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Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York


Sunshine was pouring through the semi-open skylight and her sheer white curtains danced playfully in the warm afternoon breeze. Ororo blinked several times, trying to focus her blurry eyes. She was still very groggy, even though she‘d slept a large part of the past forty-eight hours away. Xavier had commanded her to rest and she had not bothered to argue, too drained from Jean’s attack and the removal and reinsertion of her neural inhibitors. She touched her forehead, groaning. She had a killer migraine. Trying not to jostle herself too much Ororo scooted herself back against her stack of pillows, her elbow rubbing against a warm body.
Ororo turned with a welcome smile for who she assumed to be Gambit only to have it freeze on her face. Wolverine lay next to her, bare chested, clad only in dark pants, revealing his well muscled abdomen and the hair covered broad expanse of his chest, one well muscled arm lay across his head, his sullen mouth parted in sleep. What the hell?
Sensing her eyes on him Wolverine opened one dark eye. “Hey you.”
Ororo just stared.
Logan sat up slowly. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here?“
She nodded slowly so as not to induce another stab of pain through her temples.
“I know Chuck said ya weren’t ta be disturbed, but I needed ta see ya, ’Ro. I needed ta make sure you were all right. Yer developing a real knack fer scaring the shit outta me, y’know.” He explained, propping himself beside her. “I needed ta be near ya.” His voice lowered and the husky rumble sent shivers along her spine.
“So you broke into my room?” Her voice was hoarse.
He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He slipped from the bed, easy enough to do considering he was on top of the covers, and went to her bathroom. She watched him walk, noticing how fluid he moved. That was a man very comfortable in his own skin. He came back with a small Dixie cup filled with tap water. “Here.”
Ororo took the small cup gratefully, swallowing carefully. Her throat was sore, like she had a cold. Or screamed herself numb…Ororo’s brow furrowed.
“’Roro?”
She looked down at the bedding, not wanting to look at him. Logan. Sharp pain in her head. Ororo grimaced, her breath hissing from clenched teeth.
“Are you all right?” He was at her side in an instant, his hands cradling her face, concern on his, forcing her to look at him.
Ororo winced at the sight of the man who held her heart, because it meant she had to remember everything that had transpired between them, how he had hurt her, the horrible memories of him kissing, holding, touching Jean, her guilt over attacking a pregnant woman, the lingering guilt over her mother’s death, and that was the killing blow--him comforting that witch… Angry tears fill her eyes. She blinked them back, allowing them to evaporate under the heat of her anger. “I’m fine.” She pushed his hands away.
He stepped away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ya don’t have ta lie ta me, ‘Ro.”
Ororo ground her teeth, not liking the way it made her feel to hear him say that name.
“I’m willin’ ta listen if ya want ta talk. What the hell happened the other day?”
“Go ask your girlfriend, I’m sure she’ll fill you in.”
“I’ve already talked ta Jeannie and she claims ya attacked her unprovoked.” He shook his head. “I’m interested ta know what would make ya attack a pregnant woman, Storm.”
Ororo snorted, standing quickly. Far too quickly and the room spun, her legs giving way. Logan was there instantly, his arms wrapping around her, holding her up against him. Her hands grasping his bare shoulders, her eyes trapped by his. The thin cotton of her nightdress provided little barrier between her breasts and the hard wall of his chest. She could feel the heat radiating from him through the material into her skin, and it made her bite her lip.
Logan ran his thumb across her trapped lower lip, his eyes darkening from steel gray to deep midnight. His breathing became raspier, and his arms tightened involuntarily, pulling her closer. “’Ro…” He whispered her name as his mouth descended onto hers.
She tried to pull away but he held fast, capturing her lips, his mouth hot and demanding, moist and intoxicating. Ororo’s nails dug into his skin and Logan groaned, his tongue pushing past teeth, drinking from her. He molded her to him, one hand cupping her firm backside, lifting her slightly into his bulge. It was always like this with her, all other thought vacated his brain, and he was instantly hard, constantly aroused, his blood pure fire pounding in his head, his inner animal screaming to possess her. Claim her. Mate with her.
Ororo’s eyes closed, his hot mouth moving from her lips to her neck, teeth grazing her skin directly over her leaping pulse, followed by the stroke of his tongue. A soft moan traveled from her throat to his ears and Logan growled. His teeth nipped her earlobe, his breath panting in her ear. “God, ‘Ro,” he groaned, slowly lowering her to the bed, following, his body in constant contact with hers. “I’m sorry,” he rasped.
She didn’t want to feel this, she thought, even as her hips arched off the bed into his. He was pushing her legs apart, his hand sliding under the hem of her nightdress, stroking her thighs. His mouth was on hers again, moving over her top lip, tugging on her full lower lip, the very tip of his tongue tracing intricate patterns. One hand moved to tangle in her silken tresses, the other moved to stroke her center through her lacy underwear. Ororo cried out, instinctively trying to close her legs, but he murmured against her lips, low, soothing sounds. He kissed her eyes, her nose, burying his face in the space between her shoulder and neck.
“I only wanna touch ya ‘Ro.” He moved his hand. “…Just feel, darlin’.”
Ororo gripped the pillows behind her head, unable to vocalize anything more than pleasured gasps as he pushed his blunt finger past the elastic guarding her most secret spot and his flesh made contact with the slick heat of hers. He stroked again, parting her nether lips, his tongue swirling in her ear. “Just feel,” he whispered again and Ororo held back a sob. Did he know the things he was making her feel? The terrible ache in her heart from loving him? She wanted to pull away, make him leave, but her traitorous body betrayed her, lifting into his hand, moving against him in silent petition.
“That’s it, darlin’. Yer so sweet, “ he murmured against her lips. “So wet,” he slid one finger inside and Ororo struggled for breath. “Ahh, ya feel so good, babe.” He stroked again.
So enraptured with her he didn’t hear the footfalls on the stairs, the door knob jiggling and not even the door banging open, all he could hear was the pounding in his ears and her gasps of pleasure.
“Get your ‘ands off my sister!”
“Gambit!” Ororo jerked upright, wincing as pain shot through her temples, making her see stars.
Wolverine looked over his shoulder into the glaring red on black eyes of a very angry Cajun. “Dis is where you spent da night?” he demanded.
Wolverine sat up, shielding Storm from Gambit’s view as she tugged her nightdress down. “Where I spend the night is none of yer damn business,” he said.
“If yer trying ta fuck my Stormy den it most certainly is my business.” Gambit responded angrily, he walked into the room, carrying a breakfast try, setting it down on her bureau.
“I don’t see how,” Wolverine snarled, watching the other man with narrowed eyes.
Gambit lifted the fork from the tray, it glowed brightly. “You want I should take out da trash, Stormy?”
“You threatenin’ me, Gumbo?” -SNIKT- Three claws shot out.
“Step away from da bed, homme, and find out.”
“Enough, both of you.” Storm stood, slowly this time. “Gambit, Wolverine was just leaving.”
“No I wasn’t.”
Ororo gave him an angry look. “Yes, you were.”
“Besides, don’t you ‘ave another girl ta be fondling?” Gambit added, deceptively mild. “Aren’t you supposed ta be fallin’ all over Jean right now? I’m sure she misses da attention.”
Wolverine shook his head. “I’m there for the kid, not Jean. There’s a difference.” He was growling now, shoulders hunched, ready to strike.
Ororo tensed, hating herself for the flare of jealousy she felt. Gambit was right, however, Wolverine had no place here. She gave them both icy looks. “Get out, both of you. Take your little song and dance soap opera out of my room. Now.” Her cell phone was ringing.
She picked it up off the nightstand and unwittingly a smile graced her face as she recognized the number. Shinobi. She held up a hand to silence them and answered, “Hello?” A pause. “No, I’m fine. That’s sweet.” Another pause. “Breakfast sounds lovely. All right. Twenty minutes. Bye.”
“But, Stormy, I brought breakfast.” Gambit said with a frown as she hung up.
“No thanks, Gambit.” Ororo moved towards the bathroom. “By the time I am showered and changed I expect both of you to be gone.” She called over her shoulder. “And no fighting.”
“Well, where’s da fun in dat?” Gambit muttered. Once the bathroom door was shut he looked at Wolverine. “Bioque.” Gambit spat.
“What was that?” Wolverine’s lip curled.
“I called you an idiot.” Gambit said. “Trying to knock up two women?”
Wolverine’s head snapped up. “Leave it alone.”
“You should take your own advice.”
In the shower it wasn’t thoughts of Wolverine that plagued her, Ororo was surprised to realize, but thoughts of her impending breakfast with Shinobi Shaw. He was confusing her, she thought sliding the shower door shut. From everything the Professor had on him, Storm had learned that Shinobi Shaw was a ruthless man, with a strong and varied sexual appetite, but he always stopped when she wanted to. Her problem, she realized, was that the more they were together, the less she wanted to stop. She turned the knobs forcefully, stepping under the sharp spray, head hanging down. He was just a mark, she told herself. Just a mark.

Diner

“The Shaw Charity Ball is coming up this weekend,” Shinobi said, forking a small mound of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He was once again dressed casual, in tan khaki’s and a dark green shirt, his hair tied back at the nape of his neck. They were eating at a small but cozy diner, a few miles away from the Institute, seated in a booth beside a large window.
Storm nodded, she knew of the event. Xavier was counting on Shinobi asking her to attend, as the Ball was at his mansion and would be the perfect night to perform her heist. “I had heard about it. I thought that the ball was your father’s deal,” she poured syrup over her pancakes.
Shinobi’s eyes briefly narrowed. “My father finds himself otherwise occupied.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” she said softly.
He reached across the table, stroking her cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”
Storm chewed her food, waiting.
“Would you like to attend?”
“I’d love to.” She was about to take another bite of her pancakes when she heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle outside. She turned her head warily, watching as Wolverine pulled into the parking lot, his dark gaze fixed on her as he dismounted. He brushed one hand along the arm of his leather jacket, making his way to the entrance.
“Isn’t that your bike?” Shinobi asked.
“Uh, no, it’s his. I was just…borrowing it.” She gave the bike a wistful look.
“Hm.” Shinobi leaned back, his eyes on the door as Wolverine strode in. “I think he’s looking for you.” He commented.
“He knows where I am,” Ororo murmured, taking another bite, ignoring the frission of awareness that traveled her body.
“Storm.” Wolverine was beside their booth.
She looked up at him. He was too attractive for his own good, she thought, loving the way his hair stood all disheveled from the bike ride, and the stubble that grazed his stubborn jaw. Stubble that had tickled her throat earlier. She pushed that thought aside angrily. “Wolverine.”
“We need to talk.” His dark gaze was unreadable.
“I’m eating,” she stated flatly.
“Could this wait?” Shinobi asked, an amused smile hovering on his lips.
Wolverine ignored him. “Now, Storm.” He reached down, grabbing her arm, hauling her to her feet.
“That’s not a very nice way to treat a lady,” Shinobi stood.
“But out, Bub.” Wolverine snarled at him. “This don’t concern you.”
“When you are touching Storm, yes it does.” Shinobi’s normally smooth as silk voice hardened and Storm was surprised by the vehemence in his tone.
Wolverine cocked his head and Ororo knew he was contemplating planting his fist in Shinobi’s face. “It’s fine, Shinobi. I’ll be right back.” She tugged her arm from Wolverine’s grasp, marching out the front door. Once outside she turned on him. “What are you doing here? I’m busy.”
“How far ya planning on takin’ this, ‘Ro? How far ya gonna go with Shaw?” Wolverine demanded.
“What do you care? Damn it, Wolverine, I’m not some helpless little girl that needs you to protect her. I’m your leader, remember, not the other way around.”
“Ya haven’t answered my question.” He crossed his arms.
Storm glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Shinobi watching them through the window. She smiled at him, then turned back to Wolverine with a glare. “Mind your own business.”
“You are my business.”
“No. Jean is your business. I am your team mate.”
Wolverine rumbled. “Don’t fuckin’ kid yerself, Storm.”
She ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “I am not the one kidding myself. Go home, Wolverine. Go back to Jean.”
He stepped forward. “I don’t want Jean.” His eyes were intense. “I want you.”
“Well, it looks like you’re stuck with her.” Storm turned away from him before she flung herself into his arms.
“Storm, don’t push me away.”
Her steps halted and she gave him a cold stare, pulling on her reserve of careful control. She couldn’t let him know how badly she wanted him, how much she loved him. She was many things, but home wrecker was not one of them. “The moment you placed your claws to my neck you made a choice, Wolverine. I am willing to be your leader, your team mate and even your friend, but never anything more. You chose, remember that.”
Wolverine growled irritably. “I was trying to protect my child, ‘Ro. You were attacking a woman pregnant with my child.”
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I am sorry for that,” she said at last. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my date is waiting.”
“This ain’t over,” he called after her.
“Yes, it is.” She whispered, opening the diner door.
Shinobi stood as she approached. “Everything all right?”
Storm glanced out the window. Wolverine was mounting his cycle, staring at her. “It could be better.” She looked at Shinobi. “Kiss me.”
Shinobi needed no further urging, stepping forward, cradling her face in his smooth palms and covering her mouth with his. Ororo opened her mouth, allowing him access, relaxing into his embrace. A part of her hated herself for this tactic, but another part of her enjoyed the way Shinobi made her feel wanted and treasured. She pulled back, smiling into his warm eyes.
“You think he got the message?” Shinobi asked quietly.
Storm was startled, though she shouldn’t have been. He was a very perceptive man. “I hope so,” she said sincerely.
“Were you and he…?”
“No.” Storm shook her head.
“But you wanted to be?”
Storm slid back into the booth. “He’s a team mate. Nothing more. Is that jealousy, Shinobi?“ She asked at his frown. “It‘s not like you‘ve had a sheltered life of limited experiences. I don‘t imagine you even spent last night alone,” she teased.
Shinobi followed suit. “Fair enough. But I would give up all others for you. All you have to do is say the word.”
Storm tilted her head. He seemed awfully serious about that. “Maybe I will,” she smiled.
He covered her hand with his. “I hope you do.”





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