--Disclaimer I own nothing X-Men or X-Men related. I'm not sure I really own anything come to think of it...I certainly make no profit off of it. Which is too bad considering the time and resources spent toward the fanworks.
--RATING DISCLAIMER. ADULT SITUATIONS. BE WARNED. If offendable, please take into consideration before reading. Lather, Rinse, Repeat, and Read and Review Please.--
This story is also archived at Adult Fan Fiction . Net with stronger Adult themes.
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Chapter One:
He'd been sitting there drinking for the better part of three days. After he'd managed to yank himself out of the river, he dragged himself to a motel where he'd been holed up like a rat for four months recovering the horrific burns. He nearly hadn't made it. Half drowned, nearly starved, fractured ribs and third degree burns covering a majority of his body. It was mostly perseverance and will that had kept him alive.
When he'd made it back to the Island he found Magneto in prison and nothing to do with himself but continue to recover and fall into a deep depression coupled with a budding drinking problem. First he'd gone through Sabretooth's abandoned stash of whiskey. The larger felanoid had cases of the stuff, which kept Toad occupied for almost two months, but then he'd taken to leaving the island and drinking himself stupid in local bars.
Honestly he preferred getting away from the silence of the Island and the reminder that he was a failure and responsible for his Boss' incarceration. Not only that but more often than not if he was in the mood he could pick a fight with the locals and feel like he was still a working man after all.
This particular bar he'd chosen was his favorite. Dark, near the docks; a real dive. Only a few locals frequented there, and none of them ever bothered him. It wasn't the sort of place he went to when he felt like killing things, it was the safe spot he'd chosen where he could hide in a back booth and consume enough to drown a smaller man.
Maybe he was killing himself. Slowly. In the most pathetic way he could manage. Drink after drink bringing him that much closer to the desperately craved release.
He was on his fifth drink of the evening when she came in. Obviously seeking the same solitude that he sought here. She'd changed. Her hair was shorter, fiercer somehow. Her clothes edgier, fitting her like a glove. He hated her. Had hated her before he'd met her and only more once she'd almost killed him. Of all the X-Men, Storm was the one he wished to see ground beneath his boot the most.
He didn't get up, though he knew she'd spotted him. The bar was dark, but his luminous eyes stood out, even in the shadows of his booth. He waited until she'd knocked back a few shots and finished his own drink before moving to approach her. Despite being drunk his movements were controlled. He was not one to stumble in front of the enemy.
Her face resided in all his nightmares. Her scent. Her eyes. The way her hair moved when picked at by the wind she carried. He hated her with a passion that consumed him.
"You're alive." She didn't even turn as he came up behind her, but instead ordered another shot, knocking it back. She sounded neither surprised, nor alarmed.
"Disappointed?" He asked bitterly, and received no answer.
Finally she turned to face him, eyes bright with power. The danger written clearly on every feature.
"I hate you," His voice thick with anger, closing the gap between them.
"I hate you," She echoed with equal malice, hands clenching and unclenching as she prepared to act.
The kiss was neither expected nor prepared for by either party, but returned with equal fervor on both sides. His hands on her face, her long nails curled in his hair, frenzied uncontrolled movements. Barely able to breath with the passion of hatred and longing. It was a furious attack, bodies pressing together, no gentle caresses or soft lips, but brutal obsession.
He broke the embrace long enough for a ragged whisper in her ear, "Do you have a place we can go?"
"No," Her tone was outraged; disgusted, put she didn't pull from his arms.
"I have a place," He told her, taking her by a leather-clad elbow to drag out the door and into the street.
She kept pace with him at first, the only sound their gasping breaths and the clack of her heels on the pavement. She was taller than he was, but neither was thinking about that. Her voice, haughty and righteous cut through the silence as they neared their destination.
"I do not know what you expect to happen, but I have no intention of-"
"Yes you do," He cut her off, leading her into a motel as equally disreputable as the bar.
She made no sound of protest as they climbed creaking stairs to a room at the end of a long hallway; the only thing distinguishing it from the other rooms its number. Toad produced a key from his pocket and soon the door was open and they were inside.
"This is where you stay?" Storm's voice was thick with revulsion.
"I don' 'ave a billionaire telepath payin me bills" Toad shot back, and they glared at each other with equal loathing.
Toad acted first, pushing her up against the walls to meet their lips in bruising contact. Hands on her jacket, yanking it off her shoulder, before attacking her slender neck.
"You make me sick," He breathed as he kissed her, "skin so perfect, so beautiful."
Her breath hitched in her throat as he excited her in a way no man before him ever had. He stopped his ministrations to glare up at her beautiful face, pressing her harder against the wall.
"Tell me you 'ate me," He demanded, and she complied readily, sounding well like she meant it. Satisfied for the moment, he grinned; his eyes hooded with passion, and went back to laying harsh kisses all over her body.
She arched up into him, "How dare you?" she snarled, as her jacket dropped to the floor.
His grin broadened at that, and he slid both hands lower on her waist to hold in a crushing grip as he ground against her, slamming her almost painfully against the wall. She slapped him across the face, hard enough to leave the imprint and he groaned. Her fingers dug into the collar of his jacket before tearing it off of his shoulders.
He tugged off his own shirt, and ripped hers down the front, hands cupping her breasts with excitement. He nuzzled her collarbone, an almost loving gesture that was broken as soon as his nimble fingers found the fly of her leather pants and unzipped them.
He leaned back a little to look her in the eyes, both of them silently consenting to the act about to take place. Without waiting for her to change her mind, he clapped both hands on her ass, lifting her to his waist, her long legs twining around him as he carried her to the filthy mattress.
Toad dropped her unabashedly on her back, never removing his hands from her waist, until he worked the tight pants from her hips. He made a noise of approval that wasn't necessary, considering the state of his own pants, and then kicked off his boots, climbing to brace himself over her, and lean down to capture her lips again.
Her perfect cocoa skin slid against the roughly chiseled abs as he held her tight, just enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Biting kisses strewn haphazardly down her jaw, her nails digging into his back. He felt like he would explode.
Losing patience, she reached up to undo his belt and he lifted himself slightly to allow her better access. His head cocked to look at her while she was preoccupied. Her breathing shallow, the flush to her lips and cheeks and, he glanced lower, breasts. His gaze remained hungry as he moved to help her kick off his pants and wasted no time with his boxers.
He paused there, the realization of what was happening finally hitting him, and he became, for lack of a better word…a little shy. She seemed to notice, because she reached up to his shoulders to pull him down, growling; "I hate you," at him once more.
He took in a strangled breath, twitching at her words, and reached down to tear off her underwear, and plunge immediately into her. Her back arched, her eyes widening at the sudden burst of pain and pleasure, and his equally furious response "I hate you" right back.
They rocked back and forth together, snarling and howling and hating each other for the next hour, their movements becoming more and more frenzied.
"Come," He barked, "Fucking Come."
His words drove her over the edge and she clenched in sudden release, her hands on his shoulders and her movements driving him over the edge to follow her.
His forehead just above her breast, his chest rising and falling in gasps, arms trembling with the exertion of still holding himself up, though he desperately wanted to pass out atop her. She reached for his shoulders, pulling him down once more to lay half on her, calloused fingers trailing lazily around her bellybutton, as he settled into a comfortable position.
They shared no words, though her hand strayed to tangle in his hair as he sighed with fatigue and shut his eyes for the night. Her breathing evened out with his and they tumbled into dreams.
