*****
"My heart is broken
But when I look at you you're forgiven
You're forgiven
I know my ex-boyfriend lies
Oh he does it every time
It's just his permanent disguise
Yeah yeah but he's drop dead gorgeous..."
— "Drop Dead Gorgeous," by Republica
*****
Rogue dreamingly ran her hands down her lover's back, still quivering with the aftershocks from her orgasm. When Remy gently disentangled himself from her and settled himself on his side next to her, she contentedly snuggled into him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. [Don't go to sleep, now,] she reminded herself as he drowsily toyed with a strand of her hair.
After a polite interval, she pulled away from him and sat up. "Leavin' already?" he murmured?
"Mmm, I'm too comfortable. If I stay here too long, I'm gonna fall asleep."
Having long since exhausted the debate on whether Rogue should risk her lover's life on her control of her power while sleeping, Remy didn't bother trying to talk her into staying this time. Instead, he rolled over and turned on the lamp, giving her the light to dress by.
Looking back at him, Marie caught his arm and shoulder illuminated by the light before he pulled away from the lamp. Had she not turned just then, she probably wouldn't have seen the mark on his shoulder — they had undressed in the dark for once, and in another day or two it would have healed towards unrecognizability.
Right now, though, the bruising pattern still clearly delineated a bite mark — one that she *knew* she hadn't given him.
Turning quickly away so that he wouldn't see the look on her face, Rogue collected her scattered clothing and began dressing while she fought to control her expression. [How the hell did he get a bite back *there*?] she wondered, before the question triggered another one of those alien flashes of recall, a resurgence of borrowed memory.
/A tangle of limbs in one of her (his) usually scuzzy motel beds, after a typical rough night in a bar in North Dakota of all places, when the prettiest eyes in the place hadn't belonged to a female, but that was fine with her (him)... Wrapping brawny arms around a slender form, pulling it back against her (his) body, nuzzling into the corner of neck and shoulder and gripping with strong teeth, leaving a mark as a token of her (his) temporary possession.../
Absorbed in the intensely detailed sensory information characteristic of Logan's memories, Marie was able to temporarily push the matter of Remy's infidelity to a mental back burner. He was a real player, and she had privately considered it only a matter of time before he ran into a problem keeping his zipper up around some other pretty face. It hurt, but it wasn't like she hadn't been waiting for it to happen. The fact that she had been expecting her eventual, inevitable competition to be female was only an incidental detail.
Much more interesting — and far less painful — was the unexpected revelation from Logan's past. Marie loved it when lingering traces of Wolverine surfaced, especially when they concerned the type of bedroom safaris only too apt to occur to someone with such an overactive sex drive and so few inhibitions as Logan. She turned the newly unearthed memory over and over in her mind as she finished adjusting her clothing. She was even able to keep a pleasant expression on her face as she gave Remy a goodnight kiss and turned to leave.
The smile lasted only until the door closed behind her.
*****