"Sugah?" Rogue shook her sleeping husband's shoulder to wake him.
His arms tightened around her, making her gasp. Before, when he would hold her like this, she could breathe. Now, of course, there was this little—big—passenger that kept getting in the way.
"Remy!"
"Sapriste!" Remy sprung up, looking around wildly. Always so overprotective now. "Quoi? Vous—"
"English, sugah." She huffed a little and repositioned herself to a more comfortable position. Being eight months along was just a little...constraining. She shook her head. "Ya weren't wakin' up an' then ya decided ta get all grabby, which Ah told ya ain't too comfy."
"Oh." His hand dropped to her stomach, and she had to smile at all the love shining in his glowing red eyes.
She reached up and kissed him.
He cocked his head, halfway smiling. "An' what was dat for?"
"For bein' ya."
Then he got that dangerous look in his eyes, the one that said just how he wanted to express said love for her, and she lifted one hand to his chest.
"Nuh-uh. Don't even think about it. That would not be comfortable at all raght now."
He chuckled and lifted the restraining hand to kiss her fingers. "I'll behave. Promise." But he did still settle in beside her, leaning back against the headboard, and wrap his arm around her, holding her close.
She snuggled in with a soft sigh.
"What'd y' wake m' for, chère?"
"Oh. That?" Rogue blinked, trying to dispel the contented haze she had fallen into. "Oh. Wanted to say sorry, sugah, for bippin' ya ovah the yogurt."
"Dat?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Old news."
"Maybe, but Ah still overreacted and ya were exceptionally sweet about it." Then she said the words she didn't realize she was going to regret. "Wanted to see if Ah could make it up ta ya."
"Oh?"
The sharp interest in his tone clued her in. She looked up at him, that mischievous smirk...
"Oh no. We've been ovah this. Not happenin'."
He moved to cover her body with his and she squeaked at the sudden nearness.
"Aw, chère," he murmured, eyes drinking her in, one finger sliding down her cheek in a soft caress. "Can I help it if y're so scrumptious I jus' want t' taste y'?"
He was so close, kissing her softly, hands smoothing down her sides, resting on the child growing inside her.
"Remy." Rogue tried to scooch just a bit from beneath him.
His eyes glimmered with amusement.
She caught her breath. "Ah'm really not in the mood for..." She blushed. "That."
He chuckled, as always, at her shyness. One finger traced her collarbone. "Never did figure how such a naughty fille"—his eyes sparked with mischief as she blushed again—"can be so..." He seemed to debate on the word. "Coy."
Rogue wasn't Rogue for nothing and she shoved him off. Hard.
He laughed.
She glared at him. "Ah do not play the coquette!"
Remy was still laughing. "Never said y' did, chère."
"Don't ya 'chère' me, lahke that's all ya gotta do ta stay out of trouble."
He shook his head and reached over to draw her into his arms despite her heated protests. Then he kissed her, on the mouth this time, and she could have kicked herself for melting so easily, but he was just so warm and good.
"Ah hate ya," she muttered between his kisses.
"Y' don't," he whispered back as fervently.
And she didn't. She really didn't. As if how passionately she was responding to him didn't prove that. She rolled her eyes and managed to get her hand between them again and get him off of that spot that was just so uncomfortable.
"Ah hate bein' pregnant," she said with a pout.
"Non!" His protest this time was as heated as hers. "Dis our petite fille." His hands slid around her belly.
She groaned and sat back up, then shot Remy a glare. "Boy."
"D'accord. Boy." Remy had never given in so easily and she raised one eyebrow. "Mais y' ain't allowed t' regret dis."
"Regret...?" Suddenly, Rogue burst out laughing.
Remy gave her an injured look.
"Remy, sugah." She shook her head ruefully. "Ah don't regret havin' our baby. Ah want our baby. Ah'd jus' lahke ta go straight from the makin' ta the havin', that's all."
He blinked at her. "Oh." He eyed her skeptically.
"Oh, Remy." She leaned over and kissed him. Hard.
Naturally, he responded enthusiastically. He cradled her in his embrace, careful not to cut off her oxygen—something she was grateful for—and she pressed up against him. Finally, she pulled away, eyes sparkling.
"Ah think that about makes it up." She grinned at him.
"Are y' sure, Rogue?" He smiled slyly. "'Cause I bought y' a lot of frozen yogurt."
Rogue leaned in laughing, gave him one last kiss. "But ya ate mah last servin'. An' ya always claimed ya could see in the dark."
"I can, chère," Remy answered with just a tad bit of irritation.
"Mm-hmm." She slid out of bed and walked—waddled, it was terrible—to the bathroom, then tossed over her shoulder. "Blasted that myth." Then she went in and shut the door and giggled at the loud sighs that followed her.
His arms tightened around her, making her gasp. Before, when he would hold her like this, she could breathe. Now, of course, there was this little—big—passenger that kept getting in the way.
"Remy!"
"Sapriste!" Remy sprung up, looking around wildly. Always so overprotective now. "Quoi? Vous—"
"English, sugah." She huffed a little and repositioned herself to a more comfortable position. Being eight months along was just a little...constraining. She shook her head. "Ya weren't wakin' up an' then ya decided ta get all grabby, which Ah told ya ain't too comfy."
"Oh." His hand dropped to her stomach, and she had to smile at all the love shining in his glowing red eyes.
She reached up and kissed him.
He cocked his head, halfway smiling. "An' what was dat for?"
"For bein' ya."
Then he got that dangerous look in his eyes, the one that said just how he wanted to express said love for her, and she lifted one hand to his chest.
"Nuh-uh. Don't even think about it. That would not be comfortable at all raght now."
He chuckled and lifted the restraining hand to kiss her fingers. "I'll behave. Promise." But he did still settle in beside her, leaning back against the headboard, and wrap his arm around her, holding her close.
She snuggled in with a soft sigh.
"What'd y' wake m' for, chère?"
"Oh. That?" Rogue blinked, trying to dispel the contented haze she had fallen into. "Oh. Wanted to say sorry, sugah, for bippin' ya ovah the yogurt."
"Dat?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Old news."
"Maybe, but Ah still overreacted and ya were exceptionally sweet about it." Then she said the words she didn't realize she was going to regret. "Wanted to see if Ah could make it up ta ya."
"Oh?"
The sharp interest in his tone clued her in. She looked up at him, that mischievous smirk...
"Oh no. We've been ovah this. Not happenin'."
He moved to cover her body with his and she squeaked at the sudden nearness.
"Aw, chère," he murmured, eyes drinking her in, one finger sliding down her cheek in a soft caress. "Can I help it if y're so scrumptious I jus' want t' taste y'?"
He was so close, kissing her softly, hands smoothing down her sides, resting on the child growing inside her.
"Remy." Rogue tried to scooch just a bit from beneath him.
His eyes glimmered with amusement.
She caught her breath. "Ah'm really not in the mood for..." She blushed. "That."
He chuckled, as always, at her shyness. One finger traced her collarbone. "Never did figure how such a naughty fille"—his eyes sparked with mischief as she blushed again—"can be so..." He seemed to debate on the word. "Coy."
Rogue wasn't Rogue for nothing and she shoved him off. Hard.
He laughed.
She glared at him. "Ah do not play the coquette!"
Remy was still laughing. "Never said y' did, chère."
"Don't ya 'chère' me, lahke that's all ya gotta do ta stay out of trouble."
He shook his head and reached over to draw her into his arms despite her heated protests. Then he kissed her, on the mouth this time, and she could have kicked herself for melting so easily, but he was just so warm and good.
"Ah hate ya," she muttered between his kisses.
"Y' don't," he whispered back as fervently.
And she didn't. She really didn't. As if how passionately she was responding to him didn't prove that. She rolled her eyes and managed to get her hand between them again and get him off of that spot that was just so uncomfortable.
"Ah hate bein' pregnant," she said with a pout.
"Non!" His protest this time was as heated as hers. "Dis our petite fille." His hands slid around her belly.
She groaned and sat back up, then shot Remy a glare. "Boy."
"D'accord. Boy." Remy had never given in so easily and she raised one eyebrow. "Mais y' ain't allowed t' regret dis."
"Regret...?" Suddenly, Rogue burst out laughing.
Remy gave her an injured look.
"Remy, sugah." She shook her head ruefully. "Ah don't regret havin' our baby. Ah want our baby. Ah'd jus' lahke ta go straight from the makin' ta the havin', that's all."
He blinked at her. "Oh." He eyed her skeptically.
"Oh, Remy." She leaned over and kissed him. Hard.
Naturally, he responded enthusiastically. He cradled her in his embrace, careful not to cut off her oxygen—something she was grateful for—and she pressed up against him. Finally, she pulled away, eyes sparkling.
"Ah think that about makes it up." She grinned at him.
"Are y' sure, Rogue?" He smiled slyly. "'Cause I bought y' a lot of frozen yogurt."
Rogue leaned in laughing, gave him one last kiss. "But ya ate mah last servin'. An' ya always claimed ya could see in the dark."
"I can, chère," Remy answered with just a tad bit of irritation.
"Mm-hmm." She slid out of bed and walked—waddled, it was terrible—to the bathroom, then tossed over her shoulder. "Blasted that myth." Then she went in and shut the door and giggled at the loud sighs that followed her.
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