ax_main | Remy and Terry

Drinks in town lead to make-outs in the boathouse.

It had to be a rule of the universe that in any town, no matter the size or general atmosphere, there was always, without fail, an Irish pub. This one, Terry had found out quickly, was not actually Irish-owned or operated, but it did the job well enough, and it would be a nice place to be on Saint Paddy's Day.

And it seemed popular enough! It was a small wonder Remy and she had managed to find a free table tonight, since the room was packed. They'd dropped their jackets there while they got their drinks from the counter.

"Are there Irish pubs in New Orleans, too?" she asked curiously as their drinks were set in front of them. There had to be, right? She thanked the bartender with a smile, pulling her wallet out of her purse to get the first round. "This one's on me."

A night out, a buzzing bar, a beautiful companion. Remy was in his element, and it showed. He perched comfortably on his bar stool and nodded amiably when Terry declared this first one was her buy. "Merci." He drawled, and raised his glass in toast. "A lot o' places prefer good ol' Cajun style offerin's. But there's Irish places in th' French Quarter too. Couple o' them actually. Seems your people like t' open bars that remind 'em o' home. An' drink there too. There's one place, Molly's. Real favorite o' mine, especially when I feel like a round o' darts."

"Darts are the best," Terry agreed with a genuine smile, then led the way back to their table. She could listen to him for hours, it felt, especially when he was talking about his city. "What's your absolute favourite place to drink, though?"

"Right now? Wit' you here? Gotta be this place chere." Remy grinned and winked roguishly. Which he somehow managed to make a natural, even smooth response.

"In your city!" Terry protested with a laugh. She couldn't help but like it when he said outrageous things like that. Outrageous, because it was bound to be a lie. Not that that stopped a light blush from rising to her cheeks, just because, well, it was Remy.

"I live here now, don' I? This is my city." Remy did relent though, and shrugged. "Can' say I had a favorite waterin' hole back in th' South. I was a bit o' a butterfly. Liked t' spread my wings. What about you? Where did you let that pretty hair down?"

Terry chuckled at the thought of Salem Center being anyone's city. It was bigger than Westport, but not by much, and she'd lived in New York City for a few months. That was what a city ought to be like. She smiled at his question, and the compliment, resisting the urge to run a hand through her hair to make sure it looked good. She paused for a moment, hesitating between the pubs they had liked to visit. "The Porter House," she settled on with a decisive nod. "It still looks very old and rustic, it doesn't try to be posh or anything. There's often live music. And there's a heated beer garden out back. And," she added with a grin, "they don't mind a group of high school girls coming over for a few drinks."

"Can't fault a place willin' to bend the rules like that." Remy drawled and swirled his drink around. "Though if there was a place like that round here you wouldn' have needed my services. An' wouldn' that be a shame?"

"You think I wouldn't be here if you hadn't helped me out?" Terry asked with raised eyebrows, and a small smile. So it wasn't a real question; it was more like telling Remy her being here had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with him... but not in so many words.

"I ike t' think my charm had somethin' t' do with it." Remy new what she'd meant, so even his modesty was playful. "But a man likes t' know his work is appreciated too."

"Your work is definitely appreciated," Terry assured him, eyes glinting happily. "Your charm, even more." She'd told Wynonna she'd consider making a move, but even just admitting this much had a little heat rise to her cheeks. Hopefully the blush wouldn't be noticeable in the pub; like all pubs, it wasn't as well lit as it could be. "We should drink to that. Shots?" Beer was nice; shots would be even better.

Remy's grin spread slowly, until it reached cat with a canary proportions. "Shots it is. What's your pleasure chere? I tend t' start wit' tequila an' see where things go from there." And not just in the sense of what to drink next.

Terry was always and forever a whiskey kind of girl, but... "Let's do tequila," she agreed, if only because of that smile on his face. It really wasn't fair for anyone to be this handsome, was it? She couldn't help but smile brightly back, there was no helping it.

Remy left swifty, and returned just as quickly with two golden shots, two slices of lemon and a salt shaker. "I know dis isn't th' Irish classic. But you gotta broen th' horizon a little. Try a slice of America." Well, technically a slice of Mexico. But given how popular it was in the US of A, it counted.

Terry laughed. "I've done tequila before," she assured him, and as proof, licked that spot between her thumb and index finger before pouring a little salt on it, then reached for a slice of lime, something almost like a challenge in her eyes.

The look of challenge put a twinkle in Remy's eye. "Well, then bottom's up." He set his own up quickly, toasted her and downed it with practiced fluidity."Hmm, should've brought a few more. One second chere."

Terry let him go with a laugh, unable to help but enjoy the sound of him calling her that. Chere. What if he called others that? She still liked it. She took a sip from her beer, looking out for his return.

This time when Remy returned, he was deftly balancing a tray with a good half dozen drinks each. Each of which looked to be something different. "Well, seems like I gotta try harder to find somethin' new for you, eh? Let's see if you know all o' these."

Terry laughed harder at the sight of all those shots. "It looks like you're trying to get me completely scuttered, Remy." There wasn't even a hint of disapproval in the statement. She took another sip of beer, then set her pint aside to pick up a first, amber-coloured shot, breathing it in curiously.

The spirit had a sharp, herbal burn, but with a strong note of orange. "Did you think it was whiskey?" Remy quipped. "Whole point was t' find somethin' new. Stuff's called Metaxa."

"I've never even heard of it," Terry admitted easily, and raised the shot in a toast, before downing it. Her eyes were a little wild as she set the empty shot back on the tray, upside down. "Wow." It packed a punch. "I really am going to end up buckled."

Remy set his down more smoothly after draining it. Either he was a hardier drinker, or he just had a better pokerface. "We can stop anytime you like chere." This time his voice carried the challenge.

There was the challenge, mixing in with what he called her. Terry pursed her lips, pleased and happy and definitely challenged, and shook her head. "Are you really after challenging an Irish person to a drink-off?"

Remy cocked his head as if he was thinking. Or maybe just trying out a different flavour of smirk. "Y'know what? I think I am." He purred and offered her the next shot, a clear one in cold glass. "This one's ouzo. It's better while it's cold."

"That's the Greek one, isn't it!" Terry stated, happy to try it. She'd heard of it, but never had had any. She toasted Remy and knocked it back, then wrinkled her nose. "Not my favourite."

"That's the one." Remy agreed, and knocked his back too. "I know there's better, but you gotta start these things slow, eh? But allright chere, how 'bout a crowd pleaser?" The next one he offered was a very familiar golden color. "Now I know what your thinkin'. Remy, that's jus' whiskey. But the barman says this one's from Japan. So I'm countin' it as a new thing."

Terry smelled the whiskey curiously, then downed it with practiced ease. "Is it me, or is it a bit salty?" It made her think of the smell in the air on the beach. "Sea-salty."

Remy set his glass down at the same time. A speed drinking contest might have been amusing, but it would leave too little time or banter. "You're right. Or maybe that's jus' the ouzo ruinin' our tastebuds. Don' think I'll be offerin' that one again. Some tastes are better off stayin' forgotten."

"I like it," Terry retorted with a slow smile. To each their own, and she definitely had nothing against the slight tang hidden at the back of that whiskey. It was a new thing among the familiar.

And she could feel the heat from doing a few shots in a row suffusing her chest and slowly rising to her face. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the flush, or mind it if he did. She picked up her pint to take a sip of cool beer, as if that would help it.

Remy chuckled at something, though it wasn't quite clear what (honestly, he wasn't sure himself). He didn't flush like she did, and he didn't seem drunk. Just maybe a little more animated, less reserved behind his facade of cool. "Need a break already?" He teased her once more.

Terry huffed out an amused breath. "You'd be so lucky." Her accent had definitely been getting thicker, too. "What's next?"

"Lucky? Chere, a girl that can keep up without needin' a break is all a man can ask for. Especially when she's so pretty to boot." Remy presented another pair of golden shots, though of a deeper colour this time. "Thought we'd go tropical next. Rum's a classic, an' those never lose their style."

Terry held up the shot to admire the liquor's colour. "I've never had rum this colour." She toasted Remy with a smile, eyes sparkling happily from both the drinks and the compliment, before she knocked it back, then laughed. "So much better, too!"

"It's some sort o' special brand. But... for the life of me, I can' remember the name." Which was probably the most honest admission of being drunk that Remy was ever going to give.

She knocked her knee playfully into his under the table, eyes glinting a challenge... and maybe an invitation, but that was nothing new, and what happened whenever she relaxed around Remy. "Are you admitting all the liquor's getting to you?"

"I'll admit, I'm distracted." Remy admitted with a rueful shrug. The ruefulness was an act though, and Remy's knee tapped her back just as playfully. And he reached across the small table to lay two fingers on her wrist. "But I ain' confessin' t' anythin' t' do with the drink."

Now Terry wasn't sure if the heat in her cheeks had to do with the drink, or just with Remy. She smiled at him, ducking her head only slightly, then thought of Wynonna. She could do this, right? Or at least test the waters. She looked up to meet his gaze again, her smile a little quieter now. "What are you confessing to?"

"Well...." Remy drew the word out, savouring it. "I'm here, havin' a nice drink, a good talk an' a great time. All wit' the prettiest girl around. Seems like why I'd be distracted is almost too obvious to need a confession eh?"

The things he said - and the way he said them. Terry turned her hand around, gently, hoping he wouldn't move his away. She didn't want to lose his touch, just be able to curl her fingers lightly against his forearm. "Maybe that girl would just like to hear it?"

Remy did shift his hand, but only so he could draw his fingers across her palm. "I think we can do that. I'm distracted..." Of course Remy had to pause for dramatic effect. "By you chere. An' who wouldn't be?"

The trail of his fingers over the soft skin of her palm tingled, and Terry was smiling again before he'd even said anything, fingers reaching up to keep the contact with his going just a second longer. "I don't really care about anyone else right now," she pointed out, in response to his rhetorical question. She bit down on her bottom lip, still holding his gaze, then glanced at the tray briefly. "What's next?"

Remy had to dole out the next two glasses with one hand, since the other was quite comfortable resting on hers, thank you. "I heard once that in wine tastings you have palate cleansers in between. This'll do the trick." Chances were that the clear liquid in the shot glasses wasn't water though.

Vodka, or some kind of clear brandy? Terry took one of the shot glasses and had a sniff, then only smiled - at Remy, whose warm hand felt so nice on top of hers - and knocked the shot back. Her mind was becoming that perfect kind of fuzzy that made life dance around the edges, and she loved it.

The shot was vodka, flavourless except for the hard tang of alcohol. Remy downed his with an expression that wasn't precisely enjoyment. But the cheerfully wicked smile was right back after. He half rose in his seat, so he could lean across the table and whisper conspiratorially. "So, I think we got a choice here. We can stay here an' keep this up. Seems plenty fun t' me. Or we can go find somewhere else, maybe somewhere there's dancin'. What do you say chere?"

Terry's heart thudded once in her ribcage when Remy leaned in so close, but right, he was just whispering. The good thing with her mutation? She didn't have to tilt her ear towards him. She could keep holding his gaze, her own only briefly dipping to his lips, and bring the sound right to her ears. "Let's see how distracting I can be on a dancefloor," she offered, a glint of the wicked shining in her own eyes.

Remy held the close position for longer than strictly necessary, red eyes meeting hers lingeringly. "I'm sure you'll impress." He purred and then pulled away. He held his hand out, like he was Fred Astair or something.

Terry chuckled happily, then abandoned what was left of her pint without a thought for it, to stand and put her hand in his again. Her other hand grabbed her coat off the back of her chair, and she tugged him towards the exit. Right, somewhere to dance, that should be her focus, but the bite of the night's chill when they hit the street only made his hand feel warmer by comparison, and she looked over at him to smile again, mind and heart buzzing with drink and attraction both.

Remy took a brief pause to gallantly help her with her coat. Other than that, holding her hand worked very well for him indeed. He walked close enough for their shoulders to touch occasionally while they moved. When they first got out of the bar he reached for his sunglasses. But then shrugged and left them in the pocket of his trench coat. "Dark enough that I won' need those." He drawled. "Besides, why would anyone be lookin' at me when I'm walk in' with you, eh?"

"Your tongue's going to get you in trouble some day," Terry told him, eyes sparkling happily, lungs tight in the best of ways with that compliment. "Besides..." She squeezed his hand, biting down on her bottom lip for a second as she looked over at him as they walked. "I'm lookin' at you." All the more reason to leave off the sunglasses, of course; she liked his eyes.

"Well, I can only hope it's the fun sort of trouble. Especially if I'm managin' t' hold your attention chere." Remy stopped in the darker spot between two street lights, gently tugging on Terry's hand to get her to stop as well. Normally he liked to draw things out and make sure it was just right. But between the drink and the pleasant company, he found himself tempted enough to lean in and gently press his lips against hers then and there.

Terry's heart was beating double time when Remy leaned in, but it was a sign of the perfect kind of nerves. She met him halfway, tilting her head up into the kiss, something happy and warm bursting in her chest as their lips met. It wasn't her first kiss, but she'd never fancied anyone like she fancied Remy, and the moment was perfect. His hand and lips were warm, alcohol was buzzing in her veins, and, she realised suddenly, she'd instinctively cut them off from the rest of the world, isolating them in their own bubble of sound. It made her smile against his lips, and then kiss him again, tongue darting out to draw his out.

If he had been less distracted (and had less to drink), Remy might have noticed the way the quiet sounds of the city changed. Though even if he had, he might not have cared. Not with how much he was enjoying the kiss. He made a soft sound, just a little bit more than a sigh when his tongue flicked out to touch hers. One nimble hand slid through her hair to gently cup her head, lightly holding them together so Remy could draw the kiss out properly. Good thing the night time street was largely empty!

Oh, and he was such a good kisser! Terry had never been kissed quite like this, the Irish boys she'd been with before having shown much less skill - or experience - or both! Whatever it was that made Remy a good kisser. Terry only cared about the end result, and she slid her free arm under the warmth of his jacket, hand resting on the small of his back. Who cared if they were in the street? This moment was just for them, and it was too wonderful to cut short.

One thing Remy made it a point to do was not to rush a good kiss. He was perfectly happy to just stand there on the sidewalk and enjoy this. Though eventually they did have to come back up for air. Not that Remy went far, which kept the comfortable, intimate space between them alive. "Reckon we found somethin' that's a lot more fun than dancin' eh chere?" His red eyes seemed to glow a little more than usual, though maybe that was just his wickedly gleeful expression making it seem that way.

"It's its own form of dancing, isn't it?" Terry replied, unable to keep the happy smile from her lips, or the matching glint from her eyes. She stopped isolating them from the rest of the world, just in case something required attention, but she didn't look away from him, or step back, enjoying the close proximity partly for the warmth it provided her... but mostly for unrelated reasons. "But I wouldn't mind taking it somewhere warm."

"Sure, we can call it dancin'." Remy could get behind the euphemism. And definitely appreciate a girl who liked cracking wise like that. "Now see, if it's warm you wan', we could always go back home. But if I suggest that you might think my motives weren' entirely honorable." Which, to be fair, they probably wouldn't be. As the slow way he drew two fingers down the column of her neck kind of demonstrated.

"I'd be offended if they were," Terry replied with a happy laugh, a thrill going down her spine from the sensation of his fingers on her neck. She considered, tilting her head to the side, then offered, "We ought to grab a bottle of something and break into the boat house." There they could drink and snog (...or more than snog? a small voice suggested at the back of her mind) for as long as they wanted, undisturbed.

Now that this was finally happening, Terry didn't want it to stop.

Remy laughed, and it was more than just his usual sardonic chuckle. "You wan' t' go do some B&E jus' so we can have some privacy? Mais, I really did pick the right girl, didn' I?" Remy grinned, and took a pause to kiss her again. It had meant to be a brief thing, but it ended up being longer than planned. Not that he was sad about that. "Your wish is my command. Let me get that bottle, an' we'll be on our way."

Terry had absolutely no problem with drawing out the kiss a little longer, fingers curling on the small of his back by the time it broke. It felt like she could not stop smiling - apart from when they were kissing. "All right."

There was plenty of incentive to hurry back, so Remy wasn't gone long. He essentially walked back into the bar they'd just left and schmoozed the bartender out of a bottle of something strong and Irish. Prize in hand, Remy returned back to where Terry was. Of course there had to be a kiss for the road, but other than that he was eager to get back as quickly as their tipsy state would allow. It took them two more kiss breaks (Remy's new favourite method of measuring time) to get back to the Institute and its boathouse. "Jus' gimme a sec chere." Remy disengaged from Terry, so he could pull his lock picks out of his coat. Which was taking longer than it normally did, when he hadn't been drinking and making out.

Terry wasn't sure what he was looking for in his coat, but she already had her phone out to shine some light on the lock, in front of which she'd crouched to get a better look. It was such an easy lock, but she wasn't used to carrying lock picks around - in fact, she'd left the ones Tom had taught her with behind, when she'd come to the school. A clear lack of forethought, but how could she have guessed she'd need them to sneak into a boathouse to have a snog with the most charming of red-eyed mutants? And of mutants in general. "And here I am without even a hairpin," she muttered to herself.

What was she...? Remy hesitated and looked at what Terry was doing. He wasn't going to admit how embarrassingly long it took him to figure out what she was up to. Luckily her back was turned! "Ahem." He drawled playfully. "Maybe you'll be wantin' some o' these?" He presented a wallet full of lockpicks to her, what obviously had to be a full professional set. And Remy was obviously more than a little curious as to what she would do with them!

Terry's eyes widened as he held the wallet out to her. What were the odds? She raised her wide eyes from the picks to meet his gaze, then grinned, sudden and bright. Well, now she oughtn't mess this up. She bit down on her bottom lip as she surveyed the tools, then grabbed a tension wrench and a pick that ought to do the trick. She put her phone back in her pocket after taking one last look at the lock, then inserted the wrench and, one by one, set the pins with the pick, working by sound as much as touch, until she could turn the wrench fully and open the door.

She stood back up, grinning proudly as she handed his tools back to Remy. "It's been a while," she admitted, then stepped inside, feeling for a switch to turn the light on.

Remy watched her work with avid professional interest. He could probably have done it quicker, but as she had pointed out, that might just have been because he'd done this sort of thing more recently than her. His picks vanished again, and he followed her in. "Some time, you're gon' have to tell me why a nice girl like you knows a sneaky thing like that." Not that Remy didn't obviously approve. The answer could wait though. Right now, Remy was more interested into pulling Terry into another kiss. And if there was any doubt that she'd made a good impression with that trick, the fact that there was an extra zap of heat to the way he pulled her into him should dispel that quickly.

Terry had never actually been inside the boat house before, so she'd been looking around curiously, after finding the switch. There were a few row boats, nothing surprising, but also a fridge, and through the next room, she could glimpse some armchairs, maybe even a couch? She looked back at Remy when he talked, smiled at him because that was the logical consequence of looking at him, and was about to tell him she wanted to hear his story, too, when he prevented her from answering in the best way possible.

The kiss felt different from before, electrifying in a more urgent way, perhaps because of the thrill of doing something forbidden, of using those skills she wasn't meant to... or perhaps simply because of the anticipation of this, despite their couple of kissing breaks on the way back. Remy was as intoxicating as the best whiskey, it turned out. Speaking of which, Terry took the bottle from his hands before breaking the kiss, punctuating it with another, briefer kiss, and then pulling away from him. "Next door," she told him, her smile a little breathless as she turned to lead the way towards the smaller room next door, one with old-fashioned furniture, and a view of the lake through a wide window.

Having Terry wander off into the other room wasn't really a priority for Remy, especially with how thrilling he found that breathless expression of hers. The whole patience thing wasn't as easy as it had been earlier in the night. But the Cajun restrained himself and followed her into the next room. He did make sure to close the door to the boathouse first though, and draw the curtains on the windows. "Looks like someone decided t' make themselves a lil' den out here. First time I've really liked th' Professor's choice of decorator."

Terry wandered over to the coffee table, pleasantly surprised to find it dust-free. The headmaster probably had someone in here regularly to clean up. "I'm not keen on the style, but I've got better things to pay attention to, anyway." Namely, Remy. She cracked open the bottle of whiskey, took a drink, then held it out to Remy invitingly.

She mostly wanted him back in her space, where she could touch him.

"Cheers chere." Remy toasted her with the bottle and took a hearty swig. His buzz had been wearing off, and right now the soft glow it added was really working for him. He was also less interested in the bottle though, since he set it aside after just one swig. That way he had both hands free to put them on Terry's hips and draw her back in. "Much better things." He agreed playfully. And while he was being playful, he reckoned he might as well push some buttons. So instead of kissing her on the lips, he tilted his head to the side and planted a kiss on the side of her neck.

Terry already had one of her hands on his hip as he drank, and when he pulled her close she relocated them both to behind his neck. They were mostly of a height, which worked really well when they were standing, and after tilting her head away from him to pull her hair out of the way of his kiss - which made her smile again - she leaned in to catch his lips with hers. He could go back to her neck if he wanted, but after this kiss. For now she pressed herself closer as she licked at his lips, wanting to find that special something that had made her breath catch just a short while ago.

Well, Remy obviously wasn't complaining! He slid one arm up her spine, to make it easier to hold her close. Right now there was no such thing as being too close to one another. The spark Remy felt at the touch of Terry's tongue sent a shiver down his spine that knocked a little dent in his usual suaveness. It made him groan low in bis throat, and his fingers curl into her shirt. "Maybe we should... sit down or somethin'." Apparently it was his turn to sound a little breathless.

Lord, but she loved the way he sounded right then. Had she done that? It was so nice to know she wasn't the only one being affected by him. She smiled against his lips, gave him a shorter kiss, then pushed him back until the back of his legs met the nearest armchair. "Let's sit down." She took her hands off him, but only to take off her (fake) green leather jacket, leaving her in a simple grey v-neck jumper as she threw the jacket on the nearby couch.

Before Remy let himself fall back, he shrugged his coat off as well. He loved his trench coat, but for once it was just going to be in the way. He tossed it aside, and then flopped back into the armchair. Though he wasn't going alone. Cheeky hands grabbed Terry by the waist to pull her down with him. Though he did try to keep enough grace to not have them end up in just a tangle of limbs.

Terry laughed as he pulled her down on top of him - good thing it had been her plan, too, or she would have been even less graceful coming down.. She settled more comfortably on top of him, straddling his lap, then went in for another kiss, brazen in a way she hadn't let herself feel in too long. He tasted of whiskey - like she did, she assumed - but, underneath that, it was all Remy, and the novelty of kissing him was still fresh with her.

"Well hey there beautiful." Remy purred when she settled on top of him. There was something a little harsh under the whiskey on Remy's breath. There was only so much that mints and gum could do for a regular smoker. But at least the whiskey masked most of that. Remy broke from the kiss after a long moment to look Terry over, as if he hadn't done that before. And maybe he hadn't. Context was everything after all. "God you're beautiful." He murmured, in a way that was less suave but also more sincere than his usual act. They were alone, he could afford just a little bit of openness.

Terry smiled at his words, suddenly feeling a little bashful. Where was a shot of whiskey when you needed it? But she didn't want to take her hands off Remy's chest, where they'd ended up. "And you're so handsome," she answered, her smile still a little self-conscious. If she wasn't going to cover that up with a shot of alcohol, she was going to cover it up by leaning in for another kiss. A kiss that felt more tender, this time, somehow, like the sincerity of their words had seeped into it, one of her hands raising to touch fingers to his jaw.

Remy had noticed the same thing, especially since he always tried to mask sincerity with something else. A kiss definitely worked, though Remy couldn't QUITE stop himself from quipping. "What'd we bring that bottle for anyway?" He murmured against her lips. His grip tightened slightly on her hips, just in case she was going to get stupid ideas like going to go and get the bottle. He liked Terry right where she was, thank you.

Terry laughed against his lips, fingers curling on his jaw. "For when we want to take a break from the snogging?" She kissed him again, warm and playful. "If we want to take a break from the snogging." Things were just so easy with him.

"Guess the whiskey will still be good next week." Remy shrugged, and chuckled. It was sort of like his usual amused sound, but warmer somehow. Or maybe more relaxed, less studied. Since Terry wasn't going anywhere, he let go of her hips. That way he could run his hands up her sides, slowly mapping out the shape of the body that had been tantalising him.

Next week. The idea of doing this again was... really, really nice, and only added to how good Terry was feeling. And his hands on her - well, the heat in her cheeks wasn't from blushing like earlier in the evening, but from a flush that had started in her chest, making its way up to her face. The look on his face and in his eyes as he touched her, perhaps that was what made her feel most beautiful of all. "I'm glad you don't hide your eyes," she told him quietly, the moment feeling too intimate to speak any louder. She leaned in for another kiss, wanting that buzz of both alcohol and arousal to never go away.

"I'm a mutant. An' I like myself too much t' be ashamed 'bout that. I'd never hide them if that wasn't a recipe for trouble I don' need." Remy looked past her face at the red curls. "Besides, this way red's the color we both get remember by. I like that." Remy's wandering hands ghosted over her ribs, a light pressure through her sweater. But before he got anywhere that would maybe be considered handsy, he started to move them back down. He was happy to slowly explore, and to draw out long, lingering kisses.

Terry smiled at his conclusion, but lost anything she might have answered to another kiss, coupled with the thrill of his hand having nearly gone there, but not quite. She made a small sound into the kiss, her heart beating harder again, and shifted her head to fit her mouth against his more fully. Her hands traveled over his chest - he felt as fit as he looked - but they were still a little too cool from their walk outside to slide under his shirt just yet. No matter how much she wanted to, she also didn't want his reaction to be a squeal at their coldness.

That small little sound made Remy squirm under her and hum his approval in a slightly needy sounding way. Every time he thought he'd hit a plateau where he could just enjoy the evening, she did something like that to chip away at his self control and undermine the idea that maybe he shouldn't rush things. On their next pass his hands brushed just along the side of her breasts. That touch did more to tantalise Remy than it helped him quench the needy feeling in his gut, but he wasn't really thinking that clearly at the moment.

Oh, God help her, what did he want from her? She made another small sound, his still ringing in her ears, humming on her tongue, then gave in. She took one of his hands and slid it straight onto her breast, praying that he didn't think her a hussy for it. She'd never been a very good Catholic, and she wasn't going to start now, not when everything Remy was doing felt so good.

The sound of surprise that Remy made MIGHT have seemed like he thought badly of her. If it wasn't also half a groan. Remy broke their kiss, so that he could meet her eyes and try to gauge what she was thinking. He didn't quite trust himself to speak, he had too much pride to trust a potentially shaky voice. Instead he licked his lips without realising it. The look he gave her wasn't disapproving either. It was well.... hungry.

Oh, no, had she messed up? Why was he no longer kissing her? Terry wasn't sure how to read his expression, a little darker than it had been before, and embarrassment rose in her lungs. "Sorry," she blurted out. "You don't have to. I..." Where was a hole in the earth when you wanted to disappear?

Oh that was just adorable. Funny too, it tickled Remy's sense of the absurd. "Shhh." He whispered, and leaned in to kiss her again. "It's all good." He murmured in between two touches of their lips. And his hand stayed exactly where she'd put it.

The kiss, and the continued touch, did a lot more to ease her sudden embarrassment than his words did, and she pressed into them both, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, fingers ending up in his hair. All good, it was all good, and that knowledge emboldened her, their kisses more heated now than before. She still didn't know why he'd stopped, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was how kissing him felt, the warmth of arousal from the hand on her breast, the slight smell of cigarette that she'd quickly learned to associate with him.

There'd been a brief moment of awkwardness. As funny and endearing as Remy had found it, that wasn't what he wanted for the night. Which made him all the more eager to heat things up and paper over that moment. Not that he'd have been able to stop himself when she pressed herself into him so eagerly. Remy lightly nipped at her lower lip, a brief touch of gentle sharpness that echoed the way he lightly squeezed her breast. It was intoxicating being here with her, which made this very different from Remy's usual games.

Terry wouldn't have wanted to hold back her small moan, not even if she could have. Sound was everything to her, and she poured this one happily against Remy's mouth before they resumed kissing. Her breath was a little short now, and she thought her hands were warm enough to finally slide them under his top, glad that they felt only a little less warm than his skin when she found it. Who needed whiskey? She felt like she was drunk on him, hands exploring his stomach and hips, teeth briefly, softly biting his in response to his earlier nip, hers less sharp, but also less brief, tugging before releasing.

Having her touch him skin on skin like that made Remy's breath shudder audibly. Cool hands or not, her touch was definitely heating him up. "Why don' I make that easier for you?" Remy drawled. He let go of her, but just enough so that he could pull his shirt and sweater off. Unlike her, he wasn't worried she'd think he was too forward. He wanted to see how she reacted. And he was pretty confident she'd like what she saw. He put enough work into it, that's for sure. Remy was definitely fit and well trained, but there was more to him shirtless than just toned muscle. Several scars marred his chest, including one that looked like a bullet hole.

Terry hadn't been angling for that, but she wasn't going to be looking a gift horse, or shirtless boy, in the mouth. Much better to look at that fit torso, hands following the path of her eyes, as she couldn't help but lick her lips, watching him, feeling him. A small frown creased her brow when she came across the first scar, and her fingers gently traced what looked an awful lot like the bullet scars on telly as she looked questioningly up into his eyes. Silent questions were the easiest not to answer, and so that was the only sort she was asking - right now, anyway.

Remy considered ignoring the look. But he knew what she was asking, and since they'd only just had an awkward moment, he didn't want to run the risk that she'd feel rejected. On the other hand, he really wasn't in the mood for war stories. "I'll tell you bout them later, okay?" He said quietly. He cupped her cheek with one now free hand, and kissed her again. There was less urgency to this one, though Remy was trying to keep that ember burning.

"If you want," she only just had time to tell him before his lips closed on hers again. It was easy to slip back into the moment, focus on the slide of their tongues together, the feeling of his chest under her hands. The realisation hit her suddenly; she was snogging a shirtless Remy, and she wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve that.

He did want that. Sort of. Later. Remy just hummed an "Mmh-hmm." against her lips and kept right on doing what he'd been doing before. And since she'd liked it the first time, the hand that wasn't cupping her cheek settled again on the plush weight of her breast.

And she liked it even more this time, fingers curling on warm skin as she broke the kiss to gasp, hips shifting instinctively. She felt trapped between conflicting urges, like his touch was both too much and really, really not enough, and she smoothed her hands down his chest, and then back up. A nod of her head flipped her hair on one side of her face, and she leaned in to press soft, hungry kisses to his neck. If only this moment could go on forever, the buzz of arousal mixing with that of the alcohol, no clue where one stopped and the other began, and nothing that mattered but Remy under and against her.

When her hips shifted, she could feel a definite new firmness underneath her, and was rewarded with a slow shudder that ran through Remy's body. Even with layers of denim in between, having such an attractive girl shimmying on top of him made Remy need a moment of air. "You're makin' it awful hard to behave right now." Remy's voice was low and husky. Which meant he could at least keep it steady.

"Are we behaving?" Terry asked as she leaned back up. She didn't feel like she was, not with the way leaning back up shifted her on top of him again, and... yeah, she hadn't dreamed that. The sensation sent a flurry of nerves and excitement through her, but she wasn't quite ready to do anything more than that about it, much as part of her wanted to.

"Compared to what I want t' do right now? Yeah, we're behavin'." There was promise in that tone of voice, and with the way Remy looked at her when she leaned back like that. A slow, lingering look from her face down to her hips, and back up again.

When he looked at her like that, Terry didn't quite know what to do with herself. She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked down - at his chest, which was right there, and not helping. She wasn't sure that she was ready for anything like what he seemed to be saying, but she didn't want him to think she was a prude, either. She wanted to hold his interest, and she wanted more of this. "I..." She frowned, and licked her lips. It was not just worry about his reaction, but also that quietly intense heat low in her belly, that were pushing her to say yes, stop thinking and go with the flow. "I've never..." She could feel the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks as she looked up at him again. "Maybe we could - keep misbehaving - this way?" Maybe a little more, even, but not... all the way. She would need more whiskey for that, and even she knew better than to think that was an entirely healthy thought.

Well, that was unexpected. Remy tried not to let the surprise show. Which was unusual, as was the fact that it made a difference to him. There'd been at least one time where the fact that he'd been a girl's first hadn't mattered. But this time, with this girl, it did. Remy wasn't going to think about why though, that was the sort of thing he always tried to avoid. Right now, what mattered was the moment, and the decision that came naturally. "Whatever you wan'. I'm not gon' take things anywhere we don' both wan' them t' go." Remy leaned in to seal the bargain with more kissing. Though just before their lips touched he playfully added more. "Not gon' promise I won' try an' change your mind for next time." Next time. Remy liked the idea of there being a next time with Terry.

He was kissing her before she could reply, but Terry poured her appreciation into the kiss. Next time. It made her smile into the kiss to think of a next time, and she pecked his lips before saying, against them, "Can't promise I won't like you trying." Of course, that was followed by another kiss, her relief that he would just accept it all, and still want a next time, only adding to the heat in her belly.

By the time Remy was able to respond (because his mouth wasn't occupied with something more important and pleasant), he'd almost forgotten what she'd said. Almost. Banter ran too deep for him, even in a moment like this. "I'd be disappointed if you did." But he'd wait for then. Though just in case anyone got the idea that he wasn't still the rogue he loved to be, he reached around her and gave Terry's backside a playful squeeze.