Sinister Doings

Rogue felt the muggy air, barely cooled by the stirring breeze, press against her exposed body like a sweaty hand. She felt instinctive panic at the reminder that so much of her was uncovered, before remembering that she was in the Savage Land—every time she went to the Savage Land, it seemed she got peeled like a ripe orange. At present, her favorite leather jacket had been worn down until it was basically lingerie on the outside--appropriate enough, seeing as she was a superhero--while her bodysuit was just scraps of green and yellow tied around her waist to form a loincloth. 

She had to rely on what was left of her jacket, done up along a solitary inch of the remaining zipper, to hide her cleavage. She still had her gloves, thankfully, but with everything else in tatters, she imagined they came off as more fetishistic than ever--that ol’ Cajun Gambit would probably love ‘le finishing touch’ they provided.

Storm, she was guessing, would’ve offered Rogue her cape, seeing as how she already had that stunning silvery catsuit of hers covering her bod, but no sooner had Storm found her then there was Mr. Sinister. Just the power-mad mutant overlord they were looking for, but with timing as cruddy as ever. 

Rogue gritted her teeth. She’d just had time to put together this modestly immodest ensemble while Storm was looking for her, the Blackbird having been shot right out of the sky, then boom, he was on the attack again. It was like some people got off on her being dressed like Jane of the Jungle, which was enough to almost make her go into battle in the nude, if she weren’t such a lady.

Just because you don’t have no fashion sense, she thought as she shot toward Sinister like a cannonball, don’t mean you have to take it on people who don’t use flour as an exfoliant! 

He held up his hand to her, an energy blast coming her way, but Storm countered it with a lightning bolt, the pillar of light locking with Sinister’s. Rogue juked under the sparking collision of beams and put on an extra burst of speed to ram Sinister, who’d already thrown up a forcefield to lock her away from him. That didn’t slow her down; she just started ramming her fists into it, one world-shaking blow after another, while Storm kept up the lightning.

“The sky’s light will drive your darkness down into the deepest recesses of the earth!” Storm intoned, and since Rogue had nothing to add to that, she just tried to hit Sinister’s shielding even harder. Judging from the way he stumbled back a step, she succeeded.

“Again you insist on violating my sovereignty, interfering with my work,” Sinister said, his prissy British accent so at odds with the massive power he commanded. “You have no conception of the evolutionary insights I could glean if I were just left to experiment in peace!”

“We’ve got a pretty good idea of what kinda experimenting you do!” Rogue replied, barreling into the forcefield with her shoulder to give her knuckles a rest. “Even the scaliest critter they’ve got ‘round here doesn’t deserve that!”

The ruby-red gem on his forehead glowed as Sinister poured more energy into the blast he had dueling with Storm’s. It overwhelmed her, breaking the stalemate in a flash of light that sent Storm flying backward. Rogue roared with anger to see Storm hurt, throwing herself off the ground and into flight with a sonic boom that carried her right through the forcefield. She rammed into the mad scientist like a linebacker, knocking him down and slamming them both into the ground to dig a furrow through the landscape. 

She heard a wounded mewling from Sinister, but gave him no time to recover, throwing her lips against the chalky skin of his neck vampirically. She felt a rush of power, a static burst of his thoughts and feelings being sucked down into her consciousness, before he reared his head back and slammed his temple into hers. She was knocked back, against the wall of the divot they’d carved out of the dirt.

“Very well!” Sinister fumed. “If you’re so eager to be in my presence, then you can be one of my lab rats!”

A port on his armor opened, spewing a noxious gas into Rogue. She covered her mouth and nostrils, but felt it slickly sliding over her flesh, even warmer and moister than the tropical air already was. As she ducked her head and retreated, she clocked a smell like rotten eggs. 

“You ain’t just bad!” she cried, waving her hand in front of her nostrils to dispel the odor. “Y’all is disgustin’!”

“Indeed,” Storm announced as only she could, a lightning bolt coming down from the clear sky to literally smote Sinister where he stood. He was left not much more than used-up briquette, though that was enough for him to start to reform. The pillar of ash that Rogue’s weather goddess friend had left him quickly liquefied, running together into a standing puddle the size of a lawn gnome, shifting, roiling--

“Oh no you don’t!” Rogue said. Sinister’s power was as slippery and ornery as he was, but she had enough of a hold on it to pick Sinister’s components apart like she was pulling the legs off a fly. She telekinetically held them apart, twenty small globs rolling around in the air like clay without a sculptor. “Sugah, you mind?”

Storm didn’t have to be told twice. She held her hands high. “Winds, take this vileness far from those it may harm!”

The wind kicked up, individual streams of it joined together as tightly as the twine in a ball of yawn, carrying Sinister’s parts in all different directions, high up into the stratosphere or low down along the ground. It wouldn’t take Mr. Sinister out of the game, but it would have him in the penalty box a good long time.

“Storm, ya got style, girl,” Rogue announced.

“Thank you, Rogue,” Storm replied. Then, in a very stately, elegant way, she held her nose. “What is that accursed smell?”

***

A week later, they were back in New York state. As it turned out the damage to the Blackbird wasn’t so bad; Rogue had just had the bad luck to be sitting exactly where the missile had hit. Every time I go to the Savage Land…

A long shower, a new uniform, some R&R, and she was her old self again. Ororo invited her to go flying over the Empire City and Rogue eagerly joined her. If there was anything better than flying over New York, it was doing it with Storm. Seeing her in flight, it was a toss-up which was prettier, her or the view.

After a brisk flight through the city, with its manmade canyons, its towering buildings, and even the thrill of popping in and out of an open window or two, Ororo led them to a rooftop garden on top of a brownstone. In the middle of the day, with everyone at work, the building was practically deserted, only faint strains of music or other human noise filtering up to the roof. Added to the brownstone’s surprising height and the fog that had rolled in that morning, it gave them an intimate privacy in their isolation. 

Rogue felt a tingle go through her. She remembered the old costume Storm had worn--not much more than a bikini top and bikini bottom connected by a gold ring, with a cape and big ol’ thigh-highs covering her up more than anything else did. She’d shown about as much skin as Rogue had back in the Savage Land, after she’d managed to patch up her costume into modesty. Though of course, Ororo hadn’t been that shy about going au natural either. 

She still wasn’t, as a matter of fact. She kicked off her boots--with the same casual sort of playfulness she’d use to go traipsing around in the nude--and walked her bare feet over the sod that the roof’s ferns and scrubs were growing out of.

“Oh, marvelous,” Ororo resonated, pleased to curl her toes into the dirt. “I had always thought the sky and the ground would be two separate pleasures, but here--they are indelible, are they not?”

“Ah suppose,” Rogue said, trying and failing to stop from staring. Just with that little bit of flesh out in the open, she was painfully aware of how Ororo’s whole lush body was underneath that skintight costume. Her cape almost made it worse, hanging like a veil over her bombastic curves, making Rogue think like she could be naked just underneath the thin fabric--though of course, under only one other layer of thin fabric, she was… “Ro, ya think… maybe that gas we sniffed did something to us?”

“In the Savage Land?” Ororo asked. “No. I feel fine. Don’t you?”

“Ah don’t know--not sure myself what fine even is anymore. Feels awful peculiar, me just bein’ ‘fine’...”

Ororo nodded. “It is hard to tell what is healthy or not, true or untrue, when shut away from the world.”

“Not like ah got much choice in th’ matter!” Rogue snapped.

“I don’t speak of people, though I wish I could. There are things far more generous, far more accepting, than mere humanity. The sunlight. The wind. Even the rains. You drink the water and you hear the birdsong, but do you truly accept this beautiful world into you?”

“What d’ya want me to do, Ro, take a mud bath?”

Ororo smiled her cheshire-cat grin. “Nothing so overt, my dear. Merely remove the barriers placed between you and nature.” And just like that, she was undressing. She unbuttoned her cape, letting it fall away from her, then unzipped her bodysuit. Rogue was helpless to protest, to look away, even to ask what she was doing. Before her eyes, Ororo wiggled out of her costume, leaving herself in just panties. She didn’t even need to wear a bra--her breasts were as high and set and pert as flesh could be on a woman. Gawd, even Jube doesn’t have boobs that perky--maybe she is a goddess…

“The sun on one’s skin and a warm breeze through one’s hair,” Ororo said, her voice blissful. “Second only to a summer shower to calm the nerves and refresh the body. Perhaps I should conjure one of those for the both of us? The smell of fresh rain would certainly drive the memory of that demon’s foul stench from us both.”

Rogue tried hard not to stare at the caramel breasts, the chocolate nipples, Storm’s hair hanging down liked frosting glazed over her own scrumptious curves. “Ah… ah think ah will join you… Ah’ve been in this monkey suit for too damn long…”

Under Ororo’s approving gaze, she stripped herself of her gloves, her boots, her jacket, and her bodysuit. The plants rustled around her; she wondered if the breeze had come from Ororo. It felt marvelous on her body, as subtle and as knowing as a lover’s touch, the kind of caress she had only known through censoring fabric before. Ororo helped her unsnap her bra, then guided her with a fleeting touch on her panty-clad buttocks to a section of the garden where soft grass replaced the sod and wood chips that were elsewhere.

“Lie down there,” Ororo said. “It truly relaxes you. But first…” She removed her panties, then turned to Rogue. “And let me take those off you.” 

Rogue could barely move as Ororo skimmed her panties down her legs and tossed them back to the rest of their clothes. She didn’t know if she was afraid that Ororo would touch her fully enough for her hurtful power to initiate itself and harshen this gently pastoral time together, or if she was afraid that Ororo would touch her and her curse wouldn’t get in the way… if she was even more vulnerable than her nakedly exposed body would lead her to believe.

“Now, isn’t that better?” Ororo asked, seemingly openly admiring Rogue’s nudity. The sun beat down on their bodies with the same loving caress as the wind--maybe it wasn’t Ororo doing that after all.

Rogue laid down on her stomach in the tall grass, spreading her arms and legs wide. “You’re right, it’s unbelievable.”

“How would you like a massage?” Ororo asked.

“Ah don’t even know how much--the closest thing ah’ve ever had ta one is gettin’ mah ass slapped by someone ain’t fit to shake my hand.”

“And am I fit to shake your hand?” Ororo asked, good-humoredly.

“Aww, shucks, Ororo, you know you’re one heckuva classy chick. Ya could g’wan and gimme a pap smear if ah had any say in the matter, but ya’d have ta take it up with mah damn X-gene. It sets the dang curfew round here.”

“I do not think so,” Ororo said simply, and she knelt down beside Rogue’s outstretched body and began massaging the soft flesh.

Rogue was shocked--this was no gloved hand, no fleeting touch, not even a brush of clothes against clothes. Ororo was touching her, skin on skin. Beginning at the neck and shoulders, she worked her hands down the length of Rogue’s lithe body, gently caressing through the smooth skin to the finely hewn muscle underneath. It was so surprising, so overwhelming to be touched like this, that Rogue couldn’t even think. She could only let herself be touched--more and more and more.

Ororo ran her expert hands over the soft cheeks of Rogue’s ass, lovingly squeezing each pert mound. Rubbing softly in circles, her hands traveled over the ample curve of Rogue’s hips and journeyed down to the toned inner thighs. Gently pinching the warm flesh, they traveled upwards to rest on Rogue’s quivering womanhood. By now, Rogue was squirming through the grass, distributing her sweat among it like so much dew.

“That feels so good!” Rogue said helplessly, haplessly. “Please don’t you stop! I want you ta g’wan touchin’ me forever!”

Ororo chuckled warmly. She lay down next to Rogue, but in the opposite direction, so that her long white hair brushed across Rogue’s naked buttocks in a teasing caress. Rogue turned over, and Ororo rested her head to the side, against Rogue’s thigh and right next to her pussy. With Rogue’s leg in the way, she could only see the tips of Rogue’s white-striped pubic hair, but she could smell the juicy arousal like a cloud of perfume.

“What… what are you gonna do now?” Rogue asked her, belly clenching with fear and embarrassment and something that ran far deeper, all the way down to her clutching thighs and the wetness between them.

“I’m going to do nothing,” Ororo spoke softly, her breasts swelling as the lewd words continued to spill from her. “But if you eat my pussy, I will eat yours.”

“Oh, yes!” Rogue cried, feeling her cunt clench so hard she wouldn’t dream of denying it.

Ororo eased herself on top of Rogue’s supple body, her lips just inches above Rogue’s sex, her knees parting to go on either side of Rogue’s head. As her legs spread open, Rogue saw the triangle of white hair marking Ororo’s pubis. The sight of it opening up for her made her head spin like she’d flown up into orbit.

She arched her neck toward Ororo, hesitantly at first. She’d never done this before. Despite, or maybe because of all the excitement she felt, she wanted to do it first.

Ororo sensed her reluctance. “Just follow your instincts,” she cooed into Rogue’s sex. “Let your body take over. It knows what it wants.”

Rogue’s tongue obediently darted out to taste the tangy juice leaking from Ororo’s cuntlips, though she barely had time to savor its deliciousness before Ororo’s tongue lapped at her own sex. She moaned with excited lust, forgetting about everything else in the world besides the pleasure she could give Ororo and the pleasure it would bring her.

Ororo laid her pussy down against Rogue’s face as she began to lick and suck Rogue’s cunt, spread out so wantonly under her tongue. The taste excited her incredibly as she licked and lapped at Rogue’s wetness, her eager tongue tracing over Rogue’s swollen lips until she came up to the clitoris, just beneath the white streak through her pubic hair. The clit had already emerged from its hood, as if searching for Ororo’s tongue, and the weather goddess closed her lips tightly around the tinily throbbing button. She sucked for all she was worth.

“Ohhhhh, Gawd!” Rogue cried, coming hard and fast. “That’s so fuckin’ good! Ah’ve never felt anythin’ like it!”

The force of her orgasm jolted both the women, Rogue rolling onto her side, Ororo following after her so that their tongues stayed put. Rogue’s tongue fluttering along Ororo’s folds, lavishing them with her warm saliva until she found Ororo’s opening. Moving cautiously, she used her fingers to spread Ororo’s lips apart--just the feel of Ororo’s cunt, the slick wetness of it on Rogue’s fingertips, was amazing. Then Rogue fucked Ororo with her tongue, jabbing it into Ororo until her jaw ached from the effort, her insatiable hunger driving her to keep going into the hot, delicious depths of Ororo’s cunt.

She moaned as she felt Ororo returning the favor, thrusting her tongue far into Rogue’s tight pussy, pistoning it into and out of Rogue for fresh tastes of her flowing juices. Rogue’s entire body trembled with ecstasy, a rosy-hot flush covering her face and heaving breasts, coating her every bit as tightly as the protective clothing she usually wore. She was breathing raggedly, the sexual tension rising inside her until she could barely stand it. She came again and again, pouring her liquid bliss onto Ororo’s tongue and mouth, while she tongued Storm’s pussy as hard as she could, taking almost as much pleasure from licking Ororo’s sex as she was from being gone down on herself. And in that mixture, of touching Ororo and being touched, she suddenly found herself crushed by an orgasm that made her past climaxes, the explosions that she’d grown used to from masturbatory relief, seem like a dim memory of this.

“STORM!” Rogue yelled, rolling onto her back as if suffering an electric shock, her sweat-slick body picking up scads of the soil underneath her. She convulsed helplessly as her hips spiked, her pussy running with feminine cream like the foam from a freshly opened bottle of champagne. 

Ororo smiled lovingly as she watched, interspersing her leg on top of Rogue’s so that her juices landed on Ororo’s thigh. The warmth brought a cooing sound of pleasure from her lips, and she reached down to rub the moisture into her flank before daring to touch the quivering Rogue.

“Ah… ah didn’t know ah could do that… ah didn’t know anything…” Rogue murmured, as if waking from a dream. Then her blissfully shut eyes opened. “Ro, Ro, ya gotta stop touchin’ me! My powers…”

“Are not a problem anymore,” Ororo said. “Whatever Sinister wanted or was trying to do, all he seems to have accomplished is to give you control over your powers. And that leaves you free--free to claim the pleasure that should’ve been yours all along.”

“Then, ya mean… y’all’ve been wantin’ ta do this with me?” Rogue asked, stunned.

“For a long time,” Ororo nodded. “But I thought it would only be more onerous for you to have me love you in that way when it could never be. But now, I too am free. Free to show you all those pleasures that can be yours, should you wish.”

“But… how did ya know?”

“I sensed it, child… like the charge in the atmosphere before a lightning strike.”

Rogue laughed lightly, and more than a little hysterically. “Aww… shoot! Y’all are damn near in love with me, and I’m messier than a happy pig!”

“Not damn near,” Ororo said sweetly. “And if your cleanliness bothers you--for it surely doesn’t me--there is an easy solution nearby.”

“Alrighty then,” Rogue said, now feeling herself becoming almost lightheaded--this all seemed so impossible. She wanted to pinch herself, but if any dream could feel as good as this, then she didn’t want it to end. “Lemme just get my britches back on.”

“Why?” Ororo asked her. “I think this beautiful body has been cooped up long enough. And I, for one, could do with seeing it much more…”

Rogue felt her folds drawing closely together and knew she’d be putting off getting dressed for as long as possible.

***

“What the frick?” Peter cried, barely managing to mutter it under his breath instead of screaming up to the heavens.

First, pea-soup fog had rolled in out of nowhere, making it impossible to see ten feet ahead of him. Since he was used to seeing New York from a spider’s eye view, street navigation got that much harder for him. He didn’t even know where the Empire State Building was now.

Then, a burst of drizzling rain had come down, exactly two meters across, and ending after ten seconds. And right on him. His glasses were not just fogged up, they were totally soaked. He took them off and looked up--and just through the fogbank, he could see what looked almost like two flying figures hurtling through the air.

He hadn’t been a superhero long, but he’d been around long enough to know that if people started showing off strange powers, it usually meant trouble. He ducked into an alleyway, unbuttoning his shirt. At least until his clothes dried, it was exit Peter Parker, enter your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

***

“I would say we’ve been caught,” Ororo laughed.

And Rogue, looking up at Peter, joined her with a giggle.

It hadn’t been much of a flight from the rooftop garden to the rooftop pool. Ororo had rinsed Rogue off with a microburst of rain, chilling her, then warming her with her own body, the heat of a tree just after it had been struck by lightning. Clean and snug in each other’s arms, they’d decided to forego the pool and slip into the hot tub, the warm water massaging away the tiredness and soreness that had kinked up their bodies after they made love to each other. 

Instead of an invitation to further sexuality, it had become a nearly hallucinogenic melding of their touches and bodies. A slow, dreamlike coupling that had Ororo sitting in Rogue’s lap, allowing the Southern belle to pull her down tight against her flushed groin, or let her up a little to dance her buttocks lustfully over Rogue’s thighs.

It was only when Spider-Man came in for a landing nearby that they’d thought of anything other than the feel of one another’s flesh. There was the hypnotic certainty that their light, soothing caresses would return to the arch pleasure of when they’d made love in the garden, and it wasn’t shaken at all by this young male interloper who was suddenly watching them as they sat up to their necks in bubbling water.

“Caught?” Peter asked. “What are you talking about?”

Rogue giggled some more, ducking her head. But Ororo knew she wasn’t blushing. She felt the pressure of Rogue’s slim thigh against hers and knew that Rogue was high on her own freedom, too uninhibited to stop now.

She laughed with Rogue, burying her face into the corded muscles of Rogue’s strong back, and Peter walked closer, his quizzical look coming right through his mask.

“What’s so funny?”

Ororo controlled her laughter, composing herself to say, “Nothing. The two of us just have the giggles.”

“You don’t seem like the giggles type,” Peter said.

Ororo felt Rogue’s slender hand snaking between her thighs, urging Ororo to part them. She did, and a finger slipped into her sex. She slipped her ass forward, her legs wide, the finger going deep inside her as she reclined against Rogue’s body. She sighed deeply as Rogue fingered her, unable to stop herself from writhing through the water. A dreamy expression took hold of her face, telling Peter that she was enjoying herself immensely.

Peter glanced at one, then the other. “Storm, Rogue, what are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” Ororo murmured with a straight face. “Nothing at all…”

Rogue let out a burst of laughter, her finger moving faster into Ororo’s trembling cunt, her thumb almost cruelly smashing down on Ororo’s clit. She too looked at Peter, her green eyes narrowed into slits.

Peter moved closer to the edge of the hot tub. He couldn’t see much, peering through the water, but he could tell from the shadowy outlines of their bodies that Rogue’s hand was on Storm’s thighs.

“Is… Storm, is Rogue feeling you up?” he asked.

Ororo could see his cock throbbing under his skintight costume. “We’re feeling each other up,” she cooed. 

Rogue went into a fit of giggles and held her finger deep inside Ororo’s clasping pussy lips. Ororo reached behind herself until she found Rogue’s delicate sex, rubbing her fingers along the parting labia.

“You… are?” Peter asked, his voice cracking.

They saw his cock lifting against his costume as it swelled. Rogue let out a soft mewl, her eyes burning with delight as they saw his throbbing cockhead send quivers all through his costume. Peter could feel himself growing, but he couldn’t make any effort to conceal it. His balls tingled deliciously and he was afraid both to end his pleasure and to draw attention to his arousal.

Ororo looked up at him fondly, her voice dipping low. “Do you see what I see, Rogue?”

Rogue nodded, gulping. Her eyes blazed as they traced over his engorged length. “Hell yeah, Ro. Hell. Yeah.”

Under his mask, Peter’s face turned a pale pink. He couldn’t bear to turn away, thinking frenziedly that it would only confirm their suspicions. He didn’t think to realize that the front of his pants resembled a tent--confirmation didn’t come any bigger.

“I think you’re getting a hard-on,” Ororo said, not unkindly. “Are you going to keep it to yourself? Or will you share it with us?”

Rogue didn’t wait for him to answer. In a heady rush of freedom, she grabbed Peter by the ankles and pulled him into the water. He yelped as he went under, coming up with his sodden mask stuck over his breathless mouth and nostrils. He had to lift it over his nose to take a gulp of air, but even as he did, he felt hands pulling at his belt. My web-cartridges! he thought absurdly.

“Fair’s fair, sugah,” Rogue said, just managing to remind herself to keep from ripping Peter’s pants off him, instead working them carefully down his legs. “If we’re naked, you hafta be naked too!”

“You’re naked?” Peter squeaked, before feeling Ororo’s breasts press into his back, nipples burrowing into his skin, her hands going to the waist of his shirt and easing it up his body. Yes, definitely naked.

His pants were pulled off, his throbbing hard-on exposed, and he felt a small, feminine hand curl around it. It held his prick tightly, working itself back and forth in lazy exploration. Rogue was throatily laughing, looking into his eyes with a daring, challenging look. Peter had to look away when Ororo pulled his shirt up over his head. Rogue’s hand started to move faster on his erection.

“Such a beautiful body,” Ororo said, running her hands over his naked chest. They trickled up his neck, over his cheeks. “And a handsome face…”

“No,” Peter said, grabbing her wrists, though he felt absurd to be objecting when Rogue was giving him a handjob. “The mask stays.”

“Very well,” Ororo said. “Perhaps it’s best this way. The man who takes Rogue’s virginity should be a mystery. No expectations, no misgivings. Just a beautiful stranger to usher her into a new part of her life.”

“Wait, what?” Peter asked, before Rogue kissed him. 

She hadn’t discussed losing her virginity with Ororo--though she supposed she had lost her virginity with Ororo--and she was pretty sure she didn’t have much of a hymen left after all her fighting and exercising. But if she did, and Spider-Man was the first to go through it… well, why not?

Ororo thought it was a beautiful scene, the sun shining down on the glimmering water that surrounded and covered them, sheening off both Peter and Rogue in ecstasy. She moved her hand below the water and found that Rogue had a tight grip on his prick. Her hand moved to cup Peter’s balls, and she wondered if that was what encouraged him to lean his mouth into Rogue, kissing her the way a man should kiss a woman. She felt his balls writhe and throb as Rogue pulled on his member. 

Even with all three of them sandwiched together, Rogue managed to rub his shaft while Ororo fondled his scrotum. When Peter pulled his mouth away from Rogue’s, he turned to Ororo, staring into her burning blue eyes before kissing her too. They both wrapped their arms around him, holding their naked bodies against his. Ororo moved her other hand to the sparse hair of his chest, sliding her palm through it, but quickly meeting Rogue’s fingers. She looked at her fellow mutant and they shared a laugh.

“No matter where I touch him,” Ororo said, “I find your hand there.”

“Then mebbe we should be touching somethin’ else!” Rogue suggested, reaching for Ororo’s dripping wet breasts. 

Appropriately enough for someone who lived at a school, Ororo thought--Rogue was a fast learner.