***The Conditioning of Psylocke***
					1-2

	The Mandarin had chosen his brethren well.  They had stumbled onto
this assassin only moments before she had chosen to follow through on her
orders.  Never before, however, had he expected to find such resources in
such a trivial manner.
	His eyes looked over her form, the taught muscles, the smooth skin,
the shimmering hair.  Those eyes, as they glared right back at him, held a
coldness that almost made him shudder.  She had been a long time consort of
the Warlord Nyoirin, but while the Mandarin was present, the Mandarin was the
Overlord.  With a twitch of an eye, he directed his followers to take her to
a chamber.


	She sat in the middle of the room, crosslegged, the robe she was
given draped about her, but split in the front, holding her secrets in
shadow.  Her wrists faced up, her head tilted down, and her thoughts echoed
through the ancient halls.  The mirrors along the upper edge of the room
reflected only more darkness, and her confusion was masked by a butterfly.
	Her brow covered with sweat, she opened her eyes, her thoughts
searching for strength.  Uncrossing her legs, she folded them under her. 
Bowing to a nonexistent shrine, she swiftly jumped to catch her feet under
her, and stood to full height, the robe beginning to reveal her splendor. 
Rollling her shoulders, and pushing them back, she shed the robe, and let the
torchlight lick at her form.  Beating back the chaos in her mind, she did
what she always did to escape her fears, she practiced.
	Twisting on the balls of her feet, she backstepped into a somersault,
rolled out of it, and jumped into a flying side kick.  Landing, she swept an
invisible opponent's feet, delivered a large roundhouse, and "finished" him
with three punches appropriating for blocks.  Backpeddling, she found herself
"faced" by two opponents, moved between them, and synchronized a set of kicks
and punches between the two, with speed that registered an impression on the
faces behind the mirrors.
	Settling back into the precise center of the room, she wiped a bead
of sweat from under her breast, and licked her finger.  For the first time,
she grinned.


	He watched her perform a deadly dance, and those around him
empathized with his attraction.  Generally, his withdrawn preference for
geisha would normally satisfy his needs, but the more he watched his captive,
the more he became captivated with her.  "Go!" he ordered the ninjas along
the mirror.  They filed out of the room.  Their footsteps went unheard as
they climbed a staircase.
	To their mark, their silence betrayed them.  As they landed on three
points, they surrounded her.  When all seven of them finished dropping from
the unseen ceiling, they each brandished a weapon or two, except for one.  He
held his hands forward in claws, mimicking a tiger in style.
	She rose from her lotus position, her robe several feet away outside
of the circle.  Standing tall, she approached the unarmed one, walking with
no regard to the others.  Reaching into the guard stance, she lifted the mask
partially to reveal the snarl.  Lacking no grace, she moved her lips over
that snarl while her hands worked at his waist.  Her fingers as deft as her
body, she accomodated his pants around his erection.
	His claws fell to more intensive than destructive actions.  His
fingers grazed over her face, and continued down her body, caressing her
shoulders first, then moving under her breasts, immediately testing their
firmness.  Before he could explore further, she had already impaled herself
on him, without any of his assistance.
	Immediately, the clatter of metal on stone erupted as the ninjas
dropped their respective weaponry.  Their hands sought out to touch what they
had not suspected they could.  One other was so bold as to adjust his
garments to introduce his own member to the situation.
	Seeing her legs wrapped around his brethen's, the smooth skin being
caressed by the hands of more, he asserted his authority as the second of the

leader.  Moving behind her, his hands traced the crack of her buttocks, and
pressed his flesh between hers.  Her head turned to see him, and her eyes
pulled him closer.  Thrusting her hips back, she affected the impalement, and
loosed her legs.  Her arms stretched out, as well as her legs, as she placed
her full weight onto their conjunctions.
	Hands moved to support her, as well as fondle her, but the two who
had her felt as though they were one with her.  Any pleasure to be had seemed
to be given to them.  They felt their own bodies penetrated while they were
the ones penetrating.  Unable to hold back anything, they groaned a final
syllable, only to finally disipate into smoke.
	She landed on the floor, catching herself from bruises.  The rest of
the group ignored this and one immediately moved behind her and spread her
thighs apart.  Bearing no ceremony, he encunted her on as she fell to fours.
Looking back, she said nothing, but pounded back at him.  Tossing her head to
shift her hair, she encountered a member inches from her nose.  Glancing up
to the unseen face for acknoledgement, she touched her tongue to the tip of
it.  Accepting the notion, she accepted its length smoothly into her mouth
and partially down her throat.
	The last three waited away from her, removing the bands of fabric
from their bodies.  As she bounced in the odd rhythm between her two captors,
they surrounded her.  Sensing every last pleasure in the tryst, they watched
as the primal groan marked the dissolution of the two "captors".  The smoke
still clung to her form, which showed no stress.
	She waited on four as one entered her anus, pushing aside the last
wisps of his comrade.  His hands reached forward and clutched her breasts. 
In this pose, he lifted her onto him, and fell with his back to the floor. 
Another then moved between her spread legs and entered her frontwise.  As a
moan escaped her, it was stifled by the last, driving himself between her
lips.
	Any motion she made stimulated her, and every one in her.  This she
recieved, and rebroadcast to them.  As they felt the wave wash over them,
they redoubled any effort for an exponential effect.  Feeling every last bit
of their passions, she began to take it all and not leak it for a few
minutes.  Their motions hastened in hopes to heighten the sensation, but it
was always take away.  In a final surge, she screamed as well as she could,
and shuddered in an intensity that sent her reeling into unconsciousness, as
her final stock of stolen orgasm washed over her assailants, sending them
into smoke.


	The fragrance overwhelmed her peace, as she jerked her head up,
instinctively batting aside the smelling salts.  Before her stood a tall,
finely dressed oriental with a perfectly trimmed beard and sunken eyes.  She
met those contemplating eyes unflinchingly.
	She opened the conversation, "You were there."  Her voice echoed in
the cavern with which she was all to familiar.
	He lips remained still.
	In her head, a voice boomed with a deepness that defied her
indifference.  ~Not like that,~ it said.
	"Wha-?" she began, only to have the voice return.
	~A thought is a river, while a voice is a waterfall.  The water can
get from one level to another without the waterfall.~
	Understanding, she responded, ~Like this?~
	~Precisely.~
	~Who are you?~
	~You will refer to me as the Mandarin, always in the third person.~
	~Why would I do that?~ she questioned him.
	~You are mine, mind, body, and whatever else lies under that skin.~
	~And if I choose otherwise?~
	~You won't choose otherwise.~  He held up a hand.  On each manicured
finger rested a ring, each with a different stone.  ~I can have you choose to
do anything I want.~
	She felt her pulse rise, and however much she despised him, she was
unable to stop herself from kneeling before him and bowing her head at his
feet, her breasts crushed against her knees.  With clenched teeth, she
remained on her knees, but stood to his waist.  Her arms, defying her
thoughts, moved to his suit pants, first unbuckling the belt, then undoing
the button, and dropping the zipper.  Reaching under the lapels of his shirt,
she withdrew his rampant member.
	~Go on,~ he directed.
	~You fucking bastard.  Just because you can control my body doesn't
mean you own me.~  She continued projecting her thoughts as her lips wrapped
around him.  ~Even as you control my actions, my thoughts will always be my
own.~
	~Ah, the cry of self-proclaimed righteousness.~
	~The body is a temple.  Upon desecration, the temple may no longer be
holy, but that doesn't mean the spirits inside aren't.~
	~To be sucked by such a metaphorical slut.  A pleasure not to be
wasted by mental bondage.~  Withdrawing himself from her lips, he withdrew
roughly from her mind as well, leaving her with a headache.
	~If you don't keep me under your control, I'll kill you the first
chance I get.~
	~Why not now?  I swear on the honor of my family, I won't use my mind
control ring.~
	Leering up at him, she launched herself with catlike speed at him. 
He dove to his right, his member, glistening with her saliva, still hard as
the stone they walked on.  Turning the rings covering his fingers to aim the
stones inwards, he fell to the tiger stance demonstrated before.  She closed
the distance, and faced him.  Sending a direct punch at his face, she
measured his blocks.  Blocking her punch, he measured her speed.  Countering
with a footsweep, she jumped over it sending a foot to the back of his thigh,
launching herself away while landing the hit.  Feeling the bruise, he
hardened his style a bit more, and learned from his mistake.
	Approaching her, he kept his hands in an open stance, inviting her
attack.  Waiting for his retaliation, she kept a low stance, her feet wide
for stability, her fists clenched.  They could each hear the other's heart
beating, as well as each breath taken.  The conflict had maintained his
arousal, and had heightened hers.  Due to her stance, her shaved lips were
parted wide, and a drop fell from one.  As it landed on the floor, a single
heartbeat changed ever so slightly, but he understood the timing better than
anyone in the world.  Stepping in, he sent an open left hand to her face. 
Drawing the crosswise block, his right grasped her left wrist as it
contacted.  Flipping over her, wrist still in hand, he avoided her kick, and
proceeded to hold her helpless.
	His member pressing between her buttocks, he controlled every muscle
in his body, and penetrated her anus, receiving a large shudder from her. 
Still holding her close, he ground into her.  Her control began to wane at
the sudden rush of sensation.  His arms let her go, and gripped her by the
waist.  Reeling, she began to fall to the floor, but her hands caught her,
for naught, being that he anchored her sufficiently.
	Even as her hatred for him flowed, their connection seemed so primal
that denying it only strengthened it.  His skill as a fighter was matched by
his skill as a lover.  His mood matched hers at the time, blazened and
energetic.  Every stroke he made into her was fluid enough to make her
anticipate the next.  Tears welled in her eyes as she passed from orgasm to
orgasm.  Screaming by voice and mind, she send the waves of the pleasures
back into the Mandarin.
	Unprepared for the projection, he ended on a final long stoke into
her, sending his seed deep into her bowels.  Completely drained, he collapsed
onto her, remaining inside her.  No geisha had ever done that to him before.


	"Betsy, why didn't you tell anyone else about this?"
	"I don't know, professor.  You see, right after I came out of the
Seige Perilous, I didn't know what was happening.  Everything I was before
was but an appendage to my current state.  I felt more than whole.  Actually,
overflowing."
	"Well, I don't think the other X-Men need to know about this.  As
long as the team operates without problems, and in particular, you can
operate without any problems, then the matter can be dealt with at our
lesuire."
	"Thank you for listening, professor.  I'm going to take a walk around
the mansion, try to unwind.  Good night, professor."
	"Good night, Betsy."  His stern demeanor held some comfort for
dealing with the personal natures of each of his students.  Everyone knew he
cared, and everyone cared for him, but every night, his dreams carried him
off into the universe, in search of his only love.


	Cyclops rubbed his eyes under his glasses.  He seemed to be doing
that a lot, as of late.  The book Jean gave him had its merits, but his
attention span seemed to shorten whenever he thought about the work he had to
do.  So many unmonitored mutant groups out there, and he was awake at two in
the morning letting his eyes pass over words to which he paid no heed.
	Getting out of bed, he was careful not to disturb Jean.  Padding over
to the bathroom, he removed his ruby quartz glasses and splashed his face
with some lukewarm water.  Replacing his glasses, he slowly opened his eyes,
and returned to bed.  Exchanging his glasses for the eye covers Forge made,
he slipped under the covers.  Slipping his legs around one of Jean's, he
moved close to her face.  Blowing her a kiss across the inches between them,
he rested.
	"What was that supposed to be?" she whispered.
	"I didn't want to wake you," he whispered back.
	"A little late for that.  What were you up so late for?"
	"Just reading, and thinking?" a moment later, he almost regretted
telling her.
	"Thinking about what?"
	Hesitation.  "I was thinking about you."  ~Don't get too corny, or
she'll catch on.~  "How peaceful you looked, asleep."
	"You're getting all sentimental on me, Scott."  She looked at him. 
"I like that."
	He moved closer and kissed her.  "I love you, Jean."  ~Be careful
here, Scott.  Know when to talk, and when to fuck.~  His hand crept between
them, and cupped a breast through her neglige.  Pulling her into a longer
kiss with his other hand, he felt a momentary tension in her, but it faded
quickly.  Pulling her closer with his legs, he also rubbing his knee between
her thighs.
	She immediately pressed her lips closer to him, and opened them to
receive his tongue, intertwining it with her own.  Telekinetically, she
raised her neglige to give him better access.  Her red hair matched
perfectly, as he well knew.  Finishing with her own clothing, she took care
of his, pushing his thin pajama shorts to his feet.
	He slid the covers down and rolled over on top of her.  Sliding
himself between her spread legs, he wasted no time in entering her.  Her
wetness was nothing spectacular, but present enough to stop any discomfort. 
With long, slow strokes, he drove himself into her.  Her eyes were closed,
concentrating on him within her.  He stretched his neck, and while turning
it, he caught a glimpse of a figure in the doorway.
	The door slightly ajar, he tried to focus in the pale moonlight on
who it could be.  Before he could finish focusing, he heard something that
wasn't quite there.  ~Quiet, Scott.  She might decide to scan you mind or
look my way.~  It was then his vision cleared to perceive Psylocke.  She
leaned halfway through the opening, her back on the trim around the door.  He
could see a hand under the scanty top she wore as her outfit.  Her other hand
he could see worked under the high hipped bottom she wore.  No light came
from the hallway, but he seemed to be quite aware of her every movement.
	Mechanically, he worked at Jean, his eyes directed to Psylocke, her
face a mask of pleasure.  ~Rough job, there, boy.  You guys must really be in
love, because your so careful not to hurt each other.  I'm impressed.~  Even
in telepathy, the sour note of sarcasm could be tasted.
	At that, Scott recalled every last time he made love to Jean, and
Madelyne Prior, her clone.  They most variety they got was choosing between
the missionary position or an inversion thereof.  ~Good history, Scott.  I'll
leave you two alone.  I think I need a walk by the river.~  Scott balked at
the underlying invitation.  Returning to Jean, he closed his eyes and kissed
her neck.  He imagined the breasts at his fingertips to be another's.  He
renewed his energy with this image, and with a long final stroke, spurt into
her, whoever she was.
	"Scott, God, you're great."  She wrapped her arms around him, but his
mind was elsewhere.
	"Great.  Now you got me full of energy.  I can't sleep now.  Maybe
I'll go for a walk or a Danger Room session."  He moved to get up.
	"Wait, I'll go with you."  She stirred in the bed.
	"No.  I think one of us should be wide awake tomorrow."
	"If you think so.  I love you."
	"Yeah, I love you, too, Jean."  He bent down to kiss her.  Holding
her there for a few seconds, he bent up, grabbed his outfit and walked to the
bathroom.  Rinsing off in the shower, he suited up, and left the room,
closing the door he knew was closed before.
	Under the waxing gibbous moon, along the edge of the river just
outside the main grounds of the mansion, Psylocke sat with crossed legs,
wrists facing up resting on her knees.  Her purple skin tight outfit she wore
with the team lay on the ground seven feet away.  The air was comfortable for
the hour, but dew still settled on the grass.  The east sky remained as dark
as the rest of the sky.  From the direction of the mansion, she could count
the number of leaves he brushed against as Cyclops approached.
	"Betsy?  You out here?"
	"Of course, Scott."
	As his eyes found her, he was tempted to turn away.  "Don't you think
you should have something on?"
	"Of course, Scott," she repeated.  She stood and approached him. 
Before he could react, she grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him down
to the ground, her back settling into the wet grass.  "But it's so much nicer
to have someONE on."
	Pulling his face down to hers, she met his hesitant lips and sought
out his tongue.  Removing a hand from the back of his head, she reached down
to his belt.  Undoing Forge's uncanny technology, the belt came off in
pieces, or modules as he so fondly called them.  After that, it was
elementary to free the bulge forming in his trousers.
	Scott was slow to break the kiss.  "Betsy, I don't think we should
really do this."
	"There is a barrier between the body and the words.  And its name is
Jean.  The woman you've loved for all of you life as and X-man is all you've
known.  Your empty horizons on the emotional front have closed your eyes to
what is just beyond."
	"Betsy... Please...."  Now she had his member in her hand, softly
kneeding it to solidity.
	"Scott.  You're shaking.  Come now, relax.  I want to do this for you."
	"Oh, God, Betsy.  I haven't been able to stop thinking about you
since you left to visit your brother in England."  Now she was slowly
stroking him, even though he was resting on top of her.
	"Then continue to think about me."  She positioned herself under him
and guided the tip of his member to her flushed lips.  They parted as she
spread her legs wider, and she gently pulled him down, sinking him slowly
into her.  She moaned aloud, to match his.  "Come on, Scott.  Fuck me, do me
harder.  I'm not Jean."
	"No, you definitely aren't.  Oh, my God Betsy!"  His exclamation
coming from her ability to control every last bit of her musculature. 
Exhausting, but unspent, she raised up her legs, pulling them up to her
shoulders.  Scott stopped for a moment, to finish the positioning, and
replaced his hands on either side of her.  She then draped her legs over his
shoulders, affecting a deeper penetration.
	"Okay.  Fuck me as hard as you can, Scott.  You can do it."  You can
do it, oh fearless leader, she thought.
	He obliged, driving himself into her, pushing her in the grass.  Her
hands gripped his shoulders as her back arched with every thrust, trying to
meet him every time.  While his mind was fully spent on his own carnal
gratification, she was able to slip in past his mental defences, the ones he
originally had for Jean.  Once inside, she was able to find the right
switches to make to take him completely.  Leaving a few impressions, she
cleared a path for later suggestion.
	As her groans gave way to voiceless breath, she brought each of them
to a simultaneous orgasm.  His first spurts firing deep into her, she pulled
him out to have his seed spill onto her belly and breasts.  Her hands went to
rub it over her skin.  He pulled her legs off of his shoulders, and set his
hands to help her rub his liquid over her sleek flesh.  Triggering one of her
controls on him, she induced a production of endorphins along with new surge
of testosterone.  With the next trigger, she urged his adrenals to produce
some fresh adrenaline.  This resulted in a burst of energy, and
irrationality.
	Knowing this, she removed the petty block his morals put up against
his responses.  To initiate the activity, she pushed him away.  "Get away
from me, you lousy, cheating scum."  Hanging around Jubilee did have its
effects.
	"Oh, is this how it is.  You tease for months on end, but when it
comes time to deliver, you're nothing but a two bit whore.  One that needs
some appropriate punishment."  At this, he slapped her face.  His mouth
snarling in rage, he slapped her again.  She rolled with these, and covered
her nipples with her hands.  In a fit of anger, he ripped her hands from her
breasts.  "Don't you dare cover yourself."  He seemed to forget about her
ninja skills, and did not seem to wonder why they failed to manifest
themselves.  His hand slapped at her breasts from the side.
	Struggling weakly, and falsely, she was turned over, her hips pulled
back to meet his rampant tool.  Holding her by the thighs, he drove himself
into her waiting vagina.  Slapping at her buttocks frequently, he ignored her
powerful orgasm, except for the fact it layered his member with fluid. 
Pulling out of her, he placed himself at her anus.  With no mercy, he forced
himself to the hilt in a single push.  At this, her body went limp.  She
screamed, knowing that the area was acoustically ideal for her seduction.  He
pounded into her rear, feeling assured he was punishing her.  Ideas coming
from "nowhere", he decided on how to finish it off.
	Standing up, and pulling her to her knees, he presented himself to
her lips.  As she opened her eyes, she saw, and already knew what to do.
	"Clean me up, you worthless slut."
	"Please, no..." she pleaded, continuing the scenario.
	"Just for that, as soon as you're done, we're going to start all over
again."  She took him in hand first, placed her tongue on the tip, and slowly
took him deeper.  In mock (but true) acceptance, she worked him deeper into
her mouth, as his head lolled back.  His hands grabbed her hair and pushed
the rest of his length into her mouth and throat.  Ignoring her sense of
taste, she sucked on him at length.  Almost removing himself from her, he
drove back in to be sucked for a while.  After several slow strokes, he
started thrusting into her in a quickening rhythm.  At the height of it, he
withdrew entirely, pulling her hair back, tilting her face, he sent his load
over her face, his first spurts landing on her cheeks, his later ones welling
by her eyes and running into her hair.
	"Okay, now we're going to start over."  Still completely rampant, he
let go of her hair, threw her to the ground, stomach down, and placed his tip
at her puckered rear entrance.  With little ceremony, he plunged himself back
into her.  "Maybe this will stop your teasing, you little slut.  Maybe you'll
finally understand what makes a team leader."  His hands slapped at her rear
as he thrust mercilessly.  "I think I know what you need."  He grinned
fiercely, and put his glasses on his forhead, revealing his closed eyes. 
Then, squinting, he let out tiny bursts of energy at her back.
	She gasped as the concussion of the small blast knocked the wind out
of her.  Struggling to get a full breath as he razed her back, she felt her
body wracked with orgasms unending.  Making sure all of this was being lodged
into his conscious memory, she send a burst of her orgasmic emotion into him,
just as she passed out, losing her control over him.
	Releasing a full blast into her by his mutant ability, he also
spilled himself fully into her.  Collapsing on top of her, he began to
shrink, and regret.  As he came back to his senses, he paid attention to the
flesh beneath his.  He realized who he was with, and what he had done.  "Oh,
God.  What have I done?" his cliche echoed in his mind.  Images of what had
just happened rushed back to him.  Fixing his clothing, he began to weigh his
options.  Turning her over, he tried not to marvel over her body, and checked
her breating and pulse.  Finding it all in order, he decided it would be safe
to leave.
	He appreciated the fact that his power did little to human flesh.  It
seemed to be something about the resonances in the carbon atoms that consist
the body that change his blasts to something more than concussive force and
nerve overloading.  Metal, however, seemed to be rended quite easily, or
bashed, depending on the frequency set.
	Finding his way back to the mansion, he jumped into the shower,
rinsed off, and slipped in next to Jean, beating the sun by a couple hours.


	"Tell, me chere.  As afraid of me as you may seem to be, I'm always
ahead of the sitaution."  He held up a foil packet in his classic two finger
pose.
	"Ah think, Remy, that a li'l ol' rubber ain't gonna keep our skins
from touchin'."
	"But, then, chere, that's what this is for," he retorted as he pulled
out a sheer green body suit, full length.  "Try it on, for me, hmm?"
	"Ah'd really like to know what ya' have in mind, cajun."  She walked
by him, and pulled the item from his fingers.  "Ah tell ya' what.  Ah'll show
you mine if you show me yours."
	"Of course."  He draped his overcoat over the chair by the door. 
First, unbuttoning his tailored shirt, he watched as she undid her buttons. 
Simultaneously, they slipped them over their shoulders and let them fall to
the ground.  Since she first absorbed her powers from Ms. Marvel, she found
that a bra was no longer needed.  Obscure superpowers indeed.  Next he doffed
his tight pants, his shoes gone since his jacket.  She slowly, teasingly,
lowered her skirt, leaving her in high hipped panties.  His bulge lurched, as
it lurked behind his bikini briefs.
	Making the first final move, he slid his briefs down as she dropped
her panties, blushing.  "Now, there, chere.  Nothing to worry about.  Just
slip on my little gift there, and soon you can slip on my big gift here."
	"Oh, shush.  Some uh us uh tryin' to be modest."  She stretched the
fabric at the neck.  Careful not to stretch too far, she slipped in.  At
first having a hard time with it, she found that it stretch far more than she
thought.  Catching some gloves he tossed to her, she slipped those on as
well, finding they matched her outfit.
	"Don't you look absolutely delicious in that.  Let me taste you."
	"Watch it, Gambit.  Even just --"
	"--the slightest touch would have your head full o' me.  I know. 
Watch this."  His hand cupped her breast, its nipple coming to attention
immediately.  "Don't ya' see, I ain't touchin' ya', but you're still feelin'
me."
	"Oh, Remy.  Do some more."
	"I intend to."  He placed his lips around the other nipple, wetting
the suit to full transparency.  His hands first kneeded at her breasts, then
moved to her rear.  She moaned under his expert caresses, and gave in to his
every touch.  Stepping back, he pulled a knife from his nearby shirt cuff
(the place most theives carry them).  At her groin, he made a small incision
in the thin material.  She watched him, wary of his every movement.  Finding
the condom, she opened the package, and sat up to roll it onto him.
	Carefully, they moved to the bed, trying to keep in contact, and she
lay down.  Spreading her legs for him, he knelt between them.  "Oh, chere,
what I wouldn't give to have a condom for my tongue."  She blushed, but said
nothing.
	Guiding him in, he seemed quite adept at holding the fabric apart as
he wedged his way into her.
	"Tell me, chere.  What nasties did those boys do to you back on
Genosha, back when you and Wolvie were stuck there?"
	"If you're wonderin' if ah'm a virgin, ah'm not."  She grinned weakly
at him.
	Knowing not to ask any more questions, he slowly moved himself into
her.  Watching her face, holding her eyes with his, he lodged himself deeply
within her.  "Oh, Remy.  All ah want ya' to do is be careful."
	"I intend to."  He slowly stroked in and out.  Her arms wrapped
around him as he quickened his pace.  Pulling him as deep as he could go, she
pushed him away as she found her very first orgasm outside of her own
fingers.
	"Here, Remy.  Try this, instead.  Ah've always wanted to have it like
this."  She got onto her knees, and looked back at him.
	Caught a bit off guard, he took his place behind her and repositioned
the slit to accomodate hers.  Acquiring the angle, he entered her again.  She
moaned more, and reached back to stroke herself.  His hands found her breasts
again, and worked her flesh most enticingly.  Holding back on his orgasm, he
waited for hers.  As she shuddered and collapsed onto the bed, he sent his
load into the barrier that kept them a millimeter apart.
	"Oh, chere.  I'd give up every other memory, if I could only remember
this."  Laying down next to her, he held in the nested spoons position.  "As
long as I lost my memories that way."
	"For all ah want to, Remy, ah don't think ya' we should sleep so
close.  Even the most casual contact would mean me stealin' your powers and
mem'ries.  For now, we can do that as much as we like, which ah do like.  But
let's sleep in our own beds, 'kay?"
	"Fine, chere.  Let's get together real soon."  Dropping the condom,
he got up, donned his overcoat, left his clothes, and left the room.
	Rogue sat in bed, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to explain
to herself why she kept him so far away.
	Gambit fumed as he walked down the hall.  For all they wanted each
other, they weren't allowed to be themselves.  As he stepped into his own
room, he dropped his overcoat on the floor, and went to the shower.  Rinsing
off, he stretched in the middle of the room before he noticed the perfectly
silent and prone figure in the darkest shadow of the room.  "Jeez, chere. 
You tryin' to scare Gambit's ghost before I even die?"
	"No.  You just looked so raw.  I didn't want to disturb you."
	"Burnt is more like it."  Hunting for a conclusion, "Were you spyin'
on Rogue and me?"
	"Not necessarily spying, but paying attention to your thoughts, yeah."
	"Then you can hear whay I'm thinkin' now."  ~Get out.~
	"I was just thinking of finishing your evening for you.  You can
touch me, Gambit.  You don't need to worry about touching me, Gambit, ever."
Projecting as strongly as she could, ~You don't need any condoms either, for
cock or tongue.  I'll show you mine if you show me yours.~
	"Problem bein', I'm already showin' you mine."
	Psylocke stood to full height, and stepped from the shadows, showing
her own lack of clothing.  "I was ready before you came into the room."  She
toyed with his perceptions, and morals.  Placing random beacons, she mapped
out his mind and found the nerve centers she required.
	"Then the evening may turn out after all."
	"I should certainly hope so, Gambit."
	"Call me Remy, in times like this."
	"Call me Betsy."
	"Then, Betsy, I'll suck yours if you suck mine."
	"I'd love to, Remy."  They fell to the floor.  She laid him on the
floor and placed her knees around he ears.  In unison, their hands sought
what was right in front of their faces, and brought their mouthes to each
other.  His fingers parted her clean shaven lips and his tongue found its way
to her core.  Her tongue stroked along his length and then she fully engulfed
him.  Bucking her hips onto his face, she moved up and down his length,
sucked as hard as she could, and then repeated herself.  His tongue traced
the alphabet in her, and spelled out "clit" just before he tongued that as
well.  At that moment, they each sent their fluids to the other.
	She turned to face him, and impaled herself on him before he could
utter a work.  Rising and sinking on him, she just watched his
expressionlessness as she worked into his mind for his true feelings.  Upon
finding nothing, she implanted several of the same tendencies in him as she
did Scott.  Awakening the lust inside him, she switched him to a subservient
mode and got onto his bed.  Spreading her legs wide, she had him stand
between her legs and slide into her.  Having him lean forward on her breasts,
she had him perform on her for a good hour, before letting him feel any of
the pleasure.
	After that position, she turned over, as though tanning, and had him
enter her from that angle.  Enjoying several orgasms, she tailored his
memories to fade the fringes of these images to leave the memories as dreams.
As he pounded into her, she finally directed him to her anus.  Sending a
small orgasm through his body, she had him eject a portion of his seed for
lubrication.  Sending him in, she recalled her time with Cyclops and planned
for the upcoming days and nights.  Driving himself into her, his dreamlike
stamina had been incredible.  Reaching the teens in the number of orgasms she
found from his indominatable manhood at her back door, she allowed him to
spew his seed deep into her.  Sated, she sent him to bed, to sleep, to wake
with only a slight recollection of the night as a dream.


	The sun found the bell tower of the mansion, but the trees kept it
away from the bedroom windows for another hour.  The halls were virtually
empty.  The pattering of falling water seemed to be the loudest sound this
morning.  In the kitchen a short, burly man scrambled some eggs.  Off to the
side sat various meats and vegetables.  A young oriental girl in blue striped
pajamas and a serious pout loomed over the refrigerator, deciding on a
breakfast.
	"You're not having cereal again this morning.  I'm making the team an
omelet.  We're going to need a good meal before our weekly Danger Room
session, or at least the rest of you will."
	"Back off, Wolvie.  I just want some OJ, okay?"  She really did want
cereal, but decided to put up with him now, and save her arguements for
another time.
	"Then pour some for the rest of the team.  I want to be training by
ten this morning."
	"Which team?  The blue team, or all of the X-men in the mansion?"
	"We only have enough eggs for the blue team.  The rest can fend for
themselves."
	"What about Jean?" Jubilee knew nothing of Wolverine's view of Jean.
	"What about her?  If she shows up, fine.  If not, then so what?"
	Taken slightly aback, "It's just that she and Cyclops usually eat
breakfast together."
	"Like I said, if she eats with us, fine by me."  Jubilee just sat and
stared at him.  Wolverine finished making the omelets, making two different
kinds, for those who felt vegetarian today.
	"Here, Jubes.  You can make the hash browns while I go get everyone up."
	"Why do I have to?"
	"Do you want to see Beast without his hair combed?" he gave her a
wary glance.
	"I'll make the hash browns, fine."  She cringed at some images of an
even more unkempt blue haired mutant.  She scolded herself for not coming up
her verbal riposte, "Would that be worse than you right now?" before he left
the room.
	Wolverine wore his yellow pants and stylized boots but no shirt.  His
dark hair seemed overgrown over his chest, but his dark eyes and ageless look
seemed to hold everyone right where he wanted them.
	Knocking on Rogue's door, he opened it slightly, poking in his head.
"Rogue, come on, Belle.  I've got break--" he was caught off guard when he
saw her.
	Rogue lay on her bed, still in the body suit Gambit gave her, the
covers kicked down.  She lay in a runner's stride facing him.  Her eyes
remained closed for a few seconds until she realized what had cut Wolverine
off.  Her nipples were erect and dried wet patches had set in over them.  At
her groin the rip had spread to open her entire mound to the air.  Her lower
lips were flushed and swollen and her eyes seemed glazed over when they did
open.  When a tear fell from each, she blinked, and her vanity took over.
	Wolverine could smell the activities of the previous night, but was
prudent enough not to say anything.  "I made some breakfast.  Come on."  He
closed the door softly behind him.
	Next he went further down the hall to Gambit's room.  Throwing the
door open, he yelled, "Rise and shine, Cajun."  The scent that overwhelmed
him was partially similar to that of Rogue's room, but it held flavors
greater, sweeter.  "I'm calling the team together for a decent breakfast."
	Shaking his head, Gambit answered back, "Yeah, yeah.  Get me on the
way back, gramps."
	Continuing his quest for the team, he walked further down the hall to
Beast's quarters.  Ready to yell, he found the blue furred member of the team
reading on a couch.  "Greetings, second-furriest.  From all of your ranting
this fine morning, I expect you have something planned.  Give me another
couple minutes for me to finish these couple hundred pages."
	"Sure.  Back at the kitchen."  The Beast had already gone back to
flipping pages.
	Approaching the door to the corner room of Scott Summers and Jean
Grey, Logan passed a hand through his hair, and knocked politely.  The door
was ajar, and he stepped in.  Looking around, he saw Cyclops asleep, alone in
bed.  From around the corner walked Jean, completely naked.  For all his
years, he was still taken aback by her beauty, and was still affected by it.
She held his gaze for a few seconds, unmoving.  Water dripped down her smooth
skin, and her hair clung to her face and neck.  The hair above perfectly
matched that below, and he took in her looks every second he had.  Her scent
enraptured him, drawing him closer.
	"Please, Jean, don't do this to me."  He was at her mercy.
	Saying nothing, she turned on her heels, giving him a good view of
her rear, and stepped back into the bathroom.  From there she yelled, "Scott,
wake up.  Duty calls."  Scott stirred a little bit, but Logan just left the
room in a cold sweat.
	Going down this final hall, he knocked on Psylocke's door.  Opening
it, thinking nothing could be worse, he found her nude, lifting weights,
while hanging from the ceiling by gravity boots.  "Betsy, I have some
breakfast ready."  Her body was covered with sweat, and it was clear that she
hadn't slept all night.  But the scent that prevailed over the room was not
that of hard work, but that of an extreme sexual nature.  Doing a few more
pumps, she dropped the weights and began to wipe the sweat from her body. 
Hanging there, running her hands over her skin, she just stared at him.
	After he blinked a few times, she did a sit up, and grabbed onto the
bar from which she hung.  Looking a lot like a bat with the best looking
heart shaped rear, she unhooked herself and dropped down from the ceiling,
landing on three points, her legs spread wide behind her.  Bending down to
unbuckle her boots, she held his gaze.  Pulling a robe off of a hook on the
wall, she pulled it on.  Walking to Wolverine, standing in front of him, she
knelt in front of him, pulled his tights down over his bulging member, and
engulfed it fully.  Time seemed to stand still, and he worried about everyone
waiting for him.  His hands went to pull her head away, but stayed at the
sides of her head as she worked at him.
	Her fingers massaged his engorged sac as her lips reached his base. 
Feeling him tense, his fabled stamina depleated to those lovely lips, she
withdrew from him and stroked him, directing him down at her open robe.  Just
then, his seed spewed over her breasts.  Load upon thick load fell upon her
chest.  As Wolverine's shudders died down, she closed her robe and tied the
belt.
	Pulling his pants back up, he led her out of the room.



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