22 Drabbles - Drabbles # 1-11
“Whatever’s in there,” Jean-Luc had said, “it ain’t likely t’ be pretty, boy.”
Two decapitations, three guttings, and one gibbering mess.
“And no one even knows what’s in dere anyways.”
He’s young, seventeen; he’s full of cocksure arrogance and he’d liked the odds. He’d just had to try it.
Heart thudding, adrenaline pumping, breath belaboured… Who needs sex? Between his fingers the skeleton key doesn’t even make the whisper of a sound.
His gut churns with anticipation, and Death is right there on the other side of that door and he’s ready to tango.
Lock open. He grins.
Let’s dance.
Living Walls
Walls have ears. Hers have a pulse and a voice.
She hears them at night. Cody and the old guy. Whispering. Muttering. Heartbeat fluttering.
She itches her palm through her glove, takes a swig from the bottle. It’s all teenage angst and rebellion. She loves it.
The old guy remembers the taste of beer. Cody goes “uuuuurgh, gross!” and she laughs.
Wimp! She jeers.
But when she tries the cigarette she coughs and splutters.
The old guy sighs an appreciative sigh, flush with memories.
Ha ha, told ya so! Cody heckles from the sidelines.
Go ta hell! she snaps back.
Vertigo
From way up here he can see the world; just a stretch and he believes he can touch it. Nights like these he was made for.
“Remy!” the woman calls from the room behind him.
He teeters on the balcony railing, breeze cooling the flush of his body, and he wonders what it would be like to fall, to lose himself in something other than flesh and shame.
He wants intensity of feeling. Not sensation. It isn’t the same.
He wants to dare himself to be naked to his soul.
He sways.
“Remy!”
He opens his eyes. He steps down.
Welcome
He was smoking a cigarette. It reminded her of the first one she’d tasted.
“Bad habit,” she quipped from the doorway.
He noticed her. She noticed him.
“Have a feelin’ somethin’ else will get me first,” he grinned. Lopsided. The curve of his mouth unnerved her.
“New guy?” she asked.
He stuck the cig between his teeth, held out a hand.
“Gambit,” he said.
She took it. “Rogue.”
His fingers were long. She liked the feel of them against her gloved palm. He used his hands a lot, she thought.
“So what d’you do?” he asked.
“Read palms,” she replied.
Adelaide
She was sweating.
Back home it was winter. Not here.
“Oh Gawd,” she complained, fanning herself with a glove. Her hands were white. Not white white. Just the pale blush of skin that had never seen a tan. Nice. Delicate. Untouched.
“Do we have to wait out here for the others to come?” she groaned.
He leaned against the wall and shuffled his cards.
“You heard what de boss said,” he said.
“Screw Cyke!” she exploded. “Ah'm boilin’ here!”
She tugged the zipper right down to her cleavage. More skin. Unwitting striptease. He swallowed.
“Me too, chere,” he muttered back.
Sleep Tight
It’s hard to be sceptical around him. Especially when he’s half-naked and staring at you like you’re a box of cherry liqueur chocolates.
“So. Dinner. Tomorrow?” he asks.
“Uh huh.” She stares at his pecs. And a little lower. Does he have to go walking around the mansion right after he’s showered?
He’s tricking her. He has to be.
She feels stupid because she’s standing outside her door in pink teddy bear pyjamas and fluff-ball slippers. She tries not to look at his pants.
“Seven?” he asks.
“Okay.”
She turns the handle, her cheeks flaming.
“Sleep tight, Rogue,” he says.
Arrival
She laughs and throws her arms round his neck. They hug under the sweltering moonlight and it’s only in that moment that he lets himself think I’m home.
A pot of gumbo on the stove and the scent of Southern Comfort on the upholstery. Tante Mattie’s the only woman who never lets him down.
He swirls his supper round the plate and thinks of what he can’t make his.
It’s unfamiliar. Rejection.
Mattie hugs him and makes him feel like a little boy again. He doesn’t have to be a man with her. Just a boy.
“Welcome back,” she says.
Whispers
She gives Bobby the finger. She’s so not in the mood.
He shrugs and walks off. She fumes by the car.
And the old guy says grow up, darlin’, and Cody laughs at how bad she is for telling Bobby to fuck off, and Remy says…
Well, nothing really. He just smiles. Smirks.
“What are you smilin’ at?” she mutters mutinously, slamming the gas pump hard into the tank. And his smile widens.
Chere, I can’t wait till de next time we get to tussle.
She drops the pump and the gas splashes all over her jeans.
“Damn,” she swears.
Sanctuary
The pews are hard and cold. He sits there with the smell of frankincense swirling around him, not sure what this means. Not sure why he’s here.
Her heels clap against the mosaic floor. When she slides in next to him he says nothing.
“It’s cold,” she whispers.
He nods. Warmth is his sanctuary. Warmth is being held. Being safe and loved and connected.
He sits in the cold to see what it’s like to be her.
“Let’s go,” she pleads, but he can’t and…
Her gloved hand curls round his own. And she is warm.
And he is loved.
Residents Past
The wall is made of damp brick, notched and slimy. She runs her fingers over it, trying to read it like she reads flesh.
Logan sniffs. He’s standing next to the mutant’s body with a grimace on his face.
“No scent,” he growls. “He’s long gone.”
She’s touched this wall before. In someone else’s memory.
When she touches the wall she sees this room as it was. Occupied by the smell of death and human detritus. And the man…
She heaves. Hyperventilating.
“You okay, stripes?” Logan asks, concerned.
“I need to get out,” she croaks, and oh God, she vomits.
Alternative Therapy
Bam.
He’s hooked her. Line and sinker.
Four rotating hips and acres of tanned flesh.
He needs this, and all he needs now is not to compare. This is just about need. About filling a hole. Scratching an itch.
And he can’t compare.
He’s hardly touched her, for Chrissakes. Hardly knows what she feels like, and yet…
The texture of her is imprinted on him. All it took was a moment.
They dance. They swirl. They parry and they spar.
Back and forth.
And when he’s done he wants to cry.
Because nothing in the world can compare with her.
Continued here