Midnight Syrups
wahinetoa
Dislcaimer: Storm and Gambit are owned by Marvel Comics and Chris Claremont.
Dedicated to: All unconventional shippers - loving who they love, and not giving a fig who knows it.
Awesome Aceness and Marikosan7, who continue to knock our socks off everytime they write.
Stolen pleasures.
He watched her from the temporary obscurity of the kitchen doorway, drinking in the rare and tempting sight.
Ororo in determined rascal mode, leaned precariously close to the invisible alarm that was set to protect Logans secret-notsosecret stash of Kaluha Midnight syrup in the overhead cabinets. It was just perfect for her ice-cream fetish she was currently indulging. The scandalously silky material of her nightie was pulled across her shapely toosh, as she stretched to reach upward, finally snaring the slim bottle, triumphantly.
Remy couldn't hold back a mirthful chuckle, alerting the suddenly blushing Cairo thief to her circumstances. She spun on her heel, momentarily flushing with discovery, but seeing whom had caught her, she quickly regained her dignified air by ignoring his highly bemused, highly irritating grin.
He had been evoking in her dark desires, of late, to which she found herself responding. He accused her of not 'being fun' when she beat his sorry toosh in the danger room for the last three sessions.
Since then, fire burned in her blood - not to prove him wrong, but to herself... she was far from being a matron. There was no better way to stab at old age than to provoke death, in nicking Logans stash of illegal hooch.
Allowing Remy a glimise of the new Storm - simply, a perk of dangerous craving.
"Remy," she chided softly, her back to him. "I didn't imagine you'd be up this late."
"I bet ya didn', chere," his voice slightly husky, as his gaze took in her scantily clad form. A form; he had begun to realize, evoked stronger emotions and physical reactions he could no longer keep to himself.
Ororo turned back to him, having first ladled a healthy amount of syrup into her bowl, interrupting his simmering admiration of her body, eyes bewitching.
"I hope it is not for mischievous reasons?" She paused briefly to scoop up the decadent stolen desert, contemplating it with a connoisseurs eye, "Although I admit, your skills in such matters -- are highly recommendable."
Without breaking eye contact, she slipped the creamy treat between her parted full lips and allowed the sinful delight to be claimed with an audible rumble of pleasure.
A tiny smile of genuine admiration momentarily curved Gambits lips at the audacity. Her chiding HIM, while she enjoyed the booty of her own midnight escapade! This was too much.
Her unspoken challenge caught and held him. Intrigued and bewitched, something in him tightened, deliciously at her stubborness. Her blatant defiance. Mon Dieu, had he ever known such passion as this before?
Stormy had gone on the offensive. A thrill of excitement coursed through him... no woman ever challenged him without being taken up upon it.
Remy pushed himself away from the doorjamb and advanced on her slowly, until she was backed up against the counter. The only way of escape was to move to either side, but he knew as she did, she would do neither. Defiant as always, he stood mere inches from her, the plate of ice-cream she held, pushed to the side.
Seemingly forgotten; in the face of more exquisted temptation.
His gaze flickered to her mouth, slightly parted, so full, so luscious. The brassy pout of them; tainted delicately with caramel dark syrup, drew him to caress those curves, to claim them. As his own.
How long 'ave ah waited for dis?
"Ah'm glad dat me abilities please ya, Stormy," Remys voice was raspy and velvetly deep.
She watched in tantalizing shock as he leaned dangerously close, nuzzling her cheek with his; rough with stubble, evoking a keening inside her. His warm, hard mouth brushing repeatedly against her flushed mocha dark skin.
"Shall we move on, den chere.." he continued softly, the heat of his man-biscuityness searing her; Remys mouth skimmed hers - daring. Demanding.
".. to de skill in which A'hm de best?"
The end.
??
Dislcaimer: Storm and Gambit are owned by Marvel Comics and Chris Claremont.
Dedicated to: All unconventional shippers - loving who they love, and not giving a fig who knows it.
Awesome Aceness and Marikosan7, who continue to knock our socks off everytime they write.
Stolen pleasures.
He watched her from the temporary obscurity of the kitchen doorway, drinking in the rare and tempting sight.
Ororo in determined rascal mode, leaned precariously close to the invisible alarm that was set to protect Logans secret-notsosecret stash of Kaluha Midnight syrup in the overhead cabinets. It was just perfect for her ice-cream fetish she was currently indulging. The scandalously silky material of her nightie was pulled across her shapely toosh, as she stretched to reach upward, finally snaring the slim bottle, triumphantly.
Remy couldn't hold back a mirthful chuckle, alerting the suddenly blushing Cairo thief to her circumstances. She spun on her heel, momentarily flushing with discovery, but seeing whom had caught her, she quickly regained her dignified air by ignoring his highly bemused, highly irritating grin.
He had been evoking in her dark desires, of late, to which she found herself responding. He accused her of not 'being fun' when she beat his sorry toosh in the danger room for the last three sessions.
Since then, fire burned in her blood - not to prove him wrong, but to herself... she was far from being a matron. There was no better way to stab at old age than to provoke death, in nicking Logans stash of illegal hooch.
Allowing Remy a glimise of the new Storm - simply, a perk of dangerous craving.
"Remy," she chided softly, her back to him. "I didn't imagine you'd be up this late."
"I bet ya didn', chere," his voice slightly husky, as his gaze took in her scantily clad form. A form; he had begun to realize, evoked stronger emotions and physical reactions he could no longer keep to himself.
Ororo turned back to him, having first ladled a healthy amount of syrup into her bowl, interrupting his simmering admiration of her body, eyes bewitching.
"I hope it is not for mischievous reasons?" She paused briefly to scoop up the decadent stolen desert, contemplating it with a connoisseurs eye, "Although I admit, your skills in such matters -- are highly recommendable."
Without breaking eye contact, she slipped the creamy treat between her parted full lips and allowed the sinful delight to be claimed with an audible rumble of pleasure.
A tiny smile of genuine admiration momentarily curved Gambits lips at the audacity. Her chiding HIM, while she enjoyed the booty of her own midnight escapade! This was too much.
Her unspoken challenge caught and held him. Intrigued and bewitched, something in him tightened, deliciously at her stubborness. Her blatant defiance. Mon Dieu, had he ever known such passion as this before?
Stormy had gone on the offensive. A thrill of excitement coursed through him... no woman ever challenged him without being taken up upon it.
Remy pushed himself away from the doorjamb and advanced on her slowly, until she was backed up against the counter. The only way of escape was to move to either side, but he knew as she did, she would do neither. Defiant as always, he stood mere inches from her, the plate of ice-cream she held, pushed to the side.
Seemingly forgotten; in the face of more exquisted temptation.
His gaze flickered to her mouth, slightly parted, so full, so luscious. The brassy pout of them; tainted delicately with caramel dark syrup, drew him to caress those curves, to claim them. As his own.
How long 'ave ah waited for dis?
"Ah'm glad dat me abilities please ya, Stormy," Remys voice was raspy and velvetly deep.
She watched in tantalizing shock as he leaned dangerously close, nuzzling her cheek with his; rough with stubble, evoking a keening inside her. His warm, hard mouth brushing repeatedly against her flushed mocha dark skin.
"Shall we move on, den chere.." he continued softly, the heat of his man-biscuityness searing her; Remys mouth skimmed hers - daring. Demanding.
".. to de skill in which A'hm de best?"
The end.
??