So this is that second night I'd mentioned in the previous chapter. Rogue's infertility is actually a headcanon of mine, and I've been thinking about writing about it for some time. I knew as soon as I'd written the earlier chapter that this would soon follow. And what better to do with it than gift it to my lovely friend, lifeseverchanging! Happy belated birthday, I love you to bits, my dear, I do hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you!

HawkLeBeau: Ah! Thank you so much for the review, I'm so glad you liked this! If I could send you heart emojis here, I would:) And yes, you and your wife absolutely should take a vacation like this;)

Random-Gaurdian: OMG, no Galactus on a neighboring island, hahahah! Let these two honeymoon in peace! ;) Happy to hear that you enjoyed it, though!

Ludi: Lady, you make me blush with all your sweet review, I swear! But yes, I feel like at this point, any grand gestures out of Rogue need to be in professing her undying love to Remy, and her power control needs to be something she overcomes on her own, and that it needs to be something that just clicks into place for her. A natural thing springing from letting her mess go! Anyway, I'll stop before I get to philosophical, lol.

Bustedflipflop: Yeah, describing that damn hammock was a challenge, but I saw it on Pinterest, so it had to make it into this thing! Too bad ffn is dumb and won't do links or images. Or emojis, for that matter...

Guest: ….BISH DICK. Bish dick, Bish dick, Bish dick, Bish dick. I understand that Rogue getting railed by Bishop's dick and sucking his nuts out dry on the regular in my pal's, Ana Xpert, fic, 'Breaking The Hold' is triggering, his dick is very impressive! So, you're forgiven your addled comments to her fic and mine, I understand! :)))

—•oOo•—

"You think maybe we could just move out here, sugar?"

I lean over and drop a kiss on the bared shoulder of the man stretched out on his belly beside me, takin' a moment to linger. Savor the taste and texture of his smooth, sun-deepened skin. Reveling in it, more like, like I ain't been doin' just that since we got here yesterday. "Can you just imagine it? Every night's a night like this, just you and me on a big-ass hammock in paradise?"

"Yeah? Jus' like this? In this big-ass hammock, chere?" Remy smooches the top of my head and shrugs a little, his movement givin' up a warm puff of his delicious scent from under the covers. "Mais, I could ask the guy about sellin' this place, but—"

I laugh and gently shoulder bump him. "Not here, as in, this house, oh Smart One, I meant let's just find us a pretty place around here, all to ourselves and move in." I lift my head and look out over the misty expanse of tropics below. "And I was only kiddin', anyway."

"Hmmm," he hums, rolling to his side face me, propping up on an elbow, "was you, though? That didn't sound much to me like a 'kiddin' kinda question, Anna-Marie."

I shrug with a nonchalance I'm not really feelin', keeping my gaze outward. It's a stunning view, tropical Bali greenery, hazy with a fine rolling mist, so it's a somewhat believable stall.

I can't help it, as peaceful and gorgeous as this place is, and as perfect as he is, and as good as I have things right now, it's… Well, it's just a lot. And so is this shaky future we're walkin' into.

I ain't ever been good at futures anyway.

"Nah, I was only jokin'," I finally answer him. "Besides," I add throwing him a wry smile, "beautiful and relaxin' as all this is, we'll be bored outta our skulls in no time at all, huh?"

He's not fast to respond either, just calmly watches me for a moment, then reaches over to run the back of his fingers along the side of my arm.

I glance down at his touch, watching his movements. I swear, everything about the man is mesmerizing. For someone his height and build, he's unreasonably graceful, thanks in part to his mutation, thanks in large to intense, nearly a lifetime of conditioning and just plain havin' a knack for it. Couple that up beautiful hands, hands wide, scarred, and calloused, with long, sensitive fingers, and it's no damn wonder I'm scootin' over just a little closer for more.

I might be just a tad addicted to him, and I just might be missing a certain kind of touch from him, heh. All things considered, including the fact that both of us are completely starkers, and we can touch, we can kiss, and we can snuggle, but we can't fuck, who the hell can blame me?

I close my eyes and just breathe. Focus on the pleasure of his touch. Bend my mind away from my power, and let the calm of this place seep in deep. That's how I'm able to lay here naked next to my lover without killin' him, is to hone in on my senses.

Heh, if you stop and think about it, controllin' my power isn't terribly different from dealin' with an anxiety attack when it hits you, you zero in on the world around you, and not the bullshit you're feelin'.

"You know, chere," he begins in a tone so warm, rich, it sends delicious zips up my spine and flutters my eyes open, "we ain't gotta live in absolute seclusion to have it like this, yeah?"

I glance up at him, feelin' my nerves titter. It's the intensity he can bring that sometimes gets to me. Not bad, that intensity, just… I don't know, scary, maybe? Scary, 'cause I'm always at least half convinced I can't meet up to it? I can't… "Whatcha mean, shug?"

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in such way as to give him a boyish quality (which is flat ridiculous, if you ask me, 'cause one, my husband is all man, nothing boyish about him, and two, to see that look on him is utterly heart melting). "Mais, I'm jus' sayin' there's lotsa places to go that are just as beautiful, where it's close enough to all the shit we do if we wanna do it, but it's still just us."

And there he did it, he got to the heart of what my dumb ass couldn't articulate. It wasn't that I wanted to live here, it wasn't that I was afraid of not havin' distractions.

I want what we have right now. What we've had since we got here. Hell, yesterday? We walked into this place, we ooooooh'd and aaaaaah'd over everything, the scenery and all that, and then we walked into the master bedroom, took one look at the fluffy bed, then another at the hammock extending the balcony, and then at each other, grinnin' like idiots. Didn't take us long at all to call the hammock home, dragging bedding out on the balcony and scarin' up plates of fruits and cheese outta the fridge, and the complementary bottle of champagne out of the well-stocked mini bar (bless the owner for remembering it's our honeymoon). We'd shucked our clothes and hopped right in, wound up spending the night just spendin' time with each other.

It'd been a great time, if I'm being honest. And I know we're here for three weeks, but I'm already feelin' a little like we're only on borrowed time. 'Cause once it's over, then what?

That's the scary part. I don't know what the what is, or if I can even do it. I never been able to before, and…

Well, anyway. Yeah, leave it to Remy to cut right to it. And he even said it like everything is our choice, if we wanna do it.

Can we really just...go away, and be gone like this if we want?

Oh, for heaven's sake, I don't even know what my nerves are goin' on about, we're here, right now, very naked, a little sunburned (okay, I'm a little sunburned—he's just darker) from a day at the gorgeous beach not too far off, and we're still just chillin' together, a repeat of last night. And it's perfect.

Granted, the talk just went a little serious, and I'm still maybe a little jittery over that, 'cause I know more future talk is on its way, but it's still perfect.

I turn on my side to face him, smiling all stupid at him, reachin' for him ('cause I swear, I can't keep my hands off of him!), reveling in the feel of his skin, the crisp spring of hair on his chest, the planes and ridges of all those long, hard muscles beneath… god, I love him, never could quit him! "That right, Cajun? We could do that, you think? Find us a pretty place to go?"

He snorts and leans in for a quick kiss. "Chere, we can do exactly that. We can get us a place to go, we get us a place to live, we can be as available or unavailable as we want." He runs his free hand down the line of my body, slipping over my hip to cup my ass and pull me a little closer. "We can have places, homes, in different parts of the world, and we can vacation whenever, wherever we want." He comes in for another kiss, holding that one even longer, then gently breaks away, not going far, either. "This our start, chere. This our life, all ours. We do it our way, however that is, yeah?"

I nod stupidly at his promise, grinning even wider. "Sounds real good, Mr. Swamp Rat," I tell 'im, puttin' a playful lilt to my tone as I roll him over on his back and climb on him, "and you know what else sounds real good?"

"What's that, Mrs. Swamp Rat?" He flirts back and smiles lazily up at me as he tucks a hand behind his head. The movement ripples up so many muscles strung along his torso, I almost forget what I was gonna say, as busy as I am staring...god...he's beautiful, all the way down to his— "Chere? My eyes'r up here, yeah?"

I blink back up at his smirking face, and feel heat prickling that sunburn across my nose. Instead of snappin' at him like I mighta done not so long ago, though, I shrug and give him an unapologetic smile. "Yeah, shug, I was just thinkin' that makin' out with you sounded real good right about now. Ya wanna?"

His smirk turn positively wicked, and his eyes flash bright as he loudly claps his free hand over my backside. "You even gotta ask? Git y' hot-ass self down here and kiss me a little while, chere."

Hell yes, I think I'll do just that!

—•oOo•—

It's a good while later, a helluva make-out session later. And he's in a fantastic mood.

Me? Well, I'm…

I wiggle in a little closer to him, trying not to sour over the fact that my brain is scattered enough that I'd had to cut short that incredible make-out session.

I sigh a little, and I feel his lips in my hair, his hand lightly stroking along my back. It'd started out fun, that make-out, light kissing that'd gradually gone to heated, decidedly sexier kissing, with bolder touches. And bless him, he was gettin' close, I had 'im in my hand, and he was panting, and I'd just gotten the notion to take him in my mouth, when my stupid brain was all 'hurrrrrrr, hurrr, fuck that power, look, I can think about it without killin' h—oh crap, nope, can't do that…'.

I'd torn myself off of him fast as I could, 'cause I know that's what brings on an absorption, that thinkin' that I can't touch without killing. It makes me panic, which brings on intrusive thoughts, and more panic… And then it's just a vicious cycle from there.

Remy's eyes had popped open soon as I'd jumped away, already figuring out what was going on. He'd scooped up the sheet over his hands and cupped my face, just calm as all get out while askin' what sounds I'm hearin', what smells I'm smellin', how the mist feels over my skin, and so on til I wasn't thinking about my power at all.

Soon as I was calm enough, and really thinkin' about how things around were makin' me feel as opposed to shit on the inside, I'd pulled the sheet out from between us, kissed his palms, and he'd smiled wide and pulled me back in. Snuggled me down in the covers with him, and we've been cuddled up and kissing a little since.

And it's nice, it's great, kissin' Remy ain't a thing to shrug off. Not to me, anyway. And I ain't necessarily unhappy, either. It's been a fun night to top off a fun day. It's just…

Well…

I'm kinda left with this feeling of inadequacy. Well, I don't guess left with is right, it ain't like any experience with Remy makes me feel that way. It's more like that feeling is always there, always has been, quiet, niggling doubt, doubts that I can be what he's lookin' for, needs, and those experiences with him tend to expose those doubts in a remarkably painful way.

I can't touch.

I can't control my power.

I can't communicate.

I can't commit to anything.

I can't relationship.

I can't make him happy.

I can't...

I squirm a little bit against him, the doubts bubbling up so close to the surface, it actually kinda hurts.

"Whatcha thinkin', chere?" His voice rumbles up relaxed and delicious out of his chest, and I close my eyes and kiss him just above his nipple. Tryin' to figure out what to say, and maybe unlodge some of this insecurity now stuck in my throat.

'Cause I want to change some of those can'ts. I want to for me, and I really want to for him.

I didn't marry him just to suck at it so badly on purpose, he leaves. If he's gonna leave, I'd rather he did it for something I can't help than for something I can.

I pull in a deep breath, hope I have some words ready when I start talking, and then I just blurt something out. "You know I can't have kids, right?"

Oh shit...of all the things...oh my god, that's one of the worst ones…

I push back, look down at him. Lookin' for a flinch, a bitterness, regret… "You said earlier this was our start, and you started makin' plans about the future, but," I push on baldly, and I keep searchin' his handsome face for something, "those plans ain't gonna have kids in 'em."

His expression softens, and his ready smile turns a little sad, but his hands are still moving over me same as they were, long soothing strokes. "Chere, I already figured as much, after you was exposed to the terrigen mist."

I shake my head. "No, shug, I probably couldn'a had kids, anyway. At least, not the old fashioned way. That invulnerability, makes it real difficult for a pregnancy to stick."

I sit up and move away a little, feelin' more than a little lacking.

Faulty.

Inadequate.

Broken.

After all, having kids is the one thing I shouldn't have had any problem with. I certainly have the body for it, the supposedly fertile, curvy shape. And like, everybody can have kids. They have to take birth control. Me…

I feel his hand run up my back, and drag back down in a gentle rub, and I close my eyes and focus on it.

He'd figured I was sterile, and married me anyway…

I glance over at him, watching his bronzed hand glide over my lily-white hip and thigh. It's kind of amusing to realize even my 'tanned' legs are still whiter than the jagged scar on the back of his hand. "Anyway, yeah," I finally add, "the mist obliterated whatever chances of babies we mighta had, shug." I bite my lip, and keep watching him. "I'm sorry I didn't say something before—"

"Non, chere, you stop that," Remy gently chides, and just like that, a whisper of movement, and he's pressed up behind me, arms pulling me back between his legs, flush to him, dropping a warm, lingering kiss on my shoulder. "Told you I already figured it, chere. Didn't know about the invulnerability issue, but everyone knows how terrigen mist affects mutants." He noses into my neck, sending shivers of pleasure up my spine at the soft puff of his breath, the bristly scratch of his stubble… "Figured if that's all that shit did to you, I'm a pretty fuckin' lucky man in the end."

"Lucky?" I ask over my shoulder, "shug, you ain't gotta play it down, I've absorbed you a time or two, I know you wanted babies of your own." I slump a little. "It's okay to be disappointed, you know? I was. Am."

"You turn around here, and you look at me, Anna-Marie," he commands in a low, gentle tone I'm absolutely not about to fight. I do as he says, and he scoops me up so that my legs are around him, and he's got me comfortably sitting in a circle of long, lean, tanned arms and legs. Nose to nose, mouth to mouth, eye to eye.

"The day I found out you'd flown into a cloud of terrigen mist was the goddamn worst day of my life. And the day I found out you was takin' injections to save y' life was the best t' date of mine. And look at me now, eh? So yeah, I'm feelin' pretty damn lucky these days." His tone is even, his gaze steady, but I can tell the memory got him just now, with the tightening around his eyes, the little quick-fire flash in 'em. I curl my fingers into the ends of his shaggy hair, a touch I know he likes.

"Also," he continues with a snort, "you ain't gotta get all dramatic about it, chere. Actin' like doin' shit the 'old fashioned way' is the only way of doin' anything. You want babies? There's a literal fuck-ton of 'em out there, lookin' for mamas. Let's adopt a bit later down the road if y' want."

My eyes widen at him. 'Cause I'd thought about that, adoptin' a kid. Lots of times. If I hadn't been so screwed up all this time, and doing the kind of work I do, I'd have probably already taken a kiddo home by now, been a single mama and all. "You serious, Remy? You wanna adopt?"

He shrugs. "Don' see why not. You an' me, two kids what slipped through the cracks. Lost our parents, got adopted, and ditched again. Adoptin' a bus-load of kids." He grins at me, runs and hand down the curve of my thigh in such a way to make me scooch up a bit closer on him. "That story's gotta nice little ring to it, don't it?"

I close the inch between us for a fast, fierce kiss, and pull back with a sort of shy, excited smile. "It does! But maybe not an actual bus-load? I mean, I don't wanna drive a minivan—"

"Nah, chere, you be drivin' a literal bus. I can see y' now, one of the greats in the superhero world, drivin' a full-fledged, honest to goodness, yellow school bus of squabblin' kids to an' fro soccer practice, wearin' your 'soft pants' and A Bug's Life sunglasses, hair up twenty-four-seven, venti Starbucks coffee in hand—"

"Oh, shut it, Cajun," I laugh up from my toes and shove him playfully on his back, "and you call me dramatic—"

"—We've already started on that bus, too, wit' Figaro, Lucifer, and Oliver—"

"Ugh, like we could ever get Fig and Oli in a bus, anyway. Also, did you know I was so mad at you when I found out you'd named your dumb cat Oliver?" I plop myself down on his chest, proppin' my chin on crossed arms, laughin' at myself, 'cause my reasoning is beyond stupid. "'Cause that was the name I'd picked out a loooooooong time ago for a boy, if I had one."

He about dies laughin' into the side of my head, one of his hands already sinkin' into my hair, those long fingers lightly rubbing my scalp.

"Oh, shut up, Cajun, it ain't funny," I laugh right along with him, "Oliver was supposed to be a sweet little boy with his daddy's thick, cowlicky, auburn hair, and stunning red and black eyes, not some asshole gray cat who pees in my shoes."

"Awww, chere, you was already thinkin' kids wit' me—wait—how long ago was it 'Oliver' was born—"

"I don't even begin to see how that's relevant information," I snip at him, dragging kisses up his throat and over his scruffy chin to his mouth, every intent being distraction. 'Cause not a chance in hell am I tellin' him I'd had that silly, girlish little daydream back in the early days.

Not so very long after he'd shown up after Muir Island as a teammate, actually, which had been an utterly cringeworthy situation. I mean, the Eternal Virgin Who Can't Touch fallin' in love with the Seasoned Bachelor Ladies' Man Lothario? Yikes—

"I don' know, sweetheart, I find it extremely relevant, especially seein' as how you're awful busy tryin' to distract me from it," he laughs under my kisses, and honest to Jesus, I'm about this close to bitin' off his damn smartass tongue— "but it's okay, chere. I let you be about y' business if you'll do that thing wit' y' mouth and hands you did earlier, eh?"

"Shug, I didn't do anything with my mouth," I laugh at him, more than happy to slip a hand down between us while plantin' a kiss right over the cleft in his chin. "I sure thought about it, though," I tease him with a giggle and a series of kisses down his jawline. God above, I can't get over the texture of that scruff, how it'll feel so scratchy against my skin, but feel just a bit bristly against my lips.

Not to mention, that stubble is so dang hot, especially when he—

"I know you thought about, chere," he smirks, "I watched where you was headed wit' that look in them pretty green eyes, and I very nearly lost my shit watchin' you stare and smack y' lips—"

"Like this right here, shug?" I drawl at him, then drag my eyes down his utterly mouthwatering body, alllllll the way down to watch myself work him up, and then I lick my upper lip long and slow, like I want to eat him up (which, it ain't an act—I do).

"Hoooo," he breathes dramatically, that grin on his beautiful face positively drippin' with sin, "yeah, sweetheart, that'll do—oh shit, chere—!"

I shut him up with a nice series of strokes, just the way he likes it best, and an unhurried lap of my tongue. Which naturally kicks off a good time that won't last long yet, 'cause my power naturally cockblocks in all the worst ways, but ya know what?

It ain't so bad! I'm not drainin' him just being beside him anymore. I've regained what control I'd slid back on prior to comin' out here. So, hey, all that right there is good stuff, control! Hell, and I'm wrapped up in a light, fluffy bed with him in a tropical heaven, naked, and even if I have to stop for a minute, the very next, we're back at it again, laughin', teasing, snuggling, kissing, and more for a little while. So, nah, it ain't bad at all!

And you know what else?

As I lay here, on a big-ass hammock in paradise with the once-in-a-lifetime love of my life, just hangin' out and makin' out til the sky starts brightening in a gorgeous sunrise, I can't help but feel like I'd also kissed off a piece of angst from outta my head for good. I feel ten pounds lighter, ten years younger, and not so far off from the silly, giddy little thing I was back in the day, daydreamin' about a beautiful kiddo named Liv, with coppery brown hair and firefly eyes just like the handsome man that everyone kept warnin' me against.

Maybe that handsome man is right, and this is our start. I mean, we actually started back in Paraiso, started for keeps, and then we sealed a whirlwind romance with an even whirlier engagement and a stolen wedding. But this trip so far seems...I don't know...more us than anything we've done since we got back together. No mind control, no impulsive rush of emotions…

I snuggle in a little closer to my drowsy Cajun, shivering at the slight chill of a cool, wet morning, and close my eyes with a dumb smile all over my face. 'Cause he is right, as per usual when it comes to us.

This is our start. This is our life, all ours. And we'll do it our way, however that is.