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Solo Shots	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 5554 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, nor do I own the rights to either X-Men: Legends or X-Men Legends 2: The Rise of Apocalypse. I'm affiliated with neither Marvel nor Activision. I make no money writing this entry.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6: Forecast: Hot and Wet
- Warnings: Spoilers, SoloF, M/F (implied), Angst, Other
For Ororo Munroe, the weather-goddess known as Storm, there was no denying that Forge’s presence with the X-Men throughout the latest crisis involving imminent near-Apocalypse resurrected certain feelings inside her. They had dated sporadically in the mid-90’s, but outside events constantly interfered whenever the relationship started to metamorphose into something stable. Despite their drifting apart, or perhaps because of it, the spark between them never died. It merely slumbered.
That spark had sprung to life when Forge played his desperate cat-and-mouse game with the Juggernaut, distracting the behemoth long enough for the rest of the team – including Storm herself – to arrive and halt his rampage. That spark began to glow while she watched Forge’s frantic efforts to repair his damaged mainframe with Magma’s help; such haste was necessary, because Illyana – Colossus’ sister – lay dying, and Forge’s computer was the only one capable of providing the blueprints for a life-support machine. The spark flared again into full-fledged attraction when Forge supplied the team with mission-critical intelligence: how to cripple Apocalypse’s armies by shutting down the Core nuclear reactor providing the armies’ staging points with power.
Because of her mutant gift – the power to control the weather, even subconsciously – Ororo had to keep a tight rein on her emotions, lest she unintentionally disrupt the balance of nature. Unfortunately, this control extended to her libido, which had become a point of contention because of Forge’s preference for “passionate women.” She strictly regimented her self-pleasure – once per week for five minutes or less, in the shower before bed – and could never truly “let go” the way he wanted. While only one of the reasons behind their parting, it seemed to have been the one they fought about most.
Ororo sighed to herself as she rummaged through the ruins of her garden, damaged when Apocalypse destroyed the X-Mansion, to see which of her beloved vegetables, flowers, and shrubs had survived. The aromas of the various crushed plants assaulted her nose when she summoned a strong breeze to clear some of the debris: peppers, squash, hydrangeas, azaleas, and petunias, among others. The wind she had conjured grew in strength, fueled by her building anger at the destruction. Quickly, she realized that she was losing control; she took several deep breaths to calm herself. The air returned to its original stillness.
Without the debris obscuring her view, Ororo could see what remained of her garden, which she’d begun within weeks of the lifting of Magneto’s asteroid blanket, when her last garden had wilted from lack of sunlight and cooling temperatures. Practically all her precious growing things had been irrevocably destroyed again, though she spotted some undamaged seeds scattered about, carrying with them the promise of rebirth. Feeling her anger rising again, she elected to collect what seeds she could. Restoring the X-Mansion to its previous level of comfort, she suspected, would take months.
“Nice garden,” came the warm baritone of the man she’d just been thinking about.
“Apocalypse is always quite thorough in his destructive rampages,” she replied without even looking up from her stance on all fours. She felt her heart skip a beat.
For his part, Forge hung back, not sure whether she would be amenable to him closing the distance. Besides, he mused, I like the view from right here. His gaze remained fixed on Ororo’s shapely rear, clad in her worn and filthy gardening jeans. Patches of her hot-cocoa-mix skin peeked out from various small holes in the jeans; her equally-worn shirt likewise provided him small glimpses of her upper body. “Need some help with this?” he managed to offer.
For her part, Ororo felt Forge’s gaze on her; she could tell he was eyeing her rear, because he’d told her on more than one occasion that the buttocks were his favorite part of a woman’s body, and that he found hers “particularly well-formed.” To her surprise, her body grew warmer all over and her privates moistened. Steady, Ororo, she chided herself, you’re no blushing virgin; cease acting like one! Yet she could not stem her growing arousal as easily as she had her anger, not while the eyes of the man she’d fantasized about for the last month roamed her body.
Regally she rose to her feet and poured the gathered seeds from her shovel into a small bucket nearby. At least, Ororo hoped her posture came across as regal, instead of haughty (a common misinterpretation for her demeanor) or defensive (in this case, closer to the truth than she wanted to let on). Unable to make eye contact with him for fear of what she might do, she finally answered, as neutrally as possible, “Thank you, Forge, but I believe I would like to work alone for now.”
Forge stroked his moustache absently, struggling over how to broach the subject he intended when he came to the garden. “You sure, ‘Ro? It wouldn’t take me long to whip something up for you.” His offer was met with silence. Gauging his window of opportunity as nearly closed, he decided to go all-in. “Look, ‘Ro, I was thinking, maybe the time’s right—“
Ororo shook her head. “Forge, what you are about to say… I do not think—“
“I know you’re nervous about letting yourself go, but you can’t just keep yourself bottled up!”
“That is easy for you to say, as you do not run the risk of creating imbalance with the slightest misstep,” she bit back. The sky overhead darkened.
Forge paused. At this point, he could see the signs that she wasn’t yet receptive to his advances. He even realized that he hadn’t helped his case by falling back into the pattern of argument that had doomed them the first time around. The Cheyenne switched tactics.
“Ororo, I’m sorry for pushing you too hard to be as passionate as I like. You’re right that I don’t know from experience how out-of-control you could become.” He took a deep breath. “Hear me out on this idea?” When she nodded curtly, he continued, “Maybe you could learn to let loose a little from time to time.”
She leveled her gaze at him, eyes narrowed. He held up his palms in a peaceful gesture. “Bad word choice. I’m not suggesting anything wild or weird, just… relaxing your grip instead of totally letting go. Allowing your emotions a little wiggle room more often could prevent the massive eruptions that come up when you’re under a lot of stress."
Like storming over vegetables? she thought wryly to herself. Ororo sighed. “Very well, Forge, I will consider your suggestion.” To show that she appreciated his attempts to help her, she gave him a sincere smile, unintentionally tinted with just a shade of mischief.
Forge returned the smile, unsure how to interpret her words. Figuring he’d at least made a modicum of progress, he decided to leave on that pleasant note. “I’ll get back to helping Beast and the Professor with Cerebra, then.”
Ororo returned to her cleanup efforts, setting into motion a brief rain shower for later, to encourage her scattered seeds to grow. “I am sure they miss your expertise, Forge. I will see you later… at dinner.”
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Dinner with all the X-Men resembled nothing so much as a shark feeding frenzy. Ororo managed a flirtatious conversation with Forge; she even managed to retain all her extremities. En route back to her tent – her temporary quarters ever since the beginning of near-Apocalypse in Genosha – she was especially glad of the latter of those two; after her two encounters with Forge today, she was going to need her fingers tonight.
It was not even her usual weekly masturbation night, but Ororo was much too horny to care.
Her clothes and underwear soon formed a heap by her cot, bringing that delicious feeling of freedom she always had when nude. Her cumulus-white hair hung just low enough to brush the dark-chocolate nipples crowning her ample C-cup breasts, teasing them deliciously, drawing her hands to them. Ororo smiled contentedly as the small peaks stiffened swiftly at her touch.
As she lay down, still kneading her breasts, her eyes landed on the bucket of cucumbers she had managed to salvage from her garden, one of the few sections that had escaped unscathed. She had rinsed them off earlier, intending to use them for the communal salad bowl, but had forgotten; now, in her lustful state, she decided on a whim to put one to a wholly different use. Her entire body shivered at the thought.
Moments later, she had fetched a Magnum-size condom from the hidden compartment in her trunk and rolled the latex sheath over her long, thick green ‘friend,’ having intentionally selected one of the smaller ones for this purpose. Ororo spread her labia open and rubbed the tip of the vegetable up and down the moistened slit. Before plunging it in, though, she paused to consider her behavior.
Why am I acting so wanton? Has it been so long since my last… intercourse… that Forge’s mere presence drives me into such a frenzy? Upon further recollection, though, Ororo realized that it had been quite an interval since her last partner, not to mention the recent crises wreaking havoc with her weekly masturbation schedule.
Forge was right, it seems, Ororo resigned. I need a release, else I risk greater loss of control later, perhaps inappropriately. She moaned softly as she worked the tip of her toy into her inch by inch; due to the cucumber’s thickness, she felt herself stretching to permit the penetration, her legs splaying to afford more room. Her head lolled back onto her pillow; her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Only six inches would fit inside her comfortably, but that was more than enough to leave her gasping for air and to bring her to the brink.
The exotic beauty made a resolution: I will limit myself to three climaxes tonight. Afterward, I will determine what damage I caused with the elements while I indulge. With luck, it will not be irreparable.
Without further deliberation, Ororo began thrusting her home-grown dildo at a slow, steady pace. Her brilliant blue eyes fluttered closed as the pleasure inundated her perceptions. Each thrust flowed into the next, like the ebb and flow of the tide; she felt her pleasure building like a river rushing along its course after a torrential rain, after a monsoon. Ororo saw herself amid the swelling creek, awaiting the cascade.
The deluge of ecstasy did not keep her waiting long. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out when her orgasm crashed headlong into her consciousness, her whole body convulsing at once. Through it all, she managed to count aloud, “One!” to remind herself not to immerse herself in the moment fully. The ripples of the orgasm faded, leaving her momentarily enervated, as if she were floating out to sea…
However, she was not yet satisfied. After a few minutes’ respite, Ororo resumed her activity with the cucumber, mimicking with it what she wanted Forge to do to her. Despite her best efforts, his name escaped her lips.
Her second orgasm, which she duly counted, arrived as swiftly as the first. Again her body convulsed; again she willed herself to remain afloat against the current. Ororo basked longer in the glow of the second, enjoying the minor aftershocks of pleasure.
For the third orgasm, the weather-witch rolled onto her stomach and raised her hips into the air, in a pose reminiscent of the one Forge had ogled her in earlier. Supported by one hand and her still-spread legs, Ororo continued her earlier ministrations; her mind placed her in her garden, as if she were cleaning up, and substituted an imaginary Forge for her condom-clad cucumber. She unabashedly moaned his name over and over, until she had to bury her face in her pillow to stifle what would have been a noisy orgasm.
By the time she had finished cleaning everything up – including tossing the vegetable-dildo into the compost heap – a sated Ororo Munroe monitored area weather patterns and found her effects had been minimal; what would have been a pleasant evening for a walk she had altered into a randomly-blustery night not uncommon in upstate New York.
The weather goddess resolved to share the results of her ‘experiment’ with Forge, first thing in the morning. I doubt he will believe me. I suppose I must arrange, she thought with a sleepy smirk, a demonstration.
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A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. Real life intervenes once again, not to mention the fact that I never planned to feature Storm in a fanfic (I did so in this one mostly for completeness' sake). I just don't think of her as 'sexy,' so this chapter was exceedingly difficult for me to write. I hope everyone was able to enjoy it; if not, my feelings won't be hurt.
- 5
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- 7
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Solo Shots