more redhead sex oh my lord

[escritoireazul]

saturniia just broke me.

She suggested Bill/Gambit/Oz for further red-hair sex.

Um.

Uh.

Erm.

Yes. Please?

I am seeing a guitar and dragonhide leather and a game of poker and smoke everywhere. Jackets scattered haphazard, shirts, trousers, boots. Lots of boots, black leather boots, brown leather, thick fingers, full lips, that slow grin (three different, but oh so slow and sexy).

Okay. This has to be written. A lot.

I need an icon. Or, you know, 100. Woah.

Comments

Re: This will be for crossovers100, so I'll have to restrospectively find the right theme word/title

[escritoireazul.livejournal.com]

Gambit stubs out his cigarette. "And you," he says, pointing, "Are Oz, of Dingoes Ate My Baby."

"No autographs," Oz says, and raises.

"A friend of mine would surely appreciate it," Gambit says, studying him. "Says she's your biggest fan. You can't be persuaded?"

"Maybe," Oz concedes, his lips quirking.

EEEEEE. Oz is recognized! Oz gives in way too fast with Gambit! Oz is SO CUTE. Oh, Oz, yay for you.

I really want to know which of his friends calls herself Oz's biggest fan (or the band's, you know what I mean).

"You have a lot of lady friends?" Bill asks.

Gambit smiles. "I'm a friendly man."

Pure, perfect Gambit right there.

Oz is a werewolf, but he's no wizard. Just an unlucky Muggle.

Oh Bill, you snob you. Hee.

I really like how Bill forgets about his scars, and how Fleur didn't care. (And that she's dead. The only time I've ever liked her character was when she didn't leave Bill after his attack.)

"I did it," Bill says, and remembers, as he frequently does, the twisted, broken hulk of Fenrir Greyback, sprawled at his feet.

Oh, Bill, you're fantastic!

I've been meaning to write some gen werewolf centered on Fenrir Greyback, and now I am even more inspired to do so.

"No," Gambit agrees, standing up and picking up the bottle. "I did. Didn't you boys wonder why I didn't win a single hand?"

I KNEW IT!

"You weren't playing for money," Bill says. The scents of leather and candle smoke and whiskey are a musky haze. The rising moon is tugging at his blood. Across the table, Oz's lips are quirking.

"Got plenty of money," Gambit says. "But a man can never have too many friends."

Am just babbling right now, unable to make my words form coherent phrases. Just oh, oh, oh. Rising moon, quirking lips--oh those lips.

Oh.

Bill has a room upstairs. It has a big, wrought-iron bed. He takes the bottle from Gambit; takes a slug without wiping the rim.

Then he holds out the bottle to Oz. Oz watches him for a long moment, before he wraps his lips around the bottle.

Bill shrugs into his jacket. "Right, then," he says. "Time to cash out."

*wibble*

Fabulous. Karen, this is as wonderful and amazing as always and oh. Just wow. Thank you. THANK YOU.

I wish I could form better thoughts, because this is a terrific story, and filled with so many details, and so layered, but I just can't. I just have nothing but squee and awe and scattered words.

THANK YOU.