The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Diego Cruz’s bedroom in the X-Avengers Tower, casting golden streaks across the tangled sheets. The air still held the musky scent of last night’s revelry, a wild tangle of limbs and laughter that had left Diego’s lavish room in disarray. He stirred, his bronzed, muscular frame stretching beneath the silk covers, a satisfied groan escaping his lips as memories flickered through his mind.
A sharp knock at the door jolted him fully awake, followed by the unmistakable sound of Emma Frost’s icy, commanding voice. “Rise and shine, Daddy dearest. Or are you too worn out from playing hero in the sheets?”
Diego cracked an eye open, a smirk tugging at his lips as he propped himself up on an elbow. The door swung open, revealing Emma in a pristine white blazer and skirt, her platinum hair gleaming like a halo. Behind her stood Rogue, her auburn locks tousled and a mischievous grin on her face, and Storm, regal as ever, her silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders as she crossed her arms with an arched brow.
“Aw, c’mon, Ma,” Diego drawled, his voice thick with sleep and charm. “Can’t a guy get five more minutes after savin’ the world—and a few other things—last night?”
Rogue snorted, sauntering closer to the edge of his bed, her gloved hands on her hips. “Sugar, the only thing you saved last night was your reputation for bein’ a hopeless flirt. Now get that fine behind outta bed. We’re headin’ to the kitchen to whip up lunch, and we ain’t waitin’ on you.”
Storm’s deep, melodic laugh filled the room as she leaned against the doorframe. “Indeed, Diego. If we leave you to your own devices, you’ll charm your way into another scandal before noon. Pants on, young man. Or do we need to confiscate them again?”
Diego chuckled, tossing the covers aside to reveal his chiseled torso, unabashed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Y’all act like I’m the troublemaker here. Who was it that started the tequila shots at midnight? Hmm, Emma?”
Emma’s lips curled into a wicked smile, her piercing blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t try to pin your debauchery on me, darling. I merely set the stage. You’re the one who can’t resist an audience. Now, hurry up. We expect you in the kitchen in twenty—or we’ll send Wolverine to drag you down.”
With a final round of teasing laughter, the trio turned and sauntered out, their voices echoing down the hall with playful jabs about his infamous inability to “keep it in his pants.” Diego shook his head, running a hand through his dark, messy hair as he stood and stretched, the morning light accentuating every hard line of his body.
He’d barely pulled on a pair of boxers when the door creaked open again. This time, it was Susan Storm, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her form-fitting blue suit hugging every curve as she slipped inside with a predatory grace. Her eyes locked on him, a smoldering intensity in her gaze that made Diego’s pulse quicken.
“Well, damn, Sue,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, appreciative rumble. “Didn’t expect to see you sneakin’ in here this early. Missed me that much, huh?”
Susan’s lips quirked into a sly smile as she stepped closer, her presence filling the room with electric tension. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cruz. I just figured I’d check if you survived last night’s... exertions. But since you’re up—” Her eyes flicked down his body, lingering shamelessly. “—I might as well enjoy the view.”
Diego grinned, closing the distance between them in a single stride. “Oh, you’re gonna do more than look, sweetheart.” Without warning, he gave her backside a playful smack, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Twerk for me, Sue. Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”
Susan’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and challenge, but she didn’t hesitate. Turning slowly, she gave him a look over her shoulder that could melt steel, then complied with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips. “Like this, Diego? Or do I need to remind you who’s really in charge here?”
His breath hitched, heat surging through him as he watched her move. “Damn, woman, you’re gonna kill me before breakfast.” Unable to resist, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Their lips crashed together in a hungry, desperate kiss, hands roaming as the room seemed to shrink around their shared heat. Clothes were shed in a frenzy, and soon they were lost in a tangle of limbs and whispered curses, the bed creaking beneath their urgency.
They were mid-thrust, Diego’s hands gripping Susan’s hips, when the door swung open yet again. Spider-Woman—Jessica Drew—strutted in, her black-and-red suit clinging to her athletic frame, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned against the wall. “Well, well, what do we have here? Starting the party without me, Cruz? I’m hurt.”
Diego didn’t miss a beat, his grin wicked as he glanced over at her without slowing his pace. “Jess, baby, you know there’s always room for you. Get that fine ass over here and twerk for Daddy. Don’t make me ask twice.”
Jessica rolled her eyes, but there was a dangerous glint in them as she pushed off the wall and sauntered over. “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood, punk. But let’s get one thing straight—I don’t take orders. I give ‘em.” With a flick of her wrist, she shed her jacket, her movements fluid and teasing as she gave him exactly what he wanted, her hips swaying with a confidence that made his mouth go dry.
The sight of both women, their strength and sass on full display, triggered something primal in Diego. His mutant condition—a volatile side effect of the Friends of Humanity’s experiments—flared unexpectedly, a rush of raw energy coursing through him. His grip tightened, a low growl escaping his throat as his control slipped.
Jessica noticed immediately, her smirk widening as she stepped closer, her voice dripping with authority. “Easy there, tiger. You’re about to make a mess, and I’m not cleaning up after you—unless I’m the one causin’ it. Let me handle this.” With a firm hand, she took control, guiding him with a wicked precision that left him breathless and reeling. Susan, still panting, watched with a satisfied grin, her own dominance simmering just beneath the surface.
The encounter was steamy, messy, and utterly unapologetic, a collision of desire and power that left them all momentarily spent. When the heat finally subsided, Jessica tugged Diego toward her bathroom, her tone leaving no room for argument. “C’mon, hotshot. Let’s clean up before you get us all in trouble.”
In the sleek, modern bathroom, Jessica slowed the pace, her touch turning sultry and commanding as she ran a damp cloth over his skin, her fingers lingering with intent. “You’re a damn disaster, Cruz,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. “But lucky for you, I like a project. Now stand still, or I’ll tie you down and make this last all day.”
Diego chuckled, his hands resting on her hips as he let her take the lead. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of disobeyin’.”
By the time they were cleaned up, the scent of lunch wafted through the tower, a reminder of the world beyond their heated bubble. Diego pulled on a fresh shirt and jeans, shooting Jessica a wink as he headed for the door. “Don’t be late, Jess. I’m starvin’—and not just for food.”
She smirked, waving him off. “Get outta here before I change my mind and keep you locked in.”
Down in the kitchen, the atmosphere was already buzzing with playful energy. Dagger and Silk were waiting, their eyes lighting up as Diego walked in. Dagger, her blonde hair tied back, leaned over the counter with a teasing smile, a plate of sandwiches in hand. “There’s our favorite Daddy. Thought you’d never show. Hungry?”
Silk, stirring a pot of soup, shot him a sidelong glance, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Oh, he’s always hungry, Tandy. Question is, for what? Sit down, Diego. Let us serve you for once.”
Diego raised his hands in mock protest, though the grin on his face betrayed him. “Ladies, y’all gonna spoil me rotten. I ain’t complainin’, though. Serve away.”
As they piled his plate high, their banter sharp and flirtatious, Diego leaned back in his chair, reveling in the attention. The tower was many things—home, headquarters, chaos central—but moments like this, surrounded by powerful women who matched his fire with their own, made it all worth it. Lunch was just the beginning.
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