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Shinobi Shaw’s Mansion
Manhattan, New York


“You look…unbelievable.” Shinobi greeted appreciatively as Ororo exited the long black stretch limo. She smiled at him in thanks. She had taken her time getting ready, Xavier had given her his credit card to go buy a dress and she had been very selective in the one she chose. She stood before Shinobi wearing a simple long black strapless dress, with a rather daring slit up the right thigh, her white hair layered in thick curls atop her head, Ali had done her makeup for her, giving her a smoky, sultry look, calling it the “bedroom” look. The only adornment she wore was a slender black watch.
“You are remarkably handsome yourself, “ Ororo commented. Shinobi was wearing a silk suit of deep black with a scarlet shirt, open necked, no tie and his dark hair hung loose about his handsome face. He handed her a blue velvet rectangle.
Storm raised one winged eyebrow. “Open it,” he encouraged.
Opening the gift box Ororo gasped. Inside lay a thin gold necklace with a large diamond solitaire drop. She raised her eyes to his. “I can’t accept this.”
“Of course you can.” Shinobi lifted the chain from its resting place. “May I?” He held it up for her.
Storm turned a bit reluctant to accept such an expensive gift, allowing him to drape the necklace around her slender throat, clasping it at her nape. She felt the brief caress of his fingers, followed by the moist heat of his lips. She gave him a brief glance over her smooth shoulder, her eyes concealed by her thick lashes.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he said, completely unapologetic.
Ororo smiled. “I can tell this is going to be an interesting evening.”
“One can hope.” He took her hand, placing it on the crook of his arm, walking with her up the red carpeted front staircase.
“Aren’t you going to greet your other guests?” she asked, giving the other cars a glance over her shoulder. She lifted the her skirt so as not to tread on the material as they moved.
He shook his head, affording her an indulgent smile. “I greeted the only guest that matters.”
Ororo blushed, and said, “You can’t ignore these people, they’re here to donate money for your charity.”
Shinobi laughed. “They are pompass over indulged upper crusts that come to events like this to show what honorable and charitable people they are, when in fact, tomorrow they will be bugging their CPA’s, making sure their donation is written off. They care not for who greets them, Storm. They only care that they are recognized in the society page of the Times as social humanitarians”
Storm was about to agree with his general assessment of his guests, but the words never came, instead she was fascinated by the glorious ball room he had lead her into. It was made entirely of white marble with gold trim, exotic dragons and beautiful chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. A beautiful mural was painted overhead and a large glass dome gave a stunning view of the night sky. Ororo gazed in open mouthed wonder.
“It’s a bit much,” He said, following her gaze as she took in the room. “But why not?”
“I dreamed of such luxury while eating out of trash cans,” Ororo murmured softly before she realized what she was saying.
Instead of being appalled, Shinobi gave her a speculative look. “This from a woman who said there wasn’t much to tell about her life.”
Ororo walked beside him. “You don’t seem to care that I don’t have a penny to my name,” she commented after awhile.
“Why would I?” He asked. “I have more money than I can ever spend.”
“How nice for you,” she said, a bit tart.
Shinobi paused, looking down at her. “You do not seem the type to covet material things,” he stated.
Storm didn’t respond, busy counting in her head how many steps it had taken from he door to where they stood. Then she turned to him. “No, material possessions mean very little to me. However, when one has the ability or the means to help others, it irks me that they do not.”
“That is what tonight is all about, Storm. Shaw Enterprises donates heavily to charities such as the one we are here for tonight.”
Not wanting to argue over something as foolish as how the rich spent their money, Storm asked, “What is tonight’s charity?”
Shinobi gave her a quizzical look. “Tonight we are raising money for an institution where mutants can go to be free of social persecution, and have a safe haven.”
“That sounds like Xavier’s.” Ororo said.
Shinobi winked. “It is. I thought Xavier told you.”
Storm shook her head frowning. “No, he hadn’t mentioned it.” If Shaw was donating money to the institute, and he and Charles were working together, why the cloak and dagger to get Shinobi to spill on his father. From everything she had seen, he disliked the man intensely, he would probably give Xavier whatever he was after if it meant Sebastian Shaw would suffer.
As a waiter passed with a tray of champagne flutes Shinobi deftly removed two glasses, handing her one. “Thanks.” She sipped the bubbly liquid. They made their way around the room, Shinobi making polite but brief conversation with several people, always taking a moment to introduce her, making her feel inordinately important as he did.
“You seem a million miles away,” Shinobi murmured awhile later as the stood near the upper staircase.
“I’m sorry.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ve had a long day.”
He inclined his head towards hers. “Let’s see if we can take your mind off of it, shall we?” He raised one hand and a curtain lifted, revealing a small orchestra on a center stage. They began playing a waltz immediately. He held one hand out to her, giving her a slight bow. “Dance?”
Ororo smiled. “I would be delighted.” She gasped slightly when he pulled her into his arms, sensation rippling through her body. He held her close, his steps smooth and flowing, moving them about the room flawlessly, one hand holding hers aloft, the other pressing the small of her back.
“You are breathtaking.” He said as they moved. “An exotic orchid among daisies,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
Storm’s pulse raced, her breathing shallow. She was a little startled by this, because it was a reaction normally only induced by Wolverine. She looked up into Shinobi’s brown eyes, finding them dark and intense. “We’ve stopped moving,” she whispered.
“Really? Because for me the room is still spinning.” He lowered his head to hers. Ororo sighed softly as he took her mouth in a slow kiss. He never rushed her, always moved slowly, seducing her senses with infinite patience. Her fingers flexed on his arm, and a low sound of pleasure emanated from him.
“Well, well, Son. It looks like you’ve found yourself a decent trophy this evening.”
Shinobi and Storm broke apart and Ororo felt him tense. He leveled a look at the dark haired man beside them. “I was not expecting you, Father.”
Sebastian Shaw was not an unattractive man, Storm noticed, large and well built, with a face that had probably at one time been very handsome, but was now etched with deep lines. He carried none of Shinobi’s sensual energy, however, none of the subtle mystery. In fact, Ororo couldn’t really see a family resemblance at all.
“Plans changed.” Sebastian gave Ororo an assessing look and she straightened meeting his gaze directly. “Who’s the new toy?”
Shinobi frowned, but Ororo spoke before he could. “My name is Storm.”
“Storm is a weather phenomenon, not a name,” Sebastian said with a cold stare.
Ororo allowed her eyes to fade. “It is a most fitting name.” she said. Thunder rumbled outside.
Sebastian Shaw looked surprised, more by her refusal to look away from his direct stare than by the rumble of thunder. “Hmm.” He returned his gaze to his son. “Where is Tessa?”
“Here I am.” A beautiful dark haired woman was walking towards them. She was wearing a form fitting dress of deep red, matching the color of Shinobi’s shirt, her dark hair pulled tight against her head. She stepped beside the older Shaw. “You’re back early.”
“Unexpected change of plans.” Sebastian glared at the woman disapprovingly, then turned that same look on his son. “I will have a word with you, son.”
Shinobi grit his teeth. “I am entertaining.”
“I’m sure your ‘entertainment’ can find ways to amuse herself while you’re gone.”
Storm gave Shinobi a smile. “I believe I will get some air.” She glanced back at Sebastian Shaw. “The air in here is suddenly unbelievably stuffy and old.”
Shinobi nodded, but did not return her smile. He was still glowering at his father.
Storm strolled away from the trio, making her way out of the ballroom and out the front doors. A doorman gave her a bow as she passed. She moved along the stairs slowly, making her way towards the shadowed side of the mansion. She watched as two security guards walked by, flashlights in hand. She lifted her wrist. “Gambit?” she said into the watch.
“’Bout time.” he muttered.
Storm smiled. “I was enjoying myself.”
“Uh-huh. You get t’ drink and dance and I get t’ sit in dis tiny little jet.”
“You’re the one who insisted on shadowing me,” she reminded.
“Are you going now?”
“Yes. Be ready.” Storm made her way to her limo, where Winston was waiting.
“Good evening, Miss Munroe.”
“Hi, Jeeves.” She slid into the back of the car. Within minutes she had slid out of her dress and into the dark outfit she had worn in her danger room exercises. She gave Gambit the go ahead and counted to ten. A small explosion towards the front gate brought security guards running, and Ororo slipped from the car unnoticed.
As she moved in the shadows, floating to the third story of the huge mansion she heard one guard saying, “Damn anti-mutant activists.”
Ororo took out her lock pick kit, opening the window she knew belonged to Shinobi’s bedroom. She drifted inside, cautious, knowing that though the lower portion of the house was currently unarmed the top two storied were still set. She paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A large wrought iron king-sized bed was in the center of the room, covered in black and red silk bedding. Over the bed on the ceiling was a silver mirror and Ororo found herself mildly amused and confused. For someone with a voracious sexual appetite, he was very good at keeping himself in check while he was with her. Aside from that first meeting he had never so much as said an inappropriate comment.
She moved quietly through the room, opening the drawer on his black nightstand. It wasn’t part of her mission, but she found herself curious as to what he kept in there. She pulled out a novel, turning it in her hand. “The Da Vinci Code.” Did everyone own that damn book, she wondered thinking of the numerous copies floating around the Institute. Under that was a photograph and she was startled. It was her, from the night at the club. It must have been taken by a security camera, but it was surprisingly clear. She was on the dance floor, arms over her head, eyes closed. She was admittedly a little flattered by the fact that he had a photo of her. She set it aside, pulling out another book. This one was more of a journal, she realized, opening it. She flipped through the pages, torn between shock and intrigue. It was a list of women and men that Shinobi had been intimate with. Under each name was a small passage describing the experience and more often than not Shinobi was horribly dissatisfied and frustrated. She then reached her name, and she read the passage carefully.
“She’s like none other that I have known. I can’t stop thinking about her and the brief tastes of her that I’ve had are intoxicating. I burn for her. I find myself waking in the night, tormented by the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had. At times the throbbing is so painful all I have to is roll over and I come all over my mattress like some teenage schoolboy. She commands the elements, Xavier told me, but more than that, I fear if given the chance that she may be able to command me. I war with myself, I have the desire to seduce her, woo her and then almost as intensely I desire to break her, fearing the hold she carries on me already.”
Storm reread the passage, a mixture of emotions running through her, she‘d be lying if she didn‘t acknowledge part of her was pleased by his interest, but there was also a part of her that locked onto the words ‘break her‘ and wouldn‘t let go. She then turned the page, but it was blank; no names followed hers. Why that surprised and thrilled her she didn’t know, and wasn’t about to try and figure out her mixed responses to Shinobi right now. She returned the books and picture into the stand, silently making her way to the bedroom door.
She opened it a crack, peering into the dark hallway. There were two cameras at each end of the hall. Ororo concentrated, filling the hall with a field of electrostatic energy, effectively shorting the cameras. By the time it was noticed she would be long gone. She raced down the hall towards the upstairs gallery, where she knew the safe sat behind a Van Gogh.
Outside the door was a security panel, that required fingerprint identification. She smiled. Technology sometimes made things so much easier. She hovered her hand over the green screen and a layer of frost appeared. After a moment she heard the distinct hiss of circuits shorting and she turned the knob slowly. Inside the room was empty, but Ororo wasn’t concerned. She made her way to a tall bookcase, pulling on the false copy of Moby Dick, stepping back as the bookcase shifted, opening a small passage to a narrow hall. She moved stealthily along, coming to another large room, guarded by a more advanced security system. Red lasers rotated about the room. A delighted smile appeared on her face beneath her mask. She was having fun. She always did.
She moved quickly, flipping and sliding through the beams with practiced ease. Once she reached the far wall she tilted the Van Gogh up, revealing blank space. She placed her palms to the wall, sending small charges of electricity into the wood. Nothing buried behind. Storm bit her lip. What now? She glanced back towards the door. She didn‘t have much time. She was struck by a thought, pressing herself fully against the wall, knowing there was a chance the safe was simply in a different spot. As she moved she sent small charges seeking. After a few tries she felt her palms tingle. There you are, she thought with another tiny smile. She pulled a small silver cylinder from her pocket, pointing it at the wall where she felt the tingle, disrupting the image inducer and revealing the safe. It only took her a minute to open the safe, pulling out two objects that resembled the pictures Xavier had shown her, as well as several sealed envelopes, containing files that Xavier wanted retrieved. She closed the safe quickly and placed a small charge on the wall.
Storm made her way hastily back the way she came, out Shinobi’s window and down to the limo again. She gave Gambit the all clear and he had breathed a sigh of relief saying, “Never doubted you, padnat.”
Storm changed quickly, making her way into the ballroom. Shinobi was still with his father, but Ororo made her presence known to several of the people he had previously introduced her to. She was speaking with the owner of a profitable diamond mine when a small explosion sounded on the third floor, causing several people to gasp and Ororo to hide a smile behind her hand.
The door to the gallery burst open and three armed guards rushed the room, weapons drawn. “Don’t move!”
The room was empty.


Alberta, Canada

His beer was getting warm. Wolverine glanced at the bottle in his hands dispassionately. He was seated on a stool at a local bar, had been for several hours, having left his hotel room after destroying it in a murderous rampage. He swore, taking a drink of his piss warm ale and then swore again. “Fuck.”
He slammed his fisted hand into the bar, drawing a frown from the bartender, but the larger man made no move towards Wolverine, his own instincts for self preservation preventing him from doing so.
Wolverine tossed a twenty on the bar, pulling on his leather jacket. Outside he pulled a cigar from the front pocket. Even the familiar and welcome taste of his stogie did nothing to settle him. He was furious. That lying, fucking bitch! That fucking useless whore! His knuckles itched.
When his cell had wrung last night and he had heard Jean’s voice he had thought she was calling for comfort, but two minutes later he wanted to kill her. Not metaphorically, literally. Smart girl telling him while he was miles away.
His anger had been uncontrollable. As soon as the words “I lied,” left her mouth he had thrown the phone against the wall, roaring in rage, slashing his pillows, throwing the television against the wall. He had raged all night, and into the morning. Now, he walked the narrow road, trying to burn away his lingering anger. Not only directed at Jean, but at himself for not realizing…Fuck!!
As he traveled his thoughts turned to Storm. He was comfortable wanting to have sex with Storm. Hell, any man with a functioning cock would want Ororo, but what made him so uncomfortable with her was that he wanted more then to make her moan and writhe with pleasure, though that would be nice, what he really wanted was to make her happy. It was more than simply wanting her to fulfill some carnal desire, he knew. He loved her. Wolverine felt his jaw clench at the admission. He had never been in love, at least not that he could remember. It had always been find ‘em, fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. No strings, no commitments. He liked it like that, it kept his life simple, but ‘Ro…well, she was…everything.
His heart ached, a pain so intense for a moment it blocked out his anger. He had been so heartless towards her, he remembered. Pushing her away, probably straight into Shaw’s waiting arms, he thought with a savage growl. His actions confused even himself. His attraction to Storm was undeniable and he thoroughly enjoyed her company, but he had felt guilty, wanting her even though Jean had lost the baby. Lying Bitch!!
He flung the barely burnt cigar into the road in frustration. He remembered Storm’s blue eyes, so sad when he had last seen her. She had tried to soothe him and he had shoved her away, not because he was truly angry with her, but because she terrified him. He had wanted to let her take away his anger, to heal his hurt, but what would that leave him with? Anger was his only constant, his reliable defense, if he allowed her to strip that from him, then what? He’d be open and raw and she would see how much he loved her…needed her. So instead of letting her in, he closed her out, leaving, running away from her. He cursed himself. And he cursed Jean.
He had completed the recon mission last night, but wasn’t heading back today. He needed some more time, knowing that if he headed back now he would do Jean bodily harm. Wolverine continued to walk along the long road, wondering how Storm had handled the truth about Jean, how he was going to make things right with her, and what she was doing now…


Club HellFire

The music pounded and bodies thrummed together. Ororo watched from the balcony as Ali and Gambit danced below. They moved together nicely, but every once in awhile Alison would throw an aggressive slam at Gambit, catching him off guard. Ororo chuckled at his expression.
“Having a good time?”
Storm turned. “I am.” It had been nearly two weeks since her heist and despite initially planning on stepping out of Shinobi’s life, she found herself missing him , he gave her much needed distraction and fun, so she had accepted several more dates with him. She had surprised him by suggesting the club this evening.
“Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?” he asked.
Storm’s mouth quirked. “Several times.” She was wearing an outfit similar to the one she had originally worn to the club, a red and black corset, laced in the front, low slung leather pants and chunky boots. Her hair was not up, however, instead flowing freely down her back.
Shinobi stepped towards her, himself dressed in leather pants and body hugging black tee. She preferred this look to his suits and she told him so. He smiled. “Really? So my expensive suits do nothing for you?”
“Nope.” She grinned.
“Hmm. I’ll try and remember that.” He was close now, only a breath away from her.
Ororo tilted her head. “See that you do,” she murmured. She moved into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He grinned at her, pulling her closer. He lowered his head until their lips brushed, but didn’t kiss her. “What do you want, Storm?” His lips teased hers as he spoke.
Storm pulled his mouth down to hers. To forget, she thought to herself, but not aloud. The kiss started slow, but soon turned heated, tongues dancing and teasing, her hands in his hair, his cradling her hips. He slid one hand along her back, to the base of her scalp, tilting her head, moving his lips across her neck, nibbling and sucking. Ororo gasped, enjoying the tingles that followed his lips. Shinobi returned to her mouth quickly however, teasing her with his tongue. Ororo pressed herself against him and he groaned, one hand moving up her corset, cupping one full breast through the leather.
Storm jerked back. “I’m sorry,” she stammered.
Shinobi took a deep breath, but said, “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not,” she argued. She glanced down at the front of his pants, his erection obvious. “I know I’m causing you discomfort.”
“Discomfort? Now there’s a word for it,” he teased.
“I just…I can’t change who I am,” she said.
Shinobi ran one knuckle down her cheek. “I don’t want you to.”
He was so good to her, she thought. After reading his journal and knowing the inner struggle he had where she was concerned, made his patience with her all the more unbelievable. Storm bit her lip, thinking. Turning away from him she pressed the button beside the observation window, darkening the glass. She turned back to him, smiling slowly. She grasped his hands in hers and walked him backwards to the leather couch. He gave her confused look and her smile broadened. She gave him a gentle shove, sending him onto the couch.
“Storm…?”
“Hush.” She took a few steps away from him. “Let me dance for you.”
Closing her eyes Ororo let the music flow through her, moving with it seductively, running her hands along her body. She could hear Shinobi’s breath quicken as she moved and she partially opened her eyes. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You can.”
She watched with lowered lids as his hand slid down his body, undoing the button of his pants, lowering the zipper. He raised dark eyes to hers and she nodded, still moving to the music, bending and swaying to the rhythm. Storm would not have believed how erotic a sight watching him touch himself was had someone told her, but it was, she thought. Completely erotic. And it made her feel strangely powerful to know she effected him this way. His hand was moving inside his pants and his breath quickened even more, but his eyes were on her. “Let me see,” she whispered, surprising herself as well as him.
He shifted, pulling out his erection, moving his hand against the hard flesh in jerky motions. Storm took a shaky breath, watching him… wanting him, she realized. How was that possible? She wondered. She loved Wolverine, she knew she did, but her attraction to Shinobi was growing rapidly. Her head was fuzzy and once again a dull pain throbbed at the base. She ignored it, moving closer to the couch. She was still dancing, but now she was touching him, her hands on his thighs as he worked himself.
“Storm,” he groaned her name. She leaned in, kissing him, her tongue licking across his lips and he arched off the couch, eyes shut, coming forcefully.
She leaned away from him. “Better?”
He shook his head. “Worse. I want you so bad,” he said, pulling her across him. “But I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Storm’s head swam. “Shinobi…”
“Yes?”
“Something’s wrong…” The room went black.





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