Mice Will Play

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Summary: Two friends take some much needed R&R…

The best way of hiding yourself is in plain sight. Remy’s advice drifted in Ororo’s head as she smiled prettily for the paparazzi. Flash bulbs flickered over her as the media delighted in the arrival of the glamorous socialite in their midst.

He was enjoying himself too much; this much was clear by his easy smile and the handful of women listening to him raptly by the bar. He nursed a shot of whiskey and lounged in his stylish silk suit. The shirt was open at the throat and the taut cords of his neck flexed as he swallowed the liquor. Remy sucked the droplet from his lip, making his entourage wish they had beaten him to it.

His charm was working just fine. Evidently, that wasn’t one of his mutant gifts after all. Ororo sighed.

She loved watching him work.

The feeling was mutual. Remy watched her slowly work the crowd, occasionally using her tiny cell phone to encourage privacy. She surveyed the hall and reached up to smooth her hair.

Imperceptibly, she clicked on the scanner array of her dark glasses. The lenses were dark this time, a more subtle hematite gray and much less conspicuous. Ororo knew the names and titles of every person present no matter which way she turned, as the information toggled in a side frame along her line of vision.

She continued to make polite chit-chat and work the crowd. Ororo checked her watch; there were three minutes left until the press briefing and conference.

She spied the familiar, blonde, impeccably dressed Val Cooper and fought back a grimace. There was no love lost between them.

She still needed to hear what she had to say about mutants. Ororo felt Val had no idea the bearing her words had on the feelings of baseline humans afraid of those who were gifted. Scott’s original focus of founding X-Factor was to protect mutants under the guise of apprehending them; Val’s involvement with her government liaisons had turned the team into soldiers of a sort.

But now it wasn’t clear what threat teams like Val’s or Ororo’s were meant to police and bring under control: Mutants who abused their gifts, baseline humans who threatened them, or the innocents who were caught in the crossfire who took matters into their own hands to rectify the problem.

When Ororo peered back to find Remy, he’d disappeared. She frowned and clicked the Cerebra interface in the glasses to search for his signature.

Remy’s mutant abilities were gone, but his genome was still detectable, thankfully, due to some modifications Sage had made in the wake of his injuries.

She made her excuses to a senator who’d offered her a drink, pleading that she had to powder her nose. She slipped out quietly and followed Remy’s signature.

“You know better than this,” she murmured as she opened the door. He chuckled from his perch on the edge of a queen-sized bed.

“Sit close so I don’ hafta turn de volume up, cher,” he told her, patting the place beside him. She had no reservations toward the close contact as she took his suggestion. He was her best friend, and they shared a familial bond, like siblings.

Most of the time.

Beneath his usual cologne, Remy’s natural scent piqued her, ripe with pheromones that were part of his “charm,” so far as she knew. Ororo resisted the urge to lean in closer and bury her nose in his neck. He bumped her playfully as her skin grazed his. She grinned and bumped back.

They both gave the small laptop their rapt attention.

“…the nation’s security council is still deliberating on how to deal with the recent mutant threats against baseline humans. The President held a conference with Senator Robert Kelly regarding the now-defunct Project Wideawake last week, but a motion to revive it was shelved. The Supreme Court ruled that the Project violated privacy laws and mutants’ First Amendment rights.

New demographics have revealed that more mutants have risen among the country’s population, whether this is due to spikes in mutant births, or merely mutants who have chosed to identify themselves cannot be determined. How many of these mutant citizens the nation can consider a threat is still up in the air.

The assembly would like to recognize National Security Advisor for Parahuman Affairs, Dr. Valerie Cooper…”

“I’ve just lost my appetite,” Ororo muttered.

“Hush, cher,” Remy hissed.

“Like it or not, gentlemen, battle lines have already been drawn between mutants and humanity…” Val Cooper still had a way with words as she gave her presentation, herself the ideal image of humankind, conservative and classically beautiful. She was a baseline Anti-Christ.

“So dis is what they’re whisperin’ in de President’s ear, eh?” Remy mused.

“They know where we live now, thanks to Cassandra Nova, brother. They don’t even have to whisper now. We’re easier targets.”

“I hate to interrupt the party, but I need to see your invitations,” a crisp voice behind them announced. Remy sighed and turned toward its source. His smile was winning as he recognized the striking blonde. “And I thought I told you this was a restricted area. I didn’t catch your names.”

“Already made yer acquaintance, Detective-Inspector Baltimore,” he shrugged.

“Call us late for dinner,” Ororo interrupted as she rose from the bed.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Why? I have no weapons. I’m here as a houseguest.”

“I like to be cautious. Show me some ID or credentials. Now.” She reached for the sidearm tucked in her blazer. Her tight smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“If you insist.”

Ororo’s hands were spread, palms up to show that she bore her no ill will.

Suddenly, burst of blue-white static erupted from them in jagged arcs, filling the room with the smell of burning ozone.

“Holy! NNNnngghh!!” The inspector’s body spasmed as Ororo’s low-voltage charge of lightning overloaded her nervous system, rendering every muscle inert. She passed out. Remy sighed.

“A lil’ overkill, eh?”

“Jealous? She wasn’t buying your smooth act. Maybe your charm DID disappear with your charge,” she pondered, raising one snowy brow. Remy muttered under his breath, mimicking her words and making mouthing motions with his hand. Ororo couldn’t help it. She giggled. He helped her lay the inspector on the bed before they took their leave.

Overhead, a storm brewed and stirred up thick gray clouds.

*

“The forecast got it wrong. Alert all commands, this storm is murder!”

The Weather Channel:

Major storm warnings have now been issued throughout central Texas. This is a fast-moving and exceptionally dangerous system.

“So much for tonight’s barbecue.”

“Forget that, we gotta get the bosses outta here!”

“The point, gentlemen, as Dr. Cooper told us – as we ourselves have seen – is that a single mutant has the power to destabilize…”

Chaos erupted all over the state over the biggest twister ever witnessed, characterized by clusters of lightning.

The White House was in a panic.

*

“Stormy, jus’ promise me one t’ing.”

“Anything, brother,” Ororo replied. She removed her glasses and revealed her eyes, which were now glowing a blinding white and sparking with static.

“Tell me this ain’t you playin’ around.”

“Hang on tight, brother.” She told him no such thing. He drove their Jeep uneasily through the back gates of the ranch unhindered by security in the melee.

Once they were several miles out, Ororo unbuckled her seat belt and released herself to the winds.

“Stay quick, stay safe,” she called back. “Take cover.”

“Stormy!”

“I’ll come for you,” she promised before the gale drowned out her voice. From there, she was lost.

Her body slowly grew smaller the higher she flew. Remy knew it wouldn’t help him to stop the car and put the top up; he chose instead to do as she told him, gunning the engine. It was like a scene out of Twister.

His red-on-black eyes reflected the pounding rain and tearing branches, illuminated by golden streaks of lightning. He felt the static running up his arms, raising the hairs and chilling him. Excitement and fear twisted his stomach. The only thing standing between the Cajun and true terror was knowing the woman flying above had his back, and that she was an expert at this sort of thing.

Some said she was a goddess, in fact…

Up in the air, Ororo was having the time of her life.

The winds howled in her ears, challenging her. They snatched at her clothing, a frail designer summer suit that would be a lost cause once this was over. She’d already shed the ridiculous short, black wig that was part of her disguise, revealing closely trimmed platinum hair. Liquid sapphire eyes proclaimed her a daughter of the sky.

The funnel caught her, but she mastered herself, zeroing in on the eye. Once she held it in her hand, the outcome was hers.

She reveled in using her powers, of being in control. Her body’s boundaries lay forgotten in tatters when she held the storm. The pain of angling her flight in the face of such force made her begin to ache, thanks in part to her recently healed spinal injury.

It was a good pain. It let her know she was alive.

Below, Remy worried, even as he cheered for her.

“Show-off,” he muttered, miserable from the chill.

Yet he could tell she was having the time of her life.

*

Less than an hour later, the winds decreased and the thunderous roar dimmed to a low howl.

Residents in the countryside gave report to the media that as the eye of the storm passed, they could almost see a face in the clouds, lit brightly by the full moon.

Some said it was the storm kissing them goodbye.


*

“If ya wanted t’give me a heart attack, Stormy, then good job,” Remy sighed into her hair.

“Don’t call me Stormy.”

“Fine, den. Yer name’s mud for pullin’ dat kinda stunt when ya’ve barely recovered. Don’ make me tell Logan dat ya’ve been a bad, bad girl.” Ororo grimaced.

“He’s got enough to worry about.”

“He’s worried ‘bout you, chere. An’ he ain’t alone. Damn it, girl!” He gave her backside a light spank. When she chuckled into his shirt, he gave her a slightly harder one.

The current from a nearby waterfall created a soothing song in the background as they lay on the riverbanks. The air still held the lingering smell of ozone but was cool and fresh, replenishing Ororo. Remy felt her breathing, so choppy and uneven before, begin to steady itself.

She hadn’t found him; she’d followed him, nearly bringing the storm to his doorstep.

And when she’d drifted to within yards of the ground, spent from her flight, he caught her. Remy staggered from the impact, tripping and sending them both crashing to the soaked earth. His heart hammered in his ears. He wouldn’t let go of her. His embrace was crushing, but Ororo craved it, so relieved to feel his presence and to know he was alive.

They’d nearly lost each other before.

Then, like now, by the river, they took comfort in each other, reclined with Ororo plastered against his body. Her only complaint was all of the grime in her clothes and hair, making her feel sticky and slightly uncomfortable, but she was loathe to move. She was lulled nearly to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

“Ya impressed dis Southern boy again, chere.”

“I’m a horrible actress,” she replied sleepily.

“Non. The way ya wrapped up dat storm all nice an’ neat.”

“Call it a hobby.”

“How ya feel?”

“Like a punching bag,” she admitted. “Ow…”

“Serves ya right. Tell me somethin’…”

“Shoot.”

“Didja feel dat storm brewin’ before it came…or didja wake it up?” She lifted her head just enough to gaze into his face. Her expression was incredulous.

“Remy…”

“You heard me,” he admonished, wagging his finger just shy of her nose.

“What do you think?” Her voice dared him to doubt her intentions. Remy’s lips tightened.

She was done with the discussion. Ororo struggled free – albeit reluctantly, since he felt so good – and strolled to the edge of the river. Remy sighed as he watched her, admiring the long line of her back.

She began to undress. “Goddess, I’m filthy.” Deftly she unbuttoned the snug, double-breasted vest she wore and dropped it on the ground. She kicked off the murderous stilettos and made equally short work of the short skirt.

She wasn’t wearing underwear. Whether it was to complete her “costume” and to truly feel the part she attempted to play, or whether it was a sensual choice, Remy couldn’t tell.

Behind her, he simply drooled.

Her glutes rolled seductively as she walked, then climbed a large boulder. Moonlight gleamed on her brown skin, and Ororo’s cropped white hair shone like a halo.

She sprang from the rock in a perfect swan dive, heedless of the depths. It unnerved him; the river was lined with craggy rocks and was nearly opaque in the darkness. She assuaged his fears as she emerged moments later in a shower of droplets.

Being wet enhanced her beauty. Ororo sighed in contentment as the water lapped at her, enticing her to float on her back.

Unwelcome stiffness crept between Remy’s legs. Her lush, round breasts bobbed above the water’s surface.

Remy blamed his absence from Valle Soleada for his errant thoughts. He missed Anna, plain and simple. Nothing more. She was everything he’d ever wanted, the love of his life, body – finally – and soul. Several days on the road, closed up in a car and sharing close quarters with his Stormy wasn’t helping matters at all. Remy and Ororo lived by a thief’s code of honor, and as “padnats,” they watched each other’s back.

Even though Ororo led an expert team of mutant soldiers, he felt protective of her since the day they met.

When he’d met her, she was a child with woman’s eyes. Remy had sheltered her in the cover of darkness and literally kept the demons at bay that would do her harm. He credited his softer side for the way she affected him, spoiling her, giving into her smallest whims. Her mischievous nature and girlish laughter made it easy.

The girl became a woman, right before his eyes, when Ororo reverted to her adult state in Genosha. The girl whose looks promised future beauty took his breath away.

Remy found it hard to breathe now.

Ororo felt him watching her. “Did you report back to Sage?”

“Before ya caught up with me, I linked her to the feed from the summit. She’s in the know.”

“Good. I think she’ll be pleased.”

“Ororo, how’re ya holdin’ up?”

“As well as can be.” His expression was concerned and contemplative. “Don’t worry.”

“Too late for dat, chere.”

“As Anna would so eloquently put it, Remy, lighten up.”

“Non, Stormy. Ain’t gonna happen. Yer not yerself lately. Goes deeper than you gettin’ back on yer feet.” He tapped himself over his heart. “Somthin’s changed in here.”

“I supposed you’ll explain to me what?”

“Still the same on de outside. Dat’s a good thang,” he emphasized. Ororo chuckled. “It’s just…don’ know how t’describe it, petit. Wilder late, I guess. Flyin’ wild. Takin’ risks. An’ forgive me, chere…y’ain’t as level-headed.”

“Pfft,” she tsked as she treaded water. The water almost concealed his view of her body with only her shoulders drifting above it, but he could still make out the dim, rippling outline of her curves. It wasn’t helping.

He wasn’t the only one affected.

His eyes glowed like rubies lying on black velvet. Remy’s body was relaxed as he leaned back against a rock, elbows resting on his knees and dangling his hands between them. His sedate khaki slacks and beige polo shirt looked the worse for wear, less tattered than her ruined outfit, but still dirty and wrinkled. His carefully styled hair was just as rumpled, but much more sexy.

Since they’re respective brushes with death, he’d regained his strength and health, once again lightly tanned and fit from fresh air and exercise.

“I never know what you’re thinking when you look at me like that,” Ororo murmured, almost too softly for him to hear.

“Liar. Ya know good an’ damn well what’s on ma mind,” he accused. “An’ don’t change the subject. Admit it: I almost lost you up ‘dere.”

“I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Ain’ tryin’ t’shoot ya down, chere, or throw stones. But if we’re gonna do this right, and if ya wanna sell this idea you an’ Sage have been tryin’ t’sell me on, about bein’ a sanctioned team on government payroll – “

“I know you have qualms about going legitimate, brother.”

“…den ya’ve gotta be sharp an’ on top of yer game. Physically. Mentally. And in here,” he said, again tapping his chest. Her gentle smile died, and her sigh was rough.

“I’m alive. I’m here. There’s no time like now to make our move. And forgive me if I’ve forgotten a time where I’ve ever let you down?”

“Non. Ain’ nothin’ t’forgive, chere.”

“Then there’s no need to lecture me.”

“Ain’t lecturin’ ya, Stormy. Ya know by know that I’ve got yer back. Ain’t gonna open my mouth an’ tell ya all these things an’ den not tell ya that I’ll be there t’catch you when ya need it.” She made a sound of agreement and flipped back onto her back, cleaving through the current.

“Goddess, I’m tired,” she admitted.

“Don’ lie ‘dere an’ tell me yer doin’ fine, then, chere. C’mon out an’ rest.” She waded into the shallows and hauled herself halfway out. Ororo’s eyes drifted shut. The air was slightly chilly to Remy, who was accustomed to the humid climate of the Bayou. He even preferred dry Texas summers like there was that morning before the twister.

As if she read his mind, Ororo murmured “Cold, brother?” Her eyes drifted open again, and she gazed into his face as he stood and approached her. They swirled from cerulean to icy white as she gently warmed the air.

“Thanks, padnat.”

“Anything for you.”

“Ya promise?”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

He hunkered down on the rock before her and studied her. Ororo felt his light touch as he stroked back tendrils of her hair that were plastered to her forehead. Her eyes reverted to blue, and they were full of questions. She licked her lips.

They were ripe and red from her immersion in the cold river, begging to be tasted.

“Then de first thing y’can do for me, Stormy, is t’hold still.” He traced the curve of her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly. She sighed into his mouth, welcoming the feel and the taste of him.

Anna’s waiting for you at home, missing you. Needing you. She’s the love of your life, and she doesn’t deserve this. And how’re you gonna face Ororo if you push this too far?

He felt the moment that Ororo reached the same conclusion, but she trembled. He withdrew but feathered the corner of her mouth with his fingertip.

“Rogue will kill us both for this.

"You just' got a kiss 'Ro. She owns my heart.”

"For the first time, I envy her.” Her words broke the spell as unease and guilt settled over him. Remy sat up and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Ya shouldn’t. That shouldna’ happened. It ain’t fair t’Anna or t’you.”

“Remy, it might have happened sooner or later.” Ororo traced the patters of quartz in the rock beneath her idly. “I won’t deny that I haven’t thought about you this way, at one time or another, despite what you and Anna share. Despite reason.”

“Yer s’posed t’be the reasonable one.”

“Things change. But we face right now, Remy, is a choice.”

“Naw. Ain’t nothin’ t’discuss.”

“If you like.”

“What’s dis ‘choice’ ya had in mind, den?”

“One: We forget this ever happened. We go on as we have, as friends. Close friends,” she amended. “You go back to Anna with a clean slate. Two,” and her voice lowered, grew husky, “we evaluate what made you kiss me. In detail.”

She felt a heaviness in her feminine center, thanks in part to the way he looked at her, nostrils flared and eyes dilated, as well as the water lapping seductively against her naked body. Her nipples were ruched and stiff.

Remy’s pulse skipped.

“I love her. I love her so damned much, Stormy.”

“I know you do.” Her face softened as though, she, too, were weighing the consequences and wondering if the prospect of pleasure was worth the betrayal.

They couldn’t live with themselves if they fell over the edge.

They couldn’t live without knowing what could have been.

“No matter what you decide, Remy, I’ll understand.”

He shook his head, opened his mouth as if to say something, but abandoned the thought.

His hands spoke for him, reaching for her. He gripped her shoulders, hauled her from the water and crushed her mouth beneath his. Arousal, excitement and relief over his decision coursed through her body as this time, he kissed her hard enough to bruise. He ached for her.

He pulled her to her feet to stand flush against him, lips, chests, bellies, thighs meeting in passion. She was drenching his clothing, but he didn’t care. His mouth slid over hers, consuming her with sultry, hot kisses that left her breathless. His hands branded her with their heat and craved her smooth skin, caressing and kneading the slopes and curves of her body. He wanted to feast on her.

Her long, slender fingers combed through his hair, then clutched it as she pulled him more deeply into their kiss. Her voice was a choppy moan, one after another as she clawed at his shirt, yanking the hem from his waistband. His skin felt hot underneath; she caressed Remy greedily, exploring his chest and belly, savoring how taut they were. Just as impatiently, he reached up behind his shoulders and bunched up the polo shirt, gathering it and separating himself from her long enough to strip it off.

“This is crazy,” he blurted. “Aw, Stormy, yer makin’ this too damned hard!”

“Then shut up,” she suggested. “And don’t stop.”