| 001. | Focus |
002. | Gambit/Storm with
Title: "To Please Their Queen"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Storm comes home.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He drank alone in the kitchen, having finished the dishes and his preparation for the next day's meal, which he himself was to cook. Howling winds rising from the ocean rattled the windows as LeBeau contemplated rising with his bourbon and going to the roof to enjoy the view. He'd always been one to like a good storm, and the X-Men's island home presented a great view of the weather. He smiled to himself as he recalled sitting out on the bayou back home and enjoying the storms in Louisiana; those were the only storms he'd even seen more beautiful in their deadliness than the ones that occasionally hit here.
Remy's red eyes glanced up as a lightning bolt struck the window above the sink. Jubilee fussed as the TV in the next room went on the fritz for a moment, then resumed flipping channels the moment an actor's mouth could be heard again. Logan stomped in cussing and stomping toward his room; Scott followed behind him, also fussing but going in a different direction. Remy lowered the eyebrow he'd risen, sighed into his mug, and took another sip of his bourbon. He usually liked something stronger, but he'd opened the bourbon while setting up his meat to marinate and decided that its sweet poison was what he wanted this night.
The Cajun looked back up at the window as he heard something wailing out in the storm. Maybe tonight wasn't the best night to sit out in the nasty weather, he thought. He paused in sipping his drink as he felt a shift outside. He looked up again, this time to the door, as one hand went for the pack of cards he always kept in his shirt pocket. Something was out there, but then a second later, he realized who it was and smiled.
Remy was already rising when the knock came on the X-Men's door. No one else heard it, and that was fine with him. He strode forward, threw the door open, and smiled at the soaked woman who stood on his doorstep. He knew Ororo could choose to fly through a hurricane and not get a drop of water on her chocolate skin or allow the wind to pull one ivory hair out of place, but tonight, her hair was a mess and water clung to every spot on her beautiful body.
The feelings that instantly began to arouse in the Raging Cajun ceased the moment he looked into 'Ro's blue eyes, however. He realized, in an instant, that she was the Witch he had heard wailing outside and that she'd been crying ever since she left Africa. "'Ro," he spoke her name simply, noticed how her bottom lip quivered, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Without asking, he picked her up in their hug and lifted her the rest of the way into the home that never should have stopped being hers.
He hugged her tightly until he felt her need for tears begin to pass, and then he pulled just slightly away. His hands stayed on her biceps, keeping her steady and allowing him to stay touching a dear friend he hadn't seen in far too long. Emotions warred within him as he gazed at her. He still remembered the child she'd been when he'd first met her. He'd always felt a need to protect her since that initial encounter; that need was now roaring louder than the howling wind inside of him.
But then, too, Ororo was no longer a child. She hadn't been a kid in far longer than the time in which he'd known her. She'd been a grown woman trapped inside of a child's body even then, but now the woman she was stood before him, tired, sad, needing a friend, needing a man to heal her broken heart, and looking as amazingly beautiful as she always had. Many women could turn Remy's head, but none like Ororo Munroe. She made his breath hitch every time he looked at her. She burned something deep inside of him each time he touched her flesh, and yet he wanted to hold on to her fire and never let go. He claimed to love Rogue, partially because he knew the girl needed him and partially because he knew 'Roro would never look at him the way he gazed upon her with such need and desire screaming inside of him that only she could fulfill, but many, many nights, it was Ororo he dreamed of taking to bed and making, sweet love to instead of the Southerner whom no one had been able to touch for so long.
Remy shook inside but didn't let it show as he raised a hand and softly touched Ororo's face. She was bruised. He wanted to kill T'Challa at the mere sight of that bruise, but with their lives, they were constantly being hurt. He couldn't just assume. "Did he hurt you?" he whispered, brushing her snowy white hair away from her skin that was as soft as it always had been. Remy wanted to bury himself inside of her flesh and hair, to live forever on the soft beauty that was his best friend, but he knew he could not and must not let his desire show.
The only emotion Ororo saw in Remy's well-trained, red eyes was the flicker of silent rage. Never one to lie to her friends, she shook her head quickly instead of voicing an answer. She knew he would take the movement as denial, but she could not let him know the truth. If Remy, Logan, or any of Ororo's other dearest friends even suspected the Hell T'Challa had put her through, they'd surely kill him. Not only could she not allow his death to be on their hands -- after all, she was the one who had made the mistake of marrying him when others had advised her against it --, but she would not see the war that would undoubtedly break out in her homeland with the destruction of the Black Panther.
Remy hugged her again, just as tightly as the first time this stormy night, and then took another long look at her. There was something, he knew, that she wanted to ask. He gave her time, and finally, she spoke, "Is there a room available?"
He noted the way her regal voice trembled slightly as she spoke her question. It set the fire that was already burning within him to destroy whatever had hurt her so badly even more ablaze but turned his smile broader and more charming, too. "For you, chere," he replied, keeping one arm around her, guiding her further into their home, and kicking the door shut behind them with a booted foot, "always."
The delicious aromas of the dinner the X-Men had shared still lingered in the kitchen. One sniff reminded Ororo quickly that she had not eaten all day. "It smells wonderful in here," she complimented.
"I can't take de credit for tonight, petite. I'm makin' my gumbo tomorrow; you've got to stay for it."
She smiled; his heart fluttered. It had been far too long since this beautiful woman on his arm had smiled! "It will be an honor. I've missed your cooking."
Their eyes met, and he knew she had missed him. She had, however, he reminded himself sternly, missed them all. Still, he couldn't help grinning like a fool. He tried to downplay his smile as he shifted the subject, "Bobby made ice cream cakes for dessert; dat's what you're smelling dat smells so good."
"I'm sorry I missed them."
"De boy made a few extra. Would you like one?"
She nodded, and soon, Remy was setting one of the small ice cream cakes and a glass in front of her. Bobby had made the cakes individually sized, and now, Remy found himself wondering if the younger man could have somehow suspected that they'd have a very special guest arriving late that night. Surely he couldn't have known. None of them had known, not even the Professor or Logan, and he was the one with the honor of welcoming her home. Still grinning widely, Remy reached into the refrigerator for the jug of milk, but Ororo's soft voice stopped him. "I . . . I think I'd like something a bit stronger, please, Remy."
He shut the door and poured some of his own bourbon into her glass. It was his last bottle and was hard to get without a trip to the mainland, but Ororo was worth any sacrifice, big or small. He watched her take pleasure in a bite of the cake and a sip of his drink before commenting, "De African Queen's on TV, if you'd like to see it." He'd heard Bogart's and Hepburn's voices earlier, while Jubilee had been flipping channels (she'd since, evidently, turned the television off as he no longer heard it or her) and knew how well Ororo liked the actors.
"I think that would be nice," Ororo agreed, rising. Capping his own bottle and sticking it in the crook of his arm, Remy snatched up her plate and glass before she could lift them. He would wait on her this night as the Queen she was. Ororo smiled, again causing Remy's breath to hitch.
He followed her into the living room and helped her to settle onto the couch before turning on the TV and leaning back next to her himself. He knew Scott liked to have a rule about no food in front of the television, but Summers could stick all his rules. He'd do whatever it took to please Ororo and make her happy again. He brought her a plate of leftovers after the cake. A half hour later, Ororo's hunger was sated, the bourbon gone, and she slept soundly as Katherine and Bogart played a love scene on the television.
Remy looked down at where his cherished best friend's beautiful head rested on his shoulder and wrapped his arm a little more closely around her. Scott and T'Challa could both be damned. Ororo was back where she belonged, and this time, he'd keep her with him, and with the X-Men, no matter what it took. He also, he thought, needed to find a way to sneak off to Africa and kill that blasted T'Challa, but that would wait until Ororo wasn't quite as frail and needing of his companionship. It could wait until she'd forgotten that he might avenge her broken heart. Then he'd find T'Challa, kill him, and bury him in the ocean. Remy smiled, his red eyes glowing in the darkening room, and continued to watch over Ororo, instead of the movie, for the rest of the night.
Meanwhile, Jubilee had crept up to Logan's room. She looked in on him with a grin that showed the tips of her deadly fangs. "She's back."
"I know," he grunted and guzzled down another beer.
"Remy's with her. They're downstairs, watching TV." Jubilee watched him, for a moment, through the red eyes of the Vampiress she had become before leaving him to get drunk.
Logan waited until she'd left, then downed two more beers, crumpled the cans, and threw them onto his already messy floor. "Good," he growled. Let Remy fix her broken heart this time. Neither of them deserved her, but he could get closer to Ororo than Logan ever could. Besides, he had a mission to kill an Avenger. He finished his six pack, rose, and left without anybody ever noticing his departure.
The End |
003. | Sink |
004. | Story |
005. | Pool |
| 006. | Hook |
007. | Maze |
008. | Namor/White Queen with
Title: "Never Before"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary: They've never before loved or been loved like this.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
His wings fluttered as her hands ran over his feet. It was a dream come true to have the bold and beautiful White Queen finally at his feet, but something strange was stirring within Namor. Unlike this woman who merely took the title for herself, he was true royalty. He should never want to be any one's equal, but yet . . . Yet, he found himself reaching out to her feet.
Emma stopped with a finger pressed softly against the base of one of Namor's white wings. She would never have lowered herself to any one else's feet, but his wings fascinated her. They were so little and delicate that for them to be on such a strong man automatically made them one of the cutest things she'd ever witnessed. She ran her fingers again along his wing and enjoyed the way his feathers tickled her flesh but looked at him in surprise when he actually did touch her foot.
She tingled as he gave her slender foot one long stroke with his large hand. "Namor?" she asked in surprise.
"You are on your feet for hours every day, my Queen. Despite your strength, they do not look so strong." It was true: She was on her feet for hours every day, both as a teacher and an X-Man, and they did hurt her often. Still, she was shocked not so much by his comment but rather by his touch.
Her toes wriggled; he smiled. "A true King is never lowered by his Queen." She wasn't accustomed to hearing him speak both so deep and soft or to having any man touch her feet. She stilled as he stroked her again and again. She could have easily commanded any one to rub her feet, but never in a million years, would she have had anybody volunteer, of their own free will, to do so. Scott certainly wouldn't have, but then, Scott was no King, no matter how hard he tried to be the X-Men's King.
Emma watched Namor curiously as he continued, with one hand, to stroke her feet, but then he reached for her hand with his other. She gave it freely. He squeezed her gently. His wings fluttered next to her other hand, and her fingers absently stroked his heels. "As I said before, let me give you all the love you deserve."
He leaned forward. She let him take her mouth with his. His tongue pressed softly against her lips. She opened, welcoming him inside of her and meeting his tongue with a silky thrust of her own. His fingers continued to massage her feet for a few minutes, but then they ran further up her shin and calf and darted beneath the sheet which was all they still wore.
Emma closed her blue eyes, trusting him not with her life but at least with part of her heart. He touched her. She raised her mouth from his with a gentle sigh and then let the pleasure he offered engulf her heart and body. She had never been loved so thoroughly, freely, passionately, or truly, but then, she'd never before been loved by a King.
The End |
009. | Crush |
010. | Heal |
| 031. | Fool |
032. | Intervention |
033. | Gift |
034. | Logan/Ororo with
Title: "Animal, Goddess, and Rain"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: He used to feel restless in the rain.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
The rain had always made him restless until she had come into his life. His memories have always been at the best vague, but he remembers purposefully seeking out fights in storms as a teenager and, as a younger boy, running with the actual wolves and howling it the rain. They used to play tag through the raindrops, and he had been quite adept at managing to stroke the fur of even the wildest and most standoffish of the wolves.
Logan doesn't know if his time with the wolves was real or not; it's yet another of the few memories he has of which he'll never know how much is true and how much was implanted in his brain by the Canadian government. He does remember, too, making wild and savage love in the rain, striking his partner with his fists, claws, and teeth as often as caressing them with his fingers and lips. Those rainy nights up North had been some of the wildest sex he's ever known, but it wasn't love.
He thought he had love with Silver Fox and then later again with Mariko, but that wasn't love, either. Neither lady could keep him from wanting to run wild in the rain. He remembers screaming at Silver Fox in the rain and leaving Mariko to stand with tears as he drove off into the night in the Orient, purposefully seeking another wild adventure in which to let his inside savage escape for a while despite telling her that he would calm down and try to live his life right.
Logan's never been a calm man for long; he barely has the capacity for calmness at all in him. There's too much turmoil constantly swirling in his soul like the thunder and lightning that now fills the night sky for him to ever want to spend much down time with any woman, any woman but her. He smiles and turns his face up to let the gently falling rain patter his hardened flesh as he thinks back to when he first came to the X-Men.
Charles was another who didn't understand the wild beast in him, though he tried. He wanted him to hang out at his school and not venture into town too often, not pick fights in other words. Logan thinks, with a grin, that he never really tried to stay out of trouble. He was always quick to ride his bike into town just to aggravate Charlie, if nothing more, and when the wind started rising with an incoming storm, he literally itched to get to town and punch some idiot in the face.
But then he caught her out in the rain one night. She hadn't known he was there as she stood alone on the cool, green grass barely shooting its head up out of the ground. He wanted a storm that night, but she was content with a soft, Spring rainfall. Watching her standing alone with the breezes wrapping around her beautiful body would have been enough to change his mind, but when she'd dropped her cloak and stood naked before him in the night, he'd never wanted to do anything else but stand in that oncoming rain and watch her in her purest form.
After that, he snuck out every time it rained with one purpose in mind. Watching the Goddess come to Earth was far more fun than any fight. He wanted to make her his from that first night, but he had lacked the courage to make a move on her. Some people would have thought it was funny that the man so full of hotheaded anger and blatant courage had not had the courage to approach a woman, especially when he never hesitated to hit on any other dame that caught his attention, but Ororo had been different.
Logan had never spent much time believing in, let alone worshipping, any God, but watching her body being caressed by the elements that bent to her control, Logan saw easily why her people had worshipped her as a Goddess in Africa. She was so far above any other being he'd ever known. No mutant or human could begin to have the ethereal beauty or smooth grace which she possessed and showed in the slightest of movements. A mere flick of her wrist wrapping her breeze more closely around her naked body made Logan want to melt on the spot and worship her forever.
He'd known for years he was a mere animal, so full of rage and hatred, and the animal could not hope to stand on even ground with a Goddess. He could not hope that she would ever look at him as anything more than a friend, but one night, after she'd been crying over Forge, she'd turned to face him and had beckoned him forward. What had followed had been the most blissful experience of Logan's life up until that point. He'd told himself that it didn't matter that she had allowed him to take her only because of her loneliness and heartbreak over Forge, that she considered him second rate, but that knowledge had kept him from attempting to pursue any kind of a real, loving relationship with her.
Then she'd gone to another man, and another yet again had broken her heart. When she at last returned to the team they both called family, Logan determined that he would not allow another to come between them. He would not allow any other person to take her from him or to break her heart. If any hearts were to be broken, he would allow her to break his.
But she hadn't. The animal had come to learn that the Goddess truly did love him, and he had spent almost every night with her now for years. He was no longer restless when it rained. He sought her instead, knowing that rain did not have to bring dangerous storms but could herald sweet passion instead.
With her, it always did. He danced with her many nights in a gently falling downpour, watching the droplets sprinkle over her upturned, smiling face and kissing her closed eyelids when they trickled further downward. On wilder nights, she whisked him into the air, and he did not fear even as lightning cut all around them. He held to her instead, wanting nothing more than to be made one with her forever. Their voices were lost in the rise of her thunder and wind, but it didn't matter. He knew what she said as she knew the words of love he spoke. They loved each other, and every rain storm was just another chance for Logan to show his Goddess just how infinitely much he would always love her alone and how he'd never look for another fight (though also never running from one) but always seek her waiting and loving arms first instead.
The End
|
035. | Weight of the World |
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