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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an138978@anon.penet.fi (tamara)
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Organization: Anonymous contact service
Reply-To: an138978@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 21 Mar 1995 20:44:23 UTC
Subject: XXX-Men #1 (Archangel & Psylocke)
Lines: 652
Xref: newsflash.concordia.ca alt.sex.stories:57229
The person posting this is NOT the author. Please forward all comments
to Ben Wick at mindlok@tigger.stcloud.msus.edu.
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: MINDLOK@TIGGER.STCLOUD.MSUS.EDU
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.
penet.fi.
I chose to do this story strictly from Rogue's point of view for
a very specific reason. Just as I depicted only Archangel's
point of view in the first story, for the reason of emphasizing
Psylocke's mystery. No one knows what's going on inside her
head, not even me, as her writer! The reason for this exclusive
P.O.V. will become obvious at the end of the story. I won't give
it away, but suffice to say that nothing is as it seems!
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 X-Books continuity, as well as something of a
bibliography.
Enjoy...
XXX-Men #2 (Rogue & Gambit)
By: Benjamin Wick
There was a knock at the door. Rogue glanced upward and
her stomach turned summersaults, she was so damned nervous. She
faltered a bit longer, daintily biting her lower lip. A sweat
had broken out on her brow. She began to get up, but her rear
had only just left the bed when she suddenly sat back down.
There was another knock at the door, followed by "Chere?"
"Ah... ah'm here Remy," she managed to say, "The door's
open," she forced herself to stand on her rubber legs. She was
_going_ to do this! The door swung open and there stood Remy
LeBeau, silouetted by the comparitively bright light in the
hallway to the dim lamplight in her room. He was _so_ handsome,
a tall man of about 6'2" with a muscular, athletic build. He had
long brown hair that hung over his rugged, sharply featured face.
His eyes were black and red, and he had that irresistable
unshaven look. He was wearing a skintight white tank top and
faded blue jeans.
"You wanted to see Gambit?" he asked, his voice was deep
and smooth, with a Cajun accent.
"Yea..." Rogue squeaked and cursed herself inwardly,
clearing her throat quietly, "Yes. Please, come on in. And, uh,
close the door," she added, looking slightly downward and
figeting with the hem of her baggy Xavier Institute sweatshirt.
She heard the door close and she looked up again. Remy
was right in front of her! She flinched a little, it was
startling how stealthily he moved! He touched her shoulder.
"Chere, what's de matter?" he asked.
"Nothin'," she answered, *Please, God! Let this work,*
she thought to herself. She reached up with her trembling left
hand to touch Remy's cheek, he looked at her quizzically. She
stopped, with her hand hovering next to his face, separated by
only millimeters. *No, _if_ I get just this one touch, let it be
a kiss,* she thought and lifted herself onto her tiptoes to reach
his lips. He tilted his head to meet her. She closed her eyes.
Their lips touched ever so slightly, like a rose petal
falling to the earth. Rogue braced herself for the overwhelming
rush of another's memories, but it didn't happen. Her eyes flew
open and she clapped her hands onto his face, pressing with
crushing force against his mouth. Remy twitched, his whole body
spasming with surprise. He locked his arms about her waist for
support. Rogue loosened her grip, laughing with wild abandon as
she felt tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. The look on his
face was precious, slack-jawed and wide-eyed with amazement.
"Chere! How... how in de hell did we do dat?!" he
stammered. She clutched him around the torso, pressing one side
of her soaked face against his hard chest.
"Ah've been in therapy with the Professor fer months now,
we determined that mah problem with contolling mah power was
psychological," he was stroking her hair lovingly, "He helped me
past the blocks I'd placed cause of all mah guilt an self-
loathin' over what happened to Cody an Carol..." she explained,
*an then Belle,* she thought to herself. "The Prof was mah first
test, we risked it an ah was able to touch him on the hand... Ah
was so afraid it wouldn't work again!"
She looked up into his eyes, "Oh, Remy! Ah can really
touch again! Ah want foh us to touch each other all night long,
fall asleep in each other's arms! To hold on to each other an
_never_ let go!" She was gripping his hands tightly, pressing
them to her breasts.
Remy smiled broadly and kissed her forehead, "Gambit have
no problems at all wit' dat!" He lead Rogue to the bed and she
sat down on it, swinging her legs up with her. He swiftly pulled
his shirt up over his head and dropped it to the floor before
sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. He kissed her,
opening his mouth and snaking his tongue into her. She accepted
his soft and wet tongue into her mouth, rolling it around with
hers, feeling their teeth scrape together. He began to kiss and
suck her long, arched neck gently as her hands explored his bare
back, memorizing every muscle.
He was now entirely on the bed, lying on top of her. She
rolled him over and sat across his hips. She began to kiss all
over his face, nibbling his lips and ears, rubbing her mouth on
his beard stubble. She could feel the bulge of his erect penis
pressing eagerly against her crotch, inhibited by two layers of
jeans. She took off her sweater and tossed it aside. Remy
smiled, getting a view of her firm tits and flat stomach. He no
doubt wanted her to take off her lacy black bra, but she wasn't
ready for that yet. Rogue touched his shoulders, running her
hands slowly down his muscular arms. From his smooth biceps to
his forearms, which were sparsely covered by little hairs. She
closed her hands around his right wrist and lifted it. She
kissed the back of his hand and rubbed it against her face, then
sucked his fingertips into her mouth. She put his hand against
one of her breasts and he squeezed it. Rogue sighed and ground
her crotch against his. Remy moaned.
She dropped his arm and scooted down a bit, lowering
herself onto him. She licked his rough jawline, then his adam's
apple. Oh, the _smell_ of him! Rampagingly masculine! His
salty flesh, a little persperation, and an expensive cologne.
Oh, what was it called! She couldn't remember. She wandered
over to one of his nipples in a frenzy, pinching it between her
lips and tugging firmly. She flattened out her tongue against it
and began to circle it slowly, rubbing the other pec with the
palm of her hand. Remy breathed heavily, his chest heaving under
her. She slid down further, brushing his well-defined abs with
the tip of her nose. She could feel her own hot breath, bouncing
off his tight body and warming her face. She found his navel and
kissed it, flicking her tongue into it, once, then twice.
Rogue felt something tickle her chin, and raised herself
up on her hands. A thin little triangle of sparse, coarse hair
peeked from under the waistband of Remy's pants, the point
touching his navel. She began to unbutton his pants, they were
Levi's 501, with the button fly. She undid the buttons slowly,
plucking them from the slots with both hands. She folded the fly
open, creasing them to the sides. Remy was wearing red cotton
jockey shorts. She retreated to the foot of the bed, and, taking
his pant-legs by the hem, she eased his jeans off. Then Rogue
stood and dropped her own pants to the floor, hooked one of her
feet into the tangled mass, and kicked them backward and out of
the way, losing her socks in the process.
She then plucked off Remy's socks and took him by the
ankles. She noticed that, much like Remy's arms, his legs were
only hairy on the lower half. His sculpted, broad thighs were
bare and smooth, as though they were carved in marble, while
below the knees there was a little hair. She darted her tongue
out, brushing one of his ankles with the tip. Then she gently
kissed it, and began to pull him toward her, leaving a trail of
sweet little kisses along the inside of his leg. All the while
she gradually lowered herself to her knees. Now Rogue held
Remy's knees at her shoulders and was licking his inner thigh,
halfway down from the knee. She looked down his leg to his
crotch. The fabric of his underpants was streached to the limit,
pulled into a tee-pee by his massive organ. The waistband was
pulled down to expose a couple inches of short, kinky pubic hair
and the legbands were stretched away from his body, forming what
looked like a shadowy cave. Remy's head was tilted to the side,
his eyes shut tightly and his teeth clenched. His face and neck
were flushed and he was clutching the bedspread, bunching it in
his fists. His hard-on was quite obviously making him extremely
uncomfortable.
Rogue was going to have to proceed to something much more
intimate earlier than she'd originally planned to, something more
satisfying for Remy. She'd wanted for them to just touch each
other tonight and proceed to actual sex later on. She realized
now that not only was that a kind of cruel thing to do to Remy,
but that it was probably unrealistic... She now knew now that it
would be unlikely to have been able to restrain _herself_ in that
way once going this far! She set Remy's legs down over her
shoulders and hooked her hands into the waistband of his under-
shorts. Remy took the signal and bent forward, bracing himself
on his elbows and lifting his ass from the bed. She pulled his
shorts off, dragging them toward her face. Remy straightened out
this legs, extending them high into the air. Once she'd pulled
them past his knees, he bent them again. She ducked her head
under the jockey shorts that stretched between his legs. Gravity
did the rest as they slipped of his legs and tumbled down her
back to land on her feet.
She as now staring down the barrel of Remy's unbelievably
long cock. It jutted out from his body and pointed right at her
nose, bare inches from her face. Rogue shrugged his legs off of
her shoulders and reached for it. With the tips of her fingers,
*Oh! It's so _hot!_*, she began to tilt it in all different
directions, looking at it from different angles. The shaft was
solid and strong, during her inspection she noticed that it took
more of an effort to turn it downward than it did to press it to
the sides and no effort at all to push it upward; it's natural
resting position was at an upward angle.
It was marked by a roadmap of veins, the largest of which
was on the underside and to the right, originating from the body
and running upward. Breaking off from it were all the other
smaller veins, sort of tributaries that meandered all over the
penis. All the larger veins were on the underside, which also had
a higher concentration of veins. Oh, and some tributaries had
tributaries. There was a definate ridge that ran the center of
the the underside.
The thickness was somewhat inconsistant, it was broader
across than it was thick and it was more wide at the center than
at the root, and it tapered at the head so that it was a bit
thinner than the base. The head was plump and looked sort of
like a mushroom. It was also a little purplish, especially at
the edge, and it was spongy to the touch. She could see his
circumcision scar, brown and puckered. *Mah God! How long _is_
this thing, anway? It mus be at least _ten inches_!* When she
closed both her hands around it there were still three inches
that poked from her fist! It wasn't remarkably thick, though,
her middle fingers could press the balls of her thumbs easily.
She felt his pulse trobbing under her fingers. A drop of milky
liquid formed at the head and began to lazily trickle dow... She
was distracted by a sudden noise. Remy was laughing!
"Chere, you gon be _doin'_ somethin' wit' dat ting 'fore
Gambit go over de top and you be gettin' a squirt in de eye?" he
asked patiently, smiling broadly, and continued his gentle
ribbing. "You plan on writin' and essay later on? Maybe we
could go down to de sub-levels and be fetchin' some diagnostic
'quipment for your studies?"
Rogue smirked, a little embarrassed. This was the first
time she'd had a good look at a man's cock in person, she didn't
realize that she was scrutinizing so intently. But even Belle's
memories of Remy's monsterous manhood couldn't prepare her for
actually holding it in her hands.
"You asked foh it sugah!" she warned cryptically. Rogue's
fists were still wrapped around his prick and the pre-ejaculate
had puddled against her thumb. She tentatively touched the tip
of her tongue to this miniature pearl and followed the short
trail upward, where she closed her lips around the soft head of
his stiff prong. She began to nudge and probe at it with her
tongue. Remy let out a hiss of breath between his teeth. She
uncurled her right fist and slowly drew Remy's dick down her
throat as far as it would go. Her lips touched her left hand and
she was just this side of gagging, then she tought of the saying
about biting off more than you could swallow and she almost _did_
gag. She managed to keep from laughing and pulled back, keeping
her lips tight and sliding her tongue from side to side. She
withdrew to the head, and repeated the gulping technique very
swiftly three more times.
Then she lifted his balls from the bed, cradling the
hairy, winkled sack of dark, soft skin in her hand. She felt for
the firm spheres of his testicles, and, finding one, she pressed
her lips against it and slurped it into her mouth, drawing half
his scrotum after it. She sucked his nut for awhile, rolling it
around in her mouth, before spitting it back out. Then she
pressed his cock back against his abdomen, laid her tongue
against his soggy balls, and licked the length of his shaft a few
times.
Remy's squirming and the little noises he made turned
Rogue on tremendously, she closed his dick in her left hand again
and began to suck and lick it furiously as her other hand
wandered down and began to rub her tender pussy lips and clitoris
through her already wet panites. After a couple minutes, Rogue
came from her masterbating just as Remy's cock began to spasm.
It squirted a wad of thick liquid into her mouth before she could
release it, then it squirted again, splattering her face. She
gasped and grabbed the bobbing organ, turning it slightly so that
it squirted over her left shoulder. She cleared a little come
from her eye and looked at Remy. His mouth hung wide open and
his eyes were rolled back, he was making breathless gasping
sounds. Rogue just watched him as he made funny sounds and even
funnier faces, holding onto his prick as it sprayed come
everywhere. She counted about seven or eight wet spasms and
about four "dry heaves" before it was finally still and began to
grow soft.
Remy lay there for a little while, his breathing slowing
to normal. Then he forced himself to sit up and smiled winningly
at Rogue, "Chere..." he began raspily, his eyelids were heavy and
tiny beads of sweat dotted his brow and unshaven upper lip, "That
was jus' incredible," he drew Rogue up into his arms and kissed
her roughly, squeezing her tight to his unyeilding body and
kneading her ass with both his hands. He released her from the
kiss and grinned mischeviously, arching one eyebrow, "Now, let's
see what ol' Gambit can do for _you_."
He stood, pressing his hands to her waist. Rogue clamped
her thighs on his hips for support and reached behind her back to
unclasp her bra. The brassiere fell forward and she shrugged it
off of her arms. Remy gazed appreciatively at her pert, round
breasts and pivoted so that he faced the bed. He placed one knee
as deep toward the center of the bed as he could reach and
levered himself onto it. Rogue closed her hands behind his neck
and he leaned into it, gently falling on top of her.
Rogue folded her legs across his back and slipped her
arms under his. They kissed deeply, probing each other's mouths
eagerly. Then Remy reached between them to stroke one of her
breasts and Rogue moaned, feeling her lips vibrate against his.
Remy stopped kissing her and she uncrossed her legs to give him
free movement. He moved down her body and took her breast in
both hands, splaying his fingers so that her nipple showed
through the triangle-shaped window formed by his thumbs and
forefingers. He teased her achingly erect nipple with the tip of
his tongue, wagging it back and forth swiftly. Then he squeezed
her tit and clamped his mouth on her nipple, sucking hard and
grinding it with his tongue. Rogue pursed her lips and cooed,
rubbing her pelvis against his belly franticly. Remy suckled her
breast for what seemed like forever, she stroked his hair and
lightly raked his back with her fingernails.
Remy suddenly disengaged and moved to her side, sitting
with his legs folded under him. "Roll over, Chere," he ordered.
"An lose de panties," he added with a grin. Rogue squinted at
him quizzically for a moment, then proceeded to do as he asked.
She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and began
to wiggle them down, baring her dark pubic hair and smooth hips a
little bit at a time. Remy was watching intently, his eyes glued
on her midsection as he licked his lips absent-mindedly. She
pushed the panties down her hips and thighs and completely off,
tossing them over the bed. Then she rolled onto her stomach and
folded her arms, leaning her cheek onto them and gazing at Remy
expectantly.
Remy scooted a little closer to her and laid his large,
calloused hands on her shoulders and began to gently rub them.
Rogue sighed heavily, it felt so good to have his strong fingers
kneading her flesh, relaxing the muscles. He continuied to
massage her back expertly, working his fingers into her shoulder
blades, unknotting her upper back. She was drifting away on
fluffy white clouds and her breathing was becoming comfortably
shallow. He ran a succession of jarring karate chops up and down
her spine, loosening the vertibre. Then he laid his hands on her
buttocks and began to stroke and knead them. Rogue knew that
there were probably no muscles in the ass that are very active
and didn't need massaging, but she wasn't about to complain. Her
loins were tingling pleasantly and she could see that Remy's cock
was stirring, growing erect very slowly.
She was about to touch it when Remy began to move,
wedging one of his knees between her legs. She spread her legs
for him and he sat between them and began to massage her ribs. He
slowly moved his hands down her body until he was massaging her
hips, then he began to stroke both sides of one of her thighs.
Rogue was getting so hot, she could feel a puddle of wetness
spreading under her as her pussy was getting wetter and wetter.
Remy suddenly touched the tender petals of her labia with the
tips of his fingers.
Rogue gasped and hiked her ass up a little. He began to
stroke her mound with his open hand, his middle finger lingering
on her sensitive clitoris, moving in little circles. Rogue
rocked with the rhythm of his expert hands and came forcefully
before too long. Now she was on her elbows and knees and Remy
was kissing and licking her buttocks, she could feel his hot
breath in the crack of her ass and on her throbbing pussy. He
inserted one of his fingers into her channel and began to tounge
the area around the opening while continuing to tease her
clitoris with another finger. She came again, yelling and
gritting her teeth. She loved the feel of his firm digits and
soft, wet tounge probing her pussy, and the feel of his rough
stubble, scraping against her thigh where it joined her body.
She was teetering on the edge of another orgasm when Remy
stopped. Rogue took the few seconds to catch her breath. She
could hear Remy shuffling around back there, then his legs
brushed the insides of hers and his hands fell on her hips.
Something blunt and firm nudged her between the legs. It took a
little while for her to realize that he was waiting for her to
signal that it was alright to proceed.
"Yesss..." she exhaled huskily. One of his hands left
her hip and she could feel the head of his cock open the soaked
lips of her pussy, he pressed it firmly against her entrance and
she felt it stretch and close around the plump head. Rogue's
entire body trembled and she reflexivly contracted the muscles in
her cunt, pinching the tip of Remy's cock like a vise. Remy
groaned and forced his dick into her tightened channel ever so
slowly, edging it in one inch at a time. She savored the
delicious feeling of his stiff rod as it drove deeper and deeper
inside of her, she flexed and released, urging it forward. There
was a little pain, but she bore it as it was almost entirely
drowned in wave after wave of pleasure. She climaxed, shuddering
violently as her muscle control melted away and she slumped to
the bed, her breathing reduced to hiccupping gasps. Remy's hands
slipped off her hips and his penis popped out of her.
Rogue blinked. She thought that she must have blacked
out for a couple seconds. She was lying on her back now and Remy
was lightly slapping her cheek and saying, "Rogue! Chere!"
Her mind unclouded and she looked up at Remy and smiled.
With one hand she drew his head down to her and kissed him while
grabbing his wet prick roughly with the other, guiding it back to
her pussy. She felt his lips pull up into a smile and he kissed
her back, re-entering her slippery, expanded cunt easily and
sliding in to the hilt. She twined her legs around his and held
onto his ass as he began to pump in and out of her, alternating
between piston-like pounding and slow, methodical stroking.
Rogue surrendered to the maddening sensation with all of
her being. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, languidly
licking her teeth and lips. She writhed slightly under Remy's
thrusting, undulating body, lightly tracing cross-hatching
patterns all over his back, sides, ass, and hips with the tips of
her fingernails. Remy's head was bent downward and his bangs
brushed her face, tickling her cheeks and eyelids. He was
breathing in short, rapid jets, blowing into her cleavage. His
loosely hanging balls, drenched in Rogue's flowing juices, made
audible slaps as they smacked inbetween her ass cheeks, against
her anus, with each deep thrust of his cock into her tight
channel.
Remy kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and
nibbling on it. Then he planted little kiss on her chin and
another on her neck. Rogue reached up to place her hand on the
base of his skull and pressed his head to her shoulder. She
licked him behind the ear, and drawing the lobe into her mouth
with her tongue, she began to suck on it. Then she traced the
edge of his ear with her tounge, and gently bit into it. Rogue
moved her hips in synch with Remy's thrusts, feeling another
climax approaching. She gripped him tighter and squealed as she
came, thrashing her head from side to side. Remy's pace slowed
and his muscles tensed. He buried his cock deep and he came too,
drawing in a strangled moan and releasing it in a choking burst,
"Nnnnnnnnnnnnn-ghuh! Huh... huh..." he panted, washing Rogue's
insides with his cream. His elbows gave out and he lay heavily
on top of her for a couple minutes.
Remy rolled off of her, his now flaccid penis slipping
out of her contracting vagina. They lay blissfully next to each
other, silently staring at the ceiling. Then Rogue got off the
bed and pulled up the covers, sliding under them and motioning
for Remy to do the same. He sat up and pulled the comforter out
from under him and slid under it next to Rogue. She nuzzled up
aganst him, laying her head on his collar bone and cuddling up to
him with one leg over his and one hand on his chest. He hugged
her with one arm and lolled his cheek on the top of her head,
brushing his fingers on her shoulder and fiddling with her curly
locks. It was Rogue who broke the silence.
"Remy, ah love you," she whispered, the tips of her
fingers moving in circular motions on his chest. Remy hugged her
a little tighter and kissed her on the top of her head.
"I love you too, chere."
Rouge smiled faintly. "Remy..." she paused, "Mah real
name..."
"Chere," Remy interrupted.
"Shush, Remy," Rouge asserted firmly, "Ah'm ready to tell
someone. This is ridiculous, keeping my name from y'all. Like
ah'm still an outsider... Ah'm ready to let people get close to
me again," she continued, "Mah real name is..."
Suddenly everything swam out of focus, the world was
melting into the blackness. Rogue opened her eyes and was
startled to see that Remy was not lying next to her. She jerked
into a sitting position and frantically glanced about the room.
The morning sunshine poured in through her windows, shining
through her lacy curtains. Horrible realization began to sink
into her and her face wrinkled in despair. She looked over at
her alarm clock, which was buzzing and showed 7:00 on the digital
face.
"NO!!!" she shouted and flashed out her arm, grabbing the
clock and crushing it between her fingers. The clock popped and
splintered, throwing off a few sparks and smoking a little.
Tears streamed down her face and she dropped the smoldering
remains to the floor. Rogue turned face down and muffled her
gut-wrenching sobs with her pillow.
-The End-
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to make this story as "real" (that is, it
could have happened if 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 characteriza-
tion. To establish continuity, I place it chronologically between
the Gambit Limited Series and the Rogue LS. To my best
knowledge, the Gambit LS takes place between X-Men #23 and #24
and during Uncanny X-Men #301 & #302, and the Rogue LS takes
place after Uncanny #318 and X-Men #38, during X-Men #39, and
ends before Uncanny #319. That's about as close as I need to pin
it down, Rogue could have dreamed the preceeding story anywhere
between Uncanny #302 and #318, and X-Men #24 and #39.
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. First of all, Rogue and Gambit's relationship: He began
to flirt with her in X-Men #1, and she became receptive in X-Men
#8. They've been seeing each other since then. Rogue first
mentioned absorbing Cody's psyche (Rogue #1 retcons it so that
she _permenently_ absorbed it) and talked about it in Uncanny
#185, and the scene is shown in a backup in Classic X-Men #37
(Cody is mistakenly called "Freddie"). She permenently absorbed
Ms. Marvel's powers and psyche just before the first panel of
Avengers Annual #10, and lost Ms. Marvel's psyche upon returning
from the Siege Perilous (which she entered in Uncanny #247) in
Uncanny #269. Finally, she permenently absorbed the memories of
Gambit's ex-wife, Belladonnna Boudreaux, in Gambit #3.
Special thanks to David R. Henry for helping me out a little with
some of Rogue's history. Thanks, DRH!!! (Like he's really gonna
read this...). |8)