Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel blah blah blah.

Warning: Adult only.

Notes: A birthday gift for my dear friend, Jehilew - originally posted on Tumblr. Also inspired by an anonymous Tumblr prompt: "My smutty request is 616 Rogue's first time giving Remy head. Hope you'll consider it! Thank you!"

Enjoy! x

A First Time For Everything

Remy LeBeau set his jambalaya down to simmer and glanced at the phone in his hand for about the fiftieth time since he'd got back that day.

Be back about 5.30 today sugar. Can't wait to see you again. Muah!

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and grinned stupidly.

It'd been a long, hard week back in New Orleans on Guild business, away from the California sun, sea, sand and… …

And Anna.

This was only their second month in Valle Soleada, but somehow it felt like they'd been there forever. The perfect town, the perfect place, the perfect life… the perfect time to be a couple. Both of them, now powerless, spending their days in this mutant paradise, far from the X-Men and far from any of the responsibilities that came with being a superhero. She'd got a job as a mechanic in town during their first week here, and he… well, he'd just spent his time doing what he did best, and that was thieving. The house Irene had bequeathed to her had been gorgeously situated right down on a private beach; and the sex… …

Well, the sex had been amazing.

For the first time ever they'd been free to give into their desires without any fear of repercussions… no accidental absorptions or broken hearts – just a whole lot of raw, pent-up passion, and all the time in the world. Just the thought of it was enough to put a twitch in his dick, he was that wrapped up in her. They'd both waited years to have each other like this, and they'd made love almost every single day that they hadn't been apart, but he wasn't even close to being bored of her yet. Not by a mile.

Remy sauntered into the lounge and flopped onto the sofa, checking the time as he did so. 5:15, the clock said… He had a little time to kill before she got back.

Leaning over for the remote, he switched on the TV and tried to concentrate on something that wasn't her.

He wasn't doing too well at being distracted, so it was lucky for him that only a couple of minutes had passed before he heard her motorbike pull up near the front door, her boots clapping up onto the deck, and the door swing open dramatically to reveal the gorgeous object of his desires.

He sat up a little as she did so, caught in abject admiration for the woman silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the tawny Valle Soleada sun. Dressed in nothing but denim hot-pants, white vest, and engineering boots, her cinnamon hair a wild cascade of curls around her shoulders, she sure was a sight to behold. As her eyes fell on him, she looked breathless, excited. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest was heaving like she'd just run a marathon.

Or, like something else was on her mind.

"Ohmigod, sugar, you have no idea how much I've missed ya!" she declared dramatically, stepping over the threshold and slamming the door shut behind her.

He thought she'd cross the floor over to him immediately, but she didn't. She simply threw her keys onto the table by the doorway and hovered there, gazing at him with this hungry expression on her face, like a predator that didn't know exactly how to attack its prey.

It was the kind of look she rarely bestowed on him, and damn, it took his breath away. He opened his mouth to beckon her over, but found that it had gone dry.

"Remy," she said in a low voice, thick with desire, taking another step towards him, "I got somethin' to tell ya."

He stared at her, hearing the thrust of her words, but not quite understanding what they meant.

"Y'mean you're pregnant?" he asked, finally pushing some words out.

She laughed. Not as long and downright inelegantly as she usually did, but deep and throaty.

"No, sugar. Definitely not that."

She finally began to walk on over, every step closer sending his pulse pounding harder, his breath coming more heavy. When she was nearly over him she snatched the remote from the armrest and switched off the TV impatiently, never breaking eye contact with him. And he stared back, entranced, as she flung the remote back onto the sofa and lowered herself to her knees on the floor beside him.

"So what's on your mind, chere?" he rumbled back, seeing the same fire in her eyes that he always saw when she was about to tackle him into bed. He could barely contain himself with the anticipation. Usually it was him initiating things, but she was learning to be more confident, which, Lord was he more than fine with.

"You're on my mind," she half-whispered as she gazed up at him from under the dark crescents of her eyelashes. "Or in my head, if ya wanna get precise about it."

Her gaze dropped and she put a hand on his knee, watching her fingers as they traced meaningless patterns in his jeans.

"You've been in my head for years now, sugar," she murmured. "D'ya have any idea what it's like to have you in my head? There was a lot I had ta tamp down after I absorbed ya back in Antarctica. You were so strong inside my head, that I couldn't survive unless you were tucked right back in some deep, dark corner."

She flicked her eyes back up to his again, added quietly:

"But since we left the X-Men, since we came here, it's been impossible not ta let ya surface again, sugar. I ain't afraid of you no more. I ain't afraid of us. I let the floodgates open. You're stuck in my head. Everythin' about you. Everythin' ya want. Everythin' ya like. And since you been gone this week, it's been drivin' me crazy. It's all I've had of you. And I ain't afraid to say that I opened up Pandora's Box and… well." She gave a curl of a smile, letting her hand run up his knee towards his thigh slowly. "I got carried away some nights. Carried away just lettin' you eat me up from the inside out."

She let the words linger, let his imagination play with torrid thoughts of what she did those nights he was away, when she let his ghost stalk her mind. The him that she'd absorbed that fateful night in Antarctica… that was the him that had made love to her for the first time only the night before. The him that had loved her with all the sense of pain and sacrifice that had told him he'd never see her again from that day forward. She had been his entire world back then. His everything. To have that in her head… …

The idea of it did crazy things to him.

It was like she knew it.

She grinned conspiratorially and shifted, moving into the space between his legs and running both hands slowly up his thighs.

"You're in my head, Remy," she whispered. "Tellin' me what you like… I know exactly what you like…"

His mind was skipping, racing from thought to thought, as – for some stupid reason – he began to appreciate just what it meant for her to absorb him, for his psyche to be in her head; for all his most sordid desires and dirty fantasies to be right there inside her in the most naked and salacious way possible.

He almost shuddered with the sudden feeling of acute exposure, of unabashed excitement. It was a new kind of thrill, and an intoxicating one at that.

He could only watch as her fingers reached up and expertly undid the top button of his jeans. She paused, looked up at him, her teeth catching her bottom lip, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. The look in her eyes was positively wicked, in a way he hadn't seen before. She seemed… confident. Unafraid. Unashamed. When usually she was a little coy, a little unsure. Self-conscious of her inexperience. That was all gone now. She was a temptress, a seductress, and he was a little taken off guard by it, but Dieu, he found it hot as hell.

He swallowed hard; and she pulled apart the fabric slowly, letting the zipper unzip itself.

He didn't need any direction, scooting down a little to accommodate her as she fisted the waistband of his jeans and shucked it down over his hips, to his thighs, to his knees, taking his boxer briefs down with them.

He could barely breathe. Anticipation was licking hotly at him. Her eyes were still holding him captive, and he couldn't look away. God, he wanted this. He wanted her, dirty and irreverent.

"Anna," he somehow spoke, the name coming out like a strangled gasp.

"Mmm?"

Her voice was soft, dreamy almost; his jeans and underwear were down below his knees now, and he swallowed, stuttered:

"Ya sure ya wanna... y'know?"

Why was he trying to talk her out of this? What fucked up sense of chivalry was making him ask her whether it was okay for her to go down on him? What the actual fuck, LeBeau?!

And she merely smiled at him serenely, said:

"There's a first time for everythin', sugar. Gotta start somewhere, huh?"

She dropped her eyes to the goods – he was already more than half-hard, for fuck's sake – and she curled a fist round his dick, added: "Think I might as well start here, with you. Y'know," she purred, beginning to pump him slowly, "since I got you in my head, being all up front and personal about it."

He was starting to wonder just what exactly he'd been showing her up there – just which of his dirty memories she was playing voyeur to – but his mind wouldn't let him. Not when she was so masterfully stroking his dick like this. He tried to let out a pent-up breath, but it came out as a moan. Music to her ears, no doubt, because as soon as she heard it, she dipped her head and slowly licked her way up the length of his shaft.

Fuck.

He was dimly aware of his lips forming the word, the hard consonant skimming from behind the skin of his teeth. Instead he planted those teeth into his bottom lip and looked at her. She was looking right back up at him, green eyes dark with lust, running her tongue slowly, slowly up his dick, before talking just the tip of him into her mouth.

His hips jerked forward, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat at the sensation.

Was this her first time? he couldn't help but wonder.

'Cos he'd tried to get her to do this before, through hints and winks; and thus far she'd always laughed away his innuendo, uncertain, he knew, of somehow failing to please him; so he'd let it go, letting her work up to things at her own pace, but this onslaught...

Stop fuckin' complainin', LeBeau, a voice in his head said. Of course it's her first fuckin' time, she couldn't touch before this.

But, he was slowly beginning to realise, it wasn't the first time she'd done this in her head. His gut roiled pleasurably with the knowledge. Rogue rarely talked about her sexual fantasies, although he knew she had to have them... but the idea that his own fantasies had been feeding hers this whole time...

The idea of that was about as hot as the fact that she was going down on him right now, that she was already sucking him to within an inch of his sorry life, and his fingers were slowly twining into her hair, wanting her closer, deeper… …

"Fuck, chere," he was gasping. "You're so fuckin' amazin'…"

The first week they'd got here, they'd barely spent 2 hours together out of the bedroom. Her tender, curious touches had set him on fire, the way she'd explored his body (and her own) a wonder in and of itself.

Teach me, she'd said; and he'd laughed, easing her out of her clothes, saying, teaching ain't no fun, chere, not as fun as doin'…

She'd flushed and laughed, pushing him away, only to get herself out of her own clothes and practically jump him, hungry for all the things they'd both been so long denied. Sometimes she'd pause, overcome by her own desires, only to be prodded back into the heat of the moment by a touch, a kiss, a lick, a sweet nothing.

And sometimes she'd freeze completely, like a woman who'd woken from a dream.

She never said how do I do this? Where do I put this? How does it go?, because she knew, instinctively, how they fit together, but sometimes… sometimes there were flashes of self-consciousness in her, flashes of the girl whose virginity he had unceremoniously taken in a cave in frigid Antarctica.

Of the girl who'd made an art of self-pleasure, because she'd never expected to find pleasure with anyone but herself.

Lord, but what she lacked in inexperience she made up for in passion, and when she'd looked at him from between rumpled cotton sheets and said, I've never done this before, he'd said, But you've thought this before, and that's all ya need, chere – I know, 'cos I've thought it too… …

I've wanted it as long as you have.

Now let's do it together.

And he'd never had to teach her a thing. Not a single darn thing.

Like he didn't have to teach her now.

She was perfect as she was.

Perfect, with those stunning eyes catching hold of his, with her lips wrapped so lusciously round him, her wild curls grasped between his fingers.

It'd been a long time since an act like this had been so damn intimate – not just a chance to get off, but a blissfully contained little moment, just them, together, somehow in tandem, and not just his own body straining for release…

This was what love felt like. This thing he'd denied himself for so long. Sex as something more than just sex. Something he'd missed since Belle… …

And she was so damn good at this…

He felt his orgasm suddenly pressing in on him like a tidal wave, tearing him away from his stupid thoughts, from the things he'd taught himself not to feel when a woman did this to him. And here he was, sinking back into the oblivion of intimacy, into all the warm, comforting things he'd switched off; realising for the first time that over all the months and years he'd known her, she'd slowly been flipping those lights back on, letting him be someone he'd been so afraid to be… …

His climax hit him, hard and noisy, and at first he'd thought she'd recoil from him, but she didn't.

She accepted every last drop of him, just like she'd accepted everything else he'd thrown her way thus far. In every way she matched him, just like he matched her.

He'd known it from the moment he'd met her.

When the stars had finally cleared from his eyes, she was straddling his lap, her arms smoothing over his shoulders, a mischievous laugh bubbling in her throat.

"Well, sugar, if that was anythin' t'go by, I'd say I pleased you and then some," she purred.

He found his wits, moving his hands to cup her ass, smelling the scent of diesel and motor oil and sweat on her skin, and never finding anything so sexy.

"You're a wicked fille, Anna," he chided her, still breathless. "Have I ever told you I love you, beb?"

"Hmmm." She pretended to think about it, leaning in closer and nipping his bottom lip lightly. "You may have done, once or twice. You've thought it in your head a whole lot more than you've said it though."

He planted his thumbs in the back pockets of her hot pants and snatched her mouth into a hungry kiss.

"Have I?" he asked innocently, once they'd surfaced.

"Uh huh. But how's about I take these hot pants off right now and you tell me again, darlin'. I ain't done with you yet, boy, and we still got hours b'fore bedtime…"

She kissed him again, fierce enough to show him she meant business.

"Chere," he answered sincerely. "I'm all yours for tonight. But first, lemme take care o' somethin'."

"What?" she pouted.

"My jambalaya's on the stove. I don't turn it off now, we ain't got no dinner."

She leaned back, glanced towards the kitchen, and laughed.

"Okay. I am pretty hungry, I guess. But for afters…"

"For afters, chere," he grinned wolfishly, "I'm gonna rip those fuckin' clothes off'a you wit' my teeth, and I'm gonna go down on you so fuckin' hard, you gon' be beggin' for mercy."

"Mmmmm. Sounds delicious. And then?"

"And then… how about I get out some of those toys I was showin' you the other day?"

She actually blushed then, so goddamn prettily it made him want to forget the fucking jambalaya and ravish the hell out of her right there and then.

Plenty enough time for that, LeBeau, he thought to himself, and, as if she'd heard him:

"Okay, sugar, ya got yourself a deal. Food first. Fun later."

She dismounted him with a saucy little smile and headed for the bedroom, no doubt to freshen up. All he could do was stare after her, and, of course, thank his lucky stars.

Between the house and the beach and the life and the woman, he was beginning to think that maybe he wouldn't mind staying here forever. That maybe now was the time to settle, to stay.

There was a first time for everything, after all.

-END-