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Exercise Ch. 01

By: Kassiana



It all started with some innocent flirting over lunch. Well, semi-innocent, she amended. When it came to Remy LeBeau, there was no such thing as innocence any more, if he'd ever been innocent.

He stretched back from the table, showing off his chest muscles again, and laughed heartily. "Chere, if Remy go full-out to seduce you, you wouldn't last a month."

"Right. Just keep tellin' yourself that, swamp rat." She savored the creamy Brie she had spread on her rye toast. She was enjoying teasing him. "Besides, you can't touch me. What's the point of seducing somebody if you can't ever do anything with her once you do?"

Remy's eyes flashed and he leaned over the table. She moved forward and he whispered, intimately, "You be surprised what Remy can do, chere. Already got five ways around your powers, and working on a sixth."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She murmured back, "Doesn't matter. You couldn't get me to agree to it anyway." Why not dare him? Besides, if he really did have (five?) ways around things…it might not be so bad to ‘lose.'

He pulled back and ruffled his hair. His eyes grew serious and swept her body intimately. "Gonna let this ol' thief try anyway?"

She pretended to consider it, her yellow glove hiding the smile coming to her mouth. "Why not? You can't possibly do it."

He looked around the room, casually noting that no one was left before leaning in to her conspiratorially. "Let's set some ground rules, then. Give us both a fair shot."

She laughed. "Like I'd let you set the rules. Rule One: Do what Remy says. Rule Two: See Rule One."

His lips twitched and he tapped his fingers to his chest. "Come on, chere. That'd be no fun. Whether thievin' or seducin', the best part is the challenge." His eyes shone with mischief and excitement.

She looked at him suspiciously. "All right, legend in his own mind. How ‘bout this. Rule One. No touching." She sat back, waiting for his enraged reaction.

His thin eyebrows raised and he grinned. "Was gonna suggest that one, believe it or not." She shook her head. "Okay, don't believe me. Rule two. No one and nothing else touching."

She blinked. He wasn't saying … 

He nodded slowly, grin broadening. "If Remy don't touch you, chere, no one and nothing touch you." His voice quieted to a whisper. "Not your pretty hands, not any of the things you keep in the third drawer, second row of your dresser, and no other man. Or woman, either."

She was turning red. She was red. He looked? He knew about … oh, God. He knew about all of her toys, probably. And the books. She focused her green eyes on her hands, twisting in her lap. His insidious, tempting voice continued. "'Course, chere, Remy gotta be fair. Rules one and two apply to Remy as well. No usin' any of the things in his hidin' places."

She looked up at last. He winked. "Put all my energy into you, chere. Better not waste it anywhere else."

The heat was fading from her face. "I don't know if you can survive, Remy. After just two days, you're gonna be a walking hard-on, aren't you?" She had to look away again. The idea of him walking around aroused … the way his pants would stretch …

"We see about that, non?" He gave her another scorching glance. "That all the rules you want?"

She thought for a moment. No touching, and no touching … "Rule three. Bedrooms are off limits." She glared at him. He leaned back in his chair, letting his coat fall open and nearly giving her a glimpse of his stomach.

"Rule four. No tryin' to avoid each other, chere. We're still on for Friday." He stroked a hand over his faded blue shirt. "Besides, we don't want everyone to know."

She twirled a lock of her hair around her index finger, absently. "I don't need to make it a rule that if there's a mission, this whole thing is off, right?"

He smiled. "No. Remy not askin' to go beyond common sense, chere. Just a little game with a big payoff. My kinda deal."

"There should be a time limit." She let go of the strand of hair, which sprang back.

"How about a month?" He leaned back again. His muscular hips were barely contained by his old blue jeans. Oh, God. She was looking at him already. She'd never make it a month.

"Two weeks," she blurted out, trying to distract herself.

He shook his head slowly. "Three. No shorter."

"Deal!" She was eager to get this stupid thing over with.

"Just one more thing, then we done." He took her gloved hand in his. "What do I get when I win? Other than the obvious."

"You want more? And what do you mean WHEN you win?" She raised her left hand, intending to slap him, and he took it in his right.

"Say, Rogue tell her amour how right he was and take him to see a show in town?" He kissed the back of her right hand. "Aida still gonna be playin' then."

She cleared her throat. "Fine, because it won't ever happen. When I win, you're gonna cut out some of that gloating you do. And you're taking the school out for pizza."

"The whole school?" He cocked his head. "You askin' for it. Deal." He let go of her hands and bent in close to her ear. "Startin' now. See you later. All of you."

She fought to show no reaction as his eyes lingered on her breasts, then collapsed onto her chair. What had she gotten herself into?

Exercise Ch. 02



Day two: Wednesday

Morning briefings were always boring. Rogue yawned as Scott droned on about something or other. Time to make his move. No one was paying attention.

He leaned over her agenda and put another page in front of it. She looked down at it and then up at him. He smiled, eyes wide open, trying for that old innocent look. He'd spent much of the previous day writing it, making sure everything was right.

She read slowly, occasionally looking up and nodding as Scott emphasized another point about something or other. Heat slowly crept into her face. Her muscular legs moved restlessly under the table. She turned the paper over and watched him warily. He smiled and sucked a red Jolly Rancher into his mouth slowly, then touched his tongue to his upper lip and closed his eyes.

She fixed her eyes on Scott. He shrugged. Enough for now. Couldn't have the man ruining his fun. He turned and started paying attention again.

She cornered him after the meeting. "You're making this up."

He smiled, self-confident. "It can work that way, chere. Trust me."

"Trust you?" she scoffed, then quieted. "On the couch?"

He nodded. "Just think about it. Sitting there, watching TV, and Remy behind you, pushing deeper and deeper." He waited for it to sink in.

Her eyes unfocused, then refocused on him, angry this time. "Don't give me your attempts at porno during meetings, Remy. I don't want them." She threw the page to the ground and walked out, grabbing up her agenda and books.

Curious, he picked up the paper she had thrown to the floor, then laughed out loud. She had thrown away the agenda and kept his sexual fantasy. This might be easier than he thought.

***************************** All right. The swamp rat had gone too far. She was okay with him whispering the occasional sexual thought into her ear. She didn't even mind the performance last night with the sundae, teasing her about wanting his cream on it and taking the cherry off it, sucking it into his mouth again...mmm. But porno during meetings was the last straw, even if it was full of wonderful details and made her burn with lust.

Two could play this game, and she was going to give it her all. She took the keys to the '89 Firebird and went down to the motor pool. It would just take a little shopping and a little planning. 

Day Three: Thursday

Kurt Wagner was heading down to the dining room for breakfast early, as the plan was to have fencing class and then go out for a day at the local Renaissance Faire. He entered the hallway leading to the dining room and saw Bobby Drake, in full ice form, practically running down the hall toward him. He held up a finger and opened his mouth, and Bobby said, hurriedly, "Don't go in there. Trust me."

He stopped for a moment, puzzled, then continued walking. He had to have something for breakfast, for he would not pay the inflated prices for food at the fair later. As he entered the dining room, he saw why Bobby had run so fast. Rogue was seated on a very high stool in the center of the room. She wore nothing but a small black top which bared her shoulders and midriff, fastened at the neck, opaque over her breasts but of a see-through material from just above her breasts to her throat. Her small leather miniskirt ended a few inches from where it started. Her legs were bare, and her feet swung carelessly in her thin strapped sandals. She was holding what appeared to be a milkshake in her left hand. She gave a pointed suck to the straw in her mouth and his penis twitched. "Hi, Kurt," she breathed sultrily after she swallowed, giving him a good once-over that made him tingle.

"Uh…" The blood rushed from his head to another location. "Rogue?"

She leaned forward and licked from about an inch below the top to the top of the straw. "Yes, sugar?" Her eyes were alight with desire and mischief. He gasped, then decided to do the only thing that would save him from embarrassment and teleported away. She licked her lips gently and gave a satisfied grin. Remy would never know what hit him, given how Bobby and now Kurt had reacted to her new look.

"The elf, he don't have much restraint, going off that fast." Remy sauntered through the other door into the dining room, amused by Kurt's reaction.

"Oh. Hello, Remy." She licked the tip of the straw, then quickly lowered her mouth onto it and sucked it strongly.

He coughed a little, glad he had chosen to wear his duster. "Chere, what you up to there?"

She removed her lips from the straw, swallowing visibly, and let her tongue trace her lips before responding. "I'm just trying to get the thick cream out of this shaft, Gambit. Just sucking and licking and stroking it." She toyed with the straw in her fingers, teasing it, and his pants became uncomfortably tight, thinking of how her hands would feel on him. "Want to help me?"

He had to give her credit. She was takin' the fight to him, sure enough, and part of him admired her for it. He cleared his throat as she started licking the straw again, her tongue passing over it gently. "Non, non. Never disturb an artist at work, chere. Maybe you show Gambit later how you do this, hein?"

"Why later? Why not now?" She leaped down from the stool, slinking over to him in a slow feline gait that made him throb and ache. She pulled a chair over to him and sat on it, sliding the glass between her thighs and pulling the straw out, then sucking it clean. He was amazed he hadn't yet stained his pants. He was having a hard enough time as it was controlling his breathing.

"All you do is insert the straw into my cup," she said smokily, thrusting the straw into her glass swiftly and drawing a gasp from his throat. She picked it up and held it at the same level as his hips. "Then you just put your lips around the sides and start sucking." Again she fitted words to actions and dove down on the straw, mouth eagerly wrapping around it and suckled it, eyes on his all the while. His hips jerked involuntarily at the sight and he nearly came.

"That all? That not so hard, chere." He turned and headed slowly out of the room, joining most of the other men who had come down for breakfast and found that today was a good day for eating out.

"Oh, I think it is hard, Remy. Very hard." He paused before leaving, his shoulders set and determined. He had heard her, she knew it.

Rogue got up, put the rest of her shake in the fridge, and gave a satisfied smirk. The Cajun wasn't gonna have it all his way and she'd put him on notice. Now it was time to get dressed in an outfit that wouldn't have everyone distracted from their work. She started laughing, really laughing. Sure, she'd gotten hot doing that, but not as hot as Remy had. 



Exercise Ch. 03



She was unable to sleep. She’d gotten her pink silk shortie nightgown on hours ago, had a glass of hot milk, and read a chapter of her new book before turning off the lights, but the cursed warmth between her legs was keeping her awake.

She got up, tense with desire, and went into the small TV den for a distraction. The TV was on, playing an old Star Trek episode, and the voice that came from the couch startled her. “Rogue.”

Scott was there, lying down, idly watching the flickering images. He wore only a pair of white briefs and his ever-present visor. He sat up as he noticed her startled reaction. “Sorry. Sit down.”

She bit her lip and sat next to him on the couch. He looked a little surprised by her decision, but remained in place, watching Kirk and the rest fighting on-screen.

She watched him. Strange. She’d never considered Scott as sexually attractive before. His body, though, there on the couch, was making her want to take control from him. Making him beg for her. She closed her eyes, getting wet at the idea, and trailed a finger down his cheek.

“Rogue?” He turned and looked at her as she opened her eyes and touched her lips to his. He did not fight her as she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue gently along his, and raised to her knees so she could straddle him.

When she released him, his arms were sliding up and down her back absently. She pushed up against him, feeling his erection through his underwear. He gasped. “Rogue? What about…”

“Don’t worry. She went to Jamaica with Pyro, remember?”

He relaxed and embraced her then, sliding one hand under her breast to capture her nipple through the gown as the other toyed with the hem, only an inch from her rear. She shivered as he played with her, sucking her areola into his mouth, and she rubbed her moist slit against him in reaction, hoping for more.

He turned her around on his lap so she was facing forward, his body at her back, and whispered in her ear, “Watch.” His hand curved around and slid between her thighs, firmly holding her in place as he started gently stroking her there. She whimpered, wanting more, and his hand increased its pace, dipping lower to moisten his fingertips, then gliding over her sensitive clitoris again and again, until she was nearly screaming with the effort of keeping her eyes on the TV.

He moved under her then, removing his fingers and raising her off his body, and she moaned, “Oh, please … please … Scott … don’t … don’t stop…”

He settled her back down on him, his body finally fully naked against hers, and firmly thrust into her at the same time. She let out a soft cry, enjoying the stretchy, full sensation. His hand returned to her sensitized mound and he chuckled. “I’m not stopping unless you do. Now, keep watching and ride me.”

*************************


Jean Grey gasped and pulled herself out of Rogue’s dream with an effort. With another, she did a swift scan and discovered that the woman had chosen Scott as her dream lover randomly, not because she really wanted him. Her jealousy evaporated, leaving her with nothing but lust.

She sat up and held her head. Her body ached with longing. More than anything, she wanted to find Scott and finish out that dream with him, but she hesitated a moment before deciding. Scott always wanted to be in control of their lovemaking and though they were engaged, he had insisted on waiting until the wedding day itself before having actual sexual intercourse, though he had softened on most other forms of sex after some time. It was tradition, it was his desire for control, and it was his charmingly outdated idea that nice girls didn’t want anything of the sort before they were married, despite her attempts to convince him otherwise.

She got out of bed and put on her robe. It was time for Scott to learn the hard way that she was tired of waiting.

*************************


In the dark and quiet of Scott Summers’ room, a figure approached, gently turning back his covers. He was wearing an old plaid set of pajamas, head thrown to the left, arms flung wide. The figure gestured, and the pajamas split along several different seams and rose from his body, landing on the floor in a pile. A robe was tossed over them, as was a nightgown, and the figure settled to its knees on the bed, bending over his body.

*************************


Wake up, Scott. He felt gentle lips stroking his, fingers caressing his shoulders, and warm, wet pressure against his penis. He came awake with a startled gasp. Jean’s erotic feelings and thoughts played through his mind as she continued arousing him, poised over his body, intending to do what he’d wanted for years ...

But, Jean … we were going to … I didn’t know … It was hard to think with her thoughts shredding even his hard-won self-control, though his shock helped insulate him a little. His pelvis ground against hers involuntarily, her pleased reactions hardening him further, and he panted as she continued her seduction.

I’m tired of waiting, Scott. Aren’t you? She played out some of his private thoughts, times when he’d wanted to continue but stopped them both from going on. He nearly pushed into her when she added her reactions to what he remembered from his perspective, but his self-control still held by a thread.

But, Jean … it’s not right, I didn’t know … He tried holding onto her hips, controlling her movements, trying to take control of things again to drown out his fear that if he did not, this would all end badly.

Now you do. What are you going to do about it, love? She turned on the lamp in the far corner with her telekinesis, so he could see how flushed and eager she was, moving over his body and grinding into him. He was soaking, felt the trickles of her desire flooding down his balls as her mind hummed in frustrated pleasure. I want you. You want me.

Just seeing her made him ache for more. Well, yes … Before he could add anything else, she positioned herself just right and rammed herself onto his cock. He groaned in satisfaction with her, feeling how good it was to fill her and be filled by him at the same time.

See? she asked, moving gently on his body. I knew it wouldn’t hurt the first time if you stretched me out ahead of time. This is much better, don't you think?

Oh, God…Jean… He couldn’t think. His own sexual pleasure mingling with hers drowned out the fear he’d had before of being out of control. It all felt too good to be bad. They both swiftly took in air and cried out Scott’s name as one orgasm sparked the other. 

*****************************************

Rogue came awake quickly from her dream, the burning in her cleft making her consider just sliding one hand down between her legs to ease the pressure. *It would be so easy, you know,* her mind tempted her in a smooth, sexy voice. *He’d never have to know about it and it would feel so good to relieve this awful tension…*

She groaned and rolled out of bed reluctantly, blushing a little. The dream stayed with her for the five minutes it took to get to the women's shower, making her ache and curse Remy’s stupid ideas. She’d never thought about Scott as anything other than just another man before and she sensed that this morning’s briefing would be difficult as a result. How could she look at him, or Jean, and not feel strange?

She got out at last, frustrated, to find that her towel was gone, as was her robe. "Hello?" 

Remy came around the corner, her towel over his arm, wearing only a pair of red boxers. "Mornin', chere."

"Remy!" The bastard stood there, grinning at her, but she refused to cover herself and give him the satisfaction of seeing how he affected her. "Give me my towel and I might let you live."

He put on a mock-innocent expression. "What towel, chere?" His burning eyes watched every move as she started pacing toward him, hand ready to touch his arm.

She drew her hand back at the last moment. She was not going to lose at this point. She frowned, pondering the bet they’d made, then an idea came to mind. A wicked idea. She took a step back and began stretching backwards, reaching for the sky, lifting her breasts, making sure her lover saw every move she made. She next got on her hands and knees, parting her legs enough to give the swamp rat a good view, and arched her back in sexy comfort.

He swallowed. "Chere, what you up to now?"

She smiled and flipped onto her back, spreading her arms and legs out wide. "As I remember the rules, swamp rat, I only lose if you seduce me. I don't lose if I seduce you."

He frowned for a moment, his straining cock clearly visible through his boxers, then smiled and bowed to her. He shrugged in a “You win” fashion. "We shall meet again, chere." He turned to go, still holding her towel over his arm and hand, then quickly raised the camera he'd been hiding under it to his eyes and took a few quick pictures before running from the room.

Damn. She still didn't have anything to wear, Remy had pictures, and she still had to show up at the morning briefing. This morning was one of her most frustrating to date. She paused at the door, hoping no one would be outside when she came out. 



Exercise Ch. 04



Author's Note: My husband helped me write the Emma material. Hope you enjoy! 

******************************

Logan had been out patrolling the grounds when the call came from the Professor. Logan? 

Was when I woke up this mornin'. 

Jean and Scott are indisposed. Please inform the others that this morning's briefing is postponed until noon. 

Huh. He headed toward the mansion. They sick? 

Just indisposed. He sensed some embarrassment down the link before Chuck withdrew from his head. He thought about it as he entered the men's dormitory wing, then laughed as he breathed in outside of Scott's door. So Jeannie got tired of waiting, hm? Not surprising. He moved on and started knocking on the others' doors.

******************************

So far, so good. The passage leading to her room was empty. She sneaked down the hall as fast as she could, when a cough behind her broke the silence. "That your normal mornin' attire, darlin'?"

Logan. Wonderful. Just what she needed. Remy was so gonna pay for what he did ...

She turned to face him, head proudly erect. "No. Remy stole my clothes." His eyes were everywhere, deliberately taking her in, and she felt a thrill of desire. Damn it.

He inhaled deeply, then shrugged. "Well. Guess what they say about Reed Richards is wrong." He turned away and raised his hand to knock on Jubilee's door.

"Wait. What? What about Reed Richards?" Her curiosity overcame her desire to escape, and she turned back.

He smiled at the door. "Well, ya see, some people think he invented the material for our uniforms so it'd enhance tits. Guess it isn't true in all cases, though." He casually yawned. "By the way, morning briefing's cancelled. Scott 'n' Jean aren't feelin' well." He raised his hand to knock again.

Rogue finally remembered she was naked, it was cold, Logan was male, and even though she felt a rush of relief at not having to face Scott right away, she would have to put on some clothes to get breakfast. She ran away and heard the first knock as Logan finally tried to raise Jubilee.

She frowned, unlocking her own door and rushing inside. That second knock was followed by a crash and a scream. "Wolvie!"

She shut and locked her door, leaning against it, and looked around.

Her room had been transformed. She gaped as she saw every available surface, including the rug on the floor, covered with images of Remy.

Mostly naked images of Remy.

Oh, sure, there were a few pictures in outfits she'd been stupid enough to let him know she liked, she saw, as she recovered a little from her initial shock. The heartbeat of "Black Velvet" came through to her ears now, the smoky voice of Alannah Myles singing a song she'd always privately thought was perfect for Remy, and she blushed. There were pictures of him stroking his cock, in briefs, on a motorcycle? God, that musta hurt. The piéce de resistance, though, was the life-size poster on her bed. He had tried for a typical Elvis pose, but unlike the King, his devilish eyes held nothing but invitations. He wore only a small black velvet jacket. He was erect, his arms at his sides, and she inhaled sharply. If he hadn't enhanced anything, he was quite a nice size. She held back the urge to measure him, though.

They had said bedrooms were off-limits. She had won! She quickly pulled open a dresser drawer, encountering a close-up picture of Remy's penis spurting white, and tossed it aside in favor of some pants and a T-shirt.

She frowned. Should there be a breeze?

Her window was open. She paused, tempted to put a hand on the poster's shoulder, but looked out and breathed in the good air. She saw Storm was up, walking toward the kitchen door below, and waved to her. "Mornin', Storm!"

Storm looked up. "Good morning, Rogue. Good morning, Remy." She continued on to the kitchen.

Rogue was frozen in place. Good morning, Remy?

She looked to her left. The man himself was desperately clutching the side of the mansion, holding on by putting pressure on the water pipe. He managed a small grin for her. "Mornin' chere."

She folded her arms. "Bedrooms are off-limits. Remember?"

He pouted, but dropped the look as he gasped and clung to the old bricks. "But chere, Remy thought that mean no bein' in your room when you in there."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant."

"Non, chere. Really." He threw her a pleading glance. Damn her, but she decided to let it slide, especially since his present was so very tempting.

"All right. The bet's still on, but you're also still in trouble." She pulled back through the window and began closing it.

"Chere? Maybe you let Remy in?" She heard a scuffle against the bricks and a quickly cursed, "Merde!" from him.

She smiled and spoke sweetly. "But sugar, you can't be in my room. I'm in it."

She closed the window on his pleas.

*****************************

He sighed. Maybe Stormy'd left her windows open again. He struggled his way up the side of the mansion. 

Remy was about to make the hard climb up to Storm's window when he saw an open ledge just two windows over. He paused, then stretched carefully, making his way over to it. Any port in a storm.

************************

She had gotten up early and dressed for breakfast, but it wasn't food she really wanted. She was desperately horny. She wore her tightest leather mini and her most revealing bustier, pausing to adjust her makeup in the mirror. She wanted to look her best. Suddenly, she saw something flash into view in her window.

She turned and walked over to it. A friendly face met hers. "Hello, Emma."

She considered him for a moment. He was not what she was looking for in a main course, but he could be a tasty hors d'oeuvre. She gave an intimidating smile. "You're rather large for a squirrel."

He gasped and clenched his fingers on the window frame, then tried another grin. "Remy large for a lot of things."

"Is that so." She paused, then asked, "Well, are you coming in, or not?"

He looked at her, mere inches from the window, then dropped into her room with an oof of exertion. "Thanks."

She stayed close to him, swaying closer. Her tongue gently traced her upper lip. She arched her left leg and put her foot up on her bed frame. "You can do better than that, can't you, Remy?"

He looked startled, though she could see he was aroused as well. "Emma? What are you ... what are you askin' for?"

"Maybe a lot of things, thief of hearts." He flinched as she used the phrase. She kept her amusement to herself. So he remembered a little, did he?

"You can't have more than Remy's gratitude." He held out his hand hastily, attempting to offer her a handshake, and nearly brushed her right breast.

"Why?" She stayed where she was, burning, ignoring his hand, which was now positioned to keep the barely clothed blonde away from him.

"'Cause...you know...Remy not...you not..." 

"For a man who claims to know all the ways to a woman's bed, you seem extraordinarily clumsy, Mr. LeBeau." She slid her foot off the bed frame and took a step forward, feeling his body heat but not actually touching him.

"Emma! Please! Back off!" He looked panicky, though his pants told a different story.

She pretended to think about it for a minute, then took a step back. "I was invading your privacy, wasn't I, Remy?"

"Oui. That it." The man's relief was palpable.

"And you would never dream of invading someone else's privacy like that." She traced her fingers down the edge of her bustier, outlining her full breasts to him, enjoying the tingling as her hand moved over her skin.

"Course not." Remy watched her warily.

She turned her back and walked a few steps, then rounded on him, all playfulness gone. "Remy, I know you have private sexual fantasies about me." He gulped as she continued. "Probably every man here does. Maybe even some of the women. I don't really care, as you can probably guess. What I do care about, though, is being forced to share those sexual fantasies against my will."

Remy looked confused, then horrified, as Emma continued her slow advance. "I had to share every minute of that horrid dream of yours this morning. You invaded my head with your damned filth. That I will not tolerate. Do you understand?"

He feebly protested, "Emma, Remy didn't...didn't want you...how Remy control that?"

She took one more step and he broke, leaping over her bed and running out the door in a frenzy.

She smiled. That hadn't gone too badly. She still had another need to satisfy, though, born of that lusty dream. Remy wasn't the one she wanted for that, oh, no. She stroked her skin again and turned to more pleasant thoughts of how to seduce the man she wanted. 

She carefully closed her door, then headed down the hall toward the men's dormitory, pausing for a second by Jubilee's door, which had a large hole in the center of it, slicked with blood. She considered it a moment, then left it alone. If anything significant had happened, it was taken care of. Jubilee was not in her room.

She sauntered on and rounded the corner, entering the hallway of the men's wing. Jamie Madrox was walking down the hall toward her. She smiled wickedly and kept walking. He absentmindedly approached and only looked up when he was a few steps from her, nearly falling over at the sight. She stopped. "Why, hello, Jamie," she purred in delight. "You look ... startled."

He gulped, and suddenly there were two of him. She pushed the two Jamies apart to each wall, one in each hand, and said, "Nice offer, boys, but not today." Jamie gaped as she swayed down the hall, and the duplicate leered as he stared after her sexy form. Then Jamie happened to catch the expression on his duplicate's face and hastened to reabsorb him, muttering, "Didn't think any side of me was that crazy."

She smirked as she heard Jamie mutter something behind her and kept going. Jean-Paul Beaubier exited his room and turned as she approached. He met her eyes and instantly recognized a predator on the hunt. He also knew that he was not her prey, but based on what she was wearing, he knew that probably only he would be able to resist her. He bowed slightly to her, spreading his hands out to his sides, and she gave him a knowing smile as she passed by. He walked down to the end of the hall, but curiosity got the better of him in the end, so he turned to see whose door she stopped at.

She paused at the door she wanted and swept her mind through the room. Her quarry was there. She released a satisfied sigh and swore she would get more satisfaction soon. She knocked on the door, hard and fast. Her previous three encounters had whetted her appetite, and she had to admit that even teasing LeBeau and Madrox had made her more keenly aware of her lust, even if they were rather ordinary.

Now, what was taking him so damnably long to answer?

************************

Kurt Wagner had retreated to his room early from his swim. He had not intended to, but when Storm and Sage had entered the pool area and started talking about Rogue and Gambit and their bet in very scanty swimsuits, he had found it necessary to teleport back to his room speedily or be embarrassed.

So when the knock came at his door, he stayed on his knees, praying, unaware of the person at his door who wanted him on his knees for a different purpose. He breathed an "Amen" before rising to answer the door, still wearing his swim trunks and a fresh, mostly dry T-shirt, beads of water glistening in his hair, and a few stray glints in his fur. 

When he opened it, he wished he was back in the pool. Emma Frost was standing there, eyeing him very hungrily, wearing her usual tiny white outfit. No, wait a minute. If he had to guess, he'd say it was the tiniest white outfit she had. He didn't notice when his mouth fell open, but Emma did.

"May I come in?" she asked, pushing him back gently and entering the room. He could swear he heard a very soft chuckle somewhere in the hallway as she walked over and sat down on his bed. Thank God, his trunks were baggy. He was not certain how long they would conceal him, though.

"Close the door, Kurt. We don't want any drafts getting in. You look like you might catch a chill." Her eyes gleamed as they scanned his body.

His tail lashed out to close the door. He was amazed. He and Emma had agreed on something. Her blue eyes darted to his tail and her tongue crept out as the tail swept back behind his legs.

Suddenly, he wondered if he really did agree with her, or should have.

"You seem nervous, Herr Wagner. I don't make you nervous, do I?" Her smoky, sultry voice made him quiver.

"I think I would be a fool, Frau Frost, if I were not nervous," he replied hastily.

"But I have nothing to hide from you." She spread her arms wide, raising her breasts, and he broke into speech again.

"So, Frau Frost, what brings you calling?" As if he didn't know. Or guess. Or suspect.

She stood up and advanced on him as he retreated, until he met the corner of his room behind the door. She trailed a finger across his chest. "You are aware of the wager?"

"Everyone knows about that." He watched her finger, fascinated, as she lightly traced it up to his throat.

"It has been very ... hard on most of us. Would you not agree, Herr Wagner?" she intoned, looking down toward his swim trunks. He swallowed hard, reaching over to his dresser nearby and plucking a rosary from it with his tail, praying that his trunks were still hiding how hard things were. He did not even realize that his tail had done it. It was more of a natural reaction for him.

She stroked the rosary out of his grasp. "Oh, Kurt, you don't need this for me. Do you?" She carefully draped it around the doorknob, not taking her eyes from him for a moment.

His eyes widened at the feel of her warm hand on his tail and it lashed hard for a few seconds. Then he felt heat rising into his face as he realized he might have offended her. "I ... Emma, I am so sorry. I did not mean to offend you."

She leaned in to him, her face mere centimeters from his, and whispered, "Do I look offended?"

He teleported across the room, ending up with the bed between them, and she sniffed, then coughed in reaction to the smell. She turned her head from side to side, casting about for him, and he spoke up. "I do not think I should say what you look like."

"Why not?" She stalked toward him again and slunk onto the bed toward him. "Maybe I'd like it."

"Listen. Emma. Frau Frost. What are you here for?" Her erotic smile widened as he spoke her first name.

"Why, Kurt. I am here for you. Isn't that obvious?" She laid back on the bed, stretching, exposing most of her body. "I know I'm not the only one here who needs release from this ... distracting game Rogue and Remy are playing."

Gott. His trunks could not be hiding his condition by now. He spoke hurriedly before she could come after him again. "I am sure there are many who would be willing to provide you release?"

"But I do not want them. I ... want you. And you don't seem entirely against the idea." Her burning gaze trailed down from his face to his straining trunks, and he groaned.

He wondered, briefly, if she was using her powers on him. "Have a seat at least, Kurt." She patted the bed next to her, her legs still parted. "Be friendly."

"We both know you do not just want to be friendly." Nevertheless, he found himself accepting her offer, sitting cautiously on the bed. As he turned to her, she leaned over and leisurely began nibbling and kissing his neck, teasing a sensitive point, and he gasped. "Ah ... uh ... Em ... Frau Frost."

"Emma, Kurt. Emma," she murmured against his neck.

"If you continue to do this, I think you ... I worry you will remove all my resistance by doing this!"

"Would that be so bad?" She continued tasting his neck and he hurriedly responded.

"Yes. Please. I need a moment to think about this."

She removed her mouth from his sensitive neck and sat next to him, frowning. She did not want to force Kurt into doing anything. She wanted him to choose. For that very reason, she decided against using her mental powers on him. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't continue to tempt him.

As he sat there, eyes closed tight, breathing uneven, tense, she whispered, "You cannot deny this has become a problem for you."

"Nein, I can't." At that moment, she felt something sliding around her right leg. She looked down and saw that his tail had started making its way up her thigh. She relaxed and remained in the same position, legs parted, as his tail advanced toward her aching clit. As she watched, rapt, it pressed against her, the tip disappearing beneath her brief skirt. She moaned and raspily said, "It seems your body ... has already chosen, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes shot open and he looked down in horror at his wayward tail. She held up a hand and breathed, "I know. It has a mind of its own."

He met her eyes, and she noticed that his tail did not depart, though it had frozen in place. "Why me?"

She pondered several different answers and discarded them impatiently. Kurt could not be had with lies. She answered, honestly, "You are ... beautiful. Unique. I find you very attractive."

"Me? Beautiful. Attractive. I have come to terms with who I am and what I am. I am even proud of it. But there are not many people who find me beautiful or attractive. There are many men here who are more commonly thought of as that, but not me." He saw her shudder and realized that his tail had begun to tease her again. He quickly reeled it in. Verdammt thing.

"You do not realize who you are talking to." Her hands tensed and her eyes followed his tail, not quite pleading. Wistful.

"Nein? Explain."

She sighed as he took a firm grip on his tail and looked up at his eyes again. "Kurt, I have had enough of the plastic pretty boys like Warren Worthington or Scott Summers or Bobby Drake, or even Remy, for goodness' sake. I grew up with them all around me, saw them every day in the business world and in the Hellfire Club." She saw him wince at the mention of the Hellfire Club and she quickly moved on. It would not do to remind him of that. "And they all bored me to tears. I knew what they would say, what they would do in almost any situation. Even the ones who think of themselves as rogues, like LeBeau, are still ... well, you put it best. Common.

"But you, Kurt Wagner, are anything but common. You are unique." She hoped she didn't sound too sappy, since for once, she was actually telling him the truth. It was difficult to read those eyes of his. Even so, she was surprised when he leaned into her this time and kissed her. She savored the kiss until he withdrew, still holding her eyes with his.

"D ... danke schoen. I did not expect ... nobody ... danke. I really believe you."

"I meant every word." She bent and captured his lips with hers. His mouth opened under hers and his tongue flicked at her, teasing her. She felt his fangs prickling her lips as she pressed inward. She felt a damp warm pressure between her legs again and looked down to see that his tail had once again nestled between her thighs. "Are you doing it, this time?"

The tip teased her, stroking back and forth sensuously as he gave her a wide grin. "What do you think?"

"Mmm." She reached for him as he pushed her onto his bed, and she fell on her back, tail still exciting her. "I don't much care, Kurt, as long as you don't stop."

"I have no intention of stopping." He swept her body with his golden eyes, then pulled his shirt and trunks off. She watched him intently, enjoying the way he moved. He gestured to her. "Your turn."

She rose to her knees, swaying slightly, and slowly released her breasts. His breath came louder and faster. She tossed her head, making her hair brush against her shoulders as she reached down and drew the miniskirt up her body. Her breasts rose, enticing him, and he growled as she tossed the skirt to the floor. His lips closed over her nipple. His mouth was warm. She held his head to her breast, closing her eyes to concentrate on the wonderful burning sensation, the gentle tugging contrasting with the sharp points of his teeth pricking her skin.




Exercise Ch. 04



His fingers slipped over her clitoris, making her cry out, as his thumb stroked her and one thick finger slowly slid inside her narrow channel. He smiled against her nipple, then raised his head to hers, nipping at her jaw. "I had thought, Emma, that you would be able to take both of my fingers inside you."

She bit her lip at the idea of Kurt filling her up so completely, urgently moving against his finger, teasing his cheek with her lips. He tasted something like a peach, a fuzzy and warm peach. "I told you ... I don't like commonplace men. When they aren't available ... I do without." She whimpered a little as he suddenly stroked his finger harder inside. "I don't want to do without any more."

He pushed her back, his intent gaze on her face. "You do not have to." He positioned his aching erection at the edge of her opening. "Emma."

Did he have to wait before he did everything? She impatiently reached out to his hips and pulled. He chuckled. "Nein, liebchen. Like this." His tail snaked around and began its slow tease again. As she closed her eyes and rubbed against it, he entered her forcefully.

Gott, she was tight. Her pussy gloved him, squeezing him, as he slowly pulled back. She opened her eyes. "So you wish to tease me, Kurt?" She took a deep breath, then opened his mind to hers.

She was warm. Wet. On the verge of coming. She was eager to have him pound into her, finally. He was amazing. Dexterous. Beautiful. At the furthest corner of her mind, a small current of thought mused about how they looked together, his deep dark blue body against her pale white one, wondering if a sculpture could be made of their bodies entwined. He snarled and redoubled his efforts, feeling her cunt begin to contract around him, his own orgasm welling up from the base of his tail as he pushed harder and further into her.

She panted out his name, increasing sound and tempo as she finally released, blonde head thrashing against his black pillow. He felt some slight satisfaction that he had outlasted her, then his own orgasm overcame him and he pushed desperately into her warm wet pussy, spurting into her, his tail lashing the bed as he thrust frantically, riding out the wave of desire.

He collapsed atop her and she held him, marveling at the feel of his velvety fur against her, stroking a hand down his back. His tail had nestled itself against one of her legs again, wrapped around it several times. Emma's eyes were still closed, but she didn't open them as she tilted her head up and bit the bottom lobe of his left ear. "Ten minutes, liebchen, maybe fifteen. And then, Kurt, we will try for something slower, but just as satisfying. I want to draw it all out."

Kurt's only response was a growl when she bit him, and then a deeper, longer growl as he listened to her words.



Exercise Ch. 05



The man crept down to the kitchen. 3 a.m. No one else around. He bent down to check on the appliance, then pulled it a way from the wall and began his work, chuckling. No one got the better of him and got away with it.

Another man watched him, lazily leaning against the counter. "Success?"

"Oh, yeah." He rose and pushed the appliance back into place. "They're gonna be sorry. You do your part?"

The man nodded and grinned at him. "You said it, partner."

"Hm?"

"They are going to be sorry. Very sorry indeed."

************************

Friday dawned as it usually did, the chirping of birds heralding the day, the light spreading over the rooftops, and the sounds of the few joggers outside running their courses. It also brought the new duty roster, which had a new chore for people to do this fine warm day.

"DISHWASHING?"

The shriek was audible to all but the most stubborn sleepers.

"Jubilee, calm down. It's not so bad." Jean hummed as she looked at the roster. She and Scott had laundry to do today, and she was sure she could persuade him to lock the door once they were in the laundry room and ...

"NOT SO BAD?" The teenager clutched her face dramatically. "What happened to the dishwasher?"

Jean choked back a laugh with some effort. "Somehow, the pipes got frozen solid overnight. They burst wide open. It should take a few days to fix."

"SOMEHOW? BOBBY!!!!"

The girl ran off and Jean started laughing. Amazing how Rogue and Remy ended up with dishwashing duty after dinner today, and Saturday, and Sunday ... almost as if someone knew how to hack into the Professor's computer.

But of course, no one did.

***********************

He didn't have to go down to hear about his work duties today. The men's wing was buzzing, especially after Jubilee spent twenty loud minutes trying to get Bobby to confess to wrecking the dishwasher. 

"But it's SUMMER! There's like no way it could have happened on its own."

Make that twenty-five.

He didn't mind. It would put off his date a little, sure, but that just meant he got to whet her appetite some beforehand. Now, which shorts should he wear? 

**********************************************

Rogue stretched as she awoke to some faint shouting coming from somewhere, her tired body aching from the multiple Danger Room sessions she'd gone through yesterday. But she hadn't had any more embarrassing dreams, she thought, pleased.

Then she felt the cold, slick, wet spot under her left thigh as she sat up and the light scent of salt confirmed it.

Damn the man.

She rose a few feet off her bed, then alighted by her dresser. She'd try something less conspicuous today, though she didn't know why she bothered. Everyone seemed to know what she and Remy were up to. She'd heard whispers in the halls. Jubilee was stalking her to find out details. And Beast had taken her aside last night at dinner to murmur, "You know, Rogue, should the Cajun not come up to your high standards, there are others here who love you, and would be glad to relieve your tension." He waggled his eyebrows comically, but his tone had been at least half-serious. She had blushed and kindly rejected his offer, but that had triggered yet another Danger Room session.

She let out a small cry of distress as she heard the knock at her door. She didn't want to have to deal with Jubilee right now. She walked to the door, bra in hand, and opened it. Kitty Pryde stood there, smiling.

"You'll never guess what you're doing tonight."

She sighed. "Where's he taking me, a strip club?"

Kitty cocked her head, confused, then shrugged. "I don't know where he's taking you on your date. But before it, you're washing the dishes together. Dishwasher's broken."

Remy. Water. She closed her eyes.

"Hello? Earth to Rogue?" Kitty snapped her fingers below Rogue's nose. Her green eyes flew open, staring into Kitty's hazel ones, which gleamed with mischief. "We gotta plan what you're gonna do to get him."

"We do?"

Kitty grinned. "You've been doing pretty good so far, but I thought you might like some help."

"Really?" She crossed her arms and leaned back against the door frame, then leaned forward as Kitty spoke. She nodded, slowly, and her own evil grin spread wider as the woman finished. "Mm. Sounds like a plan."

*********************************

The kitchen sink was set up with two metal tubs, faucets for hot and cold water, a supply of soap, dishrags, scrubbers, and a dish drainer. That wasn't what Remy was interested in, though. He was interested in the attachment spray head, connected by a flexible tube, that could be used instead of the faucets. He turned on the water and gave it a few experimental spritzes, noticing the maximum range that the spray head could send the drops. He smiled. Chere was going to get the surprise of her life.

*********************************

"Oh, go on. You look perfect."

"I look silly." Rogue bit her lip to keep from laughing at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She wore an old white T-shirt of Kitty's only due to her friend's phasing power. It barely came down past her rib cage and the ends of the sleeves flapped at the top of her shoulders. She wore nothing underneath, as was obvious. "This thing's gonna split."

"Not before we want it to." Kitty's voice held laughter as Rogue turned, finger raised.

"Laugh once, just once, and I change." The white shorts were no better. An old pair once bought for Jubilee, they were straining over her hips and rear, doing nothing to give any sort of modesty to her lower half. Brown sandals completed her outfit. "I look like a cheap whore." Her hair was up in a ponytail with curls framing her face. She had to admit she liked the style.

"So you don't believe me, huh? Hm. Okay. Let's try and find a guy."

"No!" Rogue stood in front of the door.

"Come on. He'd think you looked great if you wore a potato sack right now anyway." Kitty plopped down on her bed. "Besides, you can't see what that outfit does for your butt."

"Kitty!" She blushed deep down.

"Trust me. It's just fine. Just imagine what it'll do to him, seeing you like this."

Her lips pulled together and her eyes regained some of their sparkle. "I'll win for sure, won't I?"

"My money's on you."

She paused as she turned to go. "How're the bets goin' so far?"

"Hmmmm." Kitty pulled out a small blue notebook from her desk and glanced through it. "So far, we have a dead heat. Five people think Remy'll pull it off, five bets that you'll have him under you first, one bet that both of you will give in to someone else ..."

She gasped. "Who did that?"

Kitty primly sat up and crossed her legs. "I'm not telling. And one bet that you'll end up knocking everyone unconscious before it all ends."

"Really." She thought about it for a second. "How long do y'all think we'll hold out?"

Kitty looked at the notebook and turned a page. "So far, we had two people say you wouldn't last 24 hours. Four went for three days. Two for five. The other four bet you both can hold out a week, but no more."

She sighed. "Well. Let's see who's right, and who's wrong, after the sun rises tomorrow morning."

**********************************

Jubilee flounced angrily out of Bobby's room into the hallway. She hadn't gotten him to admit anything, but she just couldn't take being with him any more. "Hey, Jubes, wait!" Bobby was hastily pulling on his shirt, following her.

"Why should I?" She confronted him pugnaciously. "You're being a real jerk, Bobby."

"Hey, look." He smiled down at her. "I'm sorry. Besides ..." His voice broke off.

Piotr Rasputin stood stolidly outside Kurt's door, hand raised as if to knock. His head was cocked to the right, listening. Now that Jubilee had stopped shouting, she heard something. A creaking noise.

She and Bobby, moving almost as one, walked down the hall and took up positions near the large Russian. "Gott im Himmel ..." came from the room beyond in a strained female voice.

Piotr's impassive eyes looked down at them. "I did not know anyone else knew German here."

Jubilee's eyes opened wide. "Wow. Who's he with?" she hissed urgently.

"I cannot tell." He paused. "She seems quite passionate, though."

The three X-men hushed as a deep growl came to their ears. " ... is it not, Liebchen?" That was Kurt, no doubt.

A pause, then a cry. "Oh, yes! Kurt!" The creaking increased. Jubilee frowned.

"Who is it?"

Logan stalked up to their group. He raised an eyebrow and inhaled deeply. His expression changed to a hybrid of amusement and shock. "Mm. Frost." He shrugged and walked on by.

The men stared after him, while Jubilee's mouth dropped wide open. "That bitch? Oh my GOD!"

The noises, both inside and outside Kurt's room, stopped entirely, and two pairs of eyes turned to focus on the teenager, who squirmed under their regard. "Um ... bye?" She turned and fled, with Bobby on her tail. "No way. You're not getting away that easily!"

The door opened. A tousled and sweaty indigo face peered out and spied Piotr. The Russian swallowed and raised a hand weakly. "Erm. I was ... I was ... dasvidanya!" He marched down the hall away from Kurt's door as a low female chuckle came from inside. **************************************************

Rogue panted as she closed her bedroom door, ready to scream because of Remy. The past night had nearly killed her. Even his voice alone could drive her to distraction. Oh, sure, for the past few days she'd been able to laugh things off. Well, mostly. There were a few things that stuck with her, like his note during their morning briefing on Wednesday about how he'd like to take her down to the old blue couch in the den and bend her over the side and slide into her. Some very hot dreams. That time in the bathroom. And, of course, those wonderful pictures.

She wanted to frame the full size poster of him. She wasn't sure where to put it, but ...

She shook it off. She had to concentrate on something other than him. It wasn't easy, though.

She already was finding it hard to concentrate on work and classes. The men in general seemed far more ... attractive than they usually were. While she knew in her mind and heart that she didn't want to be with anyone but Remy, there were a few men here that she kept staring at, men she'd already been attracted to before he came. She found herself idly staring at Logan's butt during Danger Room practices, checking out Jamie's crotch in the hall, and even having to leave Piotr's weight training session because she was paying more attention to his muscles than the weights.

Of course, Rogue had to laugh about the things she'd put Remy through, too. When they had dishwashing duty earlier tonight, for example, Kitty's old thin white T-shirt just happened to get wet by accident on purpose, and it just happened that it wasn't very strong and split apart while he watched, hungry eyes alight with desire. She hadn't planned to slip on the suds on the floor, either, but ending up spread-eagled on her butt was as good as if she'd planned it from the lusty look on his face and the large tent in his pants.

The date afterward, though, made her unsure she could take any more for this week, much less for the three they'd agreed on. He'd taken her to one of their favorite haunts, a restaurant with live jazz on Friday nights. He'd taken her up to dance while his voice whispered in her ears, his hands dancing close enough to her body that she could feel his body heat. She was ready to collapse. The problem was that while she wanted it all to end, wanted to bury him inside her body, she wanted to have him at her mercy.

She wanted to win.

Her mind flickered over possibilities as she sat on her bed, then seized on one. She rose, purpose in her eyes, and strode out of her room swiftly.

************************************

"Are you certain this will work?" Forge looked at Rogue blandly.

"It has to. It will."

"And you are also certain you can get him out of the way all day tomorrow."

Rogue smiled. "I have a friend who kinda owes me. Yeah. I can make sure he's not here."

Forge nodded. "I will help you, then."

************************************

Hank McCoy, working late in his lab, heard a knock at his door and called, cheerily, "Come in, come in!" He did not take his attention from the test tubes in front of him, but sniffed the air and added, "What is it that you require, Rogue?"

She stopped moving. "You did it before. You're going to do it again."

He cocked his head. "I believe you are being far too cryptic. If you could be more precise, I would appreciate it."

She walked up behind him. "You're going to change Remy's duty assignment for tomorrow to something that'll keep him out of town till Sunday morning."

He did turn to give her an innocent, almost overly innocent, stare. "I? What makes you think I am capable of such a ..."

She interrupted him. "Hank, everybody knows you and Bobby usually pull your little pranks together. When he downed the dishwasher, you put Remy and me together for dishwashing. Now it's time to pay for it."

His big blue eyes remained on hers, unwavering, though his face became still and wary. "Should I grant your request, what will be the likely result?"

She grinned. "According to Kitty, I'll be making two X-men very, very happy. Other than me and Remy."

Hank was obviously a little embarrassed, but he bowed his head. "I shall make all proper arrangements. Is there anything else you require?"

"Nope, that's about it." She left the room, taking her tangy scent of desire with her, and Hank put his head in his large hands for a few minutes before pulling out his laptop and hacking into the Professor's computer again.

************************************

Remy was awakened from a very enticing and explicit dream involving Rogue, whipped cream, and the scent of sandalwood by a loud knock on his bedroom door. "Come, Gambit. We have work to do."

He groaned. Waking up early on a Saturday, after a long sexy night when he sensed Rogue's resistance crumbling, to Piotr Rasputin, was about the worst way to arise that he could think of. He reluctantly pulled on some clothing and opened his door.

The tall Russian man was excited, gripping his hand as he tentatively poked his head out of his door. He had probably been up for hours and was disgustingly energetic. "We get to go to Avengers headquarters and do a technology exchange. There will be a dinner afterward ..."

He rambled on as Remy moaned, wishing the man would just let him go back to bed. 



Exercise Ch. 06



Rogue smiled as she entered the kitchen. Hank did wonderful work. Now she'd just have to find some way to keep herself busy while Forge made the necessary alterations to her room. She helped herself to a vanilla yogurt, then put it on the counter and got a spoon from the utensil drawer. 

"I see you and Remy got out of dishwashing duty today." The sour note was struck by Jubilee. Rogue turned to see the teenager leaning in the doorway, a small pout on her lips. "The bet still on?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Then you're free for the get together today. We're watching 'Fried Green Tomatoes' and talking. Girls only. You know?"

Hm. It seemed innocent enough, and at least with women, her current difficulties shouldn't get much worse. "When is it?"

The slim girl shrugged. "Jean can't make it till eleven. We're starting the movie in the study den. Bring all the goodies you can."

Rogue gave an abrupt nod. "I'll be there."

**************************************

"So who're the top five X-men on your 'to-do' list?" Jubilee took a handful of popcorn and grinned at the scandalized shriek from Jean.

"You're not, you're not saying..."

"Sure am." She stroked a few kernels into her mouth smugly.

"You said it, sugar. You go first." Rogue's cheeks were a little red.

She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "Let's see here. Number one is, of course, Logan." She looked at the others. Kitty blinked a little, Jean looked even more outraged, and Rogue was staring at her hands, looking kind of dazed. Oh yeah. They all had the Wolvie craving.

"Number two, Bobby Drake."

"Why?" Kitty rested her head in her hands.

"Why not? He's nice, funny, and he can really move." She read on, more rapidly. "Number three, Remy; number four, Sam Guthrie, and number five, Forge." She winked. "Your turn, Kitty."

Kitty crossed her legs and closed her eyes. "Logan, Kurt, Angel, Piotr, and Avalanche." She opened them. "Next."

"Why Kurt AND Angel?" Rogue sounded a little confused.

Kitty tried to sound casual. "You know, not everyone gets to have a demon and an angel..." Her voice trembled slightly.

"Your turn, Jean!" Jubilee called.

The redhead frowned and crossed her arms across her chest defensively. "I love Scott."

"So? Everybody has someone else they'd want if they were free, right? Who's yours? Your number one's Scott for hot, sweaty lovin'. Who's next?"

Jean gave the eighteen year old an exasperated look but thought for a moment. "Scott ... Warren ... Logan ... Hank ... Sean."

"Sean CASSIDY? He's like so old!" Jubilee snickered a little.

Jean kept her cool. "He's experienced." 

Rogue was all squirmy in her seat. "And how about you, Rogue?" Jubilee noticed her wriggling and gave a nasty smile. "You okay?" She'd hoped to cause Rogue a little pain today. (Keep trying to put me off, will she ...) The thought tickled through Jubilee's mind as the woman gulped.

"I'm fine, all right?" She scowled at Jubilee. "Remy. Logan. Jamie. Piotr. Hank. No more questions."

Jean turned bright red and whispered into Rogue's ear. Rogue stiffened, then leaped up and ran out of the room. Jubilee nearly strained her neck trying to listen in. "What'd you say to her, Jean? Huh? What'd you say?"

Jean closed her eyes. "Nothing important."

*************************

"You're projecting, Rogue." Three simple words. Even with Remy gone. Even with only women around, she was going crazy, desperate for release. She bit deep into her lower lip, worrying it. She had to find something to do to make it through the day. She couldn't survive like this. If her plan didn't work, she was going to have to surrender.

She went outside and stretched. Jogging. That would be a nice, safe activity. She began running around the side of the mansion, relishing the feeling of muscles expanding and contracting, when she stopped dead.

She hadn't asked Jubilee what the men were doing. She should have.

They were swimming in the pool outside. Tight muscles, broad shoulders, flashes of intimate places outlined in brief trunks filled her mind as she stared in horror and desperate, aching need.

Bastards.

*********************************

"What the hell's wrong with her now?" Bobby Drake stroked over to the side of the pool and pulled himself out, splashing Hank in the process.

The man was relaxing in a deluxe pool chair he had designed for himself. He languidly pushed a button and a fan turned on, helping dry the fur Bobby had splattered with water. "I'm certain I would have no idea, Bobby."

"Sheesh." Bobby walked over to the cooler and grabbed a beer. "No reason to yell at us for having fun just because she can't have it. I don't yell at her when she has a date and I don't."

Hank's smile was broad, wide, and relaxed. He closed his eyes and put his sunglasses on. "I believe the yelling will stop soon enough once Remy gets back."

"Good." Bobby pressed the cool can to his forehead and then popped it open, staring after Rogue as she fled. "I don't know how much longer I can take either of them." 

**********************************

Remy sleepwalked back into the mansion at 2 a.m. on Sunday morning. Why had Piotr decided to enter a drinking contest against the Thing, anyway? That meant Remy had to stop drinking far before he wanted to so he could drive home safely, and then he'd had to endure the metal man's attempts to sing all the way back home. Beatles songs with a thick Russian accent were almost unendurable. Not to mention unrecognizable. Without bothering to turn on a light, he stripped to his skin and got into bed, asleep before he could pull his covers up over his body.

**********************************

Rogue turned and stretched, bumping her hand into her dresser and knocking her gloves, as well as something heavy, off onto the floor. "Damn." She bent down to pick them up and paused. Her yellow gloves laid next to a thick gray remote control. Had she taken the DVD remote from the den again? Jubes and the rest would be ticked if they couldn't watch the movie they'd gotten.

No, wait. This was her remote. She grinned and tapped the power button.

Forge had set up both her bedroom and Remy's with cameras and monitors. The output from her room was going to go directly to Remy's, and the output from the cameras in his would come to her monitors. She could see the man himself, sleeping soundly, naked and white against his black coverlet. This was going to be fun once he woke up. He would see numerous images of her, doing ... wait. He was stirring. She got to her feet, stripped off her nightgown, and began doing some aerobics naked before the cameras.

There was no way he could resist. She was going to enjoy watching his reactions to her little show.

***********************************

A group of X-men were gathering in the television area to watch Dark City this morning. Bobby Drake was already seated in a chair by the door, Hank and Kitty had claimed the couch, Scott was on the floor next to the couch, and Jamie and Rahne were on the love seat.

Jubilee squished between Hank and Kitty on the couch and sighed happily. She was finally going to get to see Rufus Sewell in another movie. He'd been so cute in Cold Comfort Farm! Hank flicked the remote and a picture came up, but it wasn't the usual church or ranting preacher that came up.

It was Rogue's room and she wasn't doing anything in there that had anything to do with church or preaching. She was fully naked and going through exercises that made the men in the room twitch. Remy could be seen on a monitor behind her, gaping as she started doing jumping jacks, her muscled buttocks contracting enticingly.

Jubilee didn't try to turn the movie on. Rogue had refused all of her attempts to get information out of her as to how her wager was going. This was pure blackmail gold. She did, slyly, start the VCR taping in the background while the men gulped and the women watched in silence.

Jean-Paul stuck his head into the room, smelling of fresh lavender. Frowning, he bent down and asked Bobby, "What are you watching?"

Bobby cleared his throat, his eyes not moving from Rogue's breasts as she did some arm stretches. "Rogue."

Jean-Paul nodded and turned to go.

"And Remy."

Within two seconds, Jubilee was deposited in Bobby's lap and Jean-Paul was seated in her old place, between Hank and Kitty on the couch. "Hey!" she protested feebly.

Bobby put his arm around her. "Get comfortable. Stay a while."

She relaxed and watched the continuing action. It wasn't like she minded getting closer to Bobby.

Oo. Remy was reaching for his cock. She leaned forward, bright eyes gleaming with interest, as Scott muttered for Remy to resist it and Kitty chortled in glee, clapping her hands in delight.

***********************************

Dieu. Rogue was a beautiful figure of a woman.

Awakening, Remy did not question at first why Rogue's image confronted his sleep-swollen eyes. He simply watched, amazed, ecstatic, and hungry for her. He followed her with his eyes as she moved from one exercise from another, stretches to kicks, swelling hard at her mere image. His hand crept up to his right thigh, his thumb nearly brushing his twitching penis before he remembered he should not.

Trembling, he put his arm back at his side. It had been enough, however, for him to question why he was seeing her at all. He also noticed a slight pout on Rogue's face as she got on the floor and spread her legs wide. He tried to think about it as his left arm betrayed him this time and stroked over his lower abdomen ... she was bending to stretch, a sly smile on her face ...

He threw his arm back behind his head and panted with frustration, but his mind was finally clear. There should not be large wall monitors in his room. He should not be able to see Rogue. And she plainly could see him, which also should not be happening.

So. She decided to go after him this way, hein? Well, two could play this game, and Remy was eager to show her all his good sides, too. He relaxed, closed his eyes, and stretched his arms over his head, pushing his hips up from the bed as he did. He kept his eyelids cracked open, just a touch, and saw her quiver as her eyes looked upward to keep track of his reactions.

**********************************

In the den, the shouting and cheering rivaled the noise level there had been for the last Super Bowl. Rahne, Kitty, and Jubilee were urging Rogue on to victory, Scott was in tears of laughter that Remy had caught on and was howling on the floor (as red as his visor), and Hank, Bobby, and Jamie were cheering for both players alternately. Only Jean-Paul was silent amid their cries and yells, a wondering, wistful look on his face as he watched Remy stand and give another terrific, terrible full body extension that showed off his well-muscled thighs and stomach as well as his throbbing genitals.

**********************************

Oh, God. Remy was posing again. This time he'd decided to turn around, back to the camera, and bend over the bed. His ass clenched, he looked back over his shoulder wickedly, and she couldn't stand it any longer. She gave up pretending to stretch and stood, glaring at the camera. "Remy, wouldn't you say this has gone on long enough?"

He turned and sat on his bed. "Oui, chere. You ready to call it quits?"

"If you are."

He considered it for a moment, then inclined his head gracefully. "I think we have a tie."

"I'll give you fifteen seconds to get ready."

Remy blinked. "Chere, we going to need at least..."

She ignored the sound coming from the screen, turning and hurling herself full-force at her window. The glass shattered and she flew outside, sun glinting off the minute fragments of glass in her hair.

********************************

Remy sighed and opened his window, finishing his statement despite Rogue's inability to hear it. " ... five minutes." He pulled on his boxers and felt the air as she swept in and landed on his bed.

"You doing the wrong thing, sugar." She gave him a daring, dangerous glance.

He bent over and tossed her a sweatshirt. "Put this on, chere."

"Why?"

He got closer and murmured, "Cause for what Remy got planned, we gotta do a little traveling."

She threw the shirt on without further questions and followed him out of the room. 

*************************************************

There was laughter, cheering, and loud gasps as Rogue took the dive out of her window. There were moans of disappointment at Remy covering up and Rogue putting on his shirt. But when the two mutants finally left Remy's room, everyone froze and there was utter silence, broken a few seconds later by a cry of "No!" from Jamie, Kitty, and Jean-Paul in unison.

Bobby suddenly pulled Jubilee off his lap and practically ran out the door. It took everyone else a few seconds to realize that if Remy and Rogue were leaving, they might be heading to the den or near it, and that they probably shouldn't let on that they'd been there gaping at them.

Jubilee made sure to remove the tape from the VCR, the last to leave the room, a puzzled frown on her face. Should the VCR have stopped recording before she got to it?

*********************************

Jean-Paul zipped to his room, the videotape in his hands. He had taken advantage of the confusion to grab the incriminating Remy and Rogue tape and replace it with a blank one from the box above the machine. He hummed contentedly, imagining the horrified, startled look on Jubilee's face when she realized someone else had taken it.

He happily turned on his TV and slipped the tape in, muting the volume and getting comfortable on his bed. Soon, he was deaf to anything other than pleasure.

*********************************

Remy pushed Rogue, protesting and laughing, through the halls and down the stairs to the Danger Room. On the way, they ran into Scott, who blushed furiously and kept his red gaze firmly on the floor after that first glance, and Kitty, who gave a big grin and a wink in Rogue's direction.

"This better not take too long, swamp rat, or I'm droppin' you in the lake," Rogue threatened as they nearly tripped down the stairs.

Remy pouted, his red eyes swirling with mischief. "If you don't want Remy, chere, just say so."

She tried out a glare, but knew it lacked force when his pout became a wicked, lusty grin. She sighed. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost, chere." Remy's grip tightened as he opened the door to the Danger Room monitoring station and pushed his lover inside. "Just gotta do one more thing." He stopped as he saw Logan far below, lazily tearing the throat from an assailant and yawning. "Okay, two."

"Two?!" She wanted him now, not ... oh. The petulant thought Does everyone have to know what we are doing? flickered through her head as she conveniently forgot her public attempts to tease the rapscallion she desired.

Remy turned on the microphone and called down to Logan, who hadn't even broken a sweat, as two ninjas began stalking him. "Hey, there, homme. Mind if we take over?"

Logan, his characteristically garish costume unmarked by any of the combat, growled, "Who's 'we'?" as he knocked the ninjas' heads together. He cocked his head and spared a glance at the monitoring station as Rogue blushed and said, "Us."

His bright blue eyes wandered from Rogue, whose blush intensified, to Remy. Logan then nodded once, crisply, and intoned, "End program." He then pulled a cigar from the pack in his belt and lit it, speaking into the air loudly as the room changed back to normal and he headed for the back door. "About time some people got some things over with and stopped bothering everyone else with their damned fool bets, ain't it? Kids don't think about how they affect everyone else with their balderdash."

His complaints followed his thick form out the door as Remy chortled and Rogue gave her irritating man a real glare this time. "Now what?" she asked, impatiently tugging at the sweatshirt, wishing she could strip it off and ride him now, damn it.

Remy nodded. "Gambit lambda alpha." The room below began to change as Remy pulled her out of the room by her left elbow, after a quick brush against her right breast that had her panting for more.

"Men," she sighed as she ran down to the Danger Room with him, hot and eager. 



Exercise Ch. 07



The inside had been transformed into a fairly plain dojo, blue mats on the floor and a huge full-length mirror that spanned the width of the far wall. She nearly stumbled over a mat as she entered and instinctively tried to fly, but oddly enough, she didn't take off. Instead, she flailed her arms wildly while Gambit paused, his boxers half off, and cleared his throat, watching her attempt to keep from falling with amusement and desire.

"What the hell is this, Remy?" she demanded when she had regained her balance. "Why can't I fly? Is this supposed to be romantic or …"

He let the boxers fall the rest of the way down his legs and reached for her. Alarmed, she leaped back and came up short. What was wrong with her? He stalked her to the wall as she backed away, nerves jumping in her stomach. 

"What's goin' on?" she tried, hands out as her naked lover came within touch range. She registered that indeed, his poster had him in perfect proportion as his right hand drew close to her face.

"Trust Gambit, chere. Five ways, remember?" His red eyes were less bright, but his gaze was intense as his fingers lightly brushed her skin.

Nothing happened. She blinked. "What?"

He moved to draw her against his body, his usual mischievous expression returning. She felt his incredible warmth close to her and couldn't stop a sigh, part nervous and part longing to hold him, feel his cock against her skin. "No powers," he whispered as he pulled her against his warm, muscular frame.

Heat blossomed as their lips met for their first real kiss. Rogue gradually realized what he'd said. No powers. Normally, she had to restrain herself from embracing her friends with her full strength. Now, she was hot and half-naked with a very, very impressively nude man pressed against her, her hands roaming his back as she pushed ever closer, and he wasn't hurt at all.

Well. If she'd known the Danger Room could do this, she'd have come down here with him months ago. She did wish, faintly, in the back of her mind where rational thought was dwindling fast, that he'd told her about his scheme before he got her in there so she wouldn't have tried to fly… Most of her focus, however, was on holding and stroking and feeling the delightful sensation of skin on hers that wasn't her own.

As if through a fog, she became aware that Remy was trying to pull free. She moaned in protest and tried to keep her hold on him, but he was … stronger? How could he be … oh, right. No powers. "Remy…"

He was intensely proud of himself. "Chere, how 'bout we get that shirt off?"

She had forgotten the sweatshirt she still wore in her passion to caress him, all of him. Impatiently, she tugged it off and puffed a quick breath at the curl of hair that swept down over her right eye in its wake.

***********************************************

Dieu. She was beautiful. The pictures, the images were nothing compared to the real thing. He stared, for the few seconds she permitted it, enjoying the curve of her waist into her hips, the perfectly rounded breasts. Then she flung herself at him again and pressed as close as she could, like she wanted to be inside him.

Course, he wanted to be inside her. The near constant ache in his groin had been torment for the past several days, though he'd gotten a little relief from his passionate dream about Emma Frost, waking in a warm, relaxed state with sticky semen all over his stomach and thighs. It hadn't been near enough, naturally, and the visits to Rogue's bedroom, then the bathroom, had only aggravated things. He regretted instantly his penchant for teasing Hank and Kurt about having blue balls…although he had not told them so yet, and might never do so.

Her hands were drawing him down to the mat. Her green eyes were deep and dark, and they weren't looking into his by a long shot. He smirked, enjoying the attention. "Penny for your thoughts, chere."

She dropped her arms to her sides and parted her legs. "Come inside me."

His body was very happy to hear that. He felt his balls tighten as he tried to suppress his desire to thrust into her, just fuck her now… "You sure you ready?" he asked, bending over and stealing a kiss.

She accepted his caress but trailed her hand down his torso and circled his cock without touching it. He froze and pulled back a little. He had to think about something that wasn't sexy. Blob in a thong. Yes. Blob in a thong. And Rogue had worked with Mystique, who worked with Blob. Damn.

She smiled slowly, seductively. "We've had five days of foreplay," she pointed out, withdrawing her hand slowly to a sudden cry of disappointment.

His cry of disappointment.

Merde. He was not a boy anymore. He was not going to let go before he'd even entered her. He closed his eyes and quickly bit the inside of his right cheek hard.

Good. The tension released a little, though now his testicles were on fire. He could punch through a whole forest with his erection.

Rogue was tugging at his hips, pulling him closer. With a sigh, he rubbed up against her. Ohhhhh. She was soaking wet and hot, and the friction was wonderful. He teased her with another slow stroke against her moist body and got a growl of frustration. "Inside. Now." The words were harsh, but her tone was desperate.

Witty response. Must come up with a witty response. He softly sought out her vaginal entrance as he thought. "Happy to … help the lady," he panted as he moved a short way inside her.

She threw her head back and groaned, "More."

To hell with witty responses. Time to get down to the business of pleasure. He pushed into her body, enveloped by her warm wet tunnel, and added his own muttered epithets and exclamations to hers. His last remnant of thought whispered (she must not use her biggest toys very often) before it departed.

Now, all was burning desire, delightful friction against the head of his penis, pushing and pulling, murmurs breaking the silence, and the need to climax. Her face, mouth open, gasping as he moved inside, beautiful. Pressure building inside as his testicles retreated further into his body. A tighter grip on his aching cock as she clutched him close and rose against him. Good. Good. Almost unbearable burning as she relaxed and he continued his forward motion, needing more, the unmistakable feeling of orgasm building within.

The tension broke in an almost unbearable feeling of relief. He cried out in pleasure, overwhelmed by the intense wave rippling through him, plunging into Rogue by reflex as she watched him from beneath, eyes wide, covered in sweat.

He collapsed, still shuddering, onto her hot body. She clasped her arms around him as he, shaken, tried to slow his breathing to a normal level.

"Wow," she said quietly.

"You ain't … kiddin'." He rested his head on her shoulder. She rubbed her cheek against his hair.

"So, when will you be up for round two?"

Remy groaned. He heard the weariness in her voice, but decided to treat her question seriously. "Gotta at least take five on this, ma chere."

She tried to sound disappointed. "But the rumors say you can go for hours and not get tired."

He snorted and chuckled weakly. "Rumors say no one can do what Remy just do wit' you too, chere."

She sighed and held him tight. "I guess I can wait. For now."

***************************************

Jubilee went to her room and waited a few minutes for Remy and Rogue to get out of the way before she went back down to the den and popped the tape back into the VCR. She wanted to see how much of the couple's antics she'd gotten recorded. The tape whirred for a few seconds, then stopped.

She frowned. She had been recording them. She pushed play and waited, then let out a frustrated scream.

***************************************

Fifteen minutes after Remy and Rogue entered the Danger Room, Bobby Drake emerged from his room flashing a huge wad of cash and inviting everyone he saw to come out to brunch with him. "Won big in an … investment in our favorite X-men," he grinned. No one so far had taken him up on his offer, so he started checking out the more obscure locations in the mansion.

He heard a choked sob as he walked by the den, so he leaned back to see what was going on. Jubilee was on the floor, in tears, surrounded by videotapes. She held two in her hands as her head rolled down to her chest and she wailed.

Without thinking, he pocketed the money and knelt down before her, taking a tape and tipping up her chin with it. "Hey, bright eyes," he said gently. "What's wrong? Can't find that subtitled version of 'Seven Samurai' that Wolverine taped?"

Oddly enough, she flashed him a quick suspicious look before crumpling into his arms and crying on him. He embraced her, confused, and looked at the tape in his hand. "Come on," he tried, "what's so bad about 'Elmo Takes Over The Sesame Street Franchise'?"

She giggled and gasped, starting a coughing frenzy that alarmed him. He patted her back helplessly and sighed. "Sorry."

Hiccuping, she looked up at him, small and lost. "You didn't (hic) take it (hic), did you?"

"No, no." He waved the Sesame Street video in his hand in front of her. "It's right here."

Her expression became exasperated, which at least was more normal when she interacted with him, and her voice took on a sarcastic tone. "No. The Remy and (hic) Rogue tape!"

"It's missing?" Bobby didn't even have time to think about it before the idea hit him. Hank. Hank must have taken it. Jamie and Rahne weren't the type, and neither was Scott. Kitty might have, but she'd also have told Jubilee that she did. No, it had to be Hank, because Bobby hadn't taken it himself.

He plastered an "Isn't that interesting?" expression on his face, but the shrewd look in Jubilee's shining eyes told him she'd seen his reaction to the news. "Bobby, give. Who took it?"

He tried to be kind of honest. "I don't really know." Yet. "It's just an idea." A pretty certain idea. "Tell you what. Let me take you out to brunch with what I won on the Remy/Rogue investment I made, and then we'll do some investigating later."

Her eyes lit up, but then her face fell and she turned away from him, looking down at the scattered tapes on the carpet. "You're just asking me so I won't find out who took it."

He sighed. He wasn't good with serious stuff, but he sensed it was time to stop fooling around. "Well, partly I was, yeah." He walked around her, but she kept turning away. "Come on. Give me a chance." He seized both her shoulders and pulled her toward him, keeping his grip loose enough that she could get away if she wanted to. She moved forward, toward him, but kept her eyes on the floor. He carefully used one finger to tilt her head up so she would see him. "That's better."

"Is it?" She looked defeated, unhappy. 

He smiled and nodded. "You do have bright eyes. I wished I could have seen them when we were watching, earlier."

She blushed, a cute reddening of her upper cheeks, and glanced at his right shoulder. "I liked … sitting with you."

"So will you come with me? It's not every day I ask someone to go with me on a date, you know, and I don't handle rejection well." He made what Kitty called his "sad puppy face" and Jubilee's lower lip started quivering, trying to hold back laughter. Encouraged, he continued. "You know, the late nights singing outside your door, and I don't sing very well or know very many songs, and the flowers showing up all hours of the day, and …"

She laughed, a quick blast of amusement that warmed his heart, and then grew solemn again. "Do you really mean it, Bobby?"

Again, it was time to lay off the humor. He nodded and smiled. "Hey. I don't do things on purpose to hurt people, and asking you out without meaning it would hurt you. Besides, we always have fun together, right?"

She bent her head and looked at the chair by the door, the chair they'd been in earlier, and shot a glance up at him. "You always know how to make me laugh, Bobby."

He bowed. "Just call me the Houngan of Humor." She frowned in confusion and he shrugged. "So, are you going to be my date, or what?"

"Yes." Her response was quick and decisive, quite surprising Bobby, who was prepared to threaten her with a tickle fight or more dishwashing duty if she didn't accept him, but was not prepared for immediate compliance with his wishes. Floored, caught off balance, he noticed she was quite close and had actually said yes, so he wrapped his right arm behind her back and bent over for a kiss.

She responded with the same aggression as her declaration that she wanted to be his date, teasing him - HIM, the Ultimate Tease - with short darts of her tongue into his mouth. Not that he was complaining. Oh, no. Bobby'd had enough bad experiences with women to know a good thing when he felt it. He pressed her against his body and she wriggled against him, just as she had earlier. He briefly wondered if she'd meant to rub against him in the chair or if it was all unconscious, then enjoyed the warmth and closeness of her caresses.

He put her down after a few minutes for several reasons, trying to ignore some of them (Logan's reaction, his own growing excitement, the public area they were in) and focus on others (people might be waiting to go eat, check on Hank about the tape). "Wow." He bowed to her. "I am in your debt, my lady." She stood swaying a little, her right hand at her lips, a little red and breathless. "Ten minutes, in the garage." He pointed his index finger at her playfully. "Be there."

***************************************************

Oh, my God. Bobby was an EXCELLENT kisser. Jubilee stayed in the den, a bit off-balance herself, and brushed her fingers over her lips, remembering the sensation. Then she shrieked and ran to her room. She had only ten minutes to get her boring old jeans off and get a cool outfit together for her date!

Quietly, without fanfare or notice, her old crush on Wolverine shivered and died out.

************************************************** 

Hank McCoy was sorting out the bets in his laboratory, calculating amounts and winners, as the news had finally come to him via Kitty that Remy and Rogue had decided to call it quits. Together.

He smiled, focussing on the figures before him and the unexpected big winner and not his own disappointment. Some day he would find a woman who could appreciate the beauty of blue. After all, Kurt had … in a way.

When the news of the victor got out, it was going to arouse amazement, suspicion, anger, and surprise. He, himself, had been startled when the winner first decided to place a bet at all, but at least he was not completely taken unaware by the outcome. The other X-men would be, however, and he was looking forward to seeing their bewildered faces. His fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop as he calculated the total. It was a pretty sum of money, too, enough for a new laptop or some chemical components…it was too bad he had not decided to partake in the contest himself.

"Hank. Buddy. Pal. Old friend." He did not bother looking up as the door opened and Bobby entered, but switched to another program and continued his work. Of all people, Bobby Drake was the last he wanted to educate on how the bets had turned out. Bobby kept talking at him despite Hank's own reticence. "I ended up winning big in the Remy/Rogue sweepstakes. Care to help me spend it?"

Hank snorted. "You did not."

"Hey, the cash says you're wrong." A roll of dollar bills, shaken by Bobby's left hand, appeared before his vision, obscuring the data on his current mutation testing. "You're wrong, Hank McCoy!" Bobby said in a high, squeaky voice.

"Firstly, my dear friend, if currency were to speak, I doubt it would proclaim itself in tones more suited to your grandmother." He glanced over at Bobby, who was dressed to the nines and ready to protest. He cut him off. "Secondly, since I am the stakes holder for all of the Remy/Rogue bets, I can assure you that since you did not place a bet, you are not a winner."

Bobby's shoulders slumped a little, and he groaned. "Damn. I had to try this out on the one guy who'd never believe me."

"So where did this sudden affluence come from?" Hank inquired.

Bobby regained his former ensouciance. "Hank. Buddy. You, of all people, should know." His hands and arms spread wide as he gave a little shrug. "I'm an accountant. I can get all the money I want."

Hank shook his head. "My last researches into the subject failed to reveal that accountants in general have become the idle rich of the world."

"So, all the money I need, then. Brunch? Come on, Hank. You know you want to." Bobby leaned over the laptop and looked at his data briefly. "You've been working hard enough already."

"I fear I cannot at present. I must still pay out to the real winner," he said, adding emphasis while he smiled at his crony.

"Oh. All right. Hey, maybe you can meet us later? We're going for Thai in the village." Bobby turned to go, then reconsidered. "By the way, congrats on swiping that tape! Just make sure you make a few copies before you give it back, okay? I've already got plans for it."

Hank stopped working to muse over Bobby's last words as the door swung closed and his friend hailed Tessa in the corridor. Unlike Bobby earlier, he had nothing else to distract his mind from coming to the rational truth. The only "tape" he was aware that he could have "swiped" was the tape of the Remy/Rogue shenanigans earlier. He had noticed Jubilation's determination to catch the canoodling couple's erotic display. He had seen Bobby leave first of all, so Bobby had not removed it, but the tape had disappeared, so someone had. Suspicion and analysis led him to an inevitable conclusion, and he emitted a brief murmur of regret. He would probably not get to go to brunch with his friends today. "Hank McCoy, P.I., at your service. Reluctantly."

He adjusted the green visor he was wearing so it fit better over his eyes and turned back to the betting charts.

**************************************************

Rogue relaxed, her left arm embracing her lover's slick, sweaty back as her right hand idly traced patterns on the blue mat she reclined on. Suddenly curious, she asked, "Remy, why did you set things up to look like this?"

He said something into her shoulder and gave it a gentle kiss. She squeezed him a little and he protested. "Come on. I want to know."

He raised his head from her shoulder and began nibbling her where the base of her neck met her collar bone. "This a room for combat, chere. This the best I could do."

"Oh, I doubt that." She shivered, remembering his pounding entry into her willing body.

Pride rang out in his tones as he answered her, continuing his soft nibbles of her flesh. She laid her head back so he could do more, enjoying the warm tickly feelings he was evoking. "Gambit good wit' YOU, chere, but you not a computer, hein?"

"Hey, accordin' to this cartoon Kitty and Jubilee made me watch, my brain is a livin' computer." She twitched as he rose up over her and got within kissing distance again.

"Naw, chere." He brushed her mouth with his. "That Sage."

"Details." She nearly touched him, intending to lie back on the mat again, but he held her in place and kissed her firmly until she was gasping for breath.

He moved slowly down to her neck, continuing his wet strokes against her sensitive skin. "Remy …" She stroked his hair and back, unable to reach more. He was only partly over her body, his legs still over to the left side, his arms holding his chest away from her. "I want to feel more of you while I can."

"Patience, chere. It a virtue, they tell me." His eyes burned into hers, then wandered down her naked body. She felt embarrassingly naked and squirmed under his intense gaze.

"Beautiful," he whispered, taking her right breast in his hand and considering it, then slowly lowering his head and engulfing her nipple and areola. He licked and tugged, sucked and lapped, as she gasped for breath and held him closer when he tried to retreat.




Exercise Ch. 07



She wanted to do something for him, make him gasp and cry out under her mouth, but she waited while he made his way to her other breast and swallowed it down. She would be patient. She would make him beg before she was done with him.

**************************************************

He waited, trying to be patient, in his room. He pretended to work for the first hour, but then gave it up as a bad job. There was no point in pretending any longer.

He had taken a chance, and he had won.

He stared at his strong hands. He had crept to Hank's door to place the bet, anticipating discovery at every turn, worrying that someone would be where he shouldn't at that hour. From his years and years at the mansion, time and again he'd found out that very few of the X-men stayed where they were scheduled to be. Thankfully, for once, everyone was either in place or away from Hank's laboratory. He'd sworn Hank to secrecy, and Hank had gladly accepted.

But now, he had won. How could he keep things quiet now? Even Warren and some of the others who were out on missions had put in wagers on Remy and Rogue's play. Hank would have to tell, and he would be exposed.

It might not be so bad, he told himself as he picked up a free weight and did slow curls with his right arm. After all, he'd recently gone with another impulse, and it had turned out … well.

His reflection caught his attention, and he stopped smiling in surprise. He had a wicked smile! He'd never seen himself looking this way.

He speculated on that impulse. Oh, he'd enjoyed it, but she'd been a bit too … bold, hadn't she? She'd assumed he wouldn't change, even if she spoke to him about how she felt. He wasn't the empathic one in their relationship, after all … how was he to have known?

It was … conceivable that he should have a talk with her. Her workout should be over soon, and then she'd be in the women's locker room or the whirlpool alone.

He gave a small giggle at the door, preparing to go confront Hank. "Inconceivable," he murmured, sounding far more like Wallace Shawn than he realized.

Now, if only his luck held again…

**************************************

Hank was waiting for the winner to show up when he got a call on his cell phone. He fished the phone out of his lab jacket pocket and adjusted his eyeshade. They simply did not create gear in his size. "McCoy Productions, how may I be of assistance?"

"Do you know who took it yet?" Forge's flat voice greeted his ear.

"I believe I know who purloined the copy of the evidence created by our mercurial friend, Jubilation Lee." He turned away from the door and unconsciously lowered his voice. "I also believe you created a copy for purposes of ascertaining who had won, should this particular ploy prove successful?"

"Yes. It shows who took it, too. Should I pipe it into your monitor?"

He thought for a brief moment. "Indeed. I desire confirmation." He paused. "Thank you for the alteration of the signal."

"We had to know who won."

Hank nodded, his voice still low. "I shall give you your cut of the profit I have made for serving as stakeholder, and Kitty hers, once the winner has come and claimed the larger portion."

"I'll be here." Hank's lab monitor beeped from its corner, where it normally displayed security camera images. "You should be ready."

"Thanks to you, my mechanically gifted comrade. Farewell." He clicked the cell off and turned to the monitor. It showed a divided screen, the audience from the den on one side, Remy and Rogue on the other. At the moment when Remy and Rogue left, the den image swelled to encompass the entire screen. He watched as the realization hit Bobby … then the image pace slowed. He saw that he had dropped his pen (good to know where it is), that Scott looked almost panicked as Jamie pushed him aside, and that Jubilee looked offended, before the thief's image flashed before his eyes. It was no more than a few frames of visual data, but enough to confirm his earlier suspicions.

Now, of course, the question was what to do with the guilty party. He had a copy of the master tape Forge had made, so he did not need one. Forge had a copy. However, Jubilation would persist and make all their lives miserable unless she got what she considered to be "her" copy back.

Hm. He smiled and called Forge's number. There was a way to make everyone happy here, and he had just found it.

**************************************************

He walked with his usual measured, medium tread. He encountered no one but Tessa on the way to Hank's lab, and she merely nodded at him and continued on her way. Good.

He knocked lightly three times and heard Hank call him by name, inviting him to enter. He did so, opening the door with outward calm and inward delight. He closed the door firmly afterward and took a stool near Hank's position.

Hank was busily tapping away at his laptop, which was hooked up to a TV/VCR combo in the corner that looked wildly convoluted. He stopped, pushed one key, and gave a sigh. "It is complete." He then gave the winner a grin. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel?" He twisted his hands together in his lap.

"I am uncertain." Hank stood and stretched, a mountain of blue fur, and a few strands fell down and stuck to his uniform. "You have always been difficult to sniff out, though I believe your heart rate may be accelerated and you smell of perspiration. That could easily be from a Danger Room session."

"I didn't expect to WIN," he blurted out. "I mean, I just wanted to try something new."

Hank nodded. "Be careful. You may lose your honorary title."

He snorted. He NEVER snorted. He tried to turn it into a cough, instead. "I don't care if Bobby has to change his opinion about me. It's good for him."

Hank pulled a printout from the computer. "Would you care to take stock of your winnings?"

"All right." He gave the page a casual glance, then froze in place, nearly staring a hole through the paper. "Y…you mean two hundred and thirty dollars, right, Hank?" He looked up, mouth slightly open, stupefied. "Th…this is just another one of your jokes, right?"

"Alas, my compatriot, it is not an attempt to bamboozle you. That is, indeed, the correct sum of your earnings. Two thousand, three hundred and thirty-five dollars." His friend's smile was tinged with regret. "However, I do have some good news for you."

Two thousand, two hundred…no, three hundred…why, that was nearly as much as they needed for … He did some addition in his head. Why, this changed things a lot. He rubbed his hands together briskly, the earlier wicked smile returning to his face. He could have that talk with her, and then … very conceivable.

He felt Hank's large hand pull the page from his and looked up. Hank was frowning. "Are you completely insensible, man?"

He controlled himself with an effort and sat up straight, though his lips still curved in secret amusement. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

Hank took off the green visor on his head and threw it neatly onto a nearby shelf. "I was communicating to you that if you worried about being discovered immediately, you need not. Bobby has been telling everyone he won the bet."

"Bobby did?" Well, that changed things, too. Maybe he wouldn't be so hard on the man this coming week after all…

"Of course, it will have to come out eventually, but you should have adequate time for preparation."

Impatiently, he waved off the rest of Hank's explanation. "Yes. Of course. Now, I just need to talk with my dear, dear fiancée." He rose to his feet in one smooth move and swept the door wide open. "Thank you, Hank."

*************************************************

Hank McCoy sighed and lowered his left hand, the one he had raised to restrain Scott from departing his laboratory. The man had been behaving unusually, even before he had gotten the chance to announce his prize. Surely someone would suspect something if he was seen by anyone other than Jean. Ah, but it was too late now. Besides, he'd known Scott for a long time, and the man's self-control was second only to that of Professor Xavier. Undoubtedly his long-time friend would present his usual cool, introverted demeanor by the evening.

He pulled the tape from the VCR and put it into a standard VHS box. Now it was time to deal with the bandit who had taken Jubilee's tape.



Exercise Ch. 08



Rogue faced the mirror, on her hands and knees, watching as her lover poised to enter her from behind. Remy grasped her hips firmly and entered her, shallow, teasing them both with his swift short pushes. She watched as his eyes darkened, becoming less red, and his face became blank.

Slowly the space separating their bodies decreased as he grew tired of playing, and then he pushed directly into her.

Oh! Something intense happened. It was ... like an orgasm, but not like one. It was almost too much feeling. She never thought she would experience too much pleasure. She tried to call out, to say something to her lover, but he pushed back again fast and hard, and she shrieked instead with every hard thrust. She soon was pushed over the edge by the wild sensations coming from her vaginal channel, and Remy followed, calling her name.

When he was through, when they both were done, she collapsed and cried in reaction, Remy asking her anxiously what was wrong, as she shivered, overcome by the experience.

* * * * *

All of the mansion residents had, naturally, been having a difficult time with the Rogue/Remy bet and had been dealing with it in their characteristic ways. Logan, for example, had been spending a lot of time out of the mansion, pretending neither Rogue nor Remy existed. Hank dealt with it by figuring out pranks with Bobby. Others spent a lot of late nights at clubs, meeting new people and drinking their troubles away.

But the telepaths had been getting the worst of it. Rogue and Remy were not the only ones leaking intense sexual emotions and thoughts. There were currently four telepaths at the mansion, and they were all on edge. Jean and Emma had been more proactive, venting their frustrations on their lovers. Sage had taken to sleeping with telepathic dampers in her room, trusting to the others to keep an "ear" out for trouble at night. She would have taken a lover, but she was currently interested in Warren Worthington, who was away on a two week business trip to Florida. Professor Xavier, too, had found that even his deepest meditations only offered a little relief. All of them had, in their own ways, been praying for the situation to end.

They relaxed when they realized that Rogue and Remy had finally come to terms. That was a mistake. Rogue's intense blasts of feeling when Remy finally hit her G-spot tore through their shields easily. Jean stopped in the middle of her exercise routine and decided to ... relax in the whirlpool early. Emma ran to find Kurt, muttering that at least her lover had a tail. Professor Xavier decided it was time for a walk in the park. Sage, when the Professor contacted her but before he could communicate, said tersely, "Yes," and eagerly left.

*******************************************************************

Jean was lying in the warm whirlpool, teasing herself into greater arousal, slowly swirling one finger around her clit while her left hand inserted two fingers into her grasping pussy, when suddenly the door to the pool room slammed open. She hurriedly pulled her hands from between her legs and used her telekinesis on the water to cause swirls around them, cleaning away the evidence of her actions. She also gave a tentative smile, facing the doorway. The smile disappeared, replaced by shock, as she saw her fiancé enter. HE had thrown open the door?

His face held a wide grin, more appropriate for the ebullient Bobby Drake than her reserved Scott, and his right hand was poised at the rim of his visor. His blue shirt was loose, its collar unbuttoned, and he was wearing black sweat pants. He looked excited and dangerous.

Scott never wore sweat pants. She knew he didn't own any. He must have borrowed them from someone. And Scott, ever precise, had never let his collars be open or his shirts rumpled since she had known him. Was something wrong?

He closed and locked the door, gave a brief scan of the whirlpool room, and turned to her discarded clothes on the floor. With one brief red blast from his eyes, he turned them to ashes.

She roused her sluggish brain to give a brief probe. Could this really be Scott? Her Scott?

He repulsed her weak probe with a mental slap, making her shake her head from the force of his rejection. "Oh, no, you don't," he said, slyly. "No powers, Jean. Just you, and just me."

She raised herself out of the water, dripping onto the tiled floor, and backed away from him. The momentary probe she'd gotten through had revealed that this was indeed her fiancé, her Scott, but an oddly playful Scott. She didn't quite know how to deal with her lover in this mood. "Why?" she asked, buying herself some time while she stood up, explored their emotional bond and tried to bring herself out of her sexual euphoria.

"Do you love me?" He stalked toward her, graceful, with a gait that reminded her of the more feral members of the team.

"Yes," she said, and immersed herself in their link.

She was hit with a wave of almost overwhelming, manic joy ... sexual desire ... love ... determination fueling the rest ... and pulled free before she could be sucked under.

He continued with the same slow, deliberate pace toward her, heading for the far corner she'd pressed herself into to keep from falling down. "Do you trust me?"

Her earlier desire had returned. Given Scott's current emotional state, she was certain he didn't mean to harm her... "Yes."

He purred out the words, one for each deliberate step. "Then no powers." He leaned over her, blocking her into the corner, and moved in for a kiss.

She let him kiss her, still a bit wary, but relaxed as all he did was continue to kiss her, teasing her lips with his, nibbling one and then the other. Then her body suddenly stiffened in full awareness as he caught her wrists and trapped them in each hand, holding them firmly at her sides.

"S ... Scott," she began in mild protest, but was cut off as he kissed his way to her ear.

"Do you love me?"

His warm breath kissed her ear before his tongue traced the edge. His warm shirt and soft pants provided friction against her body. She moved her hips, enjoying the caress. "Um ... oh, yes."

He smiled against her ear lobe. "And do you trust me, Jean? Really?" He pulled back and looked at her, less of that frightening energy in his face as he did. He did not release her arms, but he stared at her braced legs and flushed skin, and she gave her first smile back.

"Yes, Scott. Of course."

His grin spread wide across his normally tense face. His usual cowlick, she noticed, was sticking up in the back of his brown, otherwise immaculately groomed hair. He hadn't combed it down. "Good," he drawled, drawing her close and seizing her breast firmly in his mouth. He then kissed her deeply, restraining her, and she did not bother trying to fight, instead doing her best to draw him close. His desire sang within, mixing with the ecstasy she'd felt from Rogue and her own lust. She let him do what he would with her.

Her mind broke free again when he spun her around, cuffed her wrists together behind her back and pushed her back into the corner. She soon succumbed to his insistent fingers between her legs, offering her body to him before she could think to protest.

She was fully in the moment, pushing her clit into his hand, moaning as his wonderfully wicked mouth sucked down her breasts, when he spoke again. She didn't catch what he said, but she did notice him pulling away, holding her at arm's length, that fiery wave of desire flowing through her from their emotional bond as he distanced his body from hers. "Can you think, Jean?"

It took her a few seconds to come up with a reply. "Of course not!" She just desired him, now. "Please."

"No, no, no." He easily held her against the wall as she tried to rub herself against him. The incongruous sweat pants laid in a pool around his ankles. "We're going to do this my way, for once."

"Oh," she groaned, twisting to get free. "Can't it wait?"

He laughed. "No, Jean. Now. Do you realize that every time you tried to talk to me about having sex, I was in this mental state?"

She frowned and tried to bring herself out of her current sexual stupor. "No..." she murmured, thinking back.

"Well. I was." He forced her back into the corner and kissed her greedily, rubbing his hard warm flesh against hers, robbing her of her mental faculties again. He moved just far enough to whisper, "Every time. Was that fair?"

She whimpered. It wasn't fair what he was doing now ...

"Was it?" His voice cracked through the quiet room, drowning out the low hum of the water jets in the pool.

"No, but ... you ... I felt ..." She snatched at her scattered thoughts, but they flew away from her as he quickly pushed his erection into her aching, gushing slit and then pulled out rapidly.

"I liked it?" he prompted, giving her another quick rub and then holding his lower body away from her, staying in control.

"Yes." She wanted more. Scott should stop now.

He chuckled into her ear. "Yes, I did like your tight, wet little pussy grabbing my cock. I'd have liked it better if you trusted me and talked to me when I could think straight, though." He kissed down her cheek and she shuddered.

"Sorry..." she returned, slowly realizing that her seduction of a few days ago might not have been the world's best decision.

He pressed close again, chilling her back and warming her front, pulling her hips onto his and firmly entering her with his cock again. "Oh, I'm not too angry about it," he mumbled against her mouth. "I just thought it was about time I took control, and we had a talk."

"No more talking?" she pleaded.

"Aw. You don't like it when I talk?" he teased, pushing further into her and getting a small scream for his efforts. He was going deeper into her body than he had before, holding her up against the wall, keeping her helpless and open to whatever he wanted. She panted, trying to hide from herself how much she enjoyed this, this dark side of her beloved, gentle Scott.

"Well?" he demanded, bouncing her faster and faster on his erection, and she let him do whatever he wanted while she tried to remember what he'd asked.

"Um...I love you, and I trust you?" Her head was spinning, her entire lower body tensed, and she screamed again as her muscles released and Scott gave her ass a quick, hard slap.

"That'll do," he gulped out as he worked toward his own orgasm, letting her spin back to earth on her own.

Humming in pleasure, she heard his breathing increase, felt his penis expand inside her, and held him with her legs as he spurted into her. He sighed in pleasure, pulled his pants up, and started walking toward the door unsteadily.

"Wait!" She was still handcuffed and her clothes were destroyed. Surely Scott wouldn't leave her like this?

"Why?" He turned, spreading his arms wide. "You can get out of those cuffs on your own. Besides," he said with his former lusty grin, "I like the way you're dressed."

Her mouth hung open. For once, she was at a loss for words, telepathic and otherwise. He turned and reached the door before she spoke again. "What's gotten you into such an odd mood?"

He opened the door wide. Jean broke the cuffs with her telekinesis and leaped into the water. He laughed, then scanned the locker room. He must have seen no one, because he turned to face her, nearly closing the door. He whispered, "Guess who won the Remy/Rogue bet?"

She started speaking before she began thinking. "Why, Bobby ... did," she faltered, suddenly making connections she hadn't before. Scott? SCOTT? HE had bet on them? And won?

He shook his head slowly, his smile becoming smug. "You understand now, don't you?"

He pretended to tip a non-existent hat to her, then waltzed out the door, leaving it half-open. She caught a thread of thought as he sauntered through the locker room: "...always has another outfit somewhere..."

She sighed, using her telekinesis to first clean away the evidence of their lovemaking, then to fetch clothes for herself. Scott was partly right. She usually had an extra pair of sweats or jogging outfit in her locker down here, but she didn't have underwear. If anyone was outside the mansion and near their room, they probably saw her bra and panties flying past as she concentrated, bringing them into the whirlpool room. She hoped as she worked that she hadn't seized her set that had fit in high school before she'd finished developing, but no longer did. It had happened before, and since then, she'd forgotten to take them out of her underwear drawer.