Written because my muse wouldn't leave me alone unless I did. I hope
you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters within, they are the property of Marvel. I am just borrowing them for fun, and will give them
back if they really want them. I am also not making any profit from this.
Ratings: PG-13
Warnings: Slash
Dance with me.
Sage slipped into the club easily, the bouncers recognising class when they saw it and letting her in even before she’d made it to the line. Hot and dark, the inside of the club washed away any thoughts of the outside world. The music was loud enough that her heart started to pulse in time with the beat and she could barely hear herself think.
Entirely comfortable in the smoky darkness she made her way through the press of the crowd towards the bar, where she slipped into the empty seat next to where Logan was leaning against the bar. It never failed to amaze her that even when dressed casually, tonight in a pair of slightly faded black jeans and a plain black shirt, her team mate still managed to frighten most normal people, even if it was only subconscious.
“Darlin’” he nodded to her, the slight shock that she had decided to the team on their post-mission outing evident on his face. She was about to reply when the next song started and his attention was drawn to the dance floor, which he had a clear view of from where he was leant against the bar.
Sage followed his line of sight and immediately saw what had caught his attention. There on the dance floor, in amidst the mass of heaving bodies, were Ororo and Remy, doing what could only be politely described as dancing. Moving as one, they looked like they were almost under each other’s skins they were so close, and given the press of bodies Sage was surprised that Ororo’s claustrophobia hadn’t flared up.
Swaying to the pulse and ebb of the music they both had their eyes shut, acting entirely on instincts and reactions honed by years of working together. Logan was openly staring at them, eyes devouring every movement, and Sage couldn’t blame him. They danced like they fitted together, like they were to halves of a whole, and she couldn’t tear herself away, losing herself in their hypnotic movements.
As if realising that he was being watched Remy opened his eyes and looked over at them, not once loosing his rhythm or miss stepping. Smiling, a predatory grin if ever she’d seen one, he ran a hand down Ororo’s arm and then broke off from their dance.
Still moving to the music he navigated through the crowd of dancers, who parted around him as if they were afraid or in awe, and as he got closer she could make out the details of his attire. Skin-tight leather trousers blended effortlessly into high boots, and the red silk of his shirt made a perfect contrast against both his trousers and his glistening skin.
He had even left his hair down and it brushed against his shoulders, the lights in the club picking out the auburn flashes within it. As he came up the few small steps that led to the bar she could tell that he had smudged the tiniest bit of eyeliner in around his eyes, making their already shocking depths darker and drawing her into them even more than usual.
As Remy got yet closer Logan shifted slightly uncomfortably where he was leant up against the bar, clearly able to pick up something that she couldn’t. Reaching them, his smile widening even further, Remy held out a hand in invitation. “Dance wit’ me cher, please.” There was a pleading tone to his voice, hidden under the layers of seduction, and Sage felt her heart begin to pound faster.
“I ain’t much of a dancer Cajun, ‘specially not your style of dancin’” Logan replied, although Sage could barely hear him over the music and the blood rushing in her ears. Remy looked hurt, although he covered it quickly by shaking his hair over his face, the strands clinging to the sweat-soaked skin erotically. There was the tiniest, tight smile on his face as he leaned in to Logan, hands braced either side of him on the bar.
“y’ lyin’ mon cher.” Remy whispered breathlessly into Logan’s ear, and Sage thanked her mutant gift for giving her the ability to process out the background noise, allowing her to hear it. “Y’re exceptional at my style of dancin’” she watched as he ground against his prey slightly. “an’ I got de marks t’ prove it. All dis,” he gestured at the writhing crowds, “is jus’ de warm-up cher.” He leant in closer, moulding his body to Logan’s, red-on-black eyes fixed on blue ones.
“So its just the warm up. I still ain’t any good at it, an’ nothin’ you’ve said is gonna change that,” Logan’s response was a half-growl and Sage could tell that he was beginning to get frustrated. The thought sent a cold, pleasurable tingle down her spine. “You don’ need me ta get you warmed up Remy, you never have.”
“But I want y’ mon cher, an’ it jus’ ain’ de same dancin’ wit anyone else. Besides cher, de night is almost over f’ me an’ I want t’ spend de last dance wit y’.” Sage didn’t think it was possible but Remy moved closer to Logan, pressing him back against the bar. “Dance wit me cher, play wit’ me, an’ take me.” The last part was barely breathed into Logan’s ear before Remy pulled away, eyes burning with lust.
She watched as Logan stopped relaxing against the bar, his posture shifting to dominant and slightly aggressive in the space of a breath. Remy laughed, the sound rippling out under the music, and took Logan’s hand. Leading him out onto the dance floor they began to dance, and Sage momentarily forgot to breathe, entranced as she was in their motions.
If Ororo and Remy's dance had been erotic and passionate, then Logan and Remy was an orgasm waiting to happen. From where she was sat it looked like an elaborate battle, feral and burning with emotion, neither partner giving any ground and surrendering, and it definitely refuted Logan’s earlier claims that he couldn’t dance. Overlaying the dance, Sage could imagine what they must look like in bed, the tangle of naked limbs and ferocity making her gasp.
She was grateful of the distraction that appeared in the shape of Ororo, who smiled at her and held out a hand. “Dance with me?”
_________________
And I sit, endlessly watching the people as they walk below me, knowing that I will never walk among them, knowing I will never live as they have lived and loving them for it.
Bang mon ami, you dead!
God loves Tante, he's too scared to do otherwise. |
