Disclaimer: Why the hell do I have to write a disclaimer every time I write a story? Anyone who thinks I own the X-Men is a dumb ass, period. This takes place approximately three months after the movie. I know it’s in the wrong genre, but I can’t move it now! The Strangest Love Story Ever Told, by stormfreak Her Side Crazy. The whole thing is insane, really. Maybe that’s why I enjoy it so much. When I’m with him, I get the chance to let go, to express myself freely with no one watching. Shake myself of the "goddess" image that has hung over my head for too many years. When I’m with him, I cherish the power I have as a woman to make a man feel satisfied. With him, I am beautiful, sensual, and downright wanton. On my knees, between his thighs, with my back arched and my hair hanging over one shoulder, I do everything that good girls aren’t supposed to do, but that the magazines and manuals tell us to do. And I enjoy every minute of it. Running my tongue all over his chest, planting small kisses inside his thighs, dancing for him while peeling off layers of clothing - it’s all so liberating. Not like being in that godforsaken mansion. Scott and Logan are fighting over Jean; Bobby’s in love with Rogue, the X-Boys mooning over the X-Girls, and so on. No one looks at me there. No one sees me. I want to be wanted. Couldn’t they see that? It doesn’t matter anymore. Someone has seen me, pursued me, made love to me. The key to his apartment has hung around my neck for the past six months. When I grow upset, or when I feel lonely, I feel the cool metal between my breasts, and I smile at my secret. At our secret. I am dressed as I want to dress: tight black top with no bra underneath. Short flare skirt with a black lace thong underneath. Bright Lady help me if I drop something and have to pick it up. My hair is loose, hanging past my shoulders and halfway to my waist. I thought about cutting it last week, but he said no; he loves my hair. He told me that’s what attracted him to me in the first place. I confess the way he went about it was a little…unorthodox. Our first meeting was in a train station. Scott and I were looking for Rogue, when he grabbed me by my neck and picked me up. He brought me close, and I could feel the attraction - that, and a big hard-on pressed against my thigh. He told me to scream for him. I wanted too - really, I did. I was so frightened, and yet…I was turned on. His control over me was both terrifying and arousing at the same time. I loved it. Someone else in control, for a change. Even considering the fact that he all but stalked me for two months after our meeting in the Statue of Liberty, it still came as a shock that he pursued me so vigilantly. After all, he saw Jean that night, and he saw Rogue…but he fell for me. I still remember the way he stroked my cheek, as gently as if I was a newborn child. "You owe me a scream," he whispered to me. And a couple of months later, he got it. Last week, he confessed that loved me for me. For me! Ororo! Not Storm, not the Weather Goddess…for me. The woman I am. He told me he loves my eyes, my hair, my body, my smile, my spirit. The way I tilt my head back and bite my lower lip when I‘m riding him. The way I tremble after I climax, with him kissing my forehead tenderly and stroking the small of my back. He loves waking up and seeing me lying next to him, ebony to his ivory. The way I sing when I’m in the shower. He loves to watch me dance, which is quite often. He is in love with me. And may the goddess help me, but I think I am falling in love with him. But I haven’t seen him in over a month. We got into some silly quarrel, and I went with my teammates to Malaysia before we could make up. Now he’s asked me to meet him at Marietta’s. I’m riding Scott’s bike to the restaurant. Scott shouldn’t mind – we’re the dearest of friends. Besides, between me, Logan, and the new kid they call Gambit, Scott should be accustomed to his bike being missing. The wind is hardening my nipples, caressing my bare thighs, stroking my clit. And within a couple of hours, my lover will be hardening my nipples, caressing my bare thighs, stroking my clit. Goddess. I need to concentrate before my head gets slammed into a tree. I arrive at Marietta’s and jump off the bike. I feel the wind gliding across my buttocks as I walk up the small steps in my stiletto heels. He is already standing at the door, staring out the glass like a small child awaiting his mother. When he sees me, he pulls the door open, and for a moment, we stand face-to-face, His black eyes travel up and down my body, and he licks his lips and smiles in approval. Goddess, how I have longed for someone to look at me like this! He pulls me close, running his hands through my wind-blown hair. I inhale the scent of his body, feel the softness of his hair, taste his lips…so soft to be such a rough man. "I missed you, Ororo," he murmurs in my ear. "And I, you, Victor," I respond softly, and I mean it. "Four weeks is far too long to be without you." I feel every eye in the room staring at me as he escorts me to our table. But I know these looks - the looks of lust in the eyes of the men in the room. Like they’d pay me a hundred bucks to dance on the table. But Victor looks at me differently. Lust, sure - but with a softness in his eyes. His arm is wrapped protectively around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he stares down virtually every man in the room. Clearly letting them know that I am taken, that I am his woman. He is very possessive, and gets jealous easily. Of course, it flatters me to no end. He wants me to leave the X-Men. I want him to lead a straight life. Obviously, we’re at a stalemate. What an odd situation we have put ourselves in: enemies by day, lovers by night.