Inspired by the Ficlet "Weathering the Storm" by PoeticWyldchild hosted at the Gambit and Storm group on Yahoo.

Hopefully this lives up to the saucy nature by adding some story to it ;)

Marvel owns them all, I borrowed them for the weekend. Meh.

Title: Amour Clandestin (clandestine love)

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary: Gambit discovers a hidden side to Storm and sets out to get her to reveal it.

Rating: M for sexual content

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The scent of cloves filled the outside air around Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. On the front porch, a shadow of a man stood leaning on a pillar, a bright orange ember glowing at the end of his cigarette as he inhaled deeply. Through long strands of brown hair, his red on black eyes gazed up at the sky, pondering what the heavens had in store for him, as he usually did on these midnight smoke breaks. As it always did, his mind wandered to his recent past- the prior 6 months.

He and Rogue had finally called it quits after 3 years of a hot and cold relationship. She had come to him and was the first to admit it was time. She had let him down gently and he was grateful for that but as she had said, "We've tried, Remy. Why do we keep foolin' ourselves?" She had parted by placing a gloved hand on his forehead and kissing it, as they had done in the past before their relationship soured, and left him a hollow shell on the back porch of the mansion.

He hadn't seen her since, her having left for Mississippi to begin her life again, trying to forge an identity away from the X-men. Only 2 months before she shot their lame horse relationship, she had learned to control her absorption abilities for limited amounts of time. Enough time for them to consummate their love and enough for them to realize what their relationship wasn't. He couldn't help but appreciate the dramatic irony that had ended their relationship. Lack of intimacy kept them together, full contact drove them apart.

Taking one last drag, he snuffed out the cigarette, and tossed it in the sand filled canister hidden behind a nearby bush. He glanced at the sky and a chilly breeze ran through him, he noticed it was bringing gray clouds with it. He wrapped his brown leather duster around him and headed inside.

Remy entered the mansion and glanced at the grandfather clock at the foot of the stairs. Its pendulum swayed in perfect time with ticks that seemed deafening in the silent night. He wondered how it had gotten to be almost 2 o'clock. Rather early for him to be heading to bed but he had a busy schedule starting with an 8 AM Danger Room session with Storm. Thinking of his best friend, a peace settled on his mind. Almost immediately after Rogue had left, he took to pestering her in her gardens with his misery until she finally said, "Remy, you are both my friends. I will not listen to you bitch about her."

He was surprised at her cursing but she had said it so matter-of-fact that he wasn't sure she had said it at all. Noting the shock on his face, she sat on the bench next to him. "Look. It is not that do not I understand you're hurt but it has been 3 weeks and you need to realize that you are only 28. You will not be alone forever." She removed her garden gloves and brushed some of his hair behind his ears and tilted his head up so he would stop looking at the ground and focus on her words. "Look, if you're still so heartbroken, we'll go out and do something to get you some fresh air away from this place, ok?"

His thoughts had carried him all the way to his bedroom door. He reached in his pocket for his keys and realized he'd left his cigarettes on the porch. "Merde!" he cursed under his breath. He began the trek to the main staircase but stopped after 2 steps as he heard a voice calling his name drift to his ears. It was soft, barely audible and it was coming from down the other end of the hallway, towards the end of the mansion. He changed direction, treading quietly, listening for it again. The only door down the hall in that direction was to Ororo's room in the attic.

His brow furrowed as he pressed his ear to her door listening, not wanting to intrude if he were hearing voices on the wind. Then Ororo's velvety contralto voice beckoned to him again in the darkness through the heavy oak door. Careful not to make noise to wake the other residents, he untwisted the knob, stepped inside, and shut it quietly behind him to see what she needed.

He could sense static building up in the air as he climbed the stairs, light as a cat, up to her loft. The scent of clove incense filled his nostrils and he panged at the thought of the cigarettes left on the porch. Moonlight illuminated the path for him and he could hear the wind blustering against the house, trying vainly to gain entrance. Halfway up the stairs he was able to see her bed through the banister and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

Framed by the gauzy drapes surrounding her bed, Ororo sat propped against several plush pillows, white tresses flowing over her mocha shoulders, legs braced with her knees up and her thighs spread open, her sheets tangled in knots at her feet. He watched her with overwhelming interest, his heart quickening, as her left hand traveled her body and right concentrated between her legs. He saw her large, round breasts rising and falling rapidly in the faint light, her hips rocking uncontrollably. Suddenly, her back arched upwards and her swanlike neck arced back on to the pillows; then in a voice of pure wanting she said it, "Oh, Remy!"

Remy's breath caught in his throat at her words. He watched her body go limp and heard her breath coming in short gasps. Realizing he was a hidden voyeur to his friend's lustful activity, he reluctantly left as quietly as he had arrived.

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The cigarettes long forgotten, Remy lay fully clothed spread eagle in the dark on his bed, a silly grin smeared on his handsome face. In all his years, he would've never guessed the goddess thought of him in that way. Always the charmer, he had had many women wrapped around his finger. He had learned to read women so well, how did Ororo slip past him? He tried to think back to the past few months, when he and Ororo had gotten closer, searching for any sign or hint of her feelings coming up with vague snippets.

There was the evening they had rented the movie "The Ring" or so Ororo had said she did. She acted surprised when what she pulled out of the DVD box was not "The Ring" but the musical "Kiss Me Kate."

"Oh, they must have mixed the DVDs up. I guess we'll have to watch this…" She said nonchalantly as she fed it to the DVD player. He knew immediately she was lying. Especially since he had shot down that selection at the rental store.

"Don' y' play dat wit me, chere. Y' never been a good liar if yo' life didn' depend on it." He laughed at her attempts to stick to her guns.

"I am… not…" her mouth contorted into a smothered smile and eventually into a full fledge grin. "Please?" She held the remote, hands on her hips, ready to hit play.

"What does Gambit get out o' dis piece o' girly crap? I deman' retribution!" he hollered from his reclined position on the overstuffed couch.

"Whatever you darn well want, ok?" She reached up and clicked the lamp off next to the TV before wandering over and finding her seat next to him, her legs curled beneath her. "Popcorn, please?" she said absentmindedly as the movie was starting.

"Get it yo'self you lyin' she-devil." He mock sulked.

She looked at him through narrowed blue eyes, one white eyebrow arched challengingly. "Suit yourself, jerk." With great exaggeration, she stretched her body across his, and as she extended an arm for the bowl, her breast brushed his arm. Startled, she lost her balance, collapsing on him, face diving into the arm rest and her shirt hitching up to her ribs. He took the opportunity to tickle her exposed stomach and she screeched in a fit of giggles.

"Stop! Ooo! Please!" she gasped for air. He relented. When she finally caught her breath, she scolded him. "You made me miss the first parts of the movie."

"Chere, y' c'n steal a paintin' from de Louvre but you c'n barely reach a bowl o' popcorn o'er Mt. Remy? Y' deserve it! Now what do I get out o' dis?" he grinned at her, enjoying her frustration.

"Interesting idea…mount Remy... I just might…" A piece of white hair fell in her face and she curled her lower lip, blowing it out of the way, maintaining his gaze she sighed, "I told you: Whatever you want. Now hurry, I want to watch this…" At that moment he moved in for the kill and kissed her hard on the lips. He had only meant it to shock her, but enjoyed it all the same, it having been so long since he'd had that kind of contact with a woman.

"Dere. Now let's watch de movie, ya teasin' prude." His red on black eyes mocked her in the light of the TV.

She sat in shock for a few noticeable seconds before regaining her composure to taunt him back, "If that is all you wanted I would've given it to you 5 minutes ago, if it meant watching my movie uninterrupted."

"Y' like dat Stormy?" he teased, enjoying her irritation.

"Shut up and watch the movie, Gambit."

He couldn't shake the image of her outstretched on the bed from his mind. It surprised him to find out that it actually aroused him to think of her from the first signs when the clouds had invaded the sky and the wind had picked up. And then by chance, he had heard her call his name. The devil grin crept back to his face and a shiver tore through him as he thought of her actually going so far as to fill her room with the scent of cloves. The habit she always scolded him about. Hell, he had been the one to take her to the aromatherapy shop 2 weeks ago for a 'refill' on sandalwood incense cones. She was a clever enigma, but he'd be damned if he weren't going to make her unravel.

"Thou art to me a delicious torment." Ralph Waldo Emerson

"What most men desire is a virgin who is a whore." –Edward Dahlberg

To Be Continued…

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Author's note: oooo! Now what do I do with this thing? Hehehe!