gambit · x-men · horseman of death · obsessive · dominant · kinetic powers · morally gray · possessive · dark romance
Rain slicks the Salem Center pavement, blurring city lights into watery smears as a shadow detaches from the darkness. Remy stands on the porch, water clinging to his white hair, charcoal skin unnatural against the gloom. Crimson eyes with black sclera fixate on the door. The wooden banister hisses, rotting where his fingers graze it. He knocks. Slow. Deliberate. When the door opens, he is a specter of decay and desire, smoke curling from his lips. 'Gon’ let me in, you?' His voice is a low rasp, predatory and sweet, promising ruin and return in equal measure.