Lucia de'Medici Probationer User is Offline

Joined: 15 Nov 2006 Posts: 8
Location: Montreal, QC
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| Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2008 4:51 am Post subject: Sandcastles (Gambit/Mystique, Gambit/Rogue) |
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Title: Sandcastles
Author: Lucia de’Medici
Fandom: Marvel 616
Pairing: Gambit/Rogue, Gambit/Mystique
Summary: Define for yourself the limits of your own self-delusion, and then surpass them once you can bear ignoring the line diving right and wrong.
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,512 words
Warnings: Suggestive content.
Status: Complete, one-shot
Notes: For inimicallyours, who requested that the abuse of Milligan in BLT be put to use porntastically. References X-Treme X-Men, the Vargas-shish-ke-mutant incident, and the recovery at Valle Soleada. (Kicking it old school... and slowly but surely catching up on my fic prompts.)
At the Pit: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3862012/1/Sandcastles
Excerpt:
It’s been a long time since Valle Soleada; when he could still remember the grit of sand embedded into sun-baked skin; that fine searing pain across the shoulders that no amount of aloe can relieve because the weight of a woman across his chest keeps him pinned to the moment. Tacked down to the beach, he’s sun-drunk and sweating because Rogue’s skin is a fiery blanket of good hurt.
Dieu. For a second it returns to him with such clarity, he can taste the sublime saltiness of her neck. The dip behind her ear he’d claimed as his, the supple hollow at the bottom of her throat, her mouth on his – cherry coke and tequila – lime juice dribbled down her chin. All of it.
They are marked to match by twin white, serpentine scars on their chests. Like daubed cards; bits of a glimmer left as a reminder that never truly heals even though the scar tissue seems to be less knotty, and less real these days.
But it was real, wasn’t it? The memories he keeps tucked away in places safer than Swiss banks disperse quickly in the dark; so as long as he keeps his eyes shut tight against them, as long as he keeps picturing the sunset that stains the sky like grenadine on cotton, he thinks he’ll keep himself from going crazy; from crawling into those deep places that are so damned hard to get out of...
Read it! _________________ One card short of a deck. |
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