"Are you sure you want to see her?"
"You don't like her?"
"Emma Frost is…troubling."
Felix chuckled. "I know, but she's not a bad person. Trust me."
"Hm."
Thirty minutes passed since he gave her that offer. Samantha Wilson was his security guard, limousine driver, and future PR spokesperson. In order to get to that future, he needed additional funds, experience, and aid. There was only person that he trusted that could meet that criteria: Emma Frost.
The limousine was grand, and Samantha drove it with firm manners. There was this military-esque tint to her turns and her offers. Felix was used to it, of course. She had been his guardian before. Though dutiful, Samantha was never afraid to speak her mind. Even through the mic that allowed conversation between them, the authority in her did not lessen.
Felix looked out the window. The city moved outside the darkly tinted windows and Felix watched it without watching it. His phone was in his hand and he was turning it over. He fetched a can of ice tea from the mini-fridge. He was reminded of Yuri, since she was obviously the one that filled the fridge up before her vacation. 'I'll have to call her back once I get into the swing of things.'
His phone buzzed. He looked down and saw a name that brought fear to him.
Rio Morales.
"Oh shit." Felix answered before the second vibration.
"Felix! Oh thank god! You haven't been answering for days now!"
Good Lord. How long had it been? That loving voice. The woman that was once his neighbour and now his lover.
He closed his eyes. Yeaahh, he had woken up, walked out, gone to an Oscorp board meeting, and somewhere in that sequence the fundamental obligation of calling Rio had just — not happened. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Rio, I am SO sorry—"
"It's fine, it's fine. At least you're okay. Right?"
"Y-yeah, no injured bones or anything."
"And that Symbiote of yours?"
"He's, uh…he's fine."
Rio exhaled loudly on the phone. It was like she had made her peace with it. "You know, you're lucky I used to be a cop's wife."
"I know."
"But…obviously you are not a cop and big things happen. Felix, I saw everything on the news. Spider-Man was all over it. What happened!?"
Felix considered how much of the truth to tell her. He looked out and saw yellow cab arguing with a cyclist at the intersection. New York, doing what it did. "I'm fine, I'm fine. It's, uh, complicated."
"Is it true you tried to stop some villain from killing the director of SHIELD?"
He put a fist against his cheek. "...is that what they're saying?" As great as supercomputers and AI algorithsm were, the human factor was something that could never be truly predicted.
"The military recently said the investigation is still ongoing and that Spider-Man has not been ruled out as a suspect. It's all up in the air. Made the whole 'Spider-Man is a military agent' a more complicated topic. But, well," Rio chuckled curtly. "I know someone who knows the truth."
"Ha. Trust me, I'm not a military agent. That much, I can say."
"Right, right. Home then," Rio said. "Tell me when you're home. Okay?"
She was still in Puerto Rico. Everything happening in New York was at a geographical remove even if it wasn't any other kind. He let out a breath. "I appreciate you."
"I appreciate you more. Mwah!" After blowing a kiss, Rio hung up first. He held the phone for a moment and then pocketed it with a chuckle. Rio was really, really good at dealing with this, probably because of her past.
The limo slowed and stopped.
'Well, we're here.'
Frost International's main headquarters occupied half a full block of Midtown. New York real estate must have hated it. HQ was glass and pale stone, forty stories of it, the exterior panels catching the afternoon light and throwing it back in sections so that the building seemed to shift slightly as you moved past it. The Frost International logo was cut directly into the stone above the main entrance rather than mounted on it.
It was actually in construction during the attack on Creature Z. A stray energy blast struck the top part of Frost HQ, but ultimately did not delay its completion.
The revolving doors were oversized. Everything about the entrance was oversized. Wide steps, wide doors, wide lobby visible through the glass, all of it calibrated to a particular scale that reminded visitors of their proportions relative to the institution they were entering.
Felix got out of the limo. Samantha came around from the driver's side and stood beside him and looked up at the building. She was not impressed. "I hope this lavish woman is a good idea."
He flashed her a smile. "It will, Samantha."
They went through the revolving doors.
The lobby was pale marble and arranged around a central reception desk that sat in the middle of everything like an island. The desk was staffed by ten people, two of whom looked up when the doors revolved.
Whether they looked at Felix did not matter, because regardless, they ended up gawking at Samantha.
"I-isn't that her…?"
Her presence was a tsunami. The woman waiting by the elevator or the man in a suit crossing toward the far corridor who slowed down—they realized it was her and gawked. Two people at a small seating area near the window leaned toward each other simultaneously.
Samantha kept walking at the same pace. She didn't acknowledge it and didn't ignore it. It was strange to explain; some celebrities gave off the vibe of being too cool for their fans. Even without acknowledging them, Samantha did not give off that vibe.
"H-hi." The receptionist on the left recovered first. "Can I help you? Mr. Faeth, m-ma'am?"
"Yeah, just here to see Emma Frost. She's expecting me."
This wasn't his first time here, obviously. Really, when he came here, the receptionist already knew to reach for the phone to confirm the appointment. With Samantha, there was a small delay. He chuckled. The receptionist did not want to be the reason things went wrong. He heard her speaking quickly to Emma and in record time the phone was slammed down.
"M-Mr. Faeth. You can go right up." A glance at Samantha. "You as well. Um."
"I appreciate it." Felix smiled and walked over to the elevator. Samantha was right behind him. As it closed, he chuckled. "CEO's floor is forty."
Samantha pressed the button. "Not making me wear a disguise is…"
Yeah, in her previous mission, it was normal for Samantha to wear disguises to avoid being recognized. It was SHIELD's way to keep their missions as anonymous as possible too.
Felix was not SHIELD and he needed people to know that Samantha was with him naturally.
"Just think, you're using your fame for good." He smiled at her. "It's not that bad, right?"
Samantha nodded curtly. She agreed, this would be worth it.
Forty floors up, the doors opened onto a corridor that was different in texture from everything below it. Pale marble gave way to dark hardwood. The lighting dropped from bright-functional. A single assistant sat at a desk at the end of the corridor in front of a set of double doors, and she was already standing by the time Felix and Samantha stepped off the elevator.
"Mr. Faeth." The assistant gestured toward the doors. "Ms. Frost is ready for you."
Felix turned to Samantha. "Wait out here. Actually—"
"I'm fine. I'll stay out here." She moved to the side of the corridor and stood there with her arms at her sides.
"If you say so."
Shrugging, he pushed the double doors open.
Everything below the CEO's office — the lobby, the corridors, the forty floors of glass and pale stone — had been building to this. It occupied the full width of the corner, two full walls of floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over Midtown from a height that made the city look like something you could rearrange. The desk was white and long and almost entirely clear, a single open folder and a pen the only objects on its surface. There were four—yes, FIVE sofas and couches in white leather and pale chrome. It was obvious they were used often.
And Emma Frost was standing at the window, one hand at her side, looking out at the city with the posture of someone who owned the view in some sense. For today, her sense of fashion had her wear a snow-white dress of cleavage and shoulder modesty and yet split down the thighs and gaped at the back.
Emma turned when he came in. "Ah…" The smile was there before the turn. "Felix. I was wondering when you'd come." Her eyes narrowed. "Huh. Your mind is…"
Felix sat down at a sofa. "What do you think?"
"It's blocked again. Moreso than…" Felix felt a tingle in his temple. Emma must have been trying to intrude. Quickly, she stopped. "Anyway. You won. Is that what I'm understanding given your arrival?"
"I couldn't have done it without you," Felix said.
"Correct," Emma said with a smirk. She stalked over and sat down next to him, legs crossed. "Does this cause for celebration?" Her arm went atop the lengthy couch, fingers nearing the back of his neck. He could see the massive diamond ring on the index finger.
"Not yet. We have more to do."
"Are you sure? You taking down SHIELD and exposing those documents, celebration seems the bare-minimum. Especially considering you did not throw my hat in there."
The mentions of Emma herself were redacted. The facility itself and her fellow experimentees, however, were not redacted or ignored. They were remembered. They were brought back.
"It's the least I can do."
"And the last I can do..." Those fingers tapped at the back of his neck. "...is reward you. Us." Her eyes were practically glowing. The appreciation she wanted to show him, it was not just genuine but fiery. She so badly wanted this.
"Not yet. I'm in a hurry."
"Ahh. How unfortunate." Her fingers retreated and started tapping at the sofa. Emma didn't hide her disappointment. "I assume you didn't bring Samantha Wilson to act as a cuckqueen outside. You're here for business. Or peace."
"A little bit of both."
A click of the tongue. Sheesh, she was more disappointed than he expected.
"Sorry," Felix supplied.
"Do I need a drink for this?" Felix's answer did not matter: Emma reached for her table and filled up a glass of wine anyway. Her lips neared the glass. "Well?"
"I want to establish a pharmaceutical company that sells a diluted, medically applied version of the Super Soldier Serum."
Emma drank to that. "Knowing our respective sense of morality, we want it cheap. Or free. I suppose this is worth delaying a celebration."
"Free?"
Emma snorted. "What, you didn't contemplate medicine being free?"
Not…particularly. It wasn't like he had to get rich for it. This was a matter of helping people. He cocked his head. "Is that even possible?"
"In America, probably not."
"I live in America—and ideally I want to start it here in New York. I don't want to start working outside."
"Felix, do you want know what believe in the most?" Emma drank and half her wine was gone at this point. "It is results. You manage to do this anywhere else, like in Europe or South America or wherever, and people will copy it. Companies, governments, whatever. You need results first. In New York, in the state it is in, the state you've intentionally or unintentionally put it in, it's going to be hard."
"Which is why I came to the woman that makes the impossible possible and bends the corrupt to her will. Come on, Emma. I have Captain America as a PR spokesman. This can—will work."
"What about Oscorp? They legally own the serum, do they not?"
"Not anymore. Not after they shut down."
Emma spat out her drink. It was very unlady-like and unlike her. She had to clean herself up with tissues. "T-they're what now? Oscorp is shutting down?"
"Yes. Soon."
"Are we talking that they might or that you're planning—"
"They will. Soon. Very soon." Felix was absolute. "And the pharmaceutical company I plan to establish will be born from the ashes of Osborn.
"Y-you—did you force them close?" His chuckle was a good enough answer. Emma looked at him like he was crazy. "You're crazy." She said it too. "Are you saying you're going to snap your fingers and poof? Oscorp is gone?"
"Pretty much. I've got full control of the board of directors. They'll agree to it."
"Oscorp—you can't just…"
"Why not? Nothing good's come out of that mega company."
"You're going to fire tens of thousands of people?"
"I'll be helping them make their branches independent. They won't beholden to shareholders. I'm sure they'll be better off."
"O-okay, but why wouldn't someone just…bring them back together?"
"Well, that's why I'm here. I need your help for this. I've already got a list of some of the best lawyers and accountants to make this possible. But ultimately…" He pointed at Emma. "I need you."
Emma was speechless. That wasn't an easy thing to do to her. "You're seriously crazy. SHIELD is going down, Oscorp is going down…you're really just going to change everything in New York? Just like that?"
"Tell me, Emma…do you want to regret your role in this world? Do you want to look back in fifty years, sigh, and regret how you didn't step in to stop society's decay? I don't. I've seen that kind of future. It's not a fun one."
"..." Emma brushed her bangs away. "I agree, but I-I still need to think about this. See the logistics and all that from my people and…" She sighed. "You've gone and outdone yourself this time, Felix."
"That's fine. There's still the peace part of our talks."
Emma set her wine down. "I'm ready. What is it?"
"There's a pizza place." From his pocket, he handed her a paper. "This is the address. I need you to go there and do a couple things: first, get some eyes on this address and its entire neighborhood. See what comes in and out. I have cameras, audio bugs, and some other devices for you and your people to use."
"A pizza place? Seriously?" Emma read the address. It meant nothing to her. It was in Chinatown. "Sounds simple enough, I suppose. But why are you acting like SHIELD 2.0 all of a sudden?"
"Because after that's done, secondly, with your mind reading powers, check which of the employees are cyborgs."
Emma closed her eyes, slowly, and did a double-take. She then scoffed all fancy-like. "Cyborgs? What is this, Bladerunner?"
"They're from another Earth, so yeah."
"...what? Another Earth?"
"An Earth set in our future, sent to spy on us and make us subservient to them. Our Earth is too far in the past and too unsuperhero-like to be important to them. Until, well, recently."
"I need another drink." Emma refilled her glass, sighed, and thought it over. "The future…I presume this future is not exactly peaceful and good if they have cyborgs?"
"No. Not at all. It's a place where megacorporations have taken over most aspects of people's lives."
"And serum medicine…I see. You want to nip these spies and this invasion in the bud."
Not just that—the Sheath too. But explaining that would take a while.
"There's one particular man that's going to come very, very soon. Maybe even today, so I need you to do this as fast as possible."
Emma's shoulders squared. "Who?"
"His name is the Big Man."
Emma waited for more. "That's it? That's all you know?" She exhaled and drank. "Fine. I needed to stretch my legs anyhow. And with you, I'm sure it'll be some fun."
"I won't be going."
"You're not? Ah right…"
"Yeah, for once, I'm too busy." Felix put a hand on her shoulder. Emma blinked from the sudden touch. "And remember, don't get too close. Your goal is just for a headcount. These guys are the future. The tech I'm sending should be too old for ordinary detection but still. This may be dangerous."
Emma heaved. "When is it not? Really, I'm surprised you don't have the time for a thiller like this."
Felix chuckled. "It won't be easy to dismantle Oscorp."
But he was going to do it if it meant averting the bad future.
***
TWO DAYS LATER
Felix never thought his life would become a montage. But it was. At the top of Oscorp Tower, which was yet to return to its prior height, Felix sat and received guest after guest. Complaint after complaint. Wealthy shareholder after the other. It was hilarious.
The board members weren't hypnotized. He couldn't stop them from telling their closest, richest friends about Felix's intentions to close down Oscorp. He expected this.
"This is Oscorp. This is New York. You can't waltz in and demand the shut-down of a company like this!"
The guy currently yelling was Bob. Actually, it wasn't, but his name was terribly complicated and European. He was an aristocrat and claimed to be a gentleman, even though his voice went from zero to a hundred. "Didn't you say you weren't going to yell?" Felix said, grimacing. "I don't like that."
"And I do not like all this. I have been investing in this company since before you were born, boy."
Felix pulled up his phone. "Oh yeah? I think I can demand whatever I want considering you cheated on your wife with a Russian ballet dancer." Bob shut his trap. "And that you wear a hair transplant?"
"T-that…you'll regret this!"
The old guys weren't too much of an issue. Especially because whenever they uttered a threat like that:
"Excuse me." Samantha politely tapped them on the shoulder. She was as stealthy as GI Joe. "Please do not yell."
Seeing Captain fucking America showed this guy not only meant business but that he couldn't be murdered or assassinated or anything like that. Bob (seriously, his name was like Bolirathigsh or something) swallowed his pride, nodded, and left. Even while he was in earshot, Felix said:
"He's probably going to hire a private detective. Take care of it, Samantha."
Yeah, little stuff like that really sold the illusion of Felix being untouchable.
There was the occasional old guy that tried something physical anyway. If not words, Captain America or not, force would work! That was the logic of these old rich guys. It might have worked, actually, on literally anyone else but Felix. He was literally Spider-Man. Force was his bread and butter. One hitman managed to reach the top-floor while Captain America was going for coffee. He beat the bald guy black and blue.
The young and middle-aged people were the issue. They kept shining his one and only Kryptonite: bureaucracy.
"We are suing you."
Felix was handed a paper by a messenger. Smart young guys didn't go themselves. He massaged his temples. "That's the third one…"
His lawyer team was still assembling. Even though his supercomputers were telling to say all the right things, it didn't matter. The youngins and smart ones decided to sue or just sell their stocks. The latter was fine, the former was not.
Still, progress was progress and the guests kept coming.
"Well, well. Never thought you'd be making such a shitshow, Felix."
Guests that were sometimes friends. Felix smiled and got up from his chair. "Shuri! When did you come back to America?" Her hair had gotten longer and layered in dreads with blue, red, black, and grey beads. She was rather Americanized otherwise with her blue jeans and black crop top.
The walk to his side was long and enough for some banter. "You got Captain America as your security again? You really have gone up in the world."
There was a second where Shuri wondered if they were going to hug. Felix never wondered, he hugged her. "So good to see you." His smile was wide as he pulled back. "I heard about the whole coup thing."
"Oh that. Well, I've dealt with assassinations before. It's not exactly new."
"Yeah, but still…aren't there calls for the royal family to end?"
"You know how it is. That kind of sentiment always echoes."
It did, but this time around, she was followed by a total of five guards. The sentiment had an effect, clearly.
"And what if the royal family goes down?" Felix asked.
"For my brother, it might be the end of the world. For me? Nah, wouldn't care too much. I pursued science for a reason. Wanted to leave all that royal nonsense behind. Ugh, but losing the money and the butlers. That'd suck," Shuri said jokingly. She didn't seriously consider it a possibility.
At some point, she might have to. Polls were not looking good. And Felix wasn't exactly on her side either.
"But! Unlike me, looks like someone is actually sailing the boat. I heard a certain scientist is going to close down Oscorp. My brother's friends aren't happy."
T'Challa's friends, eh? "So they told you to tell him to tell you to convince me?"
There was a beat and then they shared a laugh. Shuri sat down and put her hands behind her head. "Please. He begged me."
"Clearly, your heart's not in it," Felix joked.
"My heart is in nothing unless it's science. Or sex." Despite the laughter, a touch of concern entered Shuri. "Although, honestly, this is a big deal. You sure you want to go through with this? You'll be making a lot of enemies."
"It's fine. I'll be fine. I've planned this out."
"You sure?"
"You know me. I'm smart."
"Hah. Cocky bastard."
Felix met her gaze head-on. He wasn't afraid, truly. Shuri threw her hands up.
"Eh. As long as the both of us continue having fun, I'll just tell my brother I couldn't convince you."
Excellent. He was more than aware of Shuri's positions on matters like this. Regardless of status, she was a scientist through and through.
…
…
…
The afternoon had bled into early evening by the time the next appointment arrived. Felix had just finished signing off on the seventh cease-and-desist drafted by his fledgling legal team when Samantha's voice crackled through the intercom. "The princess is here."
The pen stopped mid-signature. Oh fuck.
"Send her in," he said, and it came out steady. That was a minor miracle, because his pulse had just become a drumroll.
The double doors opened.
Ororo walked in like the room owed her rent. Her dress—if you could call it that—was a latticework of white-gold chains and sheer ivory fabric that clung to her body by willpower alone. The neck plunged down and gave her ebony sideboobs a shine, the chains dipping between her breasts and fanning outward over her hips in a web of precious metal that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The sides were entirely bare. Her dark skin was wonderful with white-gold. The whole ensemble was held together by a single clasp at her left hip that looked like it could come undone with a hard blink. Her heels were stiletto, white, and added four inches to her already regal frame. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate crown of silver-white that exposed the long column of her throat.
Behind her, two of her handmaidens—equally stunning, dressed in sheer gold wraps—took positions on either side of the doors and closed them with a soft click.
Felix's mouth went dry.
"Mr. Faeth." Ororo's accent wrapped around the name like honey around a spoon. She glided forward, and every step made the chains shift, catching the light and drawing his eyes to places he was desperately trying not to stare at. "You look well."
"Princess." He stood. Mistake. Now he was fully facing her, and the full force of that outfit hit him like a freight train. "Uh. Thank you. You look…"
Ororo raised one silver eyebrow.
"…pretty."
Ororo laughed. It that had no business being so intimate. "Pretty. Is that what they're calling it these days in New York?" She extended her hand, and when he took it, she didn't shake. She held. Her thumb stroked once across his knuckles.
"Please," Felix managed, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Sit."
Ororo did, crossing her legs with a slowness that was absolutely intentional. The slit in the sheer fabric parted, revealing a length of thigh that made his throat constrict. Her handmaidens remained by the door, eyes forward, expressions neutral. Well-trained. Very, very well-trained.
"I've read the reports," Ororo began, her tone shifting seamlessly into something professional. "Oscorp is a multinational conglomerate with fingers in energy, weapons development, and a dozen other sectors. Its closure will disrupt markets from here to Nairobi."
"I'm aware." Felix sat back down, grateful for the desk that hid everything below his waist. His hands—he needed to do something with his hands. He folded them on the desk. Unfolded them. Folded them again. "We've done the projections. Short-term disruption, long-term benefit."
"Short-term disruption," Ororo repeated, and the way her lips shaped the word disruption made his collar feel two sizes too tight. "That's one way to describe twelve thousand layoffs and a three-point dip in the Kenyan shilling."
"The layoffs won't—" He stopped and would have professionally answered that question. Alas, her fingers were trailing along the armrest of her chair, slow circles on the white leather. It was sexy, man. "The layoffs won't be as severe as the initial reports suggest. Most branches will transition to independent ownership. Jobs will be preserved and overall structures maintained."
"Most." Ororo uncrossed her legs. Recrossed them the other way. The sheer fabric whispered against her skin. "My government is not fond of most, Felix. 'Most' is how negotiations fail."
Sweat beaded at his temple. He could feel a single drop tracing a path down the side of his face, and he didn't dare wipe it. "The Kenyan division is one of the ones I'm prioritizing. Your country's pharmaceutical access has dipped recently, has it not? I have a vast improvement."
"Pharmaceutical? All of a sudden?" Ororo tilted her head. One of the chains slipped slightly, catching on the curve of her breast before settling back into place. "Improve how?"
"We're—I'm—establishing a new company. Diluted Super Soldier Serum. Medical applications. I've already got teams working on distribution pathways for East Africa." He was rambling. He knew he was rambling. But her eyes—those pale blue eyes—were fixed on him with an intensity that made coherent thought feel like swimming through syrup. "Kenya's one of the first nations on the list. Priority partner status."
"Priority partner." Her tongue touched her bottom lip—just briefly, just for a heartbeat. "I like the sound of that."
"I hope so."
Ororo leaned forward, and the neck of her dress gaped, and Felix's brain performed a complete system reboot. The chained latticework shifted, metal links glinting as they resettled against bare skin (boobs especially), and he could see the outline of everything.
Old men were nothing. Aristocrats were nothing. Smart middle-aged guys were troubling. This woman was his worst enemy. Sexy women in general. Luckily, no one had noticed yet.
"You're sweating, Felix."
Except Ororo.
"It's warm in here."
"Is it?" Ororo smiled, and that smile was a weapon. "I hadn't noticed."
He tugged at his collar. "The building's heating system is—there's a malfunction. They're working on it."
"Mm." Ororo leaned back, and the spell broke—marginally. Enough for him to remember how to breathe. "My government will want formal assurances. Tariff exemptions for the transition period in particular."
Probably stupid but, like, come on. He was not saying no to her. "We can do that."
"And I'll want something else."
His heart stopped. "What?"
Ororo rose from her chair, and suddenly, she wasn't regal anymore. Her hips swayed as she rounded the desk, and her expression shifted from diplomatic to you-know-what.
"Ororo—"
"Shh." Ororo stopped beside his chair and turned, and then she was leaning back against the edge of his desk, her thighs level with his face, the sheer fabric doing nothing to hide the heat radiating from her. "The professional portion of this visit is concluded. Yes?"
He nodded. His voice had evacuated the premises.
"Good." Ororo reached down and took his tie—the same tie he'd been loosening all day—and pulled, just enough to angle his face up toward hers. "Because I have been sitting in that chair, in this dress, watching you sweat and stammer and try very, very hard to be a gentleman…" Her thumb traced his jawline. "And I am done being patient."
"Your handmaidens," he croaked.
"Know exactly what their princess needs." Ororo's smile curved. "But…for kindness sake, they'll wait outside. Won't you, girls?"
The handmaidens bowed and exited without a word. The door clicked shut.
"Now." Ororo released his tie and let her fingers drift downward, tracing the line of his chest, the plane of his stomach. "Where were we?"
"I, uh…"
"Ah, let me remind you." She gripped the clasp at her hip—that single, fragile clasp—and flicked it open. The dress didn't fall. It unraveled, chain by chain, a cascade of white-gold and sheer ivory pooling at her feet until she stood before him in nothing but her heels and her silver-white crown of hair.
Every inch of her was smooth, dark, luminous.
"Kenya's priority partner," Ororo murmured, reaching for his belt. "I believe you said something about that."
"I—yes. Yes, I did."
"Then show me what you're bringing to the table."
Felix's hands found her waist, and the heat of her skin against his palms snapped something loose inside him. He pulled her forward, and she straddled him in the chair, and her mouth descended on his. She had been thinking about this for hours. Days. Longer. Probably from the moment she thought of this idea.
Her tongue slid against his, slow and thorough, and her hips ground down against the hardness straining against his slacks. The friction pulled a groan from somewhere deep in his chest.
"You've missed me," Ororo breathed against his mouth. "Mm?"
"You have no idea."
"I have every idea." She rocked again, and his fingers dug into her hips. "That island of mine has been far too empty without you. No one knows how to handle me the way you do."
His hand slid up her spine, traced the curve of her neck, tangled in the silver-white hair at her nape. "Maybe I should visit more often."
"Maybe you should." Ororo unbuckled his belt with practiced fingers. "But tonight, you'll make up for lost time first."
She freed him from his slacks, and her eyes dropped, and the sound she made was appreciative and deeply indecent.
Oh boy. This was exactly what he expected from an Ororo visit, alright. First professional, then down to the REAL business.
Quite frankly, he was sure if he asked her to dissolve the royal family, she'd do it. Ororo was onboard for everything he said.