Jungle God

This is a little gem I discovered in the shrouded, misty past of my Y!Gallery. Truth be told, I'd forgotten I'd even written it until today.

For all that I completely perv out over Wolverine, Storm is my favorite X-Man. I love her regality, her strength, her compassion, and her powers. I've been through more ups-and-downs with her than anyone else on the team. So when it came to making her a guy, the writing just felt natural.

I'm thinking of writing a remake of this, with Logan instead of Ka-Zar, but still set in the same place. Thoughts? Comment here or on my Y!Gal page. :)

~*~

“Warning. Warning. Guidance System failure. Eject now.”

“Hold together for me…just a little longer…”

Raoro Munroe gritted his teeth as he struggled with the unresponsive controls of the minijet. The electrical systems sparked and sizzled as he fought for all he was worth, but the plane’s descent would not be denied. Finally, with a growl of frustration, the X-Man punched the bright red “EJECT” button. The jet’s canopy blew off, carried away by winds strong and brittle enough to tear a human body apart, and then Raoro was launched into the bleak, cold Antarctic air.

For anyone else, this would have been only the beginning of the danger, but for Raoro, it was the light at the end of the tunnel. For long before he’d joined the X-Men, he had been worshipped as a benevolent Sky Father by tribes in his native Kenya, brother-consort to Mother Earth herself. Even though he was only called “Strong Wind-Rider” as a term of endearment now, he was still Storm, an X-Man, and master of weather.

The cold, while extremely unpleasant, did not freeze him, nor did the destructive force of the stratospheric wind harm him in any way. As soon as he’d fallen through a layer of clouds, to where the atmosphere was thick enough to be commanded, Storm gathered the winds about him and soared over the bleak Antarctic tundra, watching regretfully as a fireball blossomed in the distance where his jet had made its final, fatal crash.

Goddess, that will be difficult to explain. I shall never understand why Charles didn’t simply let me fly here on my own. Even back when he’d first joined the X-Men, Raoro had made trans-Atlantic flights in less than a day, with only a sharp hunger and fatigue bothering him on the other side. After years of training in the Danger Room and elsewhere, Storm was fairly confident that he could manage to fly all the way round the globe, if necessary, without needing to use one of Xavier’s machines. But in America, it seemed, everyone was in a hurry, and Raoro had to grudgingly admit that airplanes and jets were still faster than he was.

A massive ring of mountains in the distance, measuring over fifty miles in diameter, caught Raoro’s attention. Deep in the valley of those mountains was his objective, shrouded in unusually thick clouds.

The Savage Land, Storm thought, his body suddenly rife with anticipation. As dangerous as the jungle was, especially one filled with prehistoric animals, every time he’d been there, the “weather-warlock” had always felt more at peace and free in the sheltered, tropical valley than anywhere else in the world. Even if he was on a mission…his crashed jet was only further proof of how serious the situation was…Raoro already looked forward to being in the Savage Land. It would be something like going home…or back to what his home should have been, before despots and petty dictators ran roughshod over them and destroyed the tribes that worshipped him.

Breaching the clouds inside the valley, Raoro looked around in astonishment, as he always did whenever he first entered this deadly paradise. The vista alone was breathtaking…miles of verdant jungle canopy, throbbing with the essence of life itself, nearly untouched by man or mutant, free from the concerns of the world outside. There was no M-Day here, no bloodless extermination of mutants. There were no laws or bills denying people the basic right to live just because of how they were born. And even though Storm had a mission here, he felt as though he could leave his cares and worries completely in the dust.

Once he landed at the foot of the mountains, just at the edge of the vast jungle, Raoro breathed deeply of the humid Savage Land air. It smelled of nature, of new-grown leaves and long-lost flowers, of rich, fertile soil and hot, life-giving rain. But there was something missing. Storm thought for a moment, and then smiled. He knew what it was.

It had been said of Storm’s powers that he was immune to temperature changes. That was close, but not perfectly accurate. Raoro’s body was surrounded by a field of perfect temperature, one that he could control or eliminate altogether if he wanted to. With the field up, as it had been outside the valley, he could stay comfortable no matter how hot or cold this surroundings got; he could survive in an open volcano or frozen in a glacier. But it came at a cost; his sense of the natural world around him was impaired when he was controlling his body temperature like that, like trying to hear through earmuffs. So whenever the temperature outside was comfortable (or at least bearable), Storm would lower the field, subjecting himself to the temperature of the rest of the world, and let himself feel in tune with the planet itself.

That was what he did now. With a sudden impact, like being covered with a thick, heavy quilt, the tropical heat and humidity slammed into Raoro, staggering him with its brutal intensity. He welcomed it, relished it, and spread his arms out for more.

Unfortunately, there was still something blocking his way. This time, it took only a second to realize what it was. With a wicked smile, Storm peeled his black-and-gold uniform off, hiding it as best he could in a nearby bush. Back in America, not only was personal modesty an alarmingly omnipresent concept, but the weather always seemed too cold for Raoro to let his guard down and disrobe as he could here. As much as he would have liked to raise his arms there and transform Salem Center into an equatorial paradise, Xavier frowned on any mutant, especially an X-Man, using their powers in such a way unless there was need, or on special occasions. And he certainly wouldn’t have let Raoro do it just to be free of those absurd, constricting scraps of fabric people made each other wear.

Now refreshingly naked, completely open to the elements physically and spiritually, he headed for a lake he often frequented and drank deep, pausing to look at himself in the mirror. A leanly muscular African man gazed back, with skin the color of milk chocolate and eyes so bright and blue they matched the sky itself. His hair tumbled in cascade of silver around his shoulders, having been allowed to grow out considerably after the embarrassing phase where he’d shaved himself completely bald except for a single forelock of white, as part of a rebellious stage in his own personal growth.

He knew he was attractive, and reveled in enjoying his own body, and the bodies of other men whom his appearance pleased. T’Challa was, of course, the first man who came to mind. But Forge had also been a longtime suitor of his, that brilliant, thoughtful Cheyenne man with the tormented past and unmatched candor. Though they had ended bitterly, Storm still remembered his time with the shaman as sweet. There had been brief, torrid affairs with Logan, Kurt, and Piotr, before Raoro had come across the disturbing concept of jealousy, and in Kurt’s case, religious turmoil. The thought that one man could belong solely to another, especially in acts so supremely joyful as making love, made Raoro squirm inwardly, and he bristled at the thought of being rejected by an entire religion simply because of whom you chose to love.

Even the memory was starting to make dark mists gather about the lake, and Raoro dove beneath the surface to cleanse his body and mind, lest he ruin the delicate balance of the Savage Land in a simple fit of bad memories. The warm water swirled about him, caressed him, pulled him gently in all the right places., and he felt himself hardening. Climbing back to the shore, he spread his arms and legs, gripping the sand as if it were a lover, and lay back, simply enjoying the way his large, powerful hardness thrust proudly skyward from its glistening nest of silver pubic hair.

It seemed Storm had only closed his eyes for a moment before he felt something warm and wet engulf his rampant member. Opening his eyes in surprise…he hadn’t even felt the air move…he relaxed when he saw Kevin Plunder, the Savage Land’s chosen protector, kneeling naked before his supine form, engulfing his black-skinned cock in that sensuous, talented mouth.

“Ka-Zar…” he whispered, his voice deep and rich with want. The English noble-turned-savage responded with a long, slow lick up the underside of his shaft and a mischievous smile as he reached up and gave a powerful squeeze to Storm’s chest, massaging the hard slabs of muscle as he turned his mouth to Raoro’s balls. His hand was busily working, sliding up and down his own shaft, making his balls jostle back and forth between his kneeling thighs, and Storm fund himself panting at the sight. Ka-Zar noticed this, and without a word positioned himself above Raoro’s lips, letting the African weather-god take his red length into his mouth and nurse on it for all he was worth.

The two men, African god and European beast, stayed locked in that wondrous position for what felt like hours, tasting each other’s most forbidden parts, sampling of all the joys one man can give another, before Ka-Zar broke the position and turned to face Raoro. “Please… beautiful, black thunder-god…it has been too long. I need you inside me.”

Storm nodded his assent, and stretched himself out on the soil as Ka-Zar straddled him, admiring the wild man’s muscular body and powerful tan thighs as he tossed his golden lion’s-mane and pushed Raoro’s member into his tight, welcoming body. Hs face contorted in the naked ecstasy of lust, and Storm started thrusting upwards, feeling the weight of Ka-Zar’s heavy balls on his stomach as he watched the jungle man’s cock begin to spurt its pre-ejaculate nectar over his chest. Using one hand to hold the hard, rounded globes of Ka-Zar’s buttocks, Storm used his free hand to smear the fluid over the jutting maleness in front of him, wishing to the Goddess that he were limber enough, as he had been in his adolescence, to ream the jungle lord and suck him at the same time.

Their moans echoed and resonated with each other, seeming to caress each other in the humid air as their bodies did on the ground, As their passion escalated and the heat of the jungle consumed their senses, man and mutant became as animals, mauling each other and thrusting against one another with a primal urgency and drive that stained their skin with blushes of exertion and contorted their faces with pure, raw passion and ecstasy.

Thunder clapped overhead as Storm tossed his argent hair out of his face, and the two were drenched in hot, tropical rain that steamed as it hit their naked bodies, heightening their passions further as they slid against each other in the storm, grasping every part of one another that they could reach.

Ka-Zar was the first to lose control. In a fit of passion, Raoro lunged forward and swallowed his member whole, while keeping his own maleness firmly lodged inside the jungle lord’s body. Being taken from both ends like that caused Ka-Zar’s body to spasm wildly, and with a howl born from the most primal origins of humanity itself, he spent himself, over and over again, into the weather-god’s hot, willing mouth.

Storm was now completely bombarded on all fronts with sensuality; the scent of Ka-Zar’s lust a spicy musk in his nostrils, the taste of his semen salty and bitter, but heady and addictive in his mouth. He looked up and watched Ka-Zar’s face contort in the throes of orgasm time and again, and heard his cries, moans, and sighs echoing in his ears. But the feelings…oh, Goddess, the feelings!…that rode roughshod over his skin were what drove him over the edge. His throbbing, steel-hard member completely engulfed by Ka-Zar’s heat, the jungle lord’s body pressed firmly against his own, slick with sweat and rainfall…and when Ka-Zar’s tightness clenched uncontrollably around him in a desperate expression of climax, Raoro was himself overcome by pleasure. Lightning streaked across the sky as he screamed in ecstasy, shooting deep into Ka-Zar’s bowels as the savage’s legs wrapped tightly around his own, their bodies trembling and gyrating uncontrollably as they coated each other, and the ground beneath them, in their own creamy essences.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the two relaxed into each other’s embrace, soaked in fluids. The skies cleared almost instantly, and Raoro looked up at Ka-Zar with a gentle smile. “It is good to see you again, my Jungle Lord. But what of Shanna?”

Ka-Zar met Storm’s gaze directly. “She is a wonderful woman and I am proud to be her husband. But some things must be shared between men…or between man and God.” Raoro felt the blush rise in his cheeks again, and he gave Ka-Zar a deep, powerful kiss, before the two of them dove into the lake together.

Raoro knew he still had a mission to accomplish…his jet had crashed for no apparent reason and he was, for all intents and purposes, stranded in the Savage Land. But constant danger was part of who he was, and he had learned to take respite whenever it came along…and treasure those moments when they came. Ka-Zar would help him uncover the threat, and stop it. And they would celebrate, as only those who are in touch with nature truly can. The X-Men would find him, and he would go back to his life as one of them. But for now…just for these few fleeting days…he was Storm of the Savage Land.

And it felt right.

~*~