Whispers

 
 

fights

He always was a fighter.

She loves to do the dance around him in the danger room. He lets the cards fly through his fingers, weaves through bullets and lasers, and takes on the grace of a predator.

His red eyes always glow like le diable blanc when she gets in and fights him.

Tumbles and contacts, flirts and teases, solid connections. The world shrinks to Gambit and Rogue, until one of them pins the other beneath their sweaty body. He smirks at her as indecently whether he’s on top or bottom.

He likes it when she wins their fights.

 


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