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“Maybe we should do a lemon.”

“A lemon?” Seated on her bed, still garbed in her baby pink night-suit, Kitty Pryde, Shadowcat of the X-Men, sounded her surprise and confusion at the words that had just reached her ears. A lemon!

“Yup.” The spiky haired head of one of her roommates, namely a certain fireworks shooting mutant one whose appreciation for the color yellow bordered on the obscene, Jubilation ‘Jubilee’ Lee, nodded at her...rather vigorously, her gestures making Kitty wondered how her head didn’t get knocked right off.

“You want to…do a lemon?”
“Uh-huh.”

“For what?” Still not quite getting it, Kitty tried again; after all, it wouldn’t be the first time that Jubes in her enthusiasm said or did something…different. Maybe she had meant to say that she ‘needed’ a lemon. Maybe she wanted to make lemonade. ‘Or maybe lemon pie, or even lemon chicken.’ Yum. Lemon Chicke…

“No you dumb-cat, not lemonade.” Jubilee frowned at her L'il Kitty's naïve ignorance. “By lemon I mean is a story with graphic…hardcore depictions of hardcore sexual acts. Hardcore.” She let in a third for good measure.

‘Graphic?’ Kitty gulped, her eyes widening at the possibilities. ‘Hardcore on top of hardcore? Twice over?’ They widened even more. ‘Hardcore.’

Sensing that she had gone one hardcore too many, Jubilee waved her hand dismissively. “Okay okay, lose one of the hardons.”

Ack!

Kitty scowled both at Jubilee for her double entendre and at herself for how even after more than three and a half years with the firecracker, she still managed to waltz into her verbal traps.

“My dear Katherine,” Jubilee went into ‘super-polished mode’ with her best Xavier impersonation and even fixing the collar of her own nightshirt…her yellow nightshirt with matching yellow jammies, for added effect. “Please, do at least make an effort to stay with the program. The aforementioned lemon is not for use for your culinary fantasies but to inject a certain grim and gritty noir into our first literary endeavor, not to mention oozing with sensually titillating sweat…among other things.”

“Wha-?” Kitty grappled at trying to make some sense of Jubilee’s seemingly random use of heavy words. ‘Oh, no she isn’t!’ “Look Jubes-”

“What?”

“As it is-what I...we…aren’t we already doing the sensually titillating,” she raised her hands to make the double-quotes sign, “with the sex scenes you are already writing?” She blushed red at the memory of the last one. ‘Oh ma, where did this girl get all this…this imagination from?’

“Bah, that’s nothing.” Kitty’s eyes shot up. ‘Nothing?!’ “What I have in mind, in front of that this will look like a simple make out session, not even base two.”

Now Kitty really did not want to know about it. Well, except for a small part of her - the one that inspite of all her ‘good girl’ efforts used to rear its heard every so often, the part that was a nearing adulthood teenage girl’s raging hormones.

“Wh-What do you mean?” She inquired almost fearfully.

“Well, let see,” and Jubilee was off, drawing on all of her vast mental archives of erotic novels, online fan-fiction and especially the oh-so-secret porn flicks that she used to see with some of the other girls. ‘Poor scaredy-cat,’ she grinned at the memory of the first and only adult feature that Kitty had seen with them…well, tried too. She didn’t even make it through the half of the very first scene itself, growing so flustered that she phased right through the floor. ‘And it had only been a double-Xer.’ “We’ll start in Africa or wherever the Professor sent Ororo and our sometime-no time-part time resident Wolverine, Mr. Sex-in-Nut-Squeezing-Denim himself.”

“Yeah, but we are already there. Aren’t we?” Kitty murmured, mentally scrolling back to where they had stopped at the previous sitting.

“Girl…” Jubilee snapped. “Don’t interrupt me with such minor details. Its people like you that are deterrents to Pulitzer winning minds such as mine.”

“Pulitzer, eh?” Kitty stuck out her tongue. “Sure. For what? Writing porn stories?”

“Not porn stories. Not at all, but for literary erotic masterpieces guaranteed to knock your socks off.” Jubilee grabbed one of the many (yellow fabric covered) pillows from her bed and threw it the naysayer. It was right on target…though, thanks to Kitty’s powers, it harmlessly passed through her.

“Dream on Loser!!” Kitty retaliated with a fluffy projectile of her own.

“Okay, okay,” Jubilee punched the heart-shaped pillow away. “Stop interrupting my artistic excellence.”

A deep calming breath and she started again,

“So, where was I? Oh yes, they are in Africa, in the middle of nowhere…”

---

Elsewhere,

In Africa, in the middle of nowhere…

With her winds keeping her afloat and dressed in nothing else than what she had been born with, Ororo Monroe, the weather manipulating mutant Storm regarded the man lounging just a few feet below her. Goddess above.

“What are you doing?” She broke the silence with her best Ms. Monroe voice.

Chirrrrrup-chirrrrup Chirrrrrup-chirrrrup

Even with the desert setting, one could almost hear the crickets in the silence that followed her question. Not only was there no answer, the person…the man in question did not even bat an eye, let alone turn his amused yet eerily primal gaze elsewhere.

“You mind looking elsewhere.”

For a second it looked as if once again silence was all she would get. “Why?” He tilted his head to look directly up into her eyes. “Its not like I haven’t seen any of it before.” He arched an eyebrow at her, pointing back to their argument…discussion from a few days ago. Even though Ororo had been rather surprised to see him there and suspected that he had been there for quite some time, she did not confront him about it. However, with this comment he had just confirmed her doubts.


Even though she did not feel ashamed of her body, she did value her privacy; both when indoors at the mansion…and outdoors, as here with just the two of them being the only humans (or mutants) for as far as the eye could see…even Logan’s eyes.

Moreover, it wasn’t like she was the only one with any clothing on.

Calling on an impromptu rain-shower, she had taken off on her winds, revealing in the freedom they provided while getting a much-needed cleansing shower. Returning more an hour later, she faltered midair, nearly loose control at the sight that welcomed her. A very wet Logan…a very wet and very naked Logan was calmly lounging in the rapidly thinning rainfall, looking more at home…more relaxed here in the wilderness, even it were African and not Canadian, than he had ever looked at the mansion or anywhere else for that matter.

Still, that he was without a stitch on didn’t go unnoticed by Ororo, not that it could…unless she closed her eyes, even more so after she touched down on the wet desert sand. Granted that from her current position, she couldn’t see all his details, but still she was sure that even with his hand carelessly draped across one thigh, it wasn’t the tip of his finger that was peeking out at her...winking at her. ‘BLEH!’

On top of all that, given his placement, she would either have to walk past him to get to their truck and her clothing, or take off once again and go above him…way above him, and that would give him another point to hold above her. There was no way she was going to...

Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Logan chose that very moment to pipe up. “Scared?” he deadpanned. “Want me to cover up?”

‘Ooh, the nerve of him.’


Thankfully, for both of them, it was too early for either of them to slip into their sullen and crabby moods, both by themselves and even more towards the other. That part came much later. It had almost become a routine for them. In the mornings, they would start cordially enough, almost as if they were not in the middle of the Sahara but back at Westchester. However, as the day progressed and so did their silent treatment of each other and their own introspections, things would get much less companionable.

“Scared?” She tossed the word back at him. “Of you?”

The look that she got in return said it all clearly. ‘Yeah babe.’

“Delusions of grandeur.” She shook her head and started towards the truck, making a conscientious effort to not do to him what she knew he was doing to her…checking her out, right from the way her long wet hair stuck along the curves of her breasts to the gentle sway of her hips.

Sure that she had made it cleanly through, Ororo was just a hand’s reach away from the truck door when the infernal voice sounded from behind her.

“Finally took care of yer legs, huh.”

“What?!” What was wrong with her legs? Even though she did not turn to look back at him, especially at hearing him get up and move, Ororo instinctively looked down.

“It had more hair than even I do.”

‘Goddess.’ Ororo cursed internally. ‘Help me. Grant me the strength to not electrocute this man and his metal-filled behind.’ She knew that he was deliberately egging her on. It was a daily routine of his…and in times of retaliation, even hers. ‘Yes, only in those times.’ After all, she detested violence of any kind…even again those who were practically clawing for it.

--

Even though she hadn’t said it aloud to him, or even to herself, lately Ororo had started to feel thankful for the Professor’s suggestion for her to take a break and also for sending someone with her, even if that someone just happened to be the last person she would have thought of in the ‘keeping company’ way.

This was even more so in times when her self-loathing become so profound that it bordered on physically painful. At those times of desolation, she only needed to turn her head and there it was, there he was…a tangible proof of that she was not alone in this big wide world, that even if semi-forced and equally unwanted, there was someone there with her.


“If it hurts your eyes so much then why don’t you stop staring like a hormonally charged teen,” she finally tossed back while pulling on her shorts, rather surprised at his comment. ‘He noticed it.’

It was true that it had been a good fifteen days since her last ‘cleaning’ but that was before her morning shower. Thanks to her powers, Ororo did not have to go the conventional route for removing unwanted body hair or even as frequently. Most of the times it wasn’t even something that she had to do by reminder. Just a blast or two of soft lightning and voila…smooth as silk skin, and all without the insane torture that was waxing. She had tried it once, during her earliest days at the mansion, intrigued by seeing Jean do it. Just one strip and the ensuing weather imbalance had caused more than hundred thousand dollars in damages and that too just within the Westchester County.


‘Jean vowed to never try that…’ Ororo trailed off, her head and mood falling at the memory of her best friend, something that the now dressing himself, Logan easily detected.

Within a blink of an eye, her scent went from refreshingly light to sad, almost as if she was longing for something…someone.

What was he supposed to do now?

“At least she ain’t crying like yesterday.” He huffed under his breath knowing that she wouldn’t hear him, not that she was paying any attention at all. What was Xavier thinking sending him along? He should have sent someone…someone…

‘Who fuckin’ someone?’ It had become an exercise in futility for him. He would start by cursing the Professor for putting him in this position, going onto all the other freaks…losers. Scooter, Smelly-Elf, Tin-boy, Icepo, all of them got hexed on a daily basis, some of them more than once.

Even the girls, Jubilee, Kitty, Siryn, Dani etc were not spared…after all, if not one, Xavier could have sent two or even more of them. ‘Anyone but me.’

All of them got it, all except Rogue. There was no way that Logan would even think of hurting that girl. ‘She’s got too much of a raw deal, don’t need any more crap…least of all from me. Not anymore than she already has.’


‘But what about ‘Ro?’ After their last blowout before leaving that crap-heap town, the only time the two of them even talked was either this time of the day, or during dinner. Even that ‘talking’ was pretty much limited to, “You want more?” “Hn.” Or, at best, “No thanks.” That’s it. All the other times, they ate inside the truck itself, using the leftovers from the previous night for breakfast and lunch for the next day.

‘Maybe I should try to talk to her?’ Logan scratched his five-day-old beard.

‘Yeah, me talk to someone, especially Ororo. Why not just get Buckethead to turn good…that would be easier.’

Note: Whew, finally…one is over. Haven’t updated for quite some time and have not one but seven updates stuck mid-way. Am working on finishing them all and posting ‘em soon (including the one from the ‘deal’ I made with CeeCee…once upon a time.)

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