X-Men: A Bright New World (A Gambit & Dazzler side thread).

[SortOfBeautiful]

Friday Night.

It had been a wild night at the stip club. Alison Blaire had worked there for a little over a year now, since singing in lounges and coffee shops during the day just wasn't paying rent. It was expensive to live in New York City, but where else would she get the exposure? If she wanted a singing career, she had to start somewhere. Or at least, that's what people kept telling her. But moonlighting at the strip club? It wasn't exactly a career choice to be proud of, but Alison kept telling herself that it was just temporary.

But it was one of the few places that she could actually use her powers in public. And no one would know any different. Everyone would think it was some light trick the club worked out with her. It hadn't taken long for her stage name, Dazzle, or Dazzler to catch on. Not only did she dazzle people with her light, but also with the way she moved. Her voice was another...gift, she possessed, but she rarely sang at the strip club. Management insisted that people wanted to be seduced with their eyes, not their ears.

Long lashes lifted, and blue eyes glanced up at her own reflection in the mirror in front of her. Alison was still in the dressing room in the back of the strip club. Already changed out of her cheap lingerie and into a black and white sun dress, Alison brought her hands up and combed her fingers through her blonde curls. She pulled those long locks into a ponytail as other dances around her got ready for their own show, private lap dances, or were taking off too. As Alison's small hands fell back down on her lap again, she glanced down at the paperwork in front of her.

Could she do this?

Before her shift, hours ago, Alison had been approached by management. Men and women that she didn't even know. To say that they had been impressed with her punctuality was a lie. Really, they enjoyed what she did with her light, and even more-so enjoyed the regular customers that came in just to see Dazzler, in particular. She'd been told that there had been requests for her, but not just with private lap dances. They'd asked her if she was interested in more. Would she be willing to go home with a client? Would she be willing to drop that 'no touch' policy? They promised her that they would organize everything directly. The background checks, the money, everything.

Prostitution absolutely appalled and disgusted Alison. It might be too late for her to get on her high horse about morals, but it wasn't something she ever thought she'd agree to.

Until she saw how much she'd be paid.

Shit.

The idea sounded more tempting the more she thought about it. They'd promised her it was safe. With strict background and clearance checks, she wouldn't exactly be placed with psychos on the street. Judging by how much she'd be getting paid, these people would have money. And...she only had to do it for a little while, right? Maybe just until she saved up enough money to records some of her songs and get a real demo out there. Maybe move to Los Angeles. Yes, maybe.

Looking up from the papers, back to her reflection in the mirror, Alison tried to recognize herself. Recognize the sweet, young girl who moved to the city to start a music career, and ended up in a cheap studio apartment on the noisiest street in the city, and had to start stripping to make ends meet. No, that naive, innocent little girl was gone.

Swallowing hard, Alison snatched a pen and signed the papers.



Breathe, Alison. breathe, She told herself as she stepped out those back doors to the club. As the heavy metal door closed behind her, she found herself in the dark alley behind the strip club; the alley that would lead her back out the street where she could walk home. The cold New York air surrounded her, and she hugged her jacket tighter against her body. She had about a ten minute walk to hate herself, and the decision she'd made back there. But Alison didn't make it far down the alleyway before two men turned into the alley and started walking in her direction. She swallowed, hard, trying not to think the worst. Some people used the alleys as shortcuts, if they were brave. Maybe that's what they were doing.

Wrong.

Alison had tried to avoid eye contact for as long as possible, but as those men got closer, she looked up to find one of them grinning. And the other already reaching for her.

"Shit," She mumbled, spinning on her heels to make a run back to the club. But her smaller body hit a taller body, hard. Two more men had been behind her. Panic forced the air out of hers lungs as she panted, her chest heaving and inhaling deeply for air. Had this been planned? Were these men waiting for her, or any girl that were to walk out? Did it matter? The one that had tried to reach for her before, in a leather jacket, was reaching for her again. He grabbed her by her ponytail, and tugged her back toward him. The grinner still wore the same ugly grin on his lips, and then he licked them as if he were a starving animal, and she was his meal.

"Let me go, please. I have money," She started, stammering with her words a little. She didn't think what she'd said was very amusing, but the guys laughed anyway.

"A body like that, and this slut thinks we want her money." The grabber said in a low tone, making all of his friends laugh harder. She knew what they wanted, and it wasn't in purse. Inside her chest, her heart was pounding with fear. The panic was still there, and she thought to use her powers. To blind these men and take off running. But she'd only ever used her light for work. Never with anyone, and certainly never to harm anyone. She had one last shot to get herself out of this, or she might have to resort to doing something she wasn't sure she could.

"Help! Please, someone!" Alison shouted, standing on the tip of her toes in those heels as she tried to peer over the taller men in hopes that someone passing by on the street would hear. Within an instant, a big, dirty hand was covering her pretty mouth, silencing her. Her screams were muffled against that hand, barely audible to anyone from the street. She tried to kick, squirm, anything to get free. The harder she fought, the rougher they were with her. Her lips pouted against that hand smashed against her mouth, and she sobbed while her warm tears fell from blue eyes, dripping onto that large hand pressed on her face.

"Uhh, whadd'uya complainin' about?"

"That's right! It's time you gave us our own lil' performance. Ain't that right boys?

With every breath of air she still had in her lungs, with all the strength she had, Alison fought. But it wasn't enough. They had her cornered in the alley, and no one would hear, or see her. Hell, no one was even scheduled to come off shift for another hour. One of the men held a knife, and before she could even find out what he planned on using with it, she heard another voice. Behind them.

"Ev'ryone can relax. GAMBIT has arrived!"

Alison couldn't see the fifth man, but it took her only a few moments to realize that he was there to help her. A flash of red sparked her attention, and the grinner was flying to the left, his body smashing against the brick wall. The others fought, and the grabber's dirty hand left her mouth to have a go at her brave hero.

But her hero won. How? She wasn't sure. Why? She wasn't sure of that either. But what she could tell was that her hero was like her. He had...talents of his own. All at once, with four bodies groaning around her, Alison wanted to do so much. Attack her hero with questions. Kiss him thank you. Find out what else he could do. But she didn't want to stay there another second.

Gazing up at her hero, she reached forward for his hand as he helped her back up. She fixed her dress, adjusting where it had been hiked up, and she grabbed her purse.

"Who are you?" Her lips made her speak, even if her heart told her to thank him first. Shit, she should have started with that. "Thank you." She exhaled slowly, wondering if she should call the cops and report this. But...well, this Gambit man would have a lot of explaining to do, wouldn't he? She had secrets of her own, and she could keep his.

Like a gentleman, her hero offered to walk her home. Alison was thankful. Her hands and legs were still trembling, and she still couldn't help but look over her shoulder even as they walked down the street to her apartment. Would they come back for her? Did they know where she lived? Fearful of that answer, she grabbed Gambit's arm and walked close. He'd saved her once before, when he could have walked away. It was as if the closer she was to him, the safer she was.

So, as they walked up the steps to her apartment building, Alison looked down while her fingers fumbled with her keys.

"Would you like to come up?" She found herself asking, uncaring of the consequences. He was a stranger, she wouldn't have to worry about being awkward or seeing him around town the next day. And he'd helped her. Saved her. She didn't want to be alone.

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Friday Night. [Somewhere. In New York]

Fickle. Is the wind. Which blows any, an every. Thing. This way and that. Perhaps even...a tiny leaf. Caressing. Caretaking. Unto the wind's grasp, its all but. Helpless. And pliable. Taken where upon ever it's. Transported. It is a leaf after all, and has NO choice. NO free will in the matter. Why...

The wind could carry it into the Ocean wherein it would surely drown.
The wind could carry it into a Volcano wherein it would surely burn.
The wind could even carry it into the Desert wherein it would surely crumble.
Or, the wind could simply. Just...

Stop. Blowing. Setting the leaf free. If but, for an instant. An instant, the moment. The moment...potentially. Chance worthy. And opportune. If cards could be played right. If and only if...

What was the forecast for tonight anyhow? Mostly clear skies. Low 68F. Winds NNW at 5 to 10mph. Uh oh. Seems like the leaf might not be, that. Free. After all...

But then, are leaves -- anything or anyone -- ever. Actually. Unhindered? Can the singular, much less manyment, be just that. Unrestrained? Unchained? Unbounded?

Free.

Inside. Deep inside. Must a heart. The spirit. Must it ever be able to be. That of its own. Desire. Hopes and dreams. And not, belonging. Elsewhere? Was there a possibility for a leaf's. Amibition. To be greater than the preordained. Pathway. To fall off from the tree. And die. Could there NOT be more in LIFE than that? Should there not be? If there wasn't. What. Was. The. Point? A leaf -- silly, simple lowly at that -- had...feelings, didn't it? It deserved more. Right?

Shh. Perk your ear up. And listen closely. That's not the wind. That's not the Ocean. Or a Volcano. Even the Desert. It's a leaf. Whispering about its hopes and dreams. And longings. Outside of itself. Mostly about photosynthesis. The conversion of energy, from...

Light. Sometimes that's all a little leaf wants. Or needs. In its life. Love...in the form of. Yes. Light...

It was a stop. Which meant. The week -- this one -- was over. There needn't be a hunt. For him. He was much too practiced, to not. Cover his tracks. Expertly, now-a-days. No, neither search nor obligation -- even desire -- to go out of his. Way. And find...trouble. Not at the moment. It was, after all, the end of the week. With no...pressing endeavors to. Tend to. Or simply get caught up within. A time and a place. Now? He wanted the nothing to do. With, anything. Except maybe some. Relaxation...

The layover was more. Or. Less, time for a breather. This place, this part of the city....where ever that was exactly. Would do just as well. To break. Apart. And steal away from any business transactions and professional dealings he might seek out, by. Instinct. Sometimes, one has a calling. Inside. And such cannot -- for the life of them -- go unheard. Unnoticed. Or unanswered. Not in his...trade. Not by the likes of unsavory, powerful folk as. Silvermane. Or even far more dark and mysterious presences, from the. Past...

If time had taught him any a thing, it was. To bide his time. Patiently. Know all that one -- he -- could possibly encompass on. A target. Person. Object. After all, clever is the one, that finds the cheese without getting. Caught. In the trap. Yes, but. Brilliantly...thorough is the other, who not only bypassed the original ruse. But. Also, found the source of the. Cheese factory itself. Or getting a free pass. All night. At a brothel. Also, nothing short of. Brilliant.

Even so.

"Help!" A cry. Sudden. Earnest. Scared..closeby.

Hmph. This particular street, this dingy area. Felt a bit run down. And seedy. Perhaps, lingering too long. Would benefit the no one. Least, and. Most. Himself. But still...

Striiiiike. The match.

Puff. Pufff.

Inhale.

The moment when he couldn't take to enjoying a. Marlboro Cigarette. Was one, he wanted the no part of. Leaning back, against. The weatherworn building with. Paint chips falling off the door. Grafitti splotched over some, around this. Establishment with a neon pink logo overhead. The Brazen Fox.

Exhale.

It would do. To hold him up. For it was getting late. And...

"Uhhh, whadduya complainin' about?" Someone else...

"That's right! It's time you gave us our own lil' performance. Ain't that right boyz?" More. Strangers. In the night. He couldn't have been more. Disinterested. And uninvolved.

Inhale.

The time for departure had practically come. It was--

"Please someone! Mmmpphhh--" The...first -- a woman's -- voice? Around the corner. Down the alley, from the sound of it. Was she...

Exhale.

He stood straight. Up, pressing. Away from the wall. And took a step. In the direction. Of her voice, craning his neck. Around the corner. Spotting her. Victimized. And in danger. Four men. He couldn't make out much of the girl. Besides. Ringlets of golden honey, and her. Doe eyed. Tears...

Inhale.

Something. Inside. A trigger, from. Within. It....what was it? This, this type of situation. Didn't present itself to him. For him. Much, if at all. But what about it...what specifically about it called to him? People. Was it her? He didn't KNOW her. At least he didn't think so, though he couldn't be sure. Not with so little a glance. What about them? The four men on the attack? What was different? What was the connection? What...communicated to him. Internally. In a way, that could only best be described. Possibly. As...from and to the.

Heart?

Was it her eyes? Her hair? Her tears...what did he see in them?

Exhale.

It didn't matter. Not one bit. She would NOT cry anymore. Not if he could help it! Approaching the assailants from the rear of. End, his cigarette to be. Flicked aside, and his voice. Announced. More to the immediate comfort of the girl. But also, to initiate. Control, "Ev'ryone can relax. GAMBIT has arrived!"

The two closest to the Cajun jerked. Around. To his presence. Too late, for his left hand had all ready released the glowing. Ace of Hearts..

Fizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzizzzzzzizzzzziizzzzzzzzzz--BOOOOOOOOOMMMmmmm!

Both sent. Flying, unto opposite walls. From the explosion. Releasing her, the others attempted to have a go. At him. But he was all ready on THEM...

CraaaAAaackk! Of the metal bo staff. Upside the head of one. In his right hand.

Swiiiiiiiiiiiiipe--BASSHHHHH! The last one.

It happened so fast, he didn't even perspire. And they didn't have the chance to. React. Besides, afterwards, the audibles in. Pain..

Then there was his. Damsel. In distress. For whom, he extended his hand out. To help her up. And reassure her. Non verbally. Of her safety. But what about words?

"Who are you?" She penetrated the silence first, and quickly added her grattitude. "Thank you."

"Shhh. It be okay now, chere. Gambit a friend...." His gaze drinking in her lovely blue. Eyes. Now. He continued, "An' friends don't allow each ot'er. Walk home 'lone..."

Offering her his arm, he allowed for her to be close. To him. As he sought to protect her. The furtherment. From this, that apparently was. Her neighborhood. Here. Late. At night. It certainly was no place for anyone. Every place for no one. Most especially not to the likes of her. How did she find herself all over about here. By her lonesome? What..was the story? And why...was he suddenly so...intrigued to find out? Something else at work here?

Upon her apartment's steps, it was when she reached for her keys and played with the door's lock..."Would you like to come up?"

He smiled. To her. Giving her favor, so that she would be as comfortable with his presence. As possible, and. As much as two whom just met -- strangers for all intents and purposes -- could allow. Though he could have sworn it was by no effort. On his part. To have persuaded her say, suggest, or. Make him that. Offer. She...it could wait! Holding the charm of a smile. For her. He gently allowed the words. To leave his lips, "Couldn't t'ink of a place. Dat would be nicer den dat!" A soft breeze rustled one. Brown. Lock, down across his unshaven face. As his red irises gleamed. Brightly, for her. Tonight.

That was a yes.

Indeed, yes. 'Cause sometimes, that's all a little leaf wants. Or needs. In its life. Love...in the form of. Yes. Light...
========================================================================
****This roleplay story takes place at the very start of X-Men: A Bright New World roleplay, that first Friday night!****

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

On the steps to her apartment building deep in the heart of New York, blue eyes gazed back at those redish irises that were almost impossible to look away from. When Gambit looked back at her, it felt as if he were staring right through her. Inside her. Looking into her soul. Not just reading her thoughts, but feeling what she felt. Did he know her heart was racing as fast as it was? Did he know she feared the rejection he was likely to give her? She didn't want to be alone, not tonight.

Gambit was a stranger. She didn't know anything about the man who had saved her, but...maybe that was the point. Not commitment. No rules. No obligations or need to completely open herself up to him. The fact that he had helped her when he could have kept walking, and took her home, told her she didn't have anything to fear about bringing him up to her apartment. And he had secrets. Gifts, just like her. Even if sometimes she wondered if those gifts were really a curse.

He could keep her company tonight. Make her feel alive. Even for just a few hours, she didn't have to be a stripper or a struggling musician. She could be Alison Blaire. A blonde with a wild but tender heart, with the gift of turning sound vibrations into light.

When Gambit smiled back at her, not even the sounds of sirens, horns, or other city noise could distract her from his face at that exact moment.

"Couldn't t'ink of a place dat would be nicer den dat!"

Alison choked out a laugh, shaking her head at him.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Don't give your hopes up, there are a lot of things nicer than my apartment." Smiling back at him, Alison finally broke that eye contact so she could turn and unlock the outside door to the building. With one turn of a key in the deadlock, she pulled the door open and let him follow her inside toward the stairwell that lead them up to her fourth floor apartment. Once at the door, she fished out another key, and unlocked that door as well as she stepped inside.

Habit made Alison want to use her own light to brighten up her place, since she was usually by herself and could use her powers without consequence. But she still wasn't used to using those powers of hers in the company of others when she wasn't giving dances at the strip club.

"Make yourself at home," She gestured, letting him shut the door behind him while she switched on a light in the living room that they had immediately stepped into, and then in the hall as she moved through the small apartment. Just down the hall was a small bathroom and a fairly-sized bedroom. But instead, she took a step toward the kitchen. Her apartment was organized and furnished, but not with the most expensive of things. The couch and TV served its purpose, even if she didn't use either very much. Desks were rarely used, and the majority of the decorations on the walls were miscellaneous things that she had found to fill the empty space. She spent so much time singing in the day and working at night, that the only thing she really used her apartment for was eating and sleeping.

"Would you like some coffee, maybe tea?" Alison offered, almost unsure what to do or say now that he was up here. It wasn't the first time she had brought a man home, but...usually she met them at the club, and it had always been...assumed what was going to happen. When Gambit nodded, walking toward her, Alison didn't take another step, not even to the kitchen. She froze there, knowing she was just delaying the inevitable.

"Actually, I have to be honest with you about something, Gambit." She started, staring up at him again now that he was right in front of her. Those eyes of his were glowing as bright as ever, staring deeply into her blues, and she swore he could feel her heart beating so rapidly in her chest. She exhaled, slowly. "I didn't invite you up here for coffee."

To show him what she meant, Alison got right to the point. Slowly, she reached behind her back to her dress. If he couldn't tell that her fingers were pulling down her zipper, he could at least hear it as the zipper teeth were freed from their locked hold. With the zipper down, she was able to pull the straps to her dress over her shoulders before the fabric fell down her body in one swift motion. Within seconds, her dress was on the floor, pooled at her feet. Leaving her there in her lingerie, in front of her stranger. Her hero.

"Kiss me," She whispered with confidence, the fear she once had of his rejection completely gone. And yet, her need for him to accept her filled her chest more than she cared to admit. She needed him. And more importantly, she needed him right now.

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Five and a Half Years Ago. [New Orleans, Louisiana]

Quiet moment. Busy..city. A time for all things, routine. And nothing, different. Apart from...

Two. Adolescents. An innocent point, to their. Individual lives'. Intersection.

"Was you goin' open dem lips o' yours an' talk t'me. Or jus' keep dis girl waitin' all day long?" She was jovial for sure. Auburn hair, pulled back. With braids. Her hazel eyes cast away. Shyly. There was a definite smile on display for him though.

He caught this, and connected. His laughter, light. True. "Now how de come you here now. But never here de the no time 'fore? Dese eyes an' lips, dey'da KNOW and 'MEMBER you, eh?" He moved closer to her, the corner of his own lips. Curving, for her as well.

She allowed a giggle to escape her. Merrily. And was receptive to his. Flirting. "Could be, 'was. Maybe you jus'....wasn't lookin', mon bon m'sieu. 'Least my ways!" Another giggle. This time, she twirled about him. Her reddish-brown strands, flailing. From over her shoulder and back.

Missed seeing her? Impossible. Now she HAD to be playing with him. "Or perhaps la jolie fille...she want not be found. 'Til de present time!" He watched her, then as an afterthought. "It's Remy, by de way."

The expression on her face. Suddenly, became. Awfully serious. "Remy? Oh noo. Was more hopin' for a Jacques or a Phillipe! De heck was de mudder t'inkin' wit' Remy? Coul--" But she couldn't continue without, her. Laughter, giving it. All. away. He joined her in that, as well. And before it was over, "You can call me..." She looked onto him. His eyes on fire, focusing. Hanging, seemingly. On her every word now, "...Celeste."
========================================================================
Friday Night. [Alison's Apartment, Somewhere in New York]

Shelter. Refuge. Safety.

He wanted this. For her. At this moment, more than. Anything. Though...he couldn't quite discern, exactly. Why? Something -- it, she -- just called out to him. And not so, on impulse. Or anything, really. On the surface. He could just...feel the urge. The necessity, inside. To help this woman out. Not so different, from. How, he all ready did. But to carry on, to do so. And he would.

Because of this thought processing, this. Shift, in mentality. Which, for the betterment of even himself, was. Not, like anything he'd ever. Gone through before. It became the driving force, the. Inspiration. Motivation, even. For him to willingly, follow. Her. Up, unto her little lair. That was, just and only. Hers, and. Hers alone.

Sure. Delectably, on the. Outermost layer, of him. And her, there was. The mutual attraction. Thick, like a hazy fog. To pervade -- dampen -- the senses. And enwrap one, the both. Of them. In deceit. As the game too often plays out. He participated in the ritual, more than the. Many, a time. Was almost like asking his white blood cells to. Fight, off. Infection and injury. Innate. But further, below. More substantially, more. Personably. And individualistic, to this. Scenario, to. Them. The silent voice which whispered. Out. To him. The same, that. Pulsed, lightly. Within him. It was this, that he took notice of...(though it wasn't a conscience, because this was Gambit in question here!)

...thus before she allowed passageway through, the outside door. Subsequently, from the interior, the second and. Final, entry. Into her private domain. He had all ready come to a finite. Decision. Her bed, he would NOT share. Tonight. Nor would he be intimate. In the slightest with her. In fact, a moment. Another instant, and. It would be time for him, to take his. Leave...

Simplistic, at that. His objective was protecting her, from. Harm. And where upon ever, could she be. Threatened, the not. But within her little secure. Place, herein. Right?

"Make yourself at home." The woman -- his damsel -- announced readily, once the two were both inside. Indicating him comfort. In a stay. Longer than 'just a few'. Also, insinuating a level of trust. That she conveyed, for. Him. He swept his attention, briefly. Around his surroundings. Glancing at the collective, and. Scoping, out the more. Few, yet. Not registering anything, the. Out of place. Nothing coming off as peculiar. From his limited perspective, and. He was praticed, at. Searching. A 'struggle'. Violence, in any fashion. Certain, there would be. Traces. Chipped furniture. Dents, on the wall. Something, any the. Thing, to the extent of it. Being out of ordinary, even subtly. From normal wear and tear. That this establishment, should all ready provide. Not one sign -- good news!

"Would you like some coffee, maybe tea?" she offered out to him, breaking. His sweep, to which. The embers of red, emanated. Now. Upon her direction. And he considered this newfound. Female individual. He'd never seen her, previous. This day. This night. Logically then, he'd also. Not, exchanged communication. Pointedly, she was someone, whom was. Absent. From his thoughts. His feelings. Even his line of sight. And yet...

Here she was, right. In front, of. Him. The cajun, near. Her. Them, together. She. Would be...safe. She'd, well. There was nothing that would happen. To her, and. Hmm...he must have nodded in correspondance. To her question, without. Even realizing it. As well, in. Absorbing her. Form, the sweet curl or two, of her. Rich, honeyed locks. The powder soft of her voice. And that vigor, that. Light, from those blue eyes. He had approached her, boots. Having advanced. Forward, stepping of their own. Accord.

"Actually, I have to be honest with you about something, Gambit." Merci, but did she. Come across, as. Sensual. Her sun dress, did nothing but. Flatter, what. Was all ready. Present, therein. She gave off, lovely the. Scent, now. Here, that he could be. Privy to, acknowledging. And then. There was her mouth. Upper and bottom, of. Lips...

He followed the part, as she released. A breath, soon. Followed by. More words, "I didn't invite you up here for coffee." She must have moistened. Them, with her. Tongue, none too long ago. Because they appeared, quite. Succulent, and. Inviting. To pronounce her, statement. Her dress was maneuvered, from. Behind, and. Unfastened. In mere seconds. Leaving her, susceptible. Vulnerable. Enchanting, and in a state of. Un-dress, with but her. Delicately sweet, under. Garments.

Just...wanted. To keep her. Safe? To...shield her..? To...

"Kiss me," she barely let out. Pleaded, with her eyes. Advertised, with her lips. Communicated, with that quietly audible, Voice...

Him, and. Her. Yes. Her, and. Him. What? THEM.

Just...just...?

In all actuality, her whole. Being, cried out to. Him. Or so, it was how he was. Receptive. How he could rationalize. Justify. Clearly function, and think. Think?

No. Do...

Gambit closed what little, more. Distance, there was. Betwixt them. He had locked, her. Up. With his eyes, the 'nough. He had also, swallowed. The every splendor, of her. Presence. Not to be forgotten -- yet to be buried consciously at present -- he too. Saved her to the point, wherein. She was danger free. Right here, right now. Reaching out, to. Touch her, and. Encase her, as well as. Draw her to him. Close. Hm...

Like a moth to a flame.

He pressed his own mouth, upon her. Hungrily. The desire to reason or do anything but, over. Powered, by the. Essentiality, of her. And him. Them. Truly, he just wanted to taste those. Tantalizing lips. Now, more than ever!

To HELL with anything else...
========================================================================

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

Dazzler.

Alison Blaire had never been the type of girl who needed to throw herself out there for a man. That sweet charm of the blonde singer usually was enough, even when she wasn't stripping herself half naked in front of strangers for a living. But this wasn't a job. This Gambit man, her hero, he had asked nothing of her. He'd simply saved her, exposed a part of himself to her, and had walked her home with every intention of moving on with his life.

But she wasn't ready to let go, not yet. Her connection with this man was more than just a physical attraction. They shared something in common. Something that she rarely discovered or found in anyone else. They were different, and in that, it made them the same.

"Kiss me," She had invited him, her dress on the floor and her blue eyes watching him carefully. Would he refuse, out of politeness? Or would her being so forward scare him off? Alison was unafraid of his rejection, and yet, her heart was racing so fast in her chest that she worried it might explode before their lips even touched.

But it didn't take long for him to finally step closer, and she knew she had him. She wouldn't be spending the night alone, not like all the nights before. With a couple long strides, Gambit was finally in front of her. Now that he was much closer, Alison tilted her head back to gaze up at him, her lips waiting and just slightly parted. Expectantly, his hand came to her neck, touching her, helping her pretty blonde head to tilt at just the right angle to accommodate those hungry lips of his. His kiss wasn't as gentle as she was expecting, and she moaned softly against his mouth, whimpering with pleasant surprise. Deeply, Alison kissed her hero back, while the two kissed like two lovers who had been waiting years for this very moment. When, really, they'd only known each other for an hour.

His lips and tongue tasted as if he'd been having a few drinks before she'd met him in that alley, and she silently wondered to herself if he'd seen her dance. If he had, then perhaps there would be no surprise to him that she knew how to move. That he wouldn't leave her place disappointed. Grabbing his shirt with one hand, Alison tugged at it gently, pulling him closer until they were pressed together, chest to chest. She sighed softly against his lips, happy with the contact, until her fingers finally began to unbutton his shirt, finding each button blindly.

"Bed?" She offered, slightly pulling away from Gambit's mouth so she could whisper. Her own bedroom didn't see much action, despite some assumptions from the blonde stripper, but she really couldn't think of a faster way to get this man's clothes off so she could escape from her crazy, wild rollercoaster of a life for even just a little bit. She'd done a stupid thing tonight, signing those papers in the club, and the last thing she wanted to do was spend the rest of the night thinking about her mistake.

Whether he answered or not, Alison's lips were pressing to his again as she backed him up down her short hallway, toward her bedroom. The doorway to her room was easy to find, even with her mouth locked on his every time they knocked or bumped into a wall or piece of furniture. It only made her all the more eager and anxious to get to her bedroom as she finally backed him inside of it. The curtains on her large window were open, but she had no beautiful view in that small apartment that was worth looking at, let alone able to see the glow of the moon tonight. So, those skilled fingertips of hers were her guide as they lit just enough for her to look down and see her progress on unbuttoning his pants. Her lips curved, smiling as she looked down, and she gave his pants a firm, playful tug, trying to get him undressed to her level.

She could do this with no one else. And in a way, it had always meant she couldn't be herself. Show the monster in her that most would call her if they'd known. A freak, an old boyfriend used to call her. After she had given his pants that rough tug and they'd fallen to the floor, Alison held her small hand out between their bodies, her palm facing up. A warm orange glow of a ball formed in the small shape of her soft hand, illuminating the soft skin of her body and his own.

"Does it make you afraid?" She whispered. Asking. Hopeful.

Slowly, those blue eyes were looking up again, not stopping on their upward path until they found the glow of his own eyes again.