Cold Brew, a Hot Day and Fine Cigars - Part 1

Up on a windswept hilltop, Gateway's pipes could be heard keening above the cackles of a flock of kingfishers.

Rogue lay on her stomach, watching the diminutive aborigine finger the pipes, entranced by the sounds and enjoying the first peace she had felt in weeks. All of the chaos of their delivery to the Outback through Roma's portal was finally beginning to dissipate. The sun beat down on Rogue, launching shimmering beams into Rogue's rebellious white streak of hair that curled from the crown of her head in unruly tendrils.

Gateway suddenly ceased his song and glanced quizzically at Rogue, drawing her out of her reverie.

"What's up, Gateway? It was just soundin' good, why'd you stop?"

Gateway grunted in his throat, which could have meant anything, as far as Rogue was concerned. Cryptic expressions, faint humming, and eloquent hand gestures were the only forms of communication Gateway utilized thus far when Rogue came into his presence. Rogue had formed an unlikely kinship with the portal keeper; when the X-men were needed on short notice, Gateway had merely to swing his bolos in a wide, flashing arc, and his portal would gape wide, blinding currents of energy shooting from it, practically pulling the travelers into its maw. Rogue had made a gift of the pipes to their enigmatic ally.

Rogue followed Gateway's gaze across the plain to the main house on the Reavers' former property. The screen door creaked open to admit Storm out onto the cedar porch. The weather goddess stretched langorously, pointing one long, slender, muscular leg in front of her, extending her arms above and slightly behind her head. Rogue watched her chest rise and fall, her firm breasts drawing her button-down shirt slightly open from where she had the ends of it tied underneath.

"Top o' the afternoon to ya, 'roro."

"Good afternoon, child. How long have you been out here?"

"Long enough to sauté myself in my own sweat! Gateway and I," Rogue nodded to her companion, "were just tryin' to escape the heat risin' up from the ground, since there's a breeze."

"Where is everybody?" Storm pulled the cap off a bottle of Evian water, took a swig, made a face, and set the bottle back down. Briefly, her eyes glowed white, and a tiny spate of snow flurries danced out from her fingertips, settling into a small, twinkling mound on the porch rail. The corners of Storm's full mouth quirked upward as she triumphantly shoved the bottle into the tiny snowdrift and pulled up a handcarved Adirondack chair.

"Madelyne is working on the computer, trying to learn more about its schematic, and the Reaver's plans that they might have had underway before we opened up shop. Peter's over there ripping out tree trunks and cuttin' us some firewood; y'might wanna avoid looking at him in direct sun, though. When he turns steely, he can just about fry yer eyeballs lookin' at him."

Storm's eyes reverted to their usual cerulean blue as she blew Rogue and Gateway a kiss, and then pulled her novel from a basket by the front door.

"That's as good of an opportunity as any for me to get caught up on my reading, if no one needs me for anything."

"Oh, 'roro, I almost forgot, Havok went into town for supplies, and Wolverine is out in the garage."

Storm glanced up from her book. "What is Logan working on?"

"Replacing some parts on the Blackbird. He also said he might change the oil in the motorcycle. Y' just know that boy's been itching to go drinkin' and whorin' once he's got a means of getting' into town." Rogue shook her head with a rueful, and wishful, smile.

Storm's smile widened in response.

The afternoon stretched on; the sun never ceased its fury, even as the peak hours depleted themselves. Storm eventually dozed, her chest rising and falling, novel forgotten in her warm lap. And all the while, she dreamed of Forge. Particularly of what they could never have...

Storm watched as Forge made more adjustments to the small weapon in his grasp. Forge sat on a boulder, resting after a long day of tinkering with the means of their escape from the seemingly perfect earth they were imprisoned in by the Trickster. The sun glinted off of Forge's prosthetic leg, stripped of many of its bionic components in order to recharge Storm's stolen mutant powers. Powers that he inadvertently was responsible for her losing at the hands of Henry Peter Gyrich, when a stray blast from his disruptor gun meant for Rogue hit Storm instead.

"Will it work?"

"It could work; I had to harvest what I could for parts. But you have to want it to work, Ororo."

Storm stared pensively at this unpredictable man that she loved. Her eyes roamed hungrily over his bronze skin, tracing minute scars that he received while fighting in Vietnam. Storm was keenly aware of his pulse throbbing in his throat, of his scent, drinking in small details such as his long dexterous fingers, so proficient at handling small parts, and more...sensitive ones. Forge's warm chestnut brown eyes assessed Ororo, silently shaking his head in frustration.

"I know you're afraid. There's nothing I want more than to believe this world is where we're meant to stay. The world we left has you and I on opposite sides of the government's goals to control, and even decimate mutantkind."

"You have no idea of why I'm afraid!"

Forge looked back up from his weapon, muttering a curse as Storm's retreating back - and curvaceous hindquarters - grew father away as she stalked off. "ORORO!"

"Leave me be, Maker!" she flung back, her deep, sultry voice trembling with the tears that she dashed from her eyes.

"I CAN'T!" Storm was propelled backwards as vicelike fingers gripped her upper arm and spun her around. Forge's eyes blazed with anger, and with something that caused a flurry of activity to curl in her stomach.

"Storm, I can NEVER leave you alone. It was never just about the guilt I felt when you lost your gifts. It isn't just some lame-assed need to make good on my promise to give them back. This isn't just about saving the world anymore," and Forge shook her a little with each emphatic statement. "How can I make you believe that I'm serious about this, that I can get us out of here and make you whole again?"

Storm felt his breath flaring out of his nostrils, only then realizing that she was mere centimeters away from his face. Then she took inventory of the rest of her body, and realized that the gap had been closed there, too. Storm's hands were pressed up against Forge's chest, bare ever since they landed on this earth. Her fingers roamed across his hot, hard pectorals, treasuring every inch of sinew, and stroking their way down to his abdomen. Before he could object, Storm leaned in closer, and slowly scratched the tops of her fingernails back up from whence they came.

"You want to make me whole, Maker?" This was said from ruby pink lips that were growing slightly slack as Storm teased Forge's lips with her breath, her blue eyes hooded and flooded with boiling lust. "I want you to make me come."

"Ororo,,,"

"Unless you're the one who's afraid, Maker. You can make weapons, but can you make love to me, make me wet, make me hot, make me beg for your hard cock?" This was murmured into Forge's left ear, as Storm tugged mercilessly at his sensitive, overheated lobe with her perfect teeth. Storm plunged her tongue into Forge's ear canal, moved her roaming hands down to Forge's ass and gyrated her pelvis against Forge's throbbing cock. On and on it throbbed, squirming from beneath Forge's short buckskin leggings.

It was on, now.

"Fuck," Forge groaned. Feeling the heat swirl up the length of his cock, excitement bubbling in his stomach and loins, Forge's hands on Storm's shoulders tightened as he jerked his face toward her, freeing his captive earlobe from her unrelenting teeth, and allowing his bottom lip to have a turn. Storm sucked his lip, her hot breath teasing him, her hands kneading his ass, enjoying the round muscles and heat she found there. Storm continued her mouth's play, journeying down his throat, tickling his Adam's apple with the tip of her tongue, chuckling briefly at Forge's repeated "Fuck," this time gasped through slack lips. Storm rubbed her large, firm breasts against his chest, the rough, homespun tunic she wore creating delicious friction against her nipples. Forge ran his palms roughly down Storm's back, grabbing her ass with vigor, and reaching back up to jerk her sash from her waist. The cord hit the ground with a soft thump, and Storm felt hungry palms snake up her ribcage under her tunic, cherishing her dusky, smooth skin. Sneaky fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, flicking away the sweat he found there.

All the while, Storm was still playing havok with Forge's mouth, neck, and ears, and her hands dove beneath Forge's waistband. Storm homed in on the throbbing, wriggling cock like a sailboat to a beacon, grasping and stroking its length and generous thickness. Let's see, she thought, how well he uses this tool to fix ME.

Now moving onto Storm's nipples, Forge circled them with his index fingertip, gently scraping the edge of her aureole with his nail, kneading them between his fingers, and eventually cupping them in his hot palms. He couldn't get enough of her gorgeous tits. Storm was shocked out of her physical high by a loud ripping sound. "My tunic!" The front of her tunic lay torn apart, loose shreds of thread dangling against her stomach.

"Ororo, if I can build a weapon to give you your powers back, " Forge mumbled around a mouthful of Storm's breast, "what makes you think I can't make you a new shirt?"

"Ahh...you have a point. Oh, ohhhhh..." Storm felt a quickening as a trickle of creamy fluid dripped between her legs.

"No, YOU have a point. Two of them, in fact," and Storm conceded him the argument as Forge tugged and bit at her nipples, with their rosy, quarter-sized aureoles, gleaming brown mounds of skin, and deep, heaving cleavage. Storm growled her desire, and Forge suckled her more vigorously. Storm's grip on his penis changed to a caress as she milked him within the cylinder of her palm. "Mmmmmmm...Forge, oooooh-hoh," Storm choked out a strangled breath into Forge's ear, "please, please."

"Excuse me, please WHAT?"

"Storm stared at him, incredulous, and so restless for him to take her.

"Please," as Storm nuzzled his chin with the tip of her nose and as she inched his buckskins lower on his thighs. Forge felt the breeze hit his ass, barely quenching the heat of Storm's massage. Forge tweaked her nipple, asking "Please what?" The taunt was accompanied by Forge shimmying his pelvis, and now tumescent cock, away from the warmth of Ororo's abdomen. There were advantages to loving a woman that stood six feet tall.

"Make me wet."

"And?"

"Make me hot, hotter, Forge. You can make me so hot, so wet." Storm's blue eyes fluttered with yearning for his hard cock. She stretched out her fingertip toward the blood-swollen head, flicking at a bead of moisture in the opening. Forge grabbed her hand and drew her index and middle fingers into his mouth, tickling her knuckles with his mustache.

"And?" Forge stepped away from Storm and dropped his buckskins to the ground. He held out his hands helplessly, his expression saying "I can wait all day."

"Make me whole. Make me come"

"Give me one good reason."

Storm changed tactics, then reached up and pulled her ruined tunic from her arms and discarded it. Her buckskin pants were slowly loosened as Storm dipped her randy hands into her own waistband, stroking her sex. The scent of Storm's natural musk reached Forge's nostrils as Storm stroked and teased, lubricating the petals of her flower, readying it for his assault.

"Because I would hate to finish the job myself, without you. I want you. I want your cock. Wherever I can have it. I don't just want you to make me whole. I want you to fill my holes. I want to come beneath you, and make you come. Hard."

Pretty good reason. Good enough for Forge to rush forward, grasp the waist of Storm's pants and drag them with one thrust to the ground, gripping her ass savagely. Once again he claimed her mouth, no longer teasing, but plumming her mouth's depths, rubbing his chest against her nipples, and teasing her clitoris with the head of his cock. Over and over, he rubbed the head against it, occasionally substituting his finger and partly inserting it into her depths, never giving her full penetration. He wanted to hear her beg.

"Fooorrrge..."

"Do you want this?"

"Forge, Forge..."

"You want this, Ororo? Let me hear that you want it!"

"OH, FORGE...Forge! Please, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! There's no one here, we can wake the countryside and the skies with the sound of you and me, coming hard and hot! I can love you and fuck you, fuck you, you'll never forget this, no matter what happens to us on this earth, Forge!"

That was all he needed to hear. Savagely, he pulled Ororo onto the ground, atop the pile of discarded clothes. Gripping her legs, he spread-eagled them and with a single thrust, plunged his pulsing cock into Storm's quivering pussy. He pistoned like a well-oiled engine, riding Storm, relishing the sucking maw of her cooze and the noises that spurted forth. Storm's calves were hooked over Forge's shoulders, her fingernails raking his thighs, clutching at his pelvis to make him thrust harder, deeper. Forge's balls slapped Storm's perineum as he lifted Storm's ass higher to penetrate more deeply. God, that hot, tight pussy! Those gorgeous, yummy tits, just bouncing and flopping in front of him.

Storm felt the head of Forge's cock kissing her cervix, felt his pubic hair creating friction against her clitoris.

"Ohhhh, fffffuuuuu-uuucccck, ah-ohhhhhh, f-uuuuck, oh, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuck-"

"You're wish is my command, Wind-Rider." Forge's eyes twinkled as he rubbed his thumb against her swollen clit, slapping her ass to make her jump, creating irregular but sexy counter-thrusts. Forge stroked the wetness he found there across Storm's nipples, then released Storm's legs from around his shoulders so he could lean forward to have better access to her breasts.

Storm clamped her arms around his neck as Forge took revenge on Storm's earlier plundering of his ears. "God, I want to come inside of you, in your sweet snatch, in your hot, wet pussy. I can't think of you ever sharing it when we get back to our own world. This is my pussy, my hot sweet snatch," and he pummeled it with renewed enthusiasm. "MMMmmmmmmmm," he growled, biting her neck, stunning Storm with his intensity, and yet warming her heart with his dedication to her pleasure.

The contractions ricocheted through her womb, bombarded her cervix, and sent cream splashing copiously from Storm's snatch. Storm bucked beneath Forge, riding out a shattering orgasm while Forge crooned encouragement against the tender spot on her neck. "Yessss, Lord, YES! Oh, God, Ororo, YES, Ororo," and he jerked, his cock spasming, his hips writhing and playing their frantic song as he came, and came, and CAME. More cream shot out of Storm's depths, this time scented with Forge's manly stew, oozing sticky and viscously down Storm's inner thighs. Forge shuddered and collapsed against Storm's chest, heaving exhausted gasps, and taking refuge in her warm cleavage. He planted reverent kisses there, allowing his spent cock to rest between her legs.

"God...how did I ever manage without this? How did I ever let you get away from me?" Forge mused as he propped himself on his elbow and stroked Storm's white locks from her eyes. "It's all so obvious. You couldn't be this beautiful, intense, and have such power within you...without also being the most amazing fuck." His fingers clutched the stray curls, and his fingertip slid along her jaw.

"Maker...you MADE this happen. You were as good as, even better than your word." Storm's eyes swam with love and the lingering afterglow as she cupped Forge's cheek in her silky palm.

Storm's novel fell from her lap with a thud onto the cedar porch. Flies buzzing in the background stirred her from her stupor. Across the sky, the fading sun shot the billowing clouds through with streaks of magenta, cerise, and orange.

The screen door clicked and squealed open. "Ororo, you ready for dinner? Petey's makin' a quiche, and everybody just got back from town." Rogue reached out and brushed a strand of Storm's white hair from the corner of her mouth and laid her hand on her shoulder with concern. "You were knocked out, girl."

Storm eyed her now-lukewarm water bottle on the porch rail. The past three hours of reliving what she had, and lost, with Forge faded into the mist, leaving her with an emptiness that clutched at her insides. Storm picked up the novel and chucked it into the basket.

"Certainly, Rogue. I'm actually quite famished," and that was as much of the truth as Storm would allow herself to share.

The End