 'ave problems with people?"
Roy couldn't help the laugh. "Only when his fangirls want his autograph, or crowd him at a Con. He was a kid star, and people remember."
"Looking like de petit, no-one give him trouble? Your world be way diff'rent than Remy's, mon ami."
"Yeah. I'm gettin' that idea, but nobody's been nice enough to give us second-string heroes anything but the basics... Have you got somewhere else to be?"
"Non, Remy not busy. On vacation in de city when It happen, and not go home yet...." It sounded almost like he was afraid home wouldn't be there.
"Want to kill a few hours?" Obvious, maybe, but it was a valid reason, right? Even Di--Jade--couldn't be pissed at him for digging for intel, right?
"Oui, mon ami, we can trade stories, Remy not hear much yet either. Your place or Remy's?"
"Hm. You're probably closer, I took three buses to get here. So many of the streets are wrong now that I figured it was safer..." He couldn't help the grin at the laughter that got.
"Oui, oui.... c'mon, den. Remy's place not far." The Cajun tilted his head towards the far end of the alley and Roy took a few steps that way before he frowned. "Hang on a minute, kay? I left my stuff at the bus stop."
"Remy wait, den."
Roy turned at the nod and walked down to the corner, then ran like hell for the bus stop. Coyote was still there, amazingly enough, and he tucked the trickster-god's figure back under his arm to run back. Remy was still standing there when he rounded the corner again... and with the way those red-black eyes lit up, he hadn't expected Roy to come back. "Y'did all dat runnin' after a toy, mon ami?" his voice thick with disbelief.
"I wanted a souvenir for Lian--my baby."
"Daugh'er, ou cherie?"
Roy knew he was grinning like an idiot, and didn't care. "My daughter. She's five. Great kid, smart as a whip," he bragged as he walked beside the other redhead. Watching the way he moved, the languid, lazy-coiled grace told him this man was dangerous, possibly lethal (god, but he knew how to move)--just Roy's type. //Damn it.//
"No ring," Remy observed, tone very idle.
Roy shook his head. "No.... Chesh and I don't... see eye to eye." He snorted at the magnitude of that understatement. "No girlfriend, either." Grace soo didn't count.
"Boyfriend?" the tone of that question was a strange mix of impish curiosity and deep wariness, and Roy turned to look at him. "Not anymore," fell off his lips before he knew he was going to answer, and he watched the slow smile spread across those full lips with a soft, mainly mental groan, //Fuuck...// "What about you?" rapid question, distracting himself from the tension coiling back and forth between them like a live wire.
"Non, nobody in Remy's life at de moment," he said as he turned down another side street and they headed towards an apartment building.
He wanted to ask why, but kept it behind his teeth. He'd seen that flash of old hurt, after all, and settled for, "Being single has its moments...."
If he'd had any doubts left about how this night was going to go, the wicked smile and the flare of those strange eyes as they reached the steps burned them away. "Oui... it does," Remy said, voice low and lazy and knowing as he unlocked the door and pushed it open with a flare. Roy stepped into the hall and pulled out his phone--how they were still working baffled him--while he could still think clearly. "Let me call Lian's nanny, all right?"
"Oui. We take de stairs, den. Signal's better." He followed Remy, talking to Ron as he went up the two flights, letting him know he might be all night--and shut off the phone before they were out of the stairwell. Keys came out again and Remy let him into one of them. //214//. He looked the place over, appraising it. Mostly barren, practical and soulless but nicely furnished. //He did say he was on vacation,// he reminded himself, and turned to watch Remy flick the--//very professional//--locks on the door. "Welcome t' my home away from home, Roy. Anyt'ing Remy can get you?"
//You// and //yes// and a few other, equally embarrassing responses flashed through his mind--and probably his eyes, too. He felt himself lick his lips, and went for casual. "Wouldn't mind a beer...."
"Soun's good," Remy nodded and slipped into the kitchen. "Make y'self comfortable, Remy be back in a second..."
He took the man at his word, put Coyote by the door, and moved to drop onto a pleasantly soft black leather couch and waited, watching the kitchen door for the demon-eyed charmer to come back out--which he did in short order, two cold bottles in one long-fingered hand. Remy walked over to him, quiet and graceful and balanced on the balls of his feet, and Roy swallowed hard as he sat up enough to take one, watching Remy switch it to his other hand before handing it over. The brush of their fingers along each other as he took the bottle blazed like flame up his arm into his chest--and from the quick bob of Remy's adam's apple, he wasn't the only one that felt it. //Oh, this has been a while...// he thought to himself.
"Y'know, mon ami, Remy t'ink he goin' to go change, dis armor not be de mos' comfy thing. Sorry t'keep leaving you."
"It's all right, Remy. Nice couch, cold beer, quiet, I'm good..." he twisted the beer open and leaned back against the couch-arm casually to prove his point, and while he couldn't hear the soft mutter, he did read lips. "Remy just bet," and something he couldn't catch, as the cajun turned and left the room, knocking a //bedroom// door mostly-shut behind him. "Y' said y' name needed to fit your clan, what clan? Remy must 'ave missed dat part..." He was pitching that voice loud enough to come through clear, but it was muffled every so often...
Roy laughed and called back, "Informal 'clan'. Green Arrow raised me. It was just me and him, then his girl, Black Canary, then his son showed up, and we picked up my successor, the new Speedy. We're the Arrow clan, or family. Smaller than the Bat clan, but we're sooo much saner." He took a long drink of the beer, deciding it wasn't bad.
"Dat Batman be one scary homme," Remy replied, apparently agreeing, and Roy choked with laughter. "Oh, yeah. When'd you meet him, though?"
"Remy was in on a conf'rence call between my team and de... JLA, right? Scary."
Roy chuckled softly--and damned near swallowed his tongue as the Cajun came back out. He'd thought the width of those shoulders was from the armor... which was definitely not the case, as proven by the breadth of them in the clinging grey button-throat tee-shirt. There'd been one hell of a body under that horrendously colored metal, and the shirt showed it off. Now, he was no stranger to great bodies, not growing up with Dick and Bruce and Ollie and Clark around, but that'd didn't mean he was unappreciative of this one.
Great set of pecs, biceps that looked like he could pull a bow easy--he couldn't help the grin at the thought--the hard-muscled forearms and wrists of a wrestler or gymnast, and the way the tucked-in shirt pressed against those abs didn't leave much doubt that they rivaled Dick's. The button-fly jeans it was tucked into looked like they'd been through hell and back, worn nearly threadbare and probably butter-soft, and they clung almost as much as the shirt did as the Cajun smiled at him and came over to take over the other half of the couch. "Yeah," he managed, "he really is. I mean, I've known him--more his eldest than him, but him too--for, hell, ever, and he never stops being really scary."
Remy shook his head, and twisted open his beer to take a drink.
"You said, 'your team.' Who?" Roy asked.
"Oh. Remy be an X-Man, when dey care to admit dey need him." That was a bitter answer if he'd ever heard one. It sounded kind of like him at times--times like Ollie leaving, kicking him out, losing the Titans, Dick being Dick and all mini-Bat.... Yeah. He knew that tone.
"X-man, X-Men, that was in the JLA brief we all got," he wracked his brain.
"We be working for human-mutant co-existance," Remy provided. "More like fighting for, mais, de other sounds better. Our world... it be not so nice to de differen'. Comme moi. Remy be abandoned as a bebe 'cause of dese eyes," he tapped the side of his head. "Dat be typical here. People fear what dey don' understand, and dey don' understand us. De Morlocks, de petit? Dey live in de sewers 'cause no one hire a woman with green skin, or kid with brown fur all over... Or a man dat can make pretty lights in de air, or fly.... M'own family leave me b'hind, and it don' seem like you even notice dem..."
Roy sat up, swinging his right leg back down off the couch, left foot against right knee, and leaned forward a little, free hand flexing as he considered reaching out to that confusion. "When you've lived with an Atlantean that has to breathe water every hour, a guy that runs at Mach 6 on a bad day, an alien princess with glowing green eyes and the ability to starbolt your ass into the next county, a half-demon that's been nearly used as a vessel for her demon-god father to take over our world, a true cyborg, a green shapeshifter with a low sense of humor and a woman nearly made out of liquid silver... a little thing like red-on-black eyes doesn't seem like such a big deal. I mean, they're striking... but it's not like you're scary or anything." His hand had apparently taken the moment's thought of reaching out as open permission, because he suddenly felt warm, hard-muscled skin under his hand. He glanced down and saw he'd wrapped it lightly just below the man's elbow--and Remy was staring at him with a completely dumbstruck expression, as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"Oui? You saw Remy's cards, mon ami... Dese eyes not Remy's only change. Anyt'ing Remy touch dat's not alive, he can speed it up, turn anyt'ing to pure, kinetic energy... Remy be a human bomb, Roy... Dat not scary?"
Roy shook his head. "Nah... You remind me of Damage, kind of, kid I mentored... He didn't have much control, would explode if he got too upset.... So we worked on his control. You going to lose it all of a sudden?"
"Non, Remy's powers under control, mon ami.... What are you, den, if your team is all like you said?"
"Me? I'm human, Remy. Plain old garden-variety human... what does that have to do with anything? So are you... Human, I mean."
He didn't expect the shudder in that tall frame, or the way his eyes squeezed shut against an emotional surge. "So some people say, mais... you saw." Those red-on-black eyes came open again, glowing hot.
"Yeah. I did. I'm sorry, it sucks... but surely not everyone's like that?" Yeah, it was possible, but not likely... and his thumb was rubbing circles along the inside of Remy's forearm, over the thickest part of the muscle, comforting little touches he didn't want to stop.... He wanted a lot more than that, really, but this would do for now. He watched Remy's face, watched the lines slowly smooth out of it again
"Non. Not everyone... after all, you're not, eh, cher?" He had a half-second's worth of warning, then Remy was leaning forward, head tilted, eyes open--and Roy just smiled at him and let it happen, let full, dry lips press against his own, //oh, god//, let Remy's hand slid back behind his neck, rubbing at the buzzed stubble at the back of his neck and leaned into it, kissing him back, lips moving against the other redhead's, wishing Dick'd never made him so mad he shaved the hair off. His hand had slid up from Remy's arm to the back of his neck and into that mass of dark auburn hair, fingers tangled in it to pull him closer and he remembered how good that was... Suddenly, his tongue was in Remy's mouth, tasting the beer and a tinge of cigarette-smoke and the taste of another man hungrily, and Remy's tongue was in his, pressing hard and curious and flicking against the sides of his own...
//Hell. Yes.// One word sentences and his mind was already blowing as he breathed through the kiss and started to bring his other hand up and realized there was a beer in it. That wasn't going to work but he wasn't letting go long enough to put it down properly--he was a little too busy seeing if he twisted his tongue like that if Remy would--//yes!//--gasp into it, open his mouth further and let him take the kiss deeper. Roy tilted his head, changed the angle, open mouth and jaw pressed tighter to kiss him deeper, hand back in Remy's hair keeping the Cajun right where he wanted him. He heard the chink of a bottle falling against the floor but his hand was still cold what---//Oh//--another strong, long-fingered hungry hand was on him, curved around the tattoo on his right bicep and oh, shit, he needed to breathe.... Pulling his mouth away was damned near physically painful and he gasped for breath, leaned sideways to drop the bottle to the floor--and found himself staring up at red-black eyes, back against the couch, head on the armrest and probably a hundred-sixty pounds of solid muscle pinning him to it with demon's eyes and a wicked, hungry smile.
"Hi," heard himself gasp, sex-stupid already, apparently, and shifted under him, trying to free his left foot--that didn't feel so great, and couldn't to Remy, either---he was right or he was persuasive, not sure which, but the weight lifted off his leg just long enough for him to slide it down the back of the couch. He realized what he'd done when those slim hips settled between his legs as Remy dropped his weight again, and he could no more have stopped the gasp than he could have stopped time. He rocked up against that weight and hot, hard pressure against the denim, arching into it....
The low, husky laugh should have pissed him off but it just sounded good and he rocked again--and this time it was the smugly smiling charmer above him that gasped, eyes falling shut. Roy grinned, pleased and brought his freed hand up to slide down his back. Remy still had a grip on his arm but there was a lot of him Roy could reach even with the hold--and from the sudden, hard press of his body back into it and the moan, it'd been a while since anyone had touched him. He tilted his head, arched up a little, and licked at Remy's lips, coaxing and hungry, //C'mon...// and was suddenly being kissed breathless by a very, very skilled man, the solid weight of Remy's body fully dropped onto his chest and god was that good, it'd only be better withou--
His hand was out of Remy's hair and sliding down his back, tugging at the shirt, balling it up, other hand as low in between their bodies as he could get it and doing the same, hips rocking up against Remy's in long, slow strokes as he worked on the shirt. His mouth was suddenly freed and the weight was low on his abs and thighs as Remy reared back and let go of his arm, braced that arm on the couch to take his weight as he pulled the shirt over his head with the other. He let it fall down his bracing, outer //left, Roy// arm and off the couch entirely, bare to the waist and oh, damn.... He latched his hands onto the hard lines of Remy's shoulderblades and curled up to lick at a scar along a collarbone, sucked at it, felt Remy brace against the couch and sucked his way out the line of bone to a shoulder, leaving red marks against pale skin, looking for the hollowed spot at the shoulder that should make him gasp, and buck down--//mmm, yeah...//--against him, then it was a rapid curl of his body to switch to the other side, other spot and do the same and Remy was cursing into his ear, soft fast patois he understood one word in five of and a tightening of shoulder-muscles warned him a half-breath too late that he--
--Was on his back again, pinned down with the Cajun imitating a vampire on the left side of his throat and he writhed against that, holding on, pulling him down tighter against his body and reminding himself he was not a kid anymore. He freed one hand to run down Remy's back, caressing him as the man over him moved with the same slow, long pace he'd set and feeling strong muscle ripple under his hands and the dampness of sweat starting to gather under his palms, breath coming in quick half-gasps, //he's going to bruise me I don't care...// He struggled to catch his left shoe against the couch and kicked it off and over the end of it, that hot mouth still sucking all up and down his throat as he fought with the other shoe, finally managing to hook it on the bottom of the couch and tug it off.
He heard himself gasp at the sudden feel of long fingers and hard, callused palms sliding against his skin low on his side--he'd never noticed Remy untucking his shirt from the slacks. He arched into the touch, head tipping back as the Cajun slid his hand up his side and arched up off him just enough to push the shirt up with that wrist and forearm. Roy lifted up enough to get it out from under his back, letting go of Remy reluctantly just long enough to lift his arms and shuck it off, getting his head caught in it for a moment--
"Mon Dieu, cher!" loud, harsh curse and he struggled free of the shirt, dropping it behind the couch to stare at him, confused a moment until Remy's arm pressed against his chest and he felt the weird sensation of the line between sensation and not-feeling along the surgical scar over his sternum, and he shook his head, laughing softly. "Didn't, quite, kill me, and I'm fine now, easy, Remy..." He didn't want to be distracted by battle-scars or emotional wounds when he felt so damned good and he tangled both hands in Remy's hair to pull him down and kiss him deep and sure again, still moving from mid-abs to lower thigh and so very, very grateful he'd worn fairly loose slacks or he'd be in pain by now he was so hard--//those jeans have to be killing him.//
Roy kissed him a while longer though, just rocking and rubbing up against that hard, strong body and feeling Remy writhe back, hearing the half-gasps and choked moans that were getting lost in the kiss. He was sweaty enough now to stick a little to the leather of the couch, but didn't care a bit, just one more sensation among the many... Slowly, he let his hands slide out of that red-brown silk-soft hair and work down his back again, feeling the taper in toward slim hips--//god, so fam--NO//-- and sliding his hands out when he hit fabric, fingers sliding along the hem, slowly working to slide them between their tight-pressed, sweat-slick bodies and Remy bucked backwards onto his knees, breaking the kiss and the full-body contact to do so and he worked on the button-fly with a growl, getting them open eventually. Nothing underneath but red curls and a nicely thick, long cock flushed dark with blood and leaking just a little and he wrapped his hand around it, rubbing his palm over the tip to slick it a little and the noise Remy made as he threw his head back and bucked into it was probably some Cajun curse. Palm slicked enough, he stroked him slow and sure, testing to see what he liked....
"Oh, mon dieu, cher, merde, Remy t'ink you you got all night to stop dat..." //His accent gets thicker the more turned on he gets,// Roy noticed and stroked him again--then groaned as Remy shifted, changed the lie of his body and somehow freed a hand to go after the snap and zipper of his pants and he helped willingly, hand still moving on his current prize.
"I could, but we'd get kind of bored eventually," Roy agreed, twisting and lifting his hips to help Remy get them and the boxers down enough to be out of the way, startling a gasping laugh out of the other redhead and grinning about it as he let go long enough to try and peel Remy out of the jeans--and he got some very eager help, long-limbed scarred agile body twisting in implausible ways and somewhere in the middle of all of that his socks and slacks disappeared and they were both nude and plastered together again. Sweat slicked the couch and every move and twist and gasp and buck against each other, his hands sliding over Remy's body and those strong hands all over him with their cocks sliding together/against each other painting wet stripes against solid muscle as they kissed each other over and over again, mouths and tongues not battling, but almost dancing until he felt trembling muscle-spasms under his hands that warned him Remy was fighting off his pleasure and he broke the kiss to lick at an ear, talking to him, urging him to come.... Hot, wet fluid pulsed against his abs, and he shuddered and cursed and the world vanished in a white-hot flare--
--he opened his eyes again to Remy still laying over him, heavy sweat-slick warm panting weight, red-on-black eyes watching his face, expression... curious? What was he--?
"What was dat you said to Remy, cher?"
"What? I said come for me..." His tone baffled, chin tilting to the side.
"Non, cher, y'said somet'ing like..." and the sound of that Cajun voice carefully trying to mimic the sounds of his first language made him flush and shake his head. //God, wrong...// "Shit. I slipped again. That was Diné bizaad, Navajo, my first language. I don't normally do that, sorry..."
"Non, cher, non... c'est beaux, je me--" he broke off in laughter, his hair brushing over Roy's shoulder as he shook his head. "You 'ave Remy doing it too. It sounded good..."
Roy shrugged and stroked a shoulderblade with one hand, other arm locked low around Remy's waist, hand splayed over his hip. "ooh, damn..." soft, low, pleased voice, letting Remy know he'd enjoyed himself pretty damned thoroughly. Remy nodded, "Oui, damn indeed..." He fished off the side of the couch, gods only knew what for--ooh. The beer. Yeah, that sounded good. Remy shifted over him to take a long drink, then offered it to him. He nodded, convinced himself to let go of his shoulder and took the beer with that hand, drinking deep himself. All the moving, though, reminded him they were kind of a mess and he made a face. "Clean up?" he asked, "Then..."
"Try dis in a bed, maybe, cher? Oui, Remy t'ink so...."
"Yeah," Roy agreed, thinking that sounded like a plan, and one they'd cleaned the worst of the mess away with Remy's tee-shirt they headed for the bedroom to try and make each other lose their English again.
the end
pervyficgirl's fault, though she'll blame merfilly, because Filly created The Big Event, your source for quick-and-easy DC/Marvel crossover fun. *G*'Filly did this in the stunningly hot Remy/Dick Cards on the Wing. Then there's
amarin_rose's The Things You Learn In Jail Cells, also Remy/Dick but not porny. Pervyficgirl followed 'Filly with the equally smoking Freely Given, a Daredevil/Nightwing that will blow your mind. When I commented on 'Freely Given', she said she wanted Remy/Roy. Well, gorgeous lady, here you go. Here's my take on The Event, and on two lonely, hurting, too-gorgeous redheads.Title: Momentary Distractions
Fandom: DC/Marvel
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Remy
Rating: NC-17
Momentary Distractions
Roy walked out of the mall entrance with a large, stuffed coyote under his arm and headed for the bus stop in the late evening light. He'd liked it, and the maker didn't exist in his universe, so this was kind of a one-time shot, due to the "smooshing"--he couldn't help grinning at the thought of his daughter's words--of his world with this other, drastically different reality. Bits and pieces of two versions of New York had been jammed together for almost a week, somehow managing to continue to function, but the skyline he knew was changed by the offices of newspapers and lawfirms and the "Fantastic Four" tower, among other things.... Then again, Outsiders' HQ and the other hero-centric buildings that had survived the "smooshing" were probably just as weird to the othe--//SHIT!// The scream brought his rambling thoughts to a standstill and he tucked the coyote up onto the top of the bus stop and took off towards it at a dead run.
//Sounded like a kid, what the--oh, Fuck. This. Shit.// He'd whipped around the corner into an alleyway and laid eyes on the problem, and it pissed him off. One terrified couldn't-be-twelve-years-old kid running his way with what looked like the last of it's strength followed by... eightee--no, crap, twenty; angry-looking people waving fists (and more dangerous things). Kid had had a decent lead at one point, obviously, but it was shrinking fast. Kid was also kind of cute if you looked past the short crop of red-brown fur and the pointy ears and teeth //could be Gar's kid brother!//... but the bigots chasing it obviously couldn't be bothered. He and Grace had broken up one of these damned mobs already, it wasn't hard to figure out the problem. Kid was only a few feet away now, and he saw the dark eyes widen in fear--//thinks I'm going to join in. God damn it.//
"Get behind me, kid!" he barked, hands going for weapons he--//damn it// wasn't carrying. Public transport didn't like them, for some reason. //Not the first time I've done crowd control bare-handed,// he shrugged and took running steps forward to get between the terrified kid and the mob chasing him/her. "What in God's name do you people think you're doing?!" he bellowed, channeling Ollie in full cry--to disturbingly little effect.
He tuned out the yells that answered him when they didn't involve the words "killed" "stole" or "attacked" as typical bigoted bullshit... and they weren't stopping. The fist to the front-runner's jaw, the kick to his closest buddy's chest and the elbow he slammed into the temple of the third did put them off for a moment and he tried to reach back and urge the kid down the alley some more--but the little thing had apparently run out of gas and could barely stagger. //Three downed for the moment, seventeen to go--joy// His lips thinned some more as the tail-end of the crowd swung around him and the kid and--//we're trapped. Shit. I'm going to have to hurt these people. All I wanted was a souvenir for Lian. What do I get? Alley brawl with bunch of bigo--what the hell?//
The crack of an explosion had made him jump--but when one of the mob abruptly fell forward with it, he kicked her in the jaw, sending her backwards away from the kid. He looked around, trying not to take his eyes completely off the now-gawking mob... and found the source first--//Pink and blue armor and a brown trenchcoat?! And here I thought Dick's taste was bad!// flashed through his mind as he spotted the stranger crouched on the second floor railing of a fire escape. //Idiots never look up,// he thought in disgust, watching them still throwing frightened glances around. Like Donna and Kory hadn't cured him of that when he still wore the feather-hat?
"How 'bout you leave de petit and Messieur Red alone, non? 'Cause Gambit not in a good mood, and he be happy to make you, but he not think you enjoy it so much, n'est pas?" Roy thought the glowing red //is that a damned playing card?// held up in one hand emphasized his point nicely. //Now, what is a Cajun with an accent that strong doing up here in NYC?//
"Dere be plen'y more where dat first card came from, hommes..." he added with a twist of that left wrist--and the reactions of the crowd told Roy this was a local, someone they hated (feared) obvious in the way they started to back away, spewing more of their filth into the air as they turned tail and ran, taking their wounded with them. //And, who are you, Cajun?// he wondered as he watched his trouble evaporate.
'Cajun' jumped down off the railing with a grace that so reminded him of Dick, all easy flare and casual acrobatics. Then he smiled, teeth flashing in the gold sunset-light, eyes hidden by sunglasses, and his heart seized up. This was another heartbreaker, all charm and flash and promises--//uh-huh and you know how well you deal with this type,// he snorted at himself.
The stranger's smile widened as he came forward and crouched down in front of the panting child. "Y' Morlock, petit?"
The words made no sense to Roy but the fuzzy kid nodded rapidly.
"Best be getting underground, den, 'fore anyone else tries for you," he warned, pulling a wad of cash from a pocket and pressing it into the kid's hand. 'Fuzzy' nodded and spoke, //oh. It's a boy// "Tunnel access there," pointing at a grating, "was trying. Grating stuck. I go, now." The boy nodded sharply, cash vanished into the ratty pants, and he staggered down to pull on the grating until it swung up. H turned and dropped down into it, foot catching some hold to catch the grating and pull it down. "My thanks, upworlders," he called, then he dropped, the grating clanged, and he was gone.
"That was weird," Roy muttered, and the Cajun laughed, a low, rippling honest sound that he could tell didn't get enough use. "Non, dat be pretty normal for Morlock--Oooh. You not from around here, oui?"
"No, I'm not," with a shake of his head. "I'd'a killed anybody that tried to treat Gar like that, I wasn't about to let anyone go after a kid.... Roy Harper," he tagged onto the end, sticking his hand out.
The stranger's head tilted appraisingly, and one half-gloved hand wrapped hard around his. "Dey call me Gambit, mais... you can call me Remy, mon ami… T'ank you, for helping de petit. Most people won' get involved, don' care... I 'preciate it." The hand in his slowly slipped away, fingers sliding over his palm as Remy pushed his sunglasses back with his left hand, revealing his--//red-on-black? Explains the shades//--eyes.
He shrugged, "I heard the kid scream, I couldn't not help. People call me Arsenal, if we're trading codenames...." He'd let himself hold onto that hand a moment as it slipped away.
Glowing eyes widened in a way Roy hadn't seen for years and had almost forgotten, "Oh, oui? An' why dat be?"
Roy cussed himself for ten kinds of a fool as he felt himself flush at the innuendo-laden tone and the slow curve of Remy's smile. "I outgrew my first one... and finding a name that fit with my "clan" was a bitch," he answered with a shrug. "Arsenal fit well enough. If I'd had my bow, I wouldn't have needed the hand, but thanks..."
"Hmm..." low, thoughtful noise, and suddenly Remy tilted his head curiously. "Y' said something in'resting to Remy, earlier.... Who's Gar, an' why you link him with de petit?"
"Garfield Logan, Beast Boy. He's a friend, was a teammate. He's a shapechanger, but he normally looks a lot like that kid's big brother, except green."
"Oh, oui? An' he no 'ave problems with people?"
Roy couldn't help the laugh. "Only when his fangirls want his autograph, or crowd him at a Con. He was a kid star, and people remember."
"Looking like de petit, no-one give him trouble? Your world be way diff'rent than Remy's, mon ami."
"Yeah. I'm gettin' that idea, but nobody's been nice enough to give us second-string heroes anything but the basics... Have you got somewhere else to be?"
"Non, Remy not busy. On vacation in de city when It happen, and not go home yet...." It sounded almost like he was afraid home wouldn't be there.
"Want to kill a few hours?" Obvious, maybe, but it was a valid reason, right? Even Di--Jade--couldn't be pissed at him for digging for intel, right?
"Oui, mon ami, we can trade stories, Remy not hear much yet either. Your place or Remy's?"
"Hm. You're probably closer, I took three buses to get here. So many of the streets are wrong now that I figured it was safer..." He couldn't help the grin at the laughter that got.
"Oui, oui.... c'mon, den. Remy's place not far." The Cajun tilted his head towards the far end of the alley and Roy took a few steps that way before he frowned. "Hang on a minute, kay? I left my stuff at the bus stop."
"Remy wait, den."
Roy turned at the nod and walked down to the corner, then ran like hell for the bus stop. Coyote was still there, amazingly enough, and he tucked the trickster-god's figure back under his arm to run back. Remy was still standing there when he rounded the corner again... and with the way those red-black eyes lit up, he hadn't expected Roy to come back. "Y'did all dat runnin' after a toy, mon ami?" his voice thick with disbelief.
"I wanted a souvenir for Lian--my baby."
"Daugh'er, ou cherie?"
Roy knew he was grinning like an idiot, and didn't care. "My daughter. She's five. Great kid, smart as a whip," he bragged as he walked beside the other redhead. Watching the way he moved, the languid, lazy-coiled grace told him this man was dangerous, possibly lethal (god, but he knew how to move)--just Roy's type. //Damn it.//
"No ring," Remy observed, tone very idle.
Roy shook his head. "No.... Chesh and I don't... see eye to eye." He snorted at the magnitude of that understatement. "No girlfriend, either." Grace soo didn't count.
"Boyfriend?" the tone of that question was a strange mix of impish curiosity and deep wariness, and Roy turned to look at him. "Not anymore," fell off his lips before he knew he was going to answer, and he watched the slow smile spread across those full lips with a soft, mainly mental groan, //Fuuck...// "What about you?" rapid question, distracting himself from the tension coiling back and forth between them like a live wire.
"Non, nobody in Remy's life at de moment," he said as he turned down another side street and they headed towards an apartment building.
He wanted to ask why, but kept it behind his teeth. He'd seen that flash of old hurt, after all, and settled for, "Being single has its moments...."
If he'd had any doubts left about how this night was going to go, the wicked smile and the flare of those strange eyes as they reached the steps burned them away. "Oui... it does," Remy said, voice low and lazy and knowing as he unlocked the door and pushed it open with a flare. Roy stepped into the hall and pulled out his phone--how they were still working baffled him--while he could still think clearly. "Let me call Lian's nanny, all right?"
"Oui. We take de stairs, den. Signal's better." He followed Remy, talking to Ron as he went up the two flights, letting him know he might be all night--and shut off the phone before they were out of the stairwell. Keys came out again and Remy let him into one of them. //214//. He looked the place over, appraising it. Mostly barren, practical and soulless but nicely furnished. //He did say he was on vacation,// he reminded himself, and turned to watch Remy flick the--//very professional//--locks on the door. "Welcome t' my home away from home, Roy. Anyt'ing Remy can get you?"
//You// and //yes// and a few other, equally embarrassing responses flashed through his mind--and probably his eyes, too. He felt himself lick his lips, and went for casual. "Wouldn't mind a beer...."
"Soun's good," Remy nodded and slipped into the kitchen. "Make y'self comfortable, Remy be back in a second..."
He took the man at his word, put Coyote by the door, and moved to drop onto a pleasantly soft black leather couch and waited, watching the kitchen door for the demon-eyed charmer to come back out--which he did in short order, two cold bottles in one long-fingered hand. Remy walked over to him, quiet and graceful and balanced on the balls of his feet, and Roy swallowed hard as he sat up enough to take one, watching Remy switch it to his other hand before handing it over. The brush of their fingers along each other as he took the bottle blazed like flame up his arm into his chest--and from the quick bob of Remy's adam's apple, he wasn't the only one that felt it. //Oh, this has been a while...// he thought to himself.
"Y'know, mon ami, Remy t'ink he goin' to go change, dis armor not be de mos' comfy thing. Sorry t'keep leaving you."
"It's all right, Remy. Nice couch, cold beer, quiet, I'm good..." he twisted the beer open and leaned back against the couch-arm casually to prove his point, and while he couldn't hear the soft mutter, he did read lips. "Remy just bet," and something he couldn't catch, as the cajun turned and left the room, knocking a //bedroom// door mostly-shut behind him. "Y' said y' name needed to fit your clan, what clan? Remy must 'ave missed dat part..." He was pitching that voice loud enough to come through clear, but it was muffled every so often...
Roy laughed and called back, "Informal 'clan'. Green Arrow raised me. It was just me and him, then his girl, Black Canary, then his son showed up, and we picked up my successor, the new Speedy. We're the Arrow clan, or family. Smaller than the Bat clan, but we're sooo much saner." He took a long drink of the beer, deciding it wasn't bad.
"Dat Batman be one scary homme," Remy replied, apparently agreeing, and Roy choked with laughter. "Oh, yeah. When'd you meet him, though?"
"Remy was in on a conf'rence call between my team and de... JLA, right? Scary."
Roy chuckled softly--and damned near swallowed his tongue as the Cajun came back out. He'd thought the width of those shoulders was from the armor... which was definitely not the case, as proven by the breadth of them in the clinging grey button-throat tee-shirt. There'd been one hell of a body under that horrendously colored metal, and the shirt showed it off. Now, he was no stranger to great bodies, not growing up with Dick and Bruce and Ollie and Clark around, but that'd didn't mean he was unappreciative of this one.
Great set of pecs, biceps that looked like he could pull a bow easy--he couldn't help the grin at the thought--the hard-muscled forearms and wrists of a wrestler or gymnast, and the way the tucked-in shirt pressed against those abs didn't leave much doubt that they rivaled Dick's. The button-fly jeans it was tucked into looked like they'd been through hell and back, worn nearly threadbare and probably butter-soft, and they clung almost as much as the shirt did as the Cajun smiled at him and came over to take over the other half of the couch. "Yeah," he managed, "he really is. I mean, I've known him--more his eldest than him, but him too--for, hell, ever, and he never stops being really scary."
Remy shook his head, and twisted open his beer to take a drink.
"You said, 'your team.' Who?" Roy asked.
"Oh. Remy be an X-Man, when dey care to admit dey need him." That was a bitter answer if he'd ever heard one. It sounded kind of like him at times--times like Ollie leaving, kicking him out, losing the Titans, Dick being Dick and all mini-Bat.... Yeah. He knew that tone.
"X-man, X-Men, that was in the JLA brief we all got," he wracked his brain.
"We be working for human-mutant co-existance," Remy provided. "More like fighting for, mais, de other sounds better. Our world... it be not so nice to de differen'. Comme moi. Remy be abandoned as a bebe 'cause of dese eyes," he tapped the side of his head. "Dat be typical here. People fear what dey don' understand, and dey don' understand us. De Morlocks, de petit? Dey live in de sewers 'cause no one hire a woman with green skin, or kid with brown fur all over... Or a man dat can make pretty lights in de air, or fly.... M'own family leave me b'hind, and it don' seem like you even notice dem..."
Roy sat up, swinging his right leg back down off the couch, left foot against right knee, and leaned forward a little, free hand flexing as he considered reaching out to that confusion. "When you've lived with an Atlantean that has to breathe water every hour, a guy that runs at Mach 6 on a bad day, an alien princess with glowing green eyes and the ability to starbolt your ass into the next county, a half-demon that's been nearly used as a vessel for her demon-god father to take over our world, a true cyborg, a green shapeshifter with a low sense of humor and a woman nearly made out of liquid silver... a little thing like red-on-black eyes doesn't seem like such a big deal. I mean, they're striking... but it's not like you're scary or anything." His hand had apparently taken the moment's thought of reaching out as open permission, because he suddenly felt warm, hard-muscled skin under his hand. He glanced down and saw he'd wrapped it lightly just below the man's elbow--and Remy was staring at him with a completely dumbstruck expression, as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"Oui? You saw Remy's cards, mon ami... Dese eyes not Remy's only change. Anyt'ing Remy touch dat's not alive, he can speed it up, turn anyt'ing to pure, kinetic energy... Remy be a human bomb, Roy... Dat not scary?"
Roy shook his head. "Nah... You remind me of Damage, kind of, kid I mentored... He didn't have much control, would explode if he got too upset.... So we worked on his control. You going to lose it all of a sudden?"
"Non, Remy's powers under control, mon ami.... What are you, den, if your team is all like you said?"
"Me? I'm human, Remy. Plain old garden-variety human... what does that have to do with anything? So are you... Human, I mean."
He didn't expect the shudder in that tall frame, or the way his eyes squeezed shut against an emotional surge. "So some people say, mais... you saw." Those red-on-black eyes came open again, glowing hot.
"Yeah. I did. I'm sorry, it sucks... but surely not everyone's like that?" Yeah, it was possible, but not likely... and his thumb was rubbing circles along the inside of Remy's forearm, over the thickest part of the muscle, comforting little touches he didn't want to stop.... He wanted a lot more than that, really, but this would do for now. He watched Remy's face, watched the lines slowly smooth out of it again
"Non. Not everyone... after all, you're not, eh, cher?" He had a half-second's worth of warning, then Remy was leaning forward, head tilted, eyes open--and Roy just smiled at him and let it happen, let full, dry lips press against his own, //oh, god//, let Remy's hand slid back behind his neck, rubbing at the buzzed stubble at the back of his neck and leaned into it, kissing him back, lips moving against the other redhead's, wishing Dick'd never made him so mad he shaved the hair off. His hand had slid up from Remy's arm to the back of his neck and into that mass of dark auburn hair, fingers tangled in it to pull him closer and he remembered how good that was... Suddenly, his tongue was in Remy's mouth, tasting the beer and a tinge of cigarette-smoke and the taste of another man hungrily, and Remy's tongue was in his, pressing hard and curious and flicking against the sides of his own...
//Hell. Yes.// One word sentences and his mind was already blowing as he breathed through the kiss and started to bring his other hand up and realized there was a beer in it. That wasn't going to work but he wasn't letting go long enough to put it down properly--he was a little too busy seeing if he twisted his tongue like that if Remy would--//yes!//--gasp into it, open his mouth further and let him take the kiss deeper. Roy tilted his head, changed the angle, open mouth and jaw pressed tighter to kiss him deeper, hand back in Remy's hair keeping the Cajun right where he wanted him. He heard the chink of a bottle falling against the floor but his hand was still cold what---//Oh//--another strong, long-fingered hungry hand was on him, curved around the tattoo on his right bicep and oh, shit, he needed to breathe.... Pulling his mouth away was damned near physically painful and he gasped for breath, leaned sideways to drop the bottle to the floor--and found himself staring up at red-black eyes, back against the couch, head on the armrest and probably a hundred-sixty pounds of solid muscle pinning him to it with demon's eyes and a wicked, hungry smile.
"Hi," heard himself gasp, sex-stupid already, apparently, and shifted under him, trying to free his left foot--that didn't feel so great, and couldn't to Remy, either---he was right or he was persuasive, not sure which, but the weight lifted off his leg just long enough for him to slide it down the back of the couch. He realized what he'd done when those slim hips settled between his legs as Remy dropped his weight again, and he could no more have stopped the gasp than he could have stopped time. He rocked up against that weight and hot, hard pressure against the denim, arching into it....
The low, husky laugh should have pissed him off but it just sounded good and he rocked again--and this time it was the smugly smiling charmer above him that gasped, eyes falling shut. Roy grinned, pleased and brought his freed hand up to slide down his back. Remy still had a grip on his arm but there was a lot of him Roy could reach even with the hold--and from the sudden, hard press of his body back into it and the moan, it'd been a while since anyone had touched him. He tilted his head, arched up a little, and licked at Remy's lips, coaxing and hungry, //C'mon...// and was suddenly being kissed breathless by a very, very skilled man, the solid weight of Remy's body fully dropped onto his chest and god was that good, it'd only be better withou--
His hand was out of Remy's hair and sliding down his back, tugging at the shirt, balling it up, other hand as low in between their bodies as he could get it and doing the same, hips rocking up against Remy's in long, slow strokes as he worked on the shirt. His mouth was suddenly freed and the weight was low on his abs and thighs as Remy reared back and let go of his arm, braced that arm on the couch to take his weight as he pulled the shirt over his head with the other. He let it fall down his bracing, outer //left, Roy// arm and off the couch entirely, bare to the waist and oh, damn.... He latched his hands onto the hard lines of Remy's shoulderblades and curled up to lick at a scar along a collarbone, sucked at it, felt Remy brace against the couch and sucked his way out the line of bone to a shoulder, leaving red marks against pale skin, looking for the hollowed spot at the shoulder that should make him gasp, and buck down--//mmm, yeah...//--against him, then it was a rapid curl of his body to switch to the other side, other spot and do the same and Remy was cursing into his ear, soft fast patois he understood one word in five of and a tightening of shoulder-muscles warned him a half-breath too late that he--
--Was on his back again, pinned down with the Cajun imitating a vampire on the left side of his throat and he writhed against that, holding on, pulling him down tighter against his body and reminding himself he was not a kid anymore. He freed one hand to run down Remy's back, caressing him as the man over him moved with the same slow, long pace he'd set and feeling strong muscle ripple under his hands and the dampness of sweat starting to gather under his palms, breath coming in quick half-gasps, //he's going to bruise me I don't care...// He struggled to catch his left shoe against the couch and kicked it off and over the end of it, that hot mouth still sucking all up and down his throat as he fought with the other shoe, finally managing to hook it on the bottom of the couch and tug it off.
He heard himself gasp at the sudden feel of long fingers and hard, callused palms sliding against his skin low on his side--he'd never noticed Remy untucking his shirt from the slacks. He arched into the touch, head tipping back as the Cajun slid his hand up his side and arched up off him just enough to push the shirt up with that wrist and forearm. Roy lifted up enough to get it out from under his back, letting go of Remy reluctantly just long enough to lift his arms and shuck it off, getting his head caught in it for a moment--
"Mon Dieu, cher!" loud, harsh curse and he struggled free of the shirt, dropping it behind the couch to stare at him, confused a moment until Remy's arm pressed against his chest and he felt the weird sensation of the line between sensation and not-feeling along the surgical scar over his sternum, and he shook his head, laughing softly. "Didn't, quite, kill me, and I'm fine now, easy, Remy..." He didn't want to be distracted by battle-scars or emotional wounds when he felt so damned good and he tangled both hands in Remy's hair to pull him down and kiss him deep and sure again, still moving from mid-abs to lower thigh and so very, very grateful he'd worn fairly loose slacks or he'd be in pain by now he was so hard--//those jeans have to be killing him.//
Roy kissed him a while longer though, just rocking and rubbing up against that hard, strong body and feeling Remy writhe back, hearing the half-gasps and choked moans that were getting lost in the kiss. He was sweaty enough now to stick a little to the leather of the couch, but didn't care a bit, just one more sensation among the many... Slowly, he let his hands slide out of that red-brown silk-soft hair and work down his back again, feeling the taper in toward slim hips--//god, so fam--NO//-- and sliding his hands out when he hit fabric, fingers sliding along the hem, slowly working to slide them between their tight-pressed, sweat-slick bodies and Remy bucked backwards onto his knees, breaking the kiss and the full-body contact to do so and he worked on the button-fly with a growl, getting them open eventually. Nothing underneath but red curls and a nicely thick, long cock flushed dark with blood and leaking just a little and he wrapped his hand around it, rubbing his palm over the tip to slick it a little and the noise Remy made as he threw his head back and bucked into it was probably some Cajun curse. Palm slicked enough, he stroked him slow and sure, testing to see what he liked....
"Oh, mon dieu, cher, merde, Remy t'ink you you got all night to stop dat..." //His accent gets thicker the more turned on he gets,// Roy noticed and stroked him again--then groaned as Remy shifted, changed the lie of his body and somehow freed a hand to go after the snap and zipper of his pants and he helped willingly, hand still moving on his current prize.
"I could, but we'd get kind of bored eventually," Roy agreed, twisting and lifting his hips to help Remy get them and the boxers down enough to be out of the way, startling a gasping laugh out of the other redhead and grinning about it as he let go long enough to try and peel Remy out of the jeans--and he got some very eager help, long-limbed scarred agile body twisting in implausible ways and somewhere in the middle of all of that his socks and slacks disappeared and they were both nude and plastered together again. Sweat slicked the couch and every move and twist and gasp and buck against each other, his hands sliding over Remy's body and those strong hands all over him with their cocks sliding together/against each other painting wet stripes against solid muscle as they kissed each other over and over again, mouths and tongues not battling, but almost dancing until he felt trembling muscle-spasms under his hands that warned him Remy was fighting off his pleasure and he broke the kiss to lick at an ear, talking to him, urging him to come.... Hot, wet fluid pulsed against his abs, and he shuddered and cursed and the world vanished in a white-hot flare--
--he opened his eyes again to Remy still laying over him, heavy sweat-slick warm panting weight, red-on-black eyes watching his face, expression... curious? What was he--?
"What was dat you said to Remy, cher?"
"What? I said come for me..." His tone baffled, chin tilting to the side.
"Non, cher, y'said somet'ing like..." and the sound of that Cajun voice carefully trying to mimic the sounds of his first language made him flush and shake his head. //God, wrong...// "Shit. I slipped again. That was Diné bizaad, Navajo, my first language. I don't normally do that, sorry..."
"Non, cher, non... c'est beaux, je me--" he broke off in laughter, his hair brushing over Roy's shoulder as he shook his head. "You 'ave Remy doing it too. It sounded good..."
Roy shrugged and stroked a shoulderblade with one hand, other arm locked low around Remy's waist, hand splayed over his hip. "ooh, damn..." soft, low, pleased voice, letting Remy know he'd enjoyed himself pretty damned thoroughly. Remy nodded, "Oui, damn indeed..." He fished off the side of the couch, gods only knew what for--ooh. The beer. Yeah, that sounded good. Remy shifted over him to take a long drink, then offered it to him. He nodded, convinced himself to let go of his shoulder and took the beer with that hand, drinking deep himself. All the moving, though, reminded him they were kind of a mess and he made a face. "Clean up?" he asked, "Then..."
"Try dis in a bed, maybe, cher? Oui, Remy t'ink so...."
"Yeah," Roy agreed, thinking that sounded like a plan, and one they'd cleaned the worst of the mess away with Remy's tee-shirt they headed for the bedroom to try and make each other lose their English again.
the end
