nights spent tangled up in eachothers arms, heat from one body do the next. only to temporarily soothe a desire. nothing but a casual encounter, the only time you two saw eachother was when clothes were being hurriedly taken off, thrown to the floor. minds tainted with greed. each for their own lust. it stayed this way for months. touches were deliberate but never deep enough to be full of care or love, just careful enough to keep eachother wanting. needing.

until you started to fall, clinging to his scent on the sheets in the days after, your touches slowly filling with more than half assed care. filled with a fondness that had trickled into your heart and set it to beat in the rhythm of his. it was like being caught in a sick spiders web. so of course when your hookup you didn’t know anything about, apart from the planes of his body and the way he felt asked for a place to stay. just one night to lay low, that wasn’t for sex. to him this was good, you were somebody close so nobody would know he was here. give him enough time to think and not deal with fighting for his life from yet another person he had pissed off.

remy sensed it though. you’d been so welcoming. the welcoming you find in a friend or a lover. not a meaningless sex sort of thing. offering up sharing the bed, food, drinks. he took it anyways. remy wasn't the type to miss out on handouts. a few flirts slipped your way just to keep you sweet. a hand resting on your waist when you’d reached up to get something. he wasn’t fully sure of any of his feelings himself. this was originally sleeping with somebody to get over a heartbreak he didn’t wanna confront. he flirted with everyone. this wasnt much different.

he exhaled smoke from his lips. wayching over the city from the balcony. the wind whipping slightly against his bare chest. he’d left you sleeping in your bed, slipping out of it not long after exhausting you. he expected you to stay asleep while he took in the city from here. he knew you lived nice but jesus. this was the type of nice living people like him dreamed of. his keen hearing picking up on footsteps. feeling you hurt into his back. he knew it was you without turning. the way you walked, the way you held onto him when possible. all too familar.

“gambit offended you up cherie. ah’m confident my skills in the bedroom can leave a woman sleepin’ sweet, non?” purred that accent. yet a slight coldness still lingered in it. “cmon. get yah arse back to bed before remy gotta drag yah there ‘imself. whatchu even ‘wake for?” he said as he made no attempt to get you off. or to pull you closer.