oops, forgot to post this as a log

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Remy had transfered the contents of his gymbag into various hidden spots around his room. He didn't actually expect people to

snoop around, but it was in case of another incursion. His staff sat on the bed, still collapsed in the three foot central

section. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke out the window.

"Whatcha doing?" Clarice asked curiously, standing in the open doorway.

"Evening chere." Remy said, without turning around. "Having trouble sleeping or just coming t' visit." He looked over his

shoulder and grinned. Even after only three weeks, he picked up enough weight to take the cadavorous edge off of his looks.

"I can't do both?" she asked, coming into the room uninvited and sitting on the floor indian style. "Besides, I'm not sure

anyone is sleeping right now."

"Remy not surprised. Men come through de windows, waving de guns, and you don 'pect people t' pick up de X-Box and keep

playing." He turned his chair, kicking his legs up on the bed. "How 'bout you, chere? Got de night terrors from de assault

you pretending not to have?"

Clarice shrugged pretending bravada, "I can handle it. Are you okay?" In truth she was as scared as or more scared than

almost everyone else, but she didn't want to admit it to the Cajun. He made her feel like an adult, treated her as an equal,

not as some addle-brained kid.

"Remy? A little rattled." He admited, shocking Clarice. "Not everyday dat a group of soldiers come through de windows. On de

street, I'm used t' looking over my shoulder. Here, got a little soft." He smiled. "Killing dat 'ultra-cool image', oui?"

"Not really. Means you're human just like everyone else," she looked up at him, remembering their conversation in the rec

room, "You're supposed to be safe at schools, y'know? You shouldn't have to watch your back."

"Lemme give you a bit of advice, chere? Always watch your back. Remy's lapse aside, dere are dangers even in de safe places."

He said, flicking his cigarette out the window.

"Sounds lonely," Clarice commented, "never being able to trust anyone." She idly pulled a lock of hair in front of her face

and started to braid it.

"All depends, chere. Better t' be lonely den dead, you know? 'sides," Remy spread his arms wide and grinned. "Dere are good

ways t' stop loneliness... for a while, at least."

Clarice smiled, moving to sit on the bed with him, propping his feet in her lap. She began to unlace his shoes and rub his

feet a little. "Like this?" she asked.

"Dat sure one way, chere." Remy smiled and leaned his head back, enjoying. He fished another cigarette out, lighting it with

his finger and taking a long draw, looking at the ceiling. "Maybe dat a fringe advantage of dis mutant thing?"

"Well, there has to be some practical benefits somewhere, else we'd never have become mutants in the first place," Clarice

kneeded his foot muscles smiling as she found a particularly tough spot that made Remy twitch, "But smoking cigarettes is not

a good idea, even if you are a walking lighter."

"Smoking ciagrettes is always a good idea, chere." Remy grinned. "'sides, you have dat purple thing going for you."

"Appearantly you never had to sit through the smoke-lung pictures in health class, gross." She grinned to take the potential

sting out of the words, but she still thought there was a reason people's innards were inside their bodies. Nasty gross.

"Remy missed dose classes." He said, lightly reminding her that his life had been very different from hers. "Still, only got

so much time. Might as well enjoy it."

"'Live every day as if you'll die tomorrow and celebrate every death for the life it followed.' Or something like that.

That's what the pastor said at my grandfather's funeral. I think it's a good motto," She had moved from his feet to his

calves, inexpertly working the muscles through his jeans.

"Dat sounds like a good plan." Remy rucked himself up on his elbows. "How 'bout you, chere? You living every day like dat, or

are you holding t'ings back?"

"I think I try to. Do you?" She raised one eyebrow in question, inching closer to him on the bed.

"Chere, Remy don' do anyt'ing without first choosing what is de best action. Most responsible is for types like dat Paige. I

like people who are interested in living first." He smiled, catching her eyes with his extrordinary red on black ones.

She met his eyes without blinking and slid into his lap. "Responsible is rarely fun. And I like to have fun. I can be

responsible after I die."

"Really? Remy t'inking of not dying at all. Figure I live forever. Den I don' have t' be responsible." He reached up and

touched her cheek. "How 'bout you?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Clarice replied quietly, "The not-dying thing I mean. Not dying would be nice."

"Remy t'inks dat is a great idea. Plus," He grinned. "Dying put a crimp in my social calander. Hard t' look good when you're

dead, non?"

"What is it with the James Dean wannabes around here?" she asked rhetorically running a finger up his side, a small part of

her brain noting that his ribs were no longer prominant. "But I have to admit, you do look much better alive."

"Don' much care for Dean. Too much of dat attitude wit' no back-up. Remy like Brando, 'course before he look like Jabba de

Hutt." Remy said, stroking the curve of her jaw with his finger, incredibly nimble against the soft skin. "Dat's about look

and attitude."

"About all a person really has, isn't it? Look and attitude," she caught his finger with her teeth, nibbling on the fleshy

part a little bit, a gleam in her eye.

"De look tonight is purple, it seem." Remy grinned, stroking her chin with his thumb as she gnawed his finger. "Tell me

somet'ing, chere?" Remy leered. "Dat purple go all over?"

She stopped nibbling his finger, it still in her mouth. On one hand...oh forget it. "What do you think?"

"Kind of hoping it does." Remy leaned down, kissing her cheek and whispering in her ear. "Remy t'ink it's sexy."

Clarice just looked at him, almost not believing him, before pulling her shirt over her head revealing a blue polka dot bra,

"All purple," she murmured, kissing him without thinking.

"So Remy see." He grinned against her mouth, hands coming up to splay along her ribs. Her body eased against his, and he drew

her more fully into the kiss.

She relaxed into him, opening her mouth and playing with his tongue. Idly she noticed that he tasted like peppermint and

cigarette smoke, an odd but not repulsive combination of flavours.

Remy pushed up, hands running along the delination of her spine, coming to bury itself in the soft purple hair on the back of

her head. His tongue drew light patterns along her lips and across her teeth, teasing her tongue out to brush against his.

Clarice's arms wrapped around Remy, her hands resting at the small of his back. Her teeth grabbed his lower lip, sucking hard

on it, pulling it lightly before once again meeting his tongue with hers.

Remy nudged her head to the side, nipping at the tender purple flesh of her throat. His tongue trailed the curve of her jaw

up to her ear, and he bit lightly on the lobe.

She moaned, running her hands under his t-shirt, across his back and into the waistband of his jeans. She pulled his shirt

off, pulling away from him just long enough to slip it over his head.

His hairtie came loose as she pulled off his shirt, and he brushed back a thick sheaf of auburn hair from his eyes. "T'ink

I'm over-dressed, chere?" He joked, running his fingers lightly down the sides of her chest and along the tender skin of her

belly.

She shivered as he touched her, "Well, aren't you hot?" she asked, grinning impishly.

"Chere, Remy is always hot." He leered, rubbing his thumbs up and along her ribs, and sliding his palms up the sides and back

of her torso. "Thought you would have figured dat one out by now."

"Oh I did," Clarice replied, "but I'm sure you could use a second opinion now and again."

"Dat so?" Remy grinned wickedly, his eyebrows arched like a devil. One hand slid along her back and unsnapped her bra with a

touch so fast and light that it almost seemed to come open of it's own accord.

Clarice's eyes widened slightly, before shrugging out of the restrictive garment and straddled Remy's waist, putting her

chest only inches from his face. "mmm, hmm," she nodded, running her fingers lightly up and down along his sides. She kissed

him again.

Remy's eyes gleamed red in the dim light, and with the long locks of auburn hair, he could have played Satan in any play he

chose. There was a part of him that reveled in that assocation, drinking in her lust deeply as his fingers skimmed the curves

of her breasts and ribs, gathering a touch lighter than a feather, tormenting the skin.

Clarice sucked in air as he touched her in ways she had never been touched, her head tilted back. She moaned, belated

wondering if she had closed the door earlier but not really caring.

Remy splayed one hand across her back, supporting her as she arched from his touch. Smiling, he leaned forward, replacing his

fingers with his lips, skimming the hollow between her breasts and circling her aubergine coloured nipples.

"Remy..." Clarice began, the stopped. She began to undo the button on his pants, fumbling with inexperience.

Remy grinned and stopped her hand with his own. "Chere, relax. Dere's no need t' rush." He kissed down her throat to her

collarbone, and then to her breast, licking the nipple to turgid erection. "'side, somet'ings Remy like to take slow." He had

picked up that Clarice wasn't experienced in sex, and he wanted to draw her in slowly, building her up to prolong his own

enjoyment.

She looked at him for a minute not really certain how to respond. She thought sex was a whirlwind of clothes and bodies, at

least that was how movies made it seem. This was certainly fun and pleasurable, but not what she had expected.

Remy cupped her rear and slid her forward, so that she was almost laying back between his legs, and he bent down to trailed

slow kisses along her breasts and belly, down the the line of her pants. He snapped the clatch and opened them, seeking the

newly exposed flesh with his tongue.

His leering grin grew as she moaned, uncertain of where to put her hands or how to react. Remy hooked fingers into the sides of her pants, and shuffling himself back, began to slide them off her long purple legs. Her flush left maroon patches across her chest and thighs, further contrasting the pale cream bedspread.

Clarice sat up on her arms and looked at Remy who was half laying between her legs, "You have protection?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

"Course." Remy said lightly. "But dat is not going to be needed for a while, chere. After all, we have all night." He said, running his fingers along the fine muscles of her thighs and calves, occasionally punctuating a caress with a kiss.

Clarice laid back down, "All night," she murmured, smiling.

Remy slid up her legs, kissing the skin just below her naval. "Oui." He said, lightly muffled as he teased the sides of her panties down and drew them off her legs, replacing them with his mouth. "Hope you not 'pecting a lot of sleep, chere."