Club Hellfire
Balcony
“New Queen, Shinobi? You forget your place. Need I remind you that you are not the King of the Hellfire Club Inner Circle. Your father is. You have no rights to a Queen.” Tessa retook her seat across from him, lifting her ice water to her ruby red lip. She watched him with a mixture of disgust and desire as Shinobi cleansed himself. He was the most sexual man she had ever encountered, always wanting it, needing it and for years she had been only too eager to provide herself to him. But that was before he had become obsessed man he was today. His obsessive fixation on his father had begun twisting everything he did, including sex. Once Shinobi had realized his father was no longer sleeping with Tessa he had stopped as well, dismissing her as though she was a toy that he had grown tired of. She suspected that was, in fact, the case.
After many years of unrequited adoration Shinobi had given up on ever gaining his father’s approval, and now, Shinobi spent his time trying to find ways to bring his father down.
“Not entitled! I am entitled to whatever the hell I want, Tessa. And I want her!” Shinobi pointed out the window, his face a mask of controlled fury. “Make it happen.”
Tessa placed her water on the small glass table beside her plush seat. She sighed with weary patience. “I will do what I can, Shinobi.”
The handsome man smiled, running his hand through his black hair, immediately suave and charming again. “Good girl.”
Downstairs
Ororo pulled Gambit close to her. He smiled at her, their bodies moving in tune with each other. He was a handsome devil, she thought. But he carried none of the animal magnetism Wolverine had. Sure, Gambit radiated charisma, and sensual charm, but it was all very suave and subtle. Not like the raw virility of Logan. She shook her head, trying to get her mind off of him.
“Penny for your t’oughts, chere.”
“Hardly worth that,” she said with a smile.
“Woohoo!!” Ali slammed into them as a particularly loud and abusive song started. Her head thrashing to the hammering beat. “Shake that ass girl!”
A firm hand on her shoulder startled Ororo. She turned quickly, catching the guy’s wrist and locking it behind his back, slamming him into the floor.
“Hey, easy!” The man grunted. “I’m just delivering an invitation.”
Ororo released him, but watched him rise warily. Ali gave her a look, and Ororo said, “I don’t like to be touched.”
“You don’t say.” Ali smirked.
The man rubbed his arm. He gestured towards the stairwell. “Mr. Shaw would like to see you.”
Ororo inclined her head. “Who is Mr. Shaw?”
“The owner of this establishment,” the blond man replied, as if she was stupid for not knowing.
“Why does he want to see me?”
“I don’t know.” He was beginning to look uncomfortable under her direct gaze. “I was sent to escort you, should you accept his invitation.”
“Pass.” Ororo said, turning back to Ali and Gambit.
“Uhh, excuse me miss.” The man tapped her shoulder lightly, standing back as she turned slightly.
Ororo gave him an impatient look over her shoulder.
“It could mean my job if you don’t go.”
“Have I done something wrong?”
“I don’t think so. He was very insistent that he meet you, though.”
Ali shook her head. “The Shaw’s are a bad scene, Storm.”
Gambit stepped forward, one arm protectively circling Ororo’s waist. “She said pass, mon ami.” His eyes flashed devil red.
“O-of course, and I wouldn’t insist if-if it wasn’t so important to Mr. Sh-Shaw that he meet with you. He insisted.” Several bouncers stepped forward and Ororo sensed they were to reinforce the invitation.
Ororo glanced up the stairs to the balcony. The reflective glass had been raised and she could see a man standing at the window. He was tall, with dark hair, she could see. Dressed in an immaculately tailored suit. He raised his glass in salute, obviously watching her watch him. “That him?” she asked, not liking the way the man was leering at her.
The messenger tilted his head. “Uh, yes.”
Ororo smiled at Gambit and Ali. “I’ll be right back. Get Kurt and Kitty ready to leave.”
“What’re you doing?” Ali asked, one pierced brow arched.
“I would hate to be rude, Alison. I shall tell Mr. Shaw to his face to piss off.” She winked. “Gambit.”
“Yeah, chere.”
“Stay quick.”
Gambit winked at her. “Same, padnat.”
Balcony
Ororo was lead into the elaborately decorated upstairs by two large men, one in front of her and one behind. Once on the second floor she noticed several people engaged in various conjugal activities and she blushed furious red, both shocked and disgusted. What in the hell kind of place was this? She wondered. More importantly, what connection did Xavier have to it?
“Right this way,” One of the large men opened a door for her. It was a secluded room with a bed in one corner and handcuffs on a table.
Ororo turned. “I don’t think so.”
The bouncer shoved her into the room, slamming the door behind her. Ororo glared at the shut door, the only light in the room cast by several black candles.
“Please do not be alarmed.”
The man she had seen through the balcony glass strode through the door, locking it behind him. “I only wish to talk.”
Ororo gave the bed a look and raised one eyebrow. “How about we go sit at a table,” she suggested.
“Does the décor of this room make you nervous?” the man asked, stalking towards her. He held two glasses of champagne in his hands. He held one out to her, she shook her head. “I must insist,” he said.
Ororo took the glass but did not drink from it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Shaw?”
“Ahh, so you know my name, but alas, I do not know yours.” His voice was melodic, seductive, and chilling.
Ororo didn’t speak, just watched him guardedly.
“Relax,” he said. “You and I are going to be good friends, I can tell.”
“Doubtful.”
“Tell me, Mystery, and that is what I shall call you until you give me your name, tell me, have you ever heard of the Hellfire Club.”
Ororo looked around the room. “Aren’t we standing in it?”
Shaw laughed. “No. This is my playhouse,” he said. “The Hellfire Club is a group of mutants who believe in living to the fullest. We take great pains to ensure our entertainment and happiness.”
“Mmhm. So a club of rich snobs bored and playing with Daddy’s money?”
At the mention of a father Shinobi’s eyes narrowed and the glass stem of his champagne flute snapped, gouging his palm. “Do not speak of things you know nothing about,” he warned. Blood ran down his arm, staining his silk jacket.
Ororo’s own eyes narrowed. “What is it you want exactly?”
“You.”
The man didn’t mince words. Ororo shook her head. “Pass.”
“Are you sure?” He moved closer. “I sense greatness in you. You would make a fabulous Black Queen. I watched you dancing earlier. I bet you fuck like a dream.”
“Wow. I am more than a little creeped out by that, so if you do not mind I would like to get back to my friends.” Ororo moved to step past him.
Shinobi reached for her hand and she jerked away. “My card.” he explained, holding up a small black rectangle with gold lettering. “I am at your service, Mystery. Call should you want to continue our conversation.”
“I doubt it.”
“One never knows.”
Ororo reluctantly reached for the card hoping once she took it he‘d move aside and let her out. Shinobi snatched her hand with amazing reflexes, pulling her against him. She glared up at his inordinately handsome face, with slightly slanted eyes and dark features. He looked down at her intently. “Are you sure you must leave?”
“Very.” Ororo yanked herself away from him. Her tone was scathing as she spoke. “Men like you make me sick. You are far too cocky. You summon me up here and assume everything's going to work out to your liking, because - for you - it always has. You and your type string people along on charm, and on the assumption that people will do anything for you no matter what, because you have money or power or looks or some other completely asinine reason. You’ve got that rich boy sense of entitlement and it drives me crazy. I can not be bought, swayed or charmed by the likes of you."
Instead of being angry Shinobi smiled. She was beautiful angry, and he told her as much. Earning him another look of contempt.
“Piss off, Shaw.” With that Ororo’s eyes went white and she sent a blast of wind at him, punching him through the locked door.
Immediately Shaw’s security guards and bouncers rushed forward. Ororo grinned, leaping over the balcony, landing with catlike agility and racing out the front door, side-stepping two bouncers as she went, and discharging a bolt of lightening at the sprinklers, setting them off.
Ali hollered from the opening in the limo ceiling as Ororo careened through the front doors. “Holy shit! What did you do?”
Ororo was laughing too hard to answer, remembering the look of disbelief on Shaw’s face as he flew through the door.
Several people followed Ororo out, racing after her. “C’mon!” Kitty yelled holding the door open.
Once she was inside the car took off. “So, what happened?” Ali asked, leaning forward.
“Not much, he offered me a position in the Hellfire Club.”
“Yeah? Doing what?” Kitty asked.
“Him.”
Ali’s eyes crossed and she burst into laughter. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“That’s special.”
Gambit gave her a look. “Why do I get da feelin’ my ‘eadaches are just beginning?”
Xavier Institute
Wolverine waited silently in the shadows, watching as Storm opened the back door of the Limo before Winston could reach it. His heightened senses instantly picking up her fresh scent over the faint smell of alcohol that clung to the exiting group, and his gut clenched. He had wanted to follow them to the club, had almost gone, but a part of him didn’t want to bear witness to her and Gumbo all chummy. He grit his teeth remembering the way she had smiled at the sight of the Cajun. A man she loved like a brother, yes, but first and foremost always a man.
He watched with wry amusement as she grabbed Winston’s weathered hands in her own, her head moving back and forth to the music blaring from the car, several long tendrils of blue tipped hair coming loose as she and Ali jumped up and down, jostling the elderly gentleman. Obviously they had had a good time.
A moment later he spotted Kurt and Kitty exiting the car, engaged in what looked like a rather private conversation. Kitty looked a tad tipsy as she leaned against the fuzzy mutant. The two of them made their way directly inside the mansion. No sign of the Cajun. No, wait, there he was. Wolverine watched as Gambit lifted a surprised Ali from the ground, pulling her into a waltz along the pavement.
The sound of warm, open laughter tickled his ears, and Wolverine realized that this was the first time he had ever heard Ororo really laugh. Not the simpering giggle of a flaky teenager, but the full bodied laugh of a woman, and it made him want to be the one to cause that sound to pour from her throat, not the Cajun or anyone else. Him. He wanted to make her happy. Wolverine frowned at that thought. He was comfortable with the knowledge that he wanted to sleep with her, after all , she was incredibly attractive, his desire for her no big stretch for him. But he didn’t need emotional ties. He couldn’t afford them. It really would be best if he stayed away from her, he told himself for the hundredth time.
Storm turned suddenly, cocking her head as if sensing him and then sure enough she spotted him. After a brief hesitation, she gave him a small wave.
Wolverine was a bit thrown by her ability to always know when he was around. He had a reputation for being able to move within the shadows, getting in and out without being seen, but never with her. She always sensed him. He was moving towards her before his brain had time to register the motion.
“Hey.” Ororo said as he approached. Her heartbeat accelerated at the sight of him. Dark eyes watching her every move, dark hair standing around his head in disarray, lips curved in a sardonic half smile, and arms crossed over his broad chest. Typical Wolverine pose, she thought with a pang. Goddess, he was attractive.
“Hi.” He replied.
“Pardon me,” Winston said, excusing himself.
“Thanks for the ride,” Ororo said as he passed.
“My pleasure, Miss Munroe.”
Once they were alone, Ororo looked around. “No Jean?”
Logan winced imperceptibly. “No,” he growled.
“Oh.” Ororo looked towards Gambit and Ali, who were still spinning each other around the driveway. Look anywhere but at him, she thought, her heart hammering.
“Looks like ya had a fun night.” He reached out picking up one of her fallen tendrils, rubbing the silky hair between his fingers. Her eyes widened slightly and she took a step back.
“It had it’s moments.” Though, probably not nearly as much fun as screwing on the locker room floor, but yeah, it was fun. Ororo grimaced as soon as the words popped into her head. That wasn’t her. She didn’t act like a shrew, what was wrong with her? She had no claim to Wolverine, and had known of his and Jean’s involvement since her arrival. So they had kissed once, big deal. That didn’t make him hers. Even as she thought it, she tried not to remember how right it had felt to be in his arms and how safe.
She had meant what she said earlier, she did not like to be touched. The only person she tolerated was Gambit and that was because there was nothing sexual in his embraces. He would tease and flirt, but it was all platonic. It was disturbing to her how much she had enjoyed Logan’s touches. Despite his ferocity Ororo felt completely safe with Logan, and that terrified her. She could not remember a time when she had ever been safe and that feeling was far, far too tempting.
“Look, Storm,” he began. “I wanted ta apologize ta ya.”
Ororo blinked in genuine surprise. “For what?”
“Fer what happened…earlier.”
She looked at her feet. “Oh. Don’t fret, Wolverine. I’ve already forgotten about it.”
His turn to blink. “Ya have?”
“It was just a kiss. No big deal. No hard feelings or anything.” She forced a smile. “You shouldn’t worry so much. I won’t tell anyone.”
Wolverine growled, realizing she was talking about their kiss on the cliff, not his rendezvous with Jean in the locker room. “Look, ‘Ro--”
“Coming, Stormy?” Gambit approached them, a dark scowl on his face as he stared at Wolverine.
Wolverine had to give the guy credit, not many people would’ve had the balls to try to stare him down. “Gumbo.” Wolverine snarled.
“Gambit.” Ororo said at the same time. “Where’s Ali?”
“Still dancin’.”
“Alone?”
“She don’ mind.” Gambit was still staring at Wolverine.
Logan curled his lip, revealing a glimpse of white fang.
Ororo looked between the two men, her brow furrowed. Neither of them looking at her. Gambit’s eyes began to glow in his irritation. A low rumble formed in Wolverine’s chest.
“What’s da matter, homme. You don’ ‘ear so good?” Gambit drawled.
“I hear just fine.” Wolverine said, eyes glittering with predatory light.
Ororo was confused. Had she missed something?
“Apparently not,” Gambit said in return. He placed his arm across Ororo’s shoulders. “Come, padnat, we have much t’ catch up on.”
“Absolutely.” Ororo kissed Remy’s whiskered cheek. She gave Wolverine one last fleeting smile. “Good night, Wolverine.”
“Storm-”
She was already moving away from him, arms locked with Gambit’s, motioning for Ali to join them. Wolverine rumbled, pulling a cigar from his pocket and gnashing the end between his teeth. He stared after them until the three of them entered the Institute, his mind screaming at the animal inside for acting so hastily earlier, for fucking Jean again when all he wanted was Ororo.
He realized now that he had wanted to prove something earlier with Jean. To prove he didn’t care about Storm, that it hadn‘t hurt him to see her with another man. She was just another chick, same as the rest. Another one nighter at best, right? He growled. Yeah, right. He knew that now he had tasted her he would crave her like nothing else. He already did. He remembered the way she had melted against him, her mouth sweet and warm. She had looked at him so openly, no calculated innocence in her gaze, just honesty. Unlike Jean. Unlike anyone.
Being with Jean was easy. He could lose her with no skin off his back. She was a decent bedmate but that’s about as far as it went. She never got under his skin, never made a dent in the barricade around his heart. But ’Ro, was different, he knew. ’Ro had the potential to reach across the barbed wire barricade he had around his heart and rip it out, leaving it wounded and open. It was a risk he couldn’t take, had never taken.
He would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge that part of him wanted to avoid being with her because of who he was, of what he was. The idea of hurting her bothered him far more than he cared to admit. No, it would be best for him to distance himself from her.
Loft
“Okay, padnat, time for some truth, non?” Gambit pulled his boots off. He was watching Ororo pull bobby pins from her hair, the thick mass tumbling down her back.
“I know you deserve some answers, Remy.” She tousled her mane with her fingers. She sat on the bed beside him, unlacing her black boots. “So, where should I begin?”
“How ‘bout wit’ why’d ya leave, Stormy? T’ought you were ‘appy wit’ Gambit.” Despite his easy drawl Ororo heard the veiled hurt in his voice.
Ororo’s eyes softened and she placed her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Remy, I was more than happy with you and Papa-Jean.”
“Den why?”
Storm sighed heavily, uncertain of how much to reveal. She decided that a watered down version of the truth would be safest. “You remember how I came to be with you, Gambit?”
He nodded. “Course, chere. Dat be da ‘appiest day of dis Cajun’s life.”
“Mine too,” she said sincerely. “And I am forever grateful to whatever fates lead Jean-Luc to Egypt and me to you. But before I lived with you, you must know that I was a slave to a monster named Amahl Farouk.” Absently she rubbed the back of her neck where she knew the faded scar of a burned off tattoo lay.
“I remember Papa havin’ t’ deal wit’ a man by dat name.”
“Well, Papa-Jean had commissioned Farouk for a job, and me being his best thief, was the one sent. I stole a Isis gem from a temple in Cairo. However, after the job was complete, Farouk decided to double cross the Guild.”
Remy laughed. “Not a smart t’ing t’ do.”
“Not at all,” Ororo smiled back. The guild was literarily thick as thieves and took betrayal very seriously. “Jean-Luc exacted the best kind of revenge. He stole Farouk’s prize possession.”
“You.” Gambit said, seeing now what he had not seen fourteen years ago. When his adoptive father had returned from Egypt with Storm he had simply told Gambit that he thought he could use a companion, and that she was to be adopted as well. It never occurred to him that his Papa may have been lying.
“Exactly. You and Papa-Jean became my family. I love you both so very much, and that was why I had to leave. I had been having some bad dreams about my time in Egypt and I knew that Farouk was close to finding me. I could not risk him finding me with you.” That was mostly true. The truth was he had found her, and she had run, not knowing what else to do. The things Farouk had put in her head, driving her nearly nuts.
“But, padnat, we could’ve protected you. Der was no need t’ run.”
Ororo shook her head. “You do not understand. Not only did I fear what Farouk would do to you. I feared what he would make me do to you.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you, Remy. I love you.”
“And me you, Stormy.”
Ororo’s lips quirked. “About my leniency with that retched nickname…”
Gambit ruffled her hair. “You always be Stormy t’ me, chere. Even if you be da leader of da X-Men. You and me, together again.”
Ororo smiled, but her mind drifted to Xavier. He had sworn not to reveal her location to anyone, yet he had called Jean-Luc. She knew why he had done it, sensing her desire to be free. Now she was strapped down with leadership responsibilities and held to the team by her desire to be with her brother. Clever man.
“How is it you became an X-Man?” Gambit asked, breaking up her thoughts.
“Xavier caught me picking his pocket.”
Gambit’s mouth fell open. “You got caught, chere. Gambit don’ believe it.”
Ororo arched her brow. “The man is a psychic, Remy.”
Gambit laughed heartily, pulling her to him in a warm embrace. “Missed you.” he said into her hair.
“Not as much as I you,” she returned.
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