Disclaimer: All X-men used in this story belong solely to Marvel and no one may 
make a profit out of it.
Notes: I’m not really sure where this story took place( I mean it never took 
place anyway...) but I’m trying to fit it in a place when Gambit has just 
recovered from the after-effects of Rogue’s kiss in X-men #45 so Rogue is not 
around. Also, some of the X-men are away. *grin* Send all comments to 
gamine@post1.com
***WARNING: MAY BE SEXUALLY EXPLICIT IN CERTAIN WAYS. YOU’VE HAD YOUR 
WARNING****
Wild Hearts(3/3)
April 1997
by Gamine
He slid his powerfully built arms under her legs and swept her off her feet. 
Giggling, she smiled into his face. He lay her gently on the silken sheets. 
Their cool smoothness caressed her delicate skin, sending shivers down her 
spine. She raised her arms up to him from the bed, the movement making her full 
breasts arch upwards. He leaned towards her, his hands against her cheeks. 
Likewise, her slender fingers closed gently on his cheeks. He began to kiss her, 
long and lingeringly.
Her soft full lips parted with only the slightest urging from his probing tongue 
and her arms moved to embrace his neck as she drew his tongue into her month and 
then gave him hers. He teased her gently, withdrawing his tongue then thrusting 
it back again repeatedly until she was clinging to him, her sensuous mouth 
moving over his in passionate surrender to the erotic kiss.
He stroked her locks of hair and slowly slid his hand down to her breasts. He 
produced a thin sharp blade that glinted dangerous in the slivers of moonlight 
that was flowing in from the soft folds of the lacy white curtains that was 
billowing out at the French window. The breeze laid his light hands on the 
couple, stroking them. The thin blade slowly slid across the side of her silken 
thighs, reaching upwards. It met with mild resistance on the top but the silk 
garment slithered off after the blade ran along it. The thrill of feeling a cold 
sharp blade run across her skin made her excited, wildly erotic and scared. The 
silver blade seemed to possess a life of its own, tracing the slim outline of 
her body. The second piece of silk followed its partner to the floor.
The blade then disappeared back into the shadowy velvet darkness. He lowered his 
boxer shorts and stepped out of them. Her long lashes swept up and she stared at 
his magnificent manhood, already hardened. He pinned her down gently and lowered 
himself on the bed. Outside, dark gloomy rain clouds gathered, as if to cover 
the innocent moon’s eyes from what was to happen. The exquisite pleasure began 
as he began to slide one hand up her thighs. A flame of desire burned within 
her, consuming her slowly. Passion mounted as his other hand teased and caressed 
her nipples.
Slanted silver sheets of rain tinkled down softly at first. Soon, the rain 
poured down larder and louder. Thunder rumbled and rolled and streaks of 
blinding bluish-white lightning flashed across the dark stormy skies. The rain 
did not cease but rained down harder, veiling all sound. Lightning greased past 
the skies more often and thunder crackled sharply and more frighteningly. 
Inside, none of this mattered to them. All they felt, understood was the passion 
between them, a sensual whirlpool pulling both in and joining two as one.
The rain continued in its relentless fury, and thunder roared like an angry 
lion. It was as if the rain was trying to wash away all the sins, guilt and 
ecstatic pleasure of that dark, fateful night. Darkness closed in gradually, 
embracing all, nature and human alike into its sweet bosom.


Jean lay awake on the damp crumpled sheets, her silky hair spread out around 
her. She could not sleep. Turning her head in the direction of the sleeping 
person, she could barely make out the figure. She pulled the sheets higher up 
herself, covering her naked body. She swept her head in the other direction of 
the French window where the delicate lace curtains flew out lightly, soaked with 
rain. She took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh sharp scent of the rain. The 
rain had finally stopped not long after their passionate love-making.
In a bittersweet nostalgic way, she recalled what had happened before.....
Her arms had circled around Gambit’s waist. His happiness of being able to touch 
the one he loved- Rogue was overwhelming. He had swept her up in his arms and 
carried her into his bedroom after that tender kiss on the rooftop. The room was 
filled with the delicious musky scent of him, overpowering her. Her desire grew.
He laid her on the bed, gently. Her telepathic abilities was working overtime. 
Gambit’s mental shields had fallen, revealing all the passion and love he had 
for Rogue. It was hard to describe those overwhelming, powerful feelings but she 
understood them Once, she had loved like that before. Before. She took all those 
feelings with her, into her heart. However, one mental shield remained closed, 
shut. She pried it open in his weakened psychic state. The floodgates opened. 
More intense emotion she had ever felt was exposed to her. The love for Rogue 
was more intense than she ever thought possible. Even Scott had not possessed 
that much passion and love for her. She had never thought it possible for one 
person to possess that much inner strength, love. She herself being a telepath 
of such high calibre had never come across such wild, conflicting emotions. What 
touched her genuinely was the love for Rogue, one beyond all doubt. It was as 
though all the love he had for anything and everything had been poured into her.
Jean abruptly stood up just as Remy was about to kiss her again, his lean 
muscles rippling as he bent elegantly over her. Remy looked at her with strange 
eyes, filled with bewilderment and incomprehension. He could not understand why 
she had suddenly rejected him.
"Rogue w’at be wrong?" Remy whispered over her slender shoulders, her gently 
arching back facing him. He was so gentle, so sensitive. His sensitive fingers 
ran over what he thought was Rogue’s white streak.
Suddenly to his horror, the streak of white hair changed to a stunning red. He 
stared in disbelief at the lock of hair he was holding. Jean had stopped nudging 
him telepathically. What he was staring at now was Jean, Jean Grey, Jean Grey 
Summers, legal wife of Scott Summers, Marvel Girl, Phoenix and not the woman he 
loved.
Jean turned to face Remy, her emerald green eyes piercing into his soul. Shining 
tears were threatening to brim over. His mental shields came crashing down, 
shutting off all emotion. His face, which had been filled with so much love only 
moments ago, tightened into a poker face.
"Why?" His voice quivered uncertainly, betraying his real emotions hidden behind 
that mask.
"Remy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I really am." With this, Jean backed off and ran 
out of the door, into the darkness.
Jean woke herself out of her reverie. She stared at the sleeping outline of 
Logan beside her. He had comforted her, understood her, shared her burden, eased 
the pain, the loneliness. He had been always been there for her, better or 
worse. He had never judged her, but had taken her for what she was. He had 
waited for her, year after year despite the hurt it had caused him. She knew 
that much. She had meant that much to him and she had never been able to return 
that love to him, paying off her debt to him. Logan had loved her for what she 
was, never expecting her to change or live up to any standards. He had seen the 
real woman she was and had taken that woman to his heart. She had loved him in 
return. She smiled at the memory of the admantium claw sliding up up her thighs. 
Definitely love and more.
She made up her mind. Logan was hers and she Logan’s. No one could change that 
fact. No one. She would leave Scott. Forever. For love she wanted and now 
possessed. Logan.


Gambit slumped down on the bed, his face crumpling. He put his face into his 
long elegant hands. Tears left a gleaming trail down his cheeks.
Angrily, he wiped them away with the back of his hands. It was not because he 
was angry with Jean. He had understood her need, her want and her loneliness. He 
could not blame her for that. He had felt that way once. But it was the 
disappointment that had saddened him, engulfing him. He had hope, hope of touch, 
and it had been dashed brutally against a stone wall. Nothing could ease the 
pain he felt. For now. Perhaps forever. At least, until the woman he loved, had 
loved and will love came back to him once more.
The End
(now was that touching?? Haa. Do send me your comments. No flames please.)