|
The XXX- Men
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The following is a sexually oriented story featuring characters
trademarked and copyrighted to Marvel Entertainment Group, and
used without authorization. This material may be considered
offensive by some (so be warned) and innapropriate for minors (so
please don't read it if you are one).
This is the first in what I intend to be a series of such stories
feturing characters from the xbooks. The following story stars
Archangel and Psylocke, and the next in line will feature Amanda
Sefton and Nightcrawler. (Now changed to Rogue & Gambit the
former will now be #3) In designing these stories, my intent is
to do a different type of sex story, and mate it (pardon the pun)
with creative fanfic. I told myself that if I was to write sex
stories, they would be a lot less trashy than the average
outragious fantsies submitted to adult magazines. They wouldn't
be just a hot and sweaty, meaningless night between two
strangers, but the next evolutionary step in a relationship. I
chose to use xbooks characters so that I may depict a part of
their lives that we readers never get to see. Thus, creating
something different and otherwise unexplored. I would be
delighted to recieve any comment, critsism, or prostrating rave
you may deem fit to send my way. >8^)
Internet: [email protected]
I have included guides to typestyle modification for printing,
should such a thing be available to you. Words enclosed in "_"
are to be underlined (ex: _word_), enclosed in "*" are italics
(ex: *word*), enclosed in "<" and ">" are bold italics (ex:
<word>). I have thoughts in italics, and telepathic
communication in bold italics.
Oh, one last thing before I finish up this intro; there is an
author's note that follows the story, explaining the story's
place in xbooks continuity, as well as something of a
bibliography.
Enjoy...
XXX-Men #1 (Archangel & Psylocke)
By: Benjamin Wick
"I had a wonderful time Warren," she said as they walked
up the front steps and approached the mansion's door, arm in arm.
She smiled radiantly and her violet eyes sparkled in the
moonlight.
"Me too, Betsy. What's not to love about an enchanting
evening of dining and dancing on the rooftops of New York City
with the most beautiful British/Asian ninja telepath in the
world?" he smirked.
"No mean feat, considering I'm the only one we know of,
Mr. Charmer," she slapped him on the shoulder, "surely you can do
better than that!"
"Okay, okay, the most beautiful *woman* in the world," he
amended. She looked skeptical for a moment, then smiled again.
"Very impressive, Warren, a surface probe has verified
your sincerity. That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to
me," she crooned and planted an electric kiss on his lips. He
pulled her closer, returning the kiss passionately, their bodies
ground together and his loins tingled with a hot, maddening
sensation. He felt a pang of regret as they broke apart. He
reached into his pocket and fished out his key. He opened the
door and invited Betsy to enter with a bow of the head and a
sweeping guesture with his arm. She nodded acquiesce and stepped
in to the foyer ahead of him.
They ascended the stairs to the second floor, at the top,
Warren stood and looked at her awkwardly. He blushed a little,
which created an interesting effect on his light blue skin. He
didn't know how to proceed, and felt like such an adolescent for
it. He felt that he was getting all kinds of signals from Betsy
all night, but hadn't been with a woman in two years; since his
last long-time girlfriend Candy Southern was murdered as he
watched helplessly, and they'd been serious for nearly six
years. He didn't have sex with Charolette Jones during their
short relationship, the right time never presented itself. So it
had been almost eight years since he'd been in the position of
first sexual encounter with a new lover!
If Betsy was picking up any of this, she showed no sign.
She just kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heel towards
the left and the women's dormatories, sparing him a backwards
glance and a wink. She sauntered off, as Warren was left to gape
stupidly, watching her ass as it shifted beneath her slinky red
evening gown before she dissappeared around the corner, and
wonder what the hell happened.
"Damn!" he whispered through clenched teeth. He shrugged
his shoulders and shook his head slightly in dissappointment, and
proceed to follow Betsy halfway down the hall, taking a right
just beyond the stairway to Ororo's attic, through the galley and
into the bath and dressing rooms.
He flicked on the light and began to undress, neatly
folding his tuxedo and setting it aside. Warren tok slight
notice of the hard-on he was sporting. His nine-inch blue penis
stood proudly up ond out from his short bush of groomed, sharply
contrasting blond pubic hair. He chastised himself inwardly, he
hadn't been with a woman in two years, but still styled his pubic
hair out of the force of habit that he'd made as a millionaire
playboy. He was a compulsive groomer. He turned on the water in
the shower and stepped inside. Warren sighed heavily and tried to
relax and let the tension be washed away by the water rushing
over his smoothly muscled body, and be carried down the drain.
It wasn't working.
Betsy had him so worked up that he could have just
grabbed her and fucked them both senseless right there on the
front steps. He chuckled a little, the professor wouldn't be
likely to appreciate that. Plus, Bobby could be back from long
island with Rogue any time, a visit with his parents never lasted
very long. Warren tired to imagine Bobby and Rogue profusely
excusing themselves and stepping over and around he and Betsy's
twisting, grunting, sweating bodies.
Imagining this litle scene wasn't helping him cool down
any. Warren was lathering his hair and looked back down at his
unebbing erection, he considered a moment and then closed his
soapy fist around the massive organ and began to masterbate. He
slid his slick fist furiously up and down his shaft and
fantisized about Betsy, until, standing on his toes with his
arched back to the steaming water, he came, spolling out copious
amounts of jizz from his aching, purple head.
*That* was working. No subsitute for Betsy's flesh, but
it got rid of that maddening hard-on and loosened him up a bit.
Beside's Warren was no stranger to jacking off during this two
year, *and counting*, he thought with melancholy, dry spell.
He finished cleaning up and dried off. He procceded to
the adjoining dressing rooms and found his bathrobe among the
rest of the team's robes and a stockpile of standard blue and
gold training uniforms. He put it on, picked up his tuxedo, and
proceeded back through the galley, down the hall, past the
staircase to the first floor and the foyer, and to the men's
dormatory wing. As he approched the door to his room, he noticed
that it was slightly ajar. Battle-honed suspision kicked into
high gear, he dropped the tux and squinted his eagle-sharp eyes.
Fully tensed and ready to unfurl his deadly wings, he twisted
into a stance from which he could slam the door wide open with a
powerful side kick.
<Warren,> the gentle telepathic voice reached him and
calm flowed through his mind and body, stopping him in mid-kick.
But the adrenaline didn't stop pumping into his system as he
recognized the voice and realized what it must mean. He opened
the door and turned the dimmer knob above the light switch,
illuminating the room in a soft glow.
Betsy sat stark naked at the edge of his four-poster bed,
her left leg dangling over the edge and the other tucked up under
her. Her hands rested on her left knee, which caused her arms to
press her 44-DD breasts together, creating an amazingly sensual
effect.
*Warren, my boy,* he thought to himself, *you're gonna
get laid after all,* and unconsciously closed the door behind
him.
Betsy jiggled a little with laughter like the tinkling of
bells, and said, "How perceptive you are Mister Worthington," as
she slid off the bed's satin comforter, making a small swishing
noise. She stood tall and Warren marveled at her volumptuious,
athletic body. Smooth, flawless bronze skin, shapely limbs, flat
belly slightly rippled with the faint suggestion of feminine abs,
large breasts with plum nipples that complimented her darkish
skin beautifly, elegant Asian face that managed to carry and
suggest her British-born aristocracy in a unique effect, and
flowing lusterous deep purple hair. Warren noticed that her
little triangle of pubic hair was purple as well, meaning that
while Betsy Braddock was blond by birth, Kwannon's exotic hair
color must have been natural. Unless she dyed that too, but that
seemed unlikely.
Warren gulped and licked his lips in a nervous gesture, a
little sweat popped up on his brow and he trembled slightly as
Betsy strode toward him confidently, heaving her chest with deep
breaths, a no doubt intentional effect. She reached out to him,
placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the base of his
neck and pulled herself to him, mashing herself against his body
and fiercely kissing him. She finessed the folds of his robe
open with her knees, and, positioning her left leg between his
legs and her right leg alongside the outside of his left leg, she
began to grind her crotch against his left hip. Lifting her left
leg to his crotch, she began to rub his balls with it.
Warren's eyes bulged and his heartbeat became erratic,
thumping in his chest and temples so hard he thought he might
pass out. She had sucked his tongue into her mouth and was
rolling her's around it, *she was <chewing> on his tongue!,*
alternating between little nips at the tip with her inscisors and
grinding it lightly between her molars. Warren gasped deeply,
forgetting to breathe through his nose and almost choked. Betsy
sent a telepathic cascade of laughter, like a babbling brooke,
across his mind. She continued to suck his face, tickling the
roof of his mouth and licking his teeth for a while before she
began to close her mouth, forcing his to close with it by sucking
the air out of him. A loud, astoundingly dry, smacking sound was
produced when both their lips came together and the seal was
broken.
Warren let out a nervous laugh, little "huh" sounds
between gasps for breath. "Wow," he wispered sincerely with
glazed eyes. Betsy untied his robe and pushed it over his
shoulders so that it dropped off his body. She put her hands on
his hips and lowered to her knees. *Good lord!* he thought, his
head spinning, *the <kiss> almost got me off!*
Betsy cradled his genitals in her hands, cupping his sack
in her palms and holding his stiff member between her thumbs. She
massaged his nuts and gently kissed the head of his cock, wetting
it with saliva. She tilted it upward and flattened her tongue
onto his balls, slowly running it up the underside of his shaft
and upon reaching the end, swiftly gulped down his entire penis,
tightened her lips snugly around the base of his dick and slowly
retreated to the head, which she began to polish with her tongue.
Then she licked the side of his cock in a back and forth motion
before taking it back into her mouth and continued to give him
the best head of his life. Sucking, licking and nibbling him
into new heights of ecstacy.
"Wait," he panted, heavily setting his hand on her head
when he was teetering on the edge of an orgasm. She disengaged
and stood, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He was
begining to get over his initial shock and befuddlement and was
ready to take a more confident and active role. He took her by
the waist and guided her to the bed. He lifted her into his arms
and slid onto the bed, setting her down with her head on the
pillows. He opened her legs and sat between them with his legs
folded under him.
She was so beautiful, lying naked on red satin, one arm
lay slightly crooked at her side, the other bent in a right
angle, lying palm upward. Her eyes were closed and her lips
slightly parted. Her head was tilted to one side, stretching her
elegant long neck. Warren was drawn to that neck, he bent down
and kissed it gently. She smelled of tropical flowers, light and
sweet. He trailed kisses down her body, lingering on her breasts
and belly. He was forced to untuck his legs and lie flat as he
moved downward.
Now he was propped on his elbows between her silky
thighs, his face only inches in front of her pussy. He reached
out and placed two fingers on the soft folds of her labia, which
were the same plum color of her nipples, and spread them open to
reveal the glistening pink within. He touched the tip of his
tongue to that pink flesh, capturing the salty tang of her
juices. Betsy moaned slightly. Warren clamped his mouth onto
her mound and forced his tongue inside of her, slithering it
along her petal-like folds and grinding her clitoris. Betsy
writhed and twisted. As Warren continued his oral ministrations
she reached her first climax and began to thrash around so hard
he could hardly keep his lips affixed, so he slid his arms under
her legs and locked them around her thighs. He rose to his
knees, lifting her hips and leaving only her head and shoulders
still in contact with the bed, he pressed on with determination,
relentlessly licking and sucking and pulling at her folds with
his lips. She came noisily again and he was spurred on by her
reaction and the musky smell of her fluids. Less than a minute
later she came a third time and he stopped eating her out and set
her down.
Betsy lie there catching her breath, covered in a
glistening sheen of sweat, her chest and abdomen heaving. Warren
leaned over and kissed her on the mouth once before inserting his
dick between her wet and swollen pussy lips and into her tight
channel with a low grunt. He rammed it in to the hilt, until he
felt his sack come to rest between her buttocks. He was
instantly enraptured by the hot sensation and saw double for a
moment. He didn't really realize how much he missed this and was
struck all at once by overwhelming passion, love for Betsy and
joy at their sharing this, and bittersweet memories of Candy.
Taken by a brilliant, spontaneous and exiting whim, he
lifted Betsy's shoulders up, crossing his arms behind her back.
He pressed her to his chest and rolled the two of them over. He
sat up, scooched over to the edge of the bed and stood, holding
Betsy off the ground by pressing one arm across her back and
supporting her under the ass with the other, all the while
managing to keep himself deep inside of her. Betsy squealed a
little with surprise by this sudden and swift movement,
reflexively grabbing his shoulders and wrapping her legs around
his hips to keep from falling.
"What are you...?' she stammered, staring at him with a
look of confusion. He just smiled broadly at her and didn't
answer. He disabled the security on his windows by entering his
code on the remote control that lay on the nightstand. He
proceeded to the window, bracing her against the sill for a
moment while he threw the open.
"Don't scream, please," he asked her quietly, "we've
already made too much racket," he grinned, and pushed forward,
sending them tumbling them into the night.
"Warren!" she yelped, her eyes widening impossisbly as
she clutched him crushingly tight. "Are you crayzeeeeeeee?!" she
hissed; to her credit, very quietly as they plunged from the
second story window. Warren spread his wings wide and arched
upward at the last second, Betsy's hair brushed the lawn as their
momentum was redirected. They shot upward at a nausiating
velocity, Warren giggled to himself at Betsy's expression. Her
teeth were clenched and her eyes were shut tightly, a tear
escaped from the corner of an eye and swiftly ran down her cheek,
dragged by the "G" forces.
Warren stopped climbing and began to hover. Betsy
shivered against him, looking ill, and cautiously opened her
eyes. He began to laugh heartlily.
"*You* _bastard!_" she exclamed. He stopped laughing and
looked her dead in the eyes solemnly.
"Oh, come on, Betsy! Look around you and try to tell me
you don't want to be here," as he spoke, his eyes swept the sky
and came to rest looking down at the mansion. Her eyes followed
his, she looked at the mansion, seeming small below them, then
over to the horizon and the forested Appalacian mountains,
bathed in the soft moonlight. She gasped slightly and smiled,
her face softening and her stifling grip loosening. The starry
fall nights of urban Westchester in the New York highlands were
always gorgeous, but infinately moreso from this altitude.
<Oh, Warren! I haven't flown since I was Captain Britain!
It's been so long, two lifetimes ago, it seems, since I've
experienced the freedom and wonder of the skies!>
"You're forgiven," she breathed and kissed him deeply.
Warren, having kept still inside her for so long began to
pump his hips slowly, sliding his organ in and out in long,
sensuous strokes. He held her tightly to him, burying his face
in her neck and hair as she twined her legs around his and
stroked and kneaded his buttocks. They screwed in a vertical
positon, bobbing up and down slightly against a backdrop of stars
as he flapped his wings sporadicly. The heat of their bodies
quickly rose to protect against the chilly autumn night.
After a few minutes Warren reoriented them, turning so
that they were horizontal, with Betsy hanging underneath. He
held her legs to his sides and she hooked her arms under his
armpits and gripped his shoulders from behind. Confident that
she wouldn't fall, he began to fly, soaring over the estate's
grounds. He proceeded toward the mountains and the jet hanger,
pistoning furiously and grunting while they kissed and licked all
over each other's faces, necks and ears.
Soon Betsy came, spasming violently. Warren had never
seen a woman react to an orgasm like she did! He was worried
about one of them losing their grip, so he rolled them over so
that he was facing the sky and turned back towards the estate.
Betsy regained her composure and sat up, balancing across his
hips and bracing her hands against his shoulders as he closed his
on her waist.
She began to ride him, moving in synch with his thrusts
as though they were choreographed, as if one was an extension of
the other. Warren noticed that they were passing Scott and
Jean's place and soon were over Breakstone lake, when Betsy
suddenly straightened bolt upright. She swayed back and forth,
stroking her breasts and trailing her hands up her neck into her
hair, pulling it up above her head and licking her lips. She
looked so etherially beautiful to Warren, her face, breasts, and
belly bathed in luminescent moonlight. She was positively aglow!
Warren gazed at her long and hard, his eyes caressing her soft
form, trailing down her body. He looked past his sweaty pecs and
abs to their joined reigons. He watched his cock as it plunged
in and out of her and felt the inevitable climax building, he
moaned and growled as Betsy panted and squealed, she was going to
come too. He drew her back down to him and steeled himself for
it. Suddenly he felt Betsy in his mind and became disoriented by
strange, alien sensations that were coming to him. He struggled
to understand and realized that she was linking them, allowing
him to experience what she was feeling! He felt like he was
going to burst as she syncronized and shared their orgasms,
literally doubling the staggering sensation. All reality seemed
to explode and fall apart around him, his groin burned with the
white-hot ecstacy of the senses-shattering super orgasm.
Warren's muscles locked and his eyes bulged, he howled out loud
and lost control of his wings. They dropped from the sky like a
stone and landed in the lake's cove with a splash.
Warren was shocked by how cold the water felt against his
hot skin and swallowed a lot of water before surfacing. He was
barely able to tread water, his muscles felt like jelly. He
scanned the water, searching for Betsy. There she was,
sputtering and coughing. He doggy paddled over to her.
"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded with one last
cough and smiled misceviously, flicking her eyebrows upward twice
rapidly, as if to say "you like?" "That was un-*fucking*-
be*lieve*able!" he answered to her silent query, "pardon the
pun."
"Of course," she nodded her head toward the shore and
began to swim away. Warren stared, wondering where she got the
energy to move that fast. Then he began to follow and was
surprised that his strength was rapidly recovering.
She reached the beach, halfway between Scott and Jean's
cottage and the cove's peninsula, before him. She crawled a
little way inland and rolled over onto her back, propped herself
up on her hands and lifted her knees. She began to slowly open
and close them. Warren rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue,
she was absolutely relentless!
He crawled up to her and, since he wouldn't be able to
get hard again for about fifteen minutes, he took one of her tits
into both of his hands, leaned over and closed his mouth around
the nipple. He began to suck forcefully and nip at it as he ran
his right hand down her abdomen and laid his palm against her
bush, stroking her labia and clitoris gently with his middle
finger. He worked open the folds with his index and ring
fingers, and inserted his middle, followed by his index, into her
vagina. Betsy shuddered and groaned as he stroked up and down,
by approaching the pussy from above and arching the fingers into
the channel, the clitoris was constantly stimulated, when coming
at it from ahead would completely miss it. By her reacton, Betsy
obviously appreciated the technique. She ground her pelvis into
the sand, thrashing her head back and forth as he noisily sucked
her tits and furiously frigged her. She reached down and took
Warren's limp penis into her hands, brushing it between her
fingers and thumb until it was erect. She closed her fist around
it just as she came, squeezing it painfully. Warren gritted his
teeth until it was over and she began to slowly stroke it as if
she were milking a cow; pinching the base between thumb and
forefinger and pulling down. Shortly she came again, her pussy
was becoming quite slick and Warren was wearing his arm out by
fingerfucking her so quickly. When she climaxed a third time, he
felt his drawing close.
<Spray my tits,> he recieved the telepathic order. He
frowned slightly, being the cultured gentleman he was, he found
splattering a woman slightly distasteful and disresepectful.
Making her swallow was absolutely unforgiveable, that's why he
told her to stop when she was blowing him. But, she was
requesting it, so he was willing to do as she said. He rose to
his knees and she propped herself on one elbow, taking his cock
in her hand and giving a final few jerks. He breathed harshly
through his teeth, squirting on her gigantic bosom. She held
onto his spasming dick, laughing with delight and aiming it like
a firehose, she coated her tits. She aimed it just below the
base of her throat most of the time, allowing the jizz to run
down her cleavage, some of it oozed down her belly and collected
in her navel. Warren gaped at the incredible amount of
glistening semen that was glazing her mountainous breasts. She
laid back down on the sand.
<Fuck them,> she ordered, pressing the heels of her hands
on the sides of her boobs and rubbing them together.
"But I just..." he protested. She cut him off by shaking
her head and geasturing at his still-erect member. He was
astounded, his cock was showing no signs of becoming flaccid, it
was still as hard as ever. He wondered how the hell that could
be, then figured it must be Betsy's doing, mastery of the brain
is mastery of the central nervous system. She was preventing the
inevitable "crash" that was part of coming down from an orgasm, a
fair comparison being how a drug user's system crashes when
coming down from a high. *This* was a pleasant utilization of
telepathic abilitites he'd never thought of before!
He straddled her stomach and inserted his penis between
her slippery tits. He began to pump and she squeezed his tool
tight between her breasts, alternating between grinding them in a
circular motion and sliding them to mirror his thrusts. The
sensations were very pleasant, the softness of her plump breasts,
the sticky tackiness of his come, and the warmth the friction
created. He removed his hands from his hips and began to tweak
her nipples, circling the bumply areolas with the pads of his
fingertips and pinching and pulling the nipples gently. He
continued to piston for only a couple more minutes when he felt
his climax approaching, much sooner than usual. He guessed that
if given the chance, men's orgasms happened closer together as
they continued to have them, just as women do. Women are capable
of having multiple orgasms after prolonged stimulation, orgasms
so close together that you can hardly tell them apart. With
Betsy, Warren could have multiple orgasms! He would have to try
that sometime, and shelved the thought away. He threw his head
back in the air, moaning and grunting as he came, the ejaculate
spraying out from between her tits and drenching her lips, chin,
and neck. Betsy was laughing again, she just loved to be coated
in a man's juices. Warren guessed that one of his old habits was
about to change while he was partners with her.
Warren stood and Betsy reached for his hand. He took it
and helped pull her up. She stepped back a little from him, that
disturbing little grin was back. Warren was wondering what the
hell she was up to when she scooped some of the jizz off of her
body and smooshed her palm into his face playfully. Before he
had the chance to yell and freak out, wipe his face and spit, she
smashed her body against his. Holding him in a tight bear hug
she licked his face and kissed him, forcing her messy tongue into
his mouth. Though it was surprisingly tasteless, he was still
pretty grossed out. *She really loves this stuff,* he thought to
himself. Suddenly she released his mouth and tackled him into
the water, making him forget all about her little trick as they
wrestled and played around in the lake. They horsed around like
teenagers, splashing and dunking each other, laughing and making
idle threats.
After about fifteen minutes, Betsy made for the shore and
Warren gave chase. He reached the beach only a few paces behind
her and sprinted, knocking her to the sand. They necked for a
little while and Betsy ended up lying halfway on top of him, her
head on his chest as he stroked and ran his fingers through her
drying hair.
"I love you, Betsy," he whispered and kissed the top of
her head. Warren felt her cheek pull upward into a smile and she
snuggled closer against him.
"I love you too," he heard her say as he drifted off to
sleep.
A little more than three hours later, Warren awoke. He
squinted against the light of the sunrise and stretched, yawning.
Then his eyes snapped open as he realized that they'd fallen
asleep on the beach. "*Shit!* Betsy!" he shouted, shaking her.
"What," she moaned groggily, annoyed. Then her eyes flew
open and she sat up, her eyes flicking back and forth to confirm
their location. "*Shit!*" she hissed.
"I already said that," Warren quipped, standing up and
brushing the sand off his naked body and shaking out his hair.
Betsy did the same. "C'mon," he said, holding out his arms. She
went to him and he picked her up. He covered the distance
between the lake and the mansion by flying low, at an altitude
about equal to his height. They reached the wing that held the
men's dormatory, Warren's window was directly above and still
open. They were standing in front of the window to Professor
Xavier's office. Warren happened to glance inside and noticed a
gathering, he quickly shot upard to the second floor, hoping that
they weren't spotted. He set Betsy on the window sill and she
climbed in, he followed. "What's going on down there?" he asked.
"The professor has summoned Hank, Scott, Ororo, Jean,
Bishop, and Bobby. They must be briefing for a mission," she
answered. He picked his robe up off of the floor and handed it
to her.
"Here, get back to your room with this. I hope Charles
didn't want either of us for the assignment, so that no one's
looking for us," he paused, "I noticed, none of your clothes are
in here. You came here like that?"
"Yes, I scanned everyone but you as being asleep and I
expected you to be in here, I thought that coming to your door
naked would be fun," she smiled, putting on the robe, "I was
inspired by your comment last night that we should `cut to the
chase'," she quoted.
There was a knock at the door, "Hey, buddy," it was
Bobby's voice. Warren and Betsy froze. The door swung open as
Bobby continued, "are you gettin' up or wha... ohboy," he
whispered, staring at Betsy. Warren, though he was the one who
was still naked, stepped in front of her.
"I..." Bobby stammered, averting his eyes, "The prof sent
me to..." Betsy moved around Warren and brushed past Bobby.
"Drake, *get the hell out of here!*" Warren snarled,
turning him by the shoulders and pushing him out the door.
Warren took a step into the hall and heard Rogue's voice.
"There you are, Betsy," she was saying, "me an' Remy were
just looking for you in your room," sure enough, Remy was right
behind her, as usual. It was sickening, the way he tailed her
every move. He made eye contact with Warren and covered his
mouth, snickering. Then Rogue saw him too, she blushed and
turned her back, swiftly proceeding toward the stairs. Remy
opened his mouth to say something rude, and Rogue barked
"Gambit!". He dropped it and followed her, stealing a backward
glance to Warren, he winked and gave him a "thumbs up."
Warren covered his face with his hand and retreated into
his room, slamming the door. *Even without Jubilee around, this
will spread* he thought, plopping onto his bed. He smiled, *but
given the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.*
<Me neither, luv,> Betsy sent. This was the beginning of
a beautiful realationship. No more brooding in solitary for
Warren, Apocalypse was months dead and Warren had met a woman to
pull him out of the darkness he'd allowed himself to grow
comfortable in. It was no longer enough and he was ready to
rejoin the land of the living. Pushed into action by Jubilee's
biting words, he'd allowed himself to love again.
And he'd never felt so good in his life.
-The End-
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to make this story as "real" (that is, it
could have happened if Uncanny X-Men were an adult book) as I
could, by grounding it solidly in the comics' continuity and by
paying very close careful attention to faithful and accurate
characterization. To establish continuity, I place it chrono-
logically between Uncanny X-Men #319 (Archangel and Psylocke's
first date) and Uncanny X-Men #320 (the first part of the Leigon
Quest). I assume Rogue's limited series to take place after
Uncanny #318 and X-Men #38, during X-Men #39, and ending before
Uncanny #319. Bishop's minseries must take place either between
Uncanny #314 and #316 or during the two week lag between Cable
#16 and Uncanny #318. That's how I quantify the presence of
Rogue, Gambit, and Bishop.
For those of you who may not have gotten some of the
references to the past I made, I will list the issues in which
they take place. Archangel's relationship with Candy Southern
started in Uncanny X-Men #31 and became a long-distance
relationship during the early issues of X-Factor up until her
death in X-Factor #34. Archangel's relationship with Charlotte
Jones, which was not depicted as being particularily serious and
seemed often forgotten by the writers, began in X-Factor #59 and
hasn't been depicted since Uncanny X-Men #294. I got the layout
of the mansion and the estate's grounds from the X-Men Survival
Guide to the Mansion. Psylocke referred to two past lifetimes,
those being her life in Britain, cronicled in the Captain Britain
trade paperback, and her first tenure with the X-Men, from New
Mutants annual #2 and Uncanny #211 through #251. Her third and
current lifetime began with her transfer to Kwannon's body in
Uncanny #256. Apocolypse has been presumed dead since X-Force
#18. And finally, Jubilee suggested that Archangel let the
people he cared about know it in Uncanny #318, which prompted the
date in Uncanny #319 that lead to this story.
|
|
