Stormy Seduction 1 (Commission, X-Men/Marvel) (Patreon)

“God damn it,” I grumbled, looking up into the sky at the two figures duking it out. One had a mane of long hair whipping around their head and appeared to be held up by what looked like an oversized wingsuit, while the other stood on a glider that any New Yorker, current or former, would recognize.

I picked this place in the backwoods of Appalachia for my new home because I was sick and tired of the constant destruction that happened when some Villain stubbed a toe and went on a rampage. That, along with how annoying my power could be. It wasn’t anything major, I wouldn’t be flying through the skies like Thor, crushing mountains with my fists like Hulk, or swinging through the city like Spider-Man. No, my power instead made it so that when I touched someone else with powers, I’d get a very limited copy of that power, and I could hold up to three different copies.

That sounds great, right? But here’s the thing: it triggers automatically, and the copy I get is so weak that I’ve yet to get a copy that’s actually useful. Hell, the last power I got a copy of was so weak I couldn’t even figure out what it does. Which is why I was watching this fight through the scope attached to a hunting rifle.

If anyone in town, which was a forty five minute drive away, knew that Storm of the X-Men was fighting the Green Goblin in what was basically my backyard, they’d probably wonder how Greeny wasn’t down yet. Everyone outside of those that had dealt with him always underestimated him. From what I was seeing, the same was true of Storm right now.

Sure, the way she moved through the sky was poetry in motion, but I’d seen Green Goblin fight Spider-Man, in comparison she was moving in slow motion. The rain provided her cover and the wind affected his flight, but it was only because of a flash of lightning that I saw it when it happened. Goblin dived past her, seemingly missing, but the lightning bolt let me see the tiny bomb he managed to stick onto her wingsuit.

The bomb blew, sending her falling to the earth as Goblin raised his hand, another bomb in his hand. I let out a breath, steadied my pulse, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet soared, traveling faster than sound, connecting with its target. I wasn’t aiming for Goblin, despite one of his rampages being the final straw for me saying fuck it and moving out into the middle of nowhere. His armor was good enough to take blows and strikes from various superhumans, my hunting rifle wasn’t going to be able to put a dent in it.

The bomb he was holding, on the other hand? The force from the bullet would either render it inert or cause it to explode in his hand. To my delight, it was the latter. More than that, his bomb was powerful enough that it blew apart the upper part of his armor. I ratcheted the bolt to reload and fired again as soon as the light from the first bomb faded enough for me to have a clear shot.

He fell off his glider, and despite being what amounted to an unpowered civilian, I raced into the forest, doing my best to get to where Green Goblin would land. When I found him, I couldn’t help the grin on my face. There, fifteen yards in front of me, was the murderous son of a bitch. He’d landed on a log, with enough force that a protruding branch had punched through an opening in his armor, impaling him through the right side of his chest.

There was also a massive hole in his shoulder, from where the first bullet had hit him. I lifted up the rifle, aimed at his neck, and fired. A spray of blood covered the opposite side of the log, along with an explosion of splinters as the bullet passed through him and hit it.

“That was for Jacob,” I muttered, pulling back the bolt and aiming at the center of his chest before firing again. “Mary.” BOOM. “Alex.” BOOM. “Malcom.” BOOM. “Delilah.” BOOM. “Barry.” BOOM. “Dad.” BOOM. “And Mom.”

I racked the bolt one last time, glaring at the pile of blood and pulp that was once one of the biggest villains in New York City. Spitting on his corpse, I turned around and left him there to rot. I slid the rifle over my shoulder, the attached strap keeping it in place as I headed in the direction of the other person who’d fallen into the woods from the sky.

It took me a bit to find her, and I winced when I did. She was still breathing, but that was a nasty cut on her head. Reaching into one of the pockets of my cargo pants, I pulled out a handkerchief and tied it around her head. Then, lifting her into a fireman’s carry, I started making my way back to my cabin. I could feel my power touching hers, and after a moment of consideration, let it slide in, discarding the one that let me make dark spots on flat surfaces.

That one had come from a guy who called himself the Spot, and he could make portals. Me? All it was good for was not needing to pay extra to get polka dot patterns. Storm’s would at the very least let me make a breeze to help keep me cool during the summer months. Pushing that thought aside, I finally reached my cabin and carried the unconscious woman inside.

“Easy Duke,” I said as I entered, pushing the chocolate lab back with a leg. My one and only companion out here; Duke was a three legged and one eyed dog I’d picked out of a rescue shelter on my way out of New York two years ago.

He looked on with curiosity at Storm as I took her to the master bedroom, placing her on the bed before standing back. I was hesitating, but after a moment, I bit the bullet and let out a sigh. This was going to be awkward when she woke up, but I pushed that aside and began unlacing her boots.

I needed to get her out of her uniform to make sure that she didn’t have any injuries, beyond the cut on her head. For all I knew, she could have broken a bone in the fall. The boots were discarded without a second thought, flicked through the air to land on the floor as I moved on to the uniform top.

It was at this point that I realized she wasn't wearing a bra, so when I started pulling her top up from under her belt, she shifted enough that I ended up getting a view of her breasts. I paused at that, staring down at them as she lay there unconscious. I cursed, mentally and out loud, berating myself for ogling her when I was trying to make sure she didn't have any injuries from her fall.

“Fucking dumbass,” I grumbled. Duke whined and looked at me, cocking his head to the side. He knew that I was talking, he just didn’t know what I was saying. I shook my head and told him, “Never mind, boy.”

Unable to deny my curiosity, I got the rest of her uniform off, ashamed but unable to resist taking advantage of her unconscious state to look over her body. She wasn’t supermodel thin, but I didn’t expect her to be. It was more of a healthy, athletic build. Her skin was dark, an ebony tone darker than anyone I'd ever seen and her breasts large. I could see the muscles along her arms and legs, more prominent than most women I’d seen.

“She’s got one hell of a workout regimen,” I muttered, wondering what type of training she put herself through. I shook my head, mentally urging myself to get a hold of myself.

Shame, guilt, and morality were the only things restraining me from sliding a hand under her panties and getting a more intimate view than what I’d already seen. She deserved better than me ogling her while she was unconscious, so I pushed the thought away and got back to treating her for injuries.

Taking a deep breath, I went back to checking her over. Doing my absolute best to ignore the fact that she was in a pair of panties and nothing else, I checked her over. To my relief, the cut on her head appeared to be the only injury she had, so I got one of my flannel shirts and put it on her. That done, I stood and headed to the living room. It wasn’t late yet, so I grabbed the book I'd started yesterday, Tarnsman of Gor, and opened it up to my bookmarked page.

About two hours later, I bookmarked the page I was at and made my way to the kitchen.  Duke was lying on top of the blankets, the ones I kept on the couch to let him do that without having to deal with fur on leather. I tied the apron around my midsection, then began making dinner, my thoughts on the woman in the other room.

“Next time you need to learn how to land better,” I muttered, pouring a splash of oil into a pan.

After the oil heated up, I went to the fridge and pulled out some of the ride I'd made the other day. Setting it aside, I also pulled out some venison, chives, yellow onion, beans, sour cream, sharp cheddar, and tortillas. I was in the mood for burritos.

The venison was cut into small cubes and strips, the silver skin set aside so I could use it at a later point, before going into the pan. It was followed with salt, black pepper, and garlic powder. Once it looked cooked, the rice and beans went in. As they heated up, I took one of the tortillas and put it over the top of the pan.

A minute later, and the tortilla had been heated enough I was satisfied it wouldn’t tear, thus began the assembly. The mixture in the pan, followed by diced onion, diced chives, cheddar, and a dollop of sour cream. I heard Duke lifting his head, and turned around to see Storm standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, a hand on her head over the bandanna I’d used to cover her cut.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” I said.

“I don't think you did, who are you?” she asked.

“Just a guy who didn’t want you to die out here,” I said. “Come on, I’ll feed you, then you can tell me why you were fighting the Green Goblin out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I can’t remember,” she replied slowly, taking a step into the room.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” I told her. “Give it a minute.”

I made her a burrito, and she took it with a smile. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

I grinned at that, and told her, “You’re welcome.”

Sitting down at the table, I watched her as she made her way to the far end and sat down. I reached for my mug of cold tea and took a sip. “Do you remember your name?” I asked, taking a bite of the burrito.

“I think so,” she told me after a moment. “I remember being called Storm, but that doesn't feel like my name.”

“How about where you are?” I asked.

She was quiet for a moment, before saying, “I want to say the United States?”

“West Virginia, specifically,” I elaborated. “Well, you don’t have full amnesia, but you clearly got a little rattled by your conk on the noggin. I recognize you as being part of a superhero team called the X-Men, but I don’t know anything about you on a personal level. How about you spend the night, then in the morning I take you into town so you can get looked over by an actual doctor, and I can call some of your fellows to pick you up. Sounds good?”

She looked at me, her eyes roaming over my features for a minute, before she said, “Alright… thank you.”

I waved it off, “Don’t worry about it. You just eat, we’ll focus on getting you home tomorrow.”

She picked up the burrito and took a bite, as I did the same. I didn’t know why, but I had a feeling that somehow, someway, this was going to affect the rest of my life.