The Non-Horizontal Tango

The Non-Horizontal Tango

Part 1
The Professor nodded at Gambit and Psylocke as they entered his office.
"Remy, Elizabeth, thank you for coming."

"Our pleasure, Charles," Psylocke replied as she strolled towards the chairs before the bald man's desk. Yes Remy, I'm quite aware you are gazing at my buttocks.

Remy smirked as he leaned against the wall.
"So, Professor, dis infil'ration job dat you were tellin' dis Cajun about?"
Oui Betsy, an' Remy gonna keep enjoying de eye candy.

"Yes," the Professor continued, "the Friends of Humanity have multiple front organizations masquerading as charities. One of these is hosting a charity ball."

"An' you wan' me to stop de money from reaching de bigots?"

Charles nodded. "Both of you will pose as a couple and infiltrate the ball. Blend in, secure the donations and leave. Cyclops will handle insertion and extraction."

"Well that's a relief. I was concerned for a minute you'd ask Monsieur LeBeau to take me dancing," Betsy replied in a deadpan tone through a subtle smirk.

Be careful wha' you wish for, ma chere, Gambit wryly thought as he riffled the deck of cards that was sitting idly in his hands.

Betsy stood up and faced the Acadian with a full smirk on her face.
"The spy couple act. Your confidence in our skills is appreciated, Professor." Although Remy, I'm not sure how well you can dance a non-horizontal tango.

"Dismissed. Please take all the time you need to prepare. The ball is on tomorrow night. Scott has placed the files in the war room."

Well chere, we go' de war room to ourselves dis evening... I could show you jus' how well I can Tango at any angle. He smirked as Psylocke passed him by and telekinetically spanked his ass on the way out.
Wha' is it wid you English people and spanking? he thought back as he followed her into the hallway. His demon eyes drifted strait towards the elegant line of her legs that rose into the curve of her behind.

You know you want me to do that again, she telepathically replied as she tried to hide a blush.

Dat ain' wha' I asked, chere, the thief thought as he slipped an arm around the ninja's small waist.
"How abou' a kiss, jus' for good luck, non?"

Besty turned her head and stared directly in the eyes of the man.
"Remy, let me make it quite clear to you that I am by no means going to screw you until well after this mission has been completed. Your charm is nowhere near as irresistable as you'd like to believe."

"You're blushing, cherie. An' jus' delaying de inevi'able," Remy replied smokily as he licked his lips. His arm tightened around her waist and tried to draw her closer.

She quickly grabbed his arm, spun him around and slammed him against the paneled wall of the hallway. She held the offending forearm behind Remy's back. The quick glance of shock she saw on the man's face was quickly replaced with his usual arrogant grin.

"You know chere, I like when you fight back..." Gambit chuckled; the angle she held his arm at was nowhere near uncomfortable.
"An' I know you wan' me jus' as much..."

Betsy simply let go, turned around and continued to stride down the corridor. That arrogant, egotistical, handsome, magnificent whore of a man! she thought to herself. Ever since he got here, he's been methodically doing everyone on the bloody team like he's got a bloody checklist!

And yet, as he thought of the man against the wall... the half of his face that was turned in her direction... the jet black sclera and scarlet iris burning out from within... the masculine yet elegant jawline and long neck... broad shoulders that struggled to remain within his coat and the slender abdomen that was too wiry for it... she remembered his first surprised breath as he was slammed into the wood... her own adrenaline rush at holding this man at her mercy... and his own refusal to crumble. You like a struggle don't you? The thrill of the hunt? She imagined the feel of his rock-hard abs beneath her fingertips... You know exactly what you're dealing with don't you? And that's precisely why you like it... she felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks.

You want a challenge? A thrill? Well, so do I... she thought to herself as she entered her own room and locked the door. Her heart rate was already increasing as she felt tingling below her waist, I think this mission is going to be fun.

Part 2
Betsy's exit of the limousine held the small crowd's gazes like a magnet. Her hair was in a bun held together by black lacquered chopsticks; black kohl surrounded the outer edges of her eyes. A small streak of metallic purple eyeshadow lay on each of her eyelids; a neutral but shimmery pink lipstick completed her face. The thin straps of her black high heels reached a third of the way up her slender, toned calves. Her arms were clad in fingerless black leather gloves that reached half of the way up her forearm before branching out into a web of thin, lace-like straps that resembled those of her heels. The straps of her gloves were tied slightly beneath her elbow. Her nails were painted a similar pink to her lips. All of these were merely garnish for the dress; a purple silk dress that ended as a mini-skirt at the top of her right thigh and diagonally descended to just a few inches above her left ankle. A pink dragon wound its way downwards from her right shoulder to the lowest point of the dress's hem, as if the creature's tail were coiling around her ankle. No point in hiding them, the thought with a smirk, as she moved her bare right leg forward and ascended the pavement.

Gambit offered his hand to help her out of the car. Betsy accepted with a smile. He's no slouch either, she thought as her eyes scanned the lithe figure of the thief. He wore a long black coat, black dress shirt with silver cufflinks, a black waistcoat with a silver watch chain, a magenta tie and subtly-pinstriped black trousers. His face was still stubbled and his auburn-brown hair was styled with that minor, choreographed messiness that had strands of hair clinging slightly to his jaw. The only thing she didn't like were the silver mirrored shades, would be like me hiding my legs... but this crowd isn't exactly friendly to mutants.

Gambit and Psylocke walked into the building; her hand threaded through his elbow. As they entered the ball room her gaze instantly moved to the chandelier above, not exactly minimalistic she thought as she wished she had Remy's shades on. Extravagant bouquets of flowers, some the size of a Christmas tree, were placed all over the room in a seemingly random pattern.
Everyone here is dripping in more diamonds than Emma, she thought with a frown on her face.

Oui... de only t'ing dey care abou' is how ot'ers t'ink of dem... shallow people wid shallow lives. People say dey selfish... no dey ain'... de only reason dey make money is to impress ot'ers. Dey don' have a self. All dey have is a reflection. Remy remembered similar figures waltzing across the ballrooms of New Orleans; inter-guild Soiree's and other events that only involved people gossiping about each other for future blackmail.

Sounds like most of my family's friends and acquaintances, Betsy thought.

Of course... de good t'ing abou' dese t'ings.... dey have canapes!

Betsy turned her head towards Remy. The tall Cajun had his fingers wrapped around the edges of an oyster's shell just lifted off a silver platter. He then rested the shell's edge against his own lower lip; his tongue slithered out of his mouth and moved under the oyster in a slow-motion that made Betsy's thoughts instantly turn to the obscene.

Gambit smirked as he noticed Psylocke's stare and slight blush. His tongue coiled around the soft flesh of the shellfish; he lapped at the quivering morsel and scooped it into his mouth. The thief then made a soft purr as he raised his eyebrows; dat was delicious, chere.

How subtle, she thought as she scanned the room, I'd suggest we intercept the donations before we intercept each other.

Oui... bu' we can' look too business.... dat might blow our cover.

Ahh yes, the trials of the spy couple act, Betsy thought as she feigned a yawn and wrenched her gaze away from Remy, as much as she didn't want to.

You sound disappoin'ed, ma chere, Gambit thought back as he smiled and subtly licked his lips. He began his long-legged stride towards the dancefloor.

Betsy had to resist the temptation to roll her eyes.
Who are you fooling? You're loving this. Just get the job done then you can get down to ravishing each other! she thought privately. Wouldn't want his ego getting any bigger.

Part 3
A banner reading "Compassion Awareness Network Ball" was suspended above the gleaming wooden floor Betsy's heels started to cross. Vague name, vapid guests, none of them probably know anything at all about what they're funding.
She noticed Remy did not reply to her thought. She looked around and saw only the side of his face and neck; the stubbled jaw and elegan...stop it and focus on the mission! He's signaling the band.. oh bloody hell.

Aggressive stabs of stringed instruments echoed through the air as she suddenly felt herself pulled into Remy's embrace. Even through her clothes she could feel the rock-hard ridges of musculature that built the thief's body; the smoky-spicy scent of his aftershave wafted through the air as she crossed the floor with him. Is it 'LeBeau, Remy LeBeau' now, Gambit?

I's always been dat, he thought back as he smirked. Their bodies spun as they moved; the constant moving tempo of the moaning Cellos provided the timing as Remy released his grip ever slightly for the dip.

Betsy leaned backwards; her flexible spine making her thankful she kept her hair in a bun this evening. She quickly snapped back upwards and clutched Remy's shoulders with renewed enthusiasm. It was then she noticed the pressure with which Remy was pressing the lower half of his body against hers. This is the Tango, Monsieur LeBeau, not the Lambada.

They crossed the floor a final time; the climactic dip of the dance approached with building anticipation. You still loving de dance, chere. An' wha's wrong wid a li''le improvisation? Remy rhetorically thought through his smirk. The flexible, dangerous body in his grasp, the heat of it; Elizabeth's body's delicacy was merely a mask for its lethal precision. As they reached the edge of the floor, Remy lowered his hold on the telepath one final time. She fell back, hooking her toned, stiletto-heeled leg around his hip, and then one beat later she snapped back upwards. Her eyes, as dangerous and nearly as dark as his, bore into his own gaze with a hunger that confirmed what he already knew. He smirked in reply.

The music ceased; around them a spontaneous burst of applause erupted from the surrounding crowd. Every pair of eyes was fixed on them.
Perhaps we're too good at convincing cover stories?

Part 4
Did you have to take three hours and five glasses of champagne to blend in with the guests?

I didn' hear you complainin' cherie, the thief thought back as he and the ninja slipped between the ajar door without a single sound.

The meal certainly was impressive... her glance moved to the corners of the ceiling almost on instinct, even if she remembered the documents from earlier. Surveillance blind spot. They mustn't have expected their party to be crashed.

Remy merely smirked as he turned his head towards Betsy, so den, dat means you could keep dose gorgeous eyes of yours looking a' wha' you wanna look at...

Betsy merely glared back. Her gaze bored through his shades. I'd laugh at that, if you weren't jeopardizing the mission.

His own glance focused on the pursed pink of her lips; he imagined the feel of them, firm and soft, against his own smirking mouth and stubbled jaw. He dreamed about the sensation of his palm sliding up her perfectly sculpted leg and cupping around her butt. Then, after summoning his self-control, he faced down to the T-junction before them both. De nex' move is yours, ma chere...

The guard moved down the hallway with clockwork lethargy. Dark circles beneath his eyes drooped like a hound's face. Need some damn coffee, he thought as his eyelids began to feel like lead.

Suddenly, his eyes and pupils went wide as a cone of purple light sliced through the side of his skull. The sensation of electric shocks moved up and down his spine; his hands jerked wildly. Then he collapsed to the ground with a soft thud; a quiet snore accompanied the rising and falling of his chest.

He needed a rest, the Ninja thought as the glowing phosphorescence emanating from her arm began to dissapate.

The two Mutants silently stalked up the hall. Remy reached into his jacket as they neared the next corner. De nex' guard jus' around dis bend...

This one's yours, Mister LeBeau, Betsy thought to herself as a slight smirk began to spread across her face. Her pace slowed slightly and she began to fall a few steps behind the Cajun; if only that bloody trenchcoat weren't in the way.. she thought to herself as her eyes moved up and down the long lines of the thief's back.

The second guard had only just rounded the corner when Gambit leaped up; his left foot quickly dug into the wall. His body began to spin in mid-air as his right boot collided with the side of the guard's head; a resonant crack filled the air as the guard slumped to the floor.

Remy's soles silently fell back to the ground; his bent knees absorbed the force of his descent. The hem of his coat dropped back around his ankles as his eyes looked down at the unconscious guard. Then he raised his glance directly at Betsy.

She nearly gasped as she witnessed the deep crimson irises behind the shades; the Cajun's gaze shot through her like a bullet. His visage reminded her of a predator about to strike; yet it lacked Logan's ferocity. It was colder, more cunning, more dangerous. Her heart rate surged as she returned his stare; she took a step towards the thief and quickly planted her lips against his.

Neither of them registered the impact of their sides into the wall as their hands moved up and down each others bodies with frenzied hunger; Remy's slid up the silken skin of Betsy's leg, Betsy's fingers moved beneath the Acadian's shirt and mapped every ridge of hard flesh beneath. She nibbled on Gambit's plush lips and felt his hot breath stroke across her face...

They pulled away from each other; their breaths were still gasps.
Non.... no' yet...
Right. Get the money. You're making this hard for me.
So are you, chere.

Part 5
They opened the door and strode towards the black briefcase lying on the table. Gambit slowed down and let Betsy ahead; his eyes moved down her back and focused on the firm globes of her ass.

Betsy rolled her eyes as she strode forward. She quickly opened the case; all cheques, many-zero sums on each one... but then she smirked as an idea came to her head. She leaned over very slightly; her buttocks consequently strained against the fabric of her dress with even more determination.

Merci, Chere, Remy thought as he leaned back against the wall; the tip of his tongue slowly wandered around his lips as he felt his heart beat faster. He wanted to take her right there; have his tongue crawl its way up her inner thigh and make good on the promise he made earlier with the oyster. He imagined peeling the dress away and letting his teeth nibble on her nipples until she...

The wonderfully detailed imagery isn't necessary, Remy, she thought back as she closed the case and picked it up.

Merde, he thought to himself. De downside of psychic switchboarding.

Can't say you're inaccurate about how I look under the dress, though, she added as she smirked at the Cajun.

"Wonderful," he said in a purring growl that could be barely heard; the waves of sound softly brushed against Betsy's eardrum. His body slid behind hers again, his stubbled chin nestled into the crook of her long neck. He felt her flexible midsection under his palms, heard her breaths fade into moans, then suddenly felt her gloved free hand coil around his wrist.

"No," she whispered. Get out first. Then we can shag until tomorrow.

Oui, he thought back as he slid away from the Ninja. He remembered how the heat of her body felt in that embrace. The fact that body had killed a not-insignificant number of people only made him want it more; not'ing more fun den a li''le risk...

They quickly left the room with the briefcase in hand and moved through the kitchen down the hall. As Betsy heard her heels click against the gleaming white tiles of the kitchen, she almost felt disappointed at the lack of a fight. They should fire whoever masterminded this security. And yet her breathing sped up at the thought of the impending action with the Cajun.

As Gambit strolled behind Psylocke, an expansive white platter next to him caught his eye. It was loaded with more canapes. Non oys'ers, he grinned as he picked it up. Before anyone noticed, the two mutants strode out through the back door with the briefcase, a platter, and mischievous grins.

Part 6
The cool, crisp air slithered across the skin of Betsy's three bared limbs; her heart rate jumped further. She saw the dark red shades of the man in the Chauffer's uniform and nodded.

The driver came around and opened the passenger door; no expression was visible on his face as both Betsy and Remy slid into the dark, leather-upholstered interior of the limousine.

The briefcase lay on the backwards-facing seat behind the driver's compartment. It was hastily thrown there by Betsy before she slid back onto the black leather expanse of the rear seat. Her right leg, clad only in the straps of her stiletto heel, was positioned on the floor of the car. Her left leg stretched all the way down to the other door as Gambit entered the limo.

Cyclops closed the door firmly and marched around the vehicle. He got into the drivers seat and turned the key. He didn't need to look into the compartment behind him to know what they were doing; he heard the mixture of moans and heavy breathing above the quiet growl of the engine.

A hungry smirk lay there on the Cajun's face as he slithered up along Betsy's left leg. The door closed behind him; he quickly disposed of his jacket and shades and threw them over the briefcase. He then looked at the platter of canapes he swiped earlier; the gleaming white ceramic lay next to the telepath's right foot.

Betsy blushed as she glimpsed the ideas Gambit was having. Then she smirked back and quickly reached up; she seized the back of Remy's head and pulled his mouth down onto hers.

Remy's smirking mouth pressed against the soft flesh of her lips; he felt her hands sliding beneath his waistcoat and almost tearing his tie away from his neck. His tongue moved along her teeth; he purred at her taste. His own hands moved down her back and dug into the firm, rounded butt so infuriatingly constrained by her dress.

Too many clothes...
Oui.. he thought back as he broke the kiss and quickly pulled his waistcoat and dress shirt over his head and tossed them away with a dramatic flick of his wrist.

Showoff, she thought back as she thought of all the other uses for that permanently-smirking mouth.

We're t'inking de same t'ing, ma chere, he replied with a lick of his lips before his right hand seized her left ankle. The long tail of the dragon fell away as he began to slowly make a trail of kisses and bites that moved up her leg.

Elizabeth's breathing got faster as she felt those soft lips move along her left inner thigh with a pace that seemed to get slower and slower. She felt the grind of Remy's stubble travel along the sensitive skin at glacial speed. She willed him further upwards; she clenched her teeth and growled in frustration.

And suddenly she felt air caress her womanhood; Remy's face drifted away with her very small panties clenched between his teeth. His Cheshire-cat grin only grew as he quickly flung the underwear to the side with his mouth. Alright, you've built the suspense, she thought between gasps fraught with lust and exasperation, get on with it!

A dark, almost malevolent chuckle escaped Remy's lungs. He felt his own pulse rise, his tongue began to move around his own mouth as his burning gaze drifted up and down the body he'd been thinking about all night. From the long, toned legs he currently knelt between to the perfectly shaped ass that was only just beyond his grip to the firm, teardrop-shaped breasts moving in time with her breathing.. and the pursed pink of her lips... he wished his eyes were mouths so that he could devour the sight.

She watches his head move back between her thighs; goosebumps rose on her arms as she felt his steamy breath caress her swollen clitoris. And then a moan poured from her lungs as she felt the Acadian's tongue move along the most sensitive part of her body. The heat of his tongue swirled around and across the very center of her desire; it was as if every nerve ending in her body was being charged like one of the thief's cards.

The Ninja clamped her eyes shut and dug her fingers into the seats as the sensations rushed through her body and rocketed up her spine. Her diamond-hard nipples strained against the silk of her dress; her heart pounded violently. She could still feel the light scratch of the thief's stubble against her inner thighs but that sensation paled into insignificance next to the feeling of Remy's tongue lapping at the aching softness between her legs.

Remy's hands kneaded Betsy's ass as his tongue traveled from side to side; each swipe pressing against her clit and drawing another moan from her. His pants struggled to contain his rigid length as he made low growls of relish at the purple-haired woman's taste.

The vibrations of Gambit's ravenous growl only caused more energy to pool in Psylocke's stomach. She grit her teeth as she struggled to avoid screaming in ecstasy. Her knuckles were white as her fingers ferociously clawed at the car seat; her left leg lay slung over the thief's broad shoulder. She gasped as she felt the Cajun's teeth lightly nibble down the silken folds of her labia and his tongue follow in their wake.

The knot in her stomach finally gave way and with one final moan she climaxed. Her pulse surged as a wave of catharsis tore through her synapses. The moan flowed from between her lips until her lungs demanded more air. She lay there, gasping unevenly, her eyelids half-shut in the haze of the afterglow.

From the mirage around her emerged a sight; the burning embers of Remy's gaze rose up from between her legs and bore into her eyes with the same predatory determination she witnessed when he took down the guard earlier. That nearly violent visage almost made her have another orgasm right there. She watched him as his full face emerged; his lips were twisted into their usual devilish smirk.

A bead of sweat slowly moved down Remy's broad, defined chest as he moved up Elizabeth's body. She wanted to lick it off, she imagined the salt on her tongue as she surveyed the hard ridges and valleys of the thief's torso. But her eyes kept being drawn back to the deep-set demonic embers of the Acadian.

"How was dat, chere?"
The deep purr of his voice and grin on his face proved that he already knew the answer.

I'm impressed, she thought in reply as her own smirk returned. Speaking of that...

Suddenly, Psylocke grabbed Gambit's waist with her legs and flipped their positions. Now she straddled his slender abdomen; his shade-paler-than-average skin was a dramatic contrast to the black leather seat. First she wanted to trail her tongue down the Incubus's body until it reached that straining length his trousers were concealing from her view.
I'm planning on doing some very, very naughty things to you.

Gambit merely looked directly into her eyes with a grin on his face. Bring it, chere.

Smashing, she thought back as she removed the chopsticks from her hair and let the bun fall back to its usual length. All night long alright for you? She didn't need her telepathy to know the answer. With that plate of canapes, we could probably spend most of tomorrow at it, too.

Gambit smirked and licked his lips.

Cyclops drove the limo into the garage of the Xavier Institute and parked it quickly. He removed the key from the vehicle, opened his door and climbed out. He walked across the concrete floor and glanced back at the rear window of the passenger compartment; his vision was obscured by a layer of condensation on the glass. A very short, subdued chuckle escaped from him as he marched towards the exit.
"Computer," he began in a hushed voice, "leave the garage doors unlocked for Psylocke and Gambit. Lock them for everyone else unless clearance is granted."

"Acknowledged, Cyclops," the stilted and monotone voice replied.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Scott's mouth as he left the garage.

The End