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Solo Shots	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 5554 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, nor do I own the rights to either X-Men: Legends or X-Men Legends 2: The Rise of Apocalypse. I'm affiliated with neither Marvel nor Activision. I make no money writing this entry.

Chapter List
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A/N: Though I will, in general, give warnings before each chapter of this story, I reserve the right to withhold warnings that may spoil any particular surprises I may have in store. That said, I hope you enjoy this, and please R/R!
Chapter 1: Damn the Sexy Cajun
- Warnings: Language
“Gaw-damn you, swamp rat!”
Loud as her voice had gotten, Rogue was glad the door to her room stood shut, and even gladder that the Professor had seen fit to assign her one of the handful of sound-dampened rooms when she joined the X-Men. She distinctly remembered, with laser-etched precision, her embarrassment when, as a teenager, her less-than-ideal father had pounded on the door and demanded that she keep it down. To spare herself unimaginable mortification, she preferred to believe that the Professor had the foresight to grant her a room suitable for frequent privacy, as opposed to scanning her mind and finding out she needed such accommodations.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she demanded aloud, “Stop teasin’ me, ya sonofabitch, and fuck me already!” Her left hand held her pussy open invitingly. “Mah cunt needs cock raht away, see?” A thrill shot through her at her brazen language.
Without further ado, the hard shaft that had been teasing her for a while now plunged deep into her well-lubricated vagina. The delicious stretching sensation and intense feeling of fullness combined to elicit a guttural groan from Rogue, her hips lifting from her bed to meet the penetration, which immensely amplified her pleasure. Most unladylahk, she snarked to herself with a half-smirk.
After a few brief moments of savoring, Rogue licked her lips, ready for more. “C’mon, ya scruffy bastard,” she goaded, “don’t keep me waitin’. Give it to me good!” Immediately the thrusting began at a fast pace, drawing short, staccato moans from her throat. A sheen of perspiration coated her skin when she started working her hips with the thrusts, the bass line to Heart’s “Magic Man” – the song she’d always associated with Remy LeBeau – providing her beat.
Green eyes rolled shut as pure pleasure permeated her body, all manner of interesting noises originating from her pussy as the agent of said pleasure pumped in and out of her. Rogue’s left hand trailed from her silky-smooth, freshly-shaven groin, up her body to her generous D-cup breasts – biggest pair o’ natural tits on the team, she proudly proclaimed to herself, and to Emma Frost should she be eavesdropping, as the White Queen was wont to do. Pausing only to tug on the pointy nipples crowning each breast, her hand continued upward until it ran through her witch-lock bangs.
“That all ya got, swamp rat?” she grunted through gritted teeth. What rhythm she’d had began to deteriorate; the bucking of her hips grew too wild, too erratic, to control. Rogue’s toes curled, signaling to her that her release grew imminent. Ah hope it’s as big as it feels lahk it’s gonna be, she mused.
“Damn swamp rat… Ah thought you were… nnnnnggh… s’posed ta be good… ohhhh yeahhh… at satisfahin’ a gal… Gaw-dammit, Remy… fuck me… make me fuckin’ scream…”
Rogue felt the muscles of her vagina clamp down onto the hard length buried inside it, heralding her orgasm. Her hips froze at the apex of their upward thrust, her back forming a full arch as her feet pushed into the mattress. “Ohhhhh Gawd yes… yes yes yes,” she cried, “hell yes… oh fuckin’ hell… ahhhhh, sweet mother o’ fuck… mmmmm, swamp rat… that’s what Ah needed.” Waves of ecstasy now subsiding, she felt her body relaxing in the afterglow of her climax. Her breath came in greedy gasps.
Several long moments passed, during which Rogue wallowed in post-orgasmic bliss. She sighed, “Fuckin’ Cajun, that was damn good. Damn good.”
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Outside Rogue’s room, the mutant known as Gambit – alias Remy LeBeau – eased back a half-step from his position at the cracked-open door, his trademark smirk curling his lip. Absently he stroked the stubble on his cheeks, enjoying through the vanity mirror the sight of his on-again-off-again chérie in such an intimate activity. Rogue sprawled on her bed, every inch of her gloriously naked body on display, from her forest-green-polished toenails to her right hand gripping the sex toy she’d just switched off, from her ample bosom jiggling enticingly with each breath to her left hand lying limp above her head atop the pillow. Her fair skin, he couldn’t help but note, glistened with perspiration.
Gambit hadn’t intended to spy on Rogue like this – truly, he hadn’t – but his original intentions to merely talk to her, (probably) flirt with her, see her, interact with her, all flew out the window when he’d heard her muffled yelling. The curses and epithets he could hear left no doubt that they were directed at him. Damn, he’d thought upon hearing such a beautiful mouth spew such vitriol, ain’t even in dere, but she’s chewin’ me out anyhow. Better find out what she pissed at Remy ‘bout dis time ‘n’ face de music. Never, never before had he been so surprised, when he cracked open the door to see her masturbating. She hadn’t noticed him – if she had, he’d have been the first mutant in space without a suit – and, as a former professional thief, he knew how to keep still and quiet despite even the most interesting external stimuli.
Presently Rogue withdrew the toy; she winced at the unflattering noises that emanated from her privates. Once it was out in plain sight, Remy could finally identify the device by its distinctive design – two asymmetrical prongs, one phallic with a spheroid bulge partway up the length, the other looking for all the world like a hunched-over hare – marking it as belonging to the ‘Rampant Rabbit’ line of vibrators, capable of both clitoral and vaginal stimulation. Gambit surmised that the spherical section’s rotation allowed the tip to simulate penile thrusting.
A frown appeared on his face where once had been a smile. No expert on vibrators, he was nonetheless aware that such advanced models cost no less than fifty dollars, possibly over a hundred. His heart sank at the notion that Rogue, because of her inability to touch and therefore to experience physical intimacy, had spent so much on an inanimate object, seeking at best a fleeting modicum of satisfaction.
Remy’s reverie ended when Rogue brought her green-and-white silicone-and-plastic investment in happiness, positively gleaming with her juices, up to her full, sexy lips. Much to his surprise, she showed no hesitation in licking the device clean. The Southern beauty hummed in delight.
Turning away and padding silently down the hall, the Cajun filed that mental image away for later.
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Rogue ran her lips and tongue all over her plastic lover, savoring the tangy, musky odor and flavor of her own juices. Idly she wondered if she’d taste different after losing her virginity (assuming, of course, that she could ever have that experience). She wondered how Remy would taste, how he’d feel in her mouth, and whether she could handle swallowing every drop of his cum. She wondered how he would feel buried to the hilt inside her, how hard he’d thrust, how he’d fill her with his seed.
A familiar twinge of need made itself known deep inside her. “Aw, hell,” she groaned, “now Ah need fuckin’ more!”
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Solo Shots