saga/title/fandom: Beauty Tips and the Beast

author:Ramos

rating/genre:(NC-17) - Romance

warnings: language, heated sexual content

summary: Jubilee and Hank pairing, racy and funny

comments/disclaimers: My first PWP, featuring Beast and (gulp) Jubilee. (Adult Jubilee. Geez. Get your minds out of the gutter. And into this other gutter.) Please note - This is rated NC - 17. I'm not going to bother with the warning page - be real, how many sixteen year olds actually back out of those pages anyway?

Jubilee tapped on Hank McCoy’s bedroom door again, a little harder this time. She had it on good authority that he was in there, because Storm had told her that Cyclops had mentioned that Bobby had commented that Hank was not in the lab. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the CIA, but the Xavier mansion grapevine was for the most part reliable.

Mostly.

Leaning her ear against the door, she listened for signs of life. "Hank. You in there?" she called. "Yikes!" she yelped when the door abruptly opened. A puff of warm, moist air caressed her bare legs below her shorts, and she stood up to see Dr. Henry McCoy, affectionately known as Beast, standing in his doorway wearing nothing but a towel. Three towels, actually, although with his entire body covered with a pelt of blue fur, he could never be considered underdressed. One towel was wrapped around his muscular hips for modesty’s sake, and he plied one with each hand to the dripping fur on his head and chest.

"Good evening, Jubilation. To what do I owe this untimely but not unwelcome visit?"

"Hey, Blue. Um, sorry about the bad timing. I’ve got supplies duty this week. I was checking to see what you needed. More shampoo, maybe?" she quipped, following him into his room as he headed for his desk. His apartment was larger than hers, not only as befitted his status as one of the original and most senior X-men, but also due to the fact that he performed several duties for Xavier, including a great deal of research. Research meant books, computers, and lots and lots of paper.

"Actually, yes, among other things," he replied. His gold-rimmed glasses were swept up as he tossed one of the towels over his shoulder, but the wet fur on his arms immediately dripped onto the lenses. He shook off the drops, only to have more spatter from the same source.

"You're hopeless. Let me do it," Jubilee offered, taking the glasses and towel from him and drying them quickly. She lifted them into approximately the right place, letting him guide the earpieces over his ears, which were lost in the tousled fur.

"Ah. Yes, thank you. I had a list here, somewhere," he said, rummaging through and dripping on the papers that covered every square inch of the large desk. "I need to order some basic supplies for the lab, refuse bags and such. And I am out of shampoo, thank you very much," he added with a mock sternness. "Also, I’m not sure what culinary delights you intend to purchase, but if you’re feeling kindly you might secure a supply…"

"Of Twinkies, I know," she finished for him, taking the list and reading it before shoving it in her pocket. Shifting her weight, she looked down and made a face. "Good grief, Hank, this carpet is soaked. How do you get it all dry?"

"Well, normally I stay in the tiled surrounds of my bath until I’ve sufficiently toweled off," he replied. "This evening, however, has not gone as planned."

"Sorry, dude. Here, let me help," she volunteered impishly, dropping the towel over his head and ruthlessly rubbing away.

"My glasses! Have a care, Jubilee."

"Oops. Forgot. Sorry. Really, I mean it," she said, contrite. "Really. Let me help."

"No harm done, Jubilee," he assured her, taking off the glasses and placing them safely on the desk again. If you truly wish to be of service, you may dry my back. I cannot reach properly, and it’s quite annoying sometimes."

"I can see that," she said, doing as he asked. The wet fur clung to the contours of his back, and Jubilee felt a stab of warm feminine appreciation for the well-shaped posterior, despite the amount of water confronting her. "Dang, Blue. This must take you forever."

"Yes," he replied, voice muffled under the towel in his own hands as he rubbed at his head and face. "Which is why I prefer to perform my ablutions in the evening. One has the leisure to thoroughly complete the job, and dismiss concerns such as others competing for hot water as is the norm in the morning hours."

"Not so many people flushing the toilet, either."

"Ah, too true," he sighed, working the excess water out of the hair on his arms with his own towel.

"Maybe you ought to see about getting your own hot water heater up here," she suggested, rubbing hard. "I know there’s one on each floor of the mansion."

"It isn’t really an issue, my dear. I do not shower every day."

"You don’t?" Jubilee asked, dubious.

"No, Jubilee. Contrary to popular American culture, one does not require washing every twenty-four hours. Engaging in physical exertion of course requires the skin to be cleaned, or else suffer the bacterial consequences and olfactory emanations, but in my case, my skin and fur do not appreciate the constant cleansing."

"What happens?"

Hank grinned. "I itch like mad, and the fur falls out in great clumps."

"Yuck."

"Precisely. So long as my physical efforts are limited to twirling the knobs on my microscope, I have little fear of offending my comrades. However, exercise of the body is as important as exercise of the mind, and so I have dutifully completed my allotted time in the Danger Room, and then retired to my well-deserved and fully required shower."

"Gotcha," she said, rubbing his shoulders with the towel. Testing it with her fingers, she decided the fur was as dry as the sopping towel could make it. "Now what?"

"Hairdryer," he supplied, reaching into his dresser. "And before you ask, no, you may not borrow it."

"Oh, come on, Hank. Why would I want to – OH MY GOD."

Hank flourished the oversized, industrial appliance smugly. "It required a special order from a professional supply catalog to obtain this, and I paid a small fortune for it."

"Wow. Your kung fu is stronger than mine. But if it ever comes up missing, I know nothing about it." Jubilee watched him pick up a large paddle brush from the top of his dresser, and took another look at the objects strewn across it. The wooden surface held the usual accumulation of manly items, such as a scattered pile of coins, a wallet, and small box full of cufflinks that were never worn, but it also held a variety of uniquely ‘Hank’ items, such as oversized nail clippers and several brushes clogged with blue fur.

"Here’s something I’ve always wondered, Hank. How do you get your back brushed out?"

"Well," he answered as he pulled the brush through the damp fur on his neck, "I do what I can, but usually I just leave it alone. However limber I may be, it is impossible for my elbows to bend that way."

"What I thought. Turn around," she ordered, and picked up a brush of her own.

"Really, Jubilee. This is not necessary. Surely you have better things to do this evening."

"Yep. Sure do. Notice me all dressed up for my hot date?" She indicated the tank top and flannel boxers she wore. "It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday night, Hank, and I’m planning the grocery shopping. My gay social whirl makes you just breathless, doesn’t it?"

He chuckled at her sarcasm. "Actually, I expected you to be out with Wolverine this evening."

"Nope," she said flatly. Something in her voice warned him not to pursue the subject. "Here, sit down," she ordered, pushing him on the bed. She took the dryer from him and turned it on low, then began to blow-dry his back. Despite its size, the dryer produced only a marginally noisy hum.

Suddenly she laughed. "Ya know, this kind of reminds me of college."

"Really? How so? Part time job grooming dogs, perhaps?" he joked.

"Actually, I was going to say girls’ night at the dorm. When I was still in the dorm, that is."

"Girls’ night?" he questioned.

"Oh, yeah. On nights when most of the girls on my floor were in, we’d end up in one room. No guys allowed, but a chick flick and popcorn were mandatory."

"Sounds like the standard set-up for a bad horror movie."

"True. You should be safe, though if I come at you with an avocado face mask, you’d better run."

Hank chuckled again, and let himself slump forward under her care as she brushed and kept up a steady stream of chatter about nothing in particular.

The brush caught at a knot, and she swore as she turned off the dryer and patiently picked at the tangle. "Geez, when’s the last time you had this combed out back here?"

‘About the last time I got laid,' he thought, but instead said, "Just before Trish and I ended our relationship. She was occasionally willing to assist with my grooming."

"Well, you need to do this more often. You’re going to get mats back here if you’re not careful."

"Yes, Jubilee," he said meekly, bracing himself for a whack.

She settled for pushing his shoulder as she left the bed and opened the window. "Hope you don’t mind, it’s getting stuffy in here."

"Not at all," he replied, as the cool night air began to replace the humid warmth in his room. "Actually, I prefer to perform this with the windows open. Wet fur combined with the torrid output of this monstrosity, for the length of time required to complete the process, somewhat negates the beneficial effects of the shower."

Jubilee stared at him. "Warm room makes ya sweat, huh?" she translated.

"Precisely."

"All right, then." She opened both windows and grabbed up the dryer again, working her way down his back. When she reached the towel's edge, she reversed directions and began to brush out the fur on his shoulders.

"I thank you for your assistance, Jubilee. However, I am capable of finishing the rest of this myself."

"Hey, did you hear me complaining? Besides, this is kinda fun. In a bonding kind of way." She pushed his arm up and went to work on the underside. "Any avocados in the fridge?"

Hank gave himself up to the grooming and relaxed, relishing the attention. It had been far too long since he’d let someone else do this for him. Nope, don’t go there, he thought.

As if she’d heard his thoughts, Jubilee brought up the subject. "So, Trish used to do this for you, huh?" Her tone was casual, but Hank wasn’t fooled.

"Once or twice. But I fear she was uneasy with this aspect of my physical appearance."

Jubilee made a face. "Hank, I hate to break it to you, but Trish is a mutant-phobic bitch. The fact that she went out with you at all is a testament to your overwhelming charm."

"I think my charm, overwhelming or otherwise, had less to do with it than her desire to prove something to herself."

"What, trying to convince herself she wasn’t a mutant-phobic bitch? So she picked the nicest mutant she could find and stomped on his heart with her three-hundred-dollar stiletto heels?"

Hank winced at Jubilee’s assessment. He’d forgotten the young woman was so cynical, not to mention terribly astute in her character evaluation and deadly with her sarcasm.

"So," she began, obviously veering away from the painful subject of his former girlfriend, "it’s been over two years since you’ve had a decently combed back. You use a conditioner?"

"No," he answered, trying to keep up. "Those formulated for humans do not often rinse properly, and those intended for animals smell horrendous."

"Try one for horses’ manes. I had a girlfriend who swore they were fabulous. She had hair down past her waist, so it must have worked for her. Okay," she said briskly. "On your face and drop trou. Or towel. Whatever."

Hank blinked at her. "I'm not entirely sure ..."

"Oh, c’mon, Blue. It’s a butt. You’ve got one, I’ve got one. Besides, you’ve seen mine more than once. At least I’m not going to poke yours with a needle."

Hank rolled onto his stomach and gingerly removed the towel. With brisk and efficient movements, Jubilee dried the fur on his behind and flicked the towel back over him as she moved down his legs. At her command he rolled over again, bringing the towel with him.

Jubilee took the opportunity to turn on his ceiling fan and open the windows further to dispel the heat produced by the hair dryer. Hank lay on the bed and watched her, trying his best not to notice what the cool air had done for her nipples behind the thin fabric of her tank top. Bra-less nipples, the precise part of his brain noticed. The rest of his brain insisted it shut up and let him enjoy the view. Common sense tried to hush up the brain, but the brain drowned sense out in a chorus of boos. The rest of his body took notice as well, forcing Hank to gather more of the towel together, hoping the resultant pleats covered his reaction.

Oblivious, Jubilee spent a moment cleaning out the fur clogging the bristles of her brush, and rubbed the resulting wad with her fingers. "I never noticed how silky your fur is," she commented.

She ruffled her fingers through the fur on his lower thigh, noting the muscle underneath as she aimed the warm air stream and continued to blow dry the front of his legs, stopping when she reached the wadded towel across his lap.

"I’ll let you handle the rest of that," she commented dryly as she moved to his flat belly. Kneeling on the bed beside him, she brushed his chest fur and dried it thoroughly. When she indicated she was ready, he sat up and let her tend to his neck.

Want me to do up here?" she asked, running her fingers through the longer, still damp hair on top of his head.

Hank nodded mutely, trying very hard not to notice the sway of her breasts only inches away from his face as she plied the brush and dryer. Attempting to be unobtrusive, he gingerly wadded the fabric up a little more over his incipient erection, firmly telling himself to calm down. Jubilee was a friend and a teammate. He'd never even considered her sexually before, and had no reason to believe she viewed him as anything other than a platonic male friend. Unfortunately, his body was currently doing the equivalent of plugging both ears and chanting 'la-la-la-la-la-Ican't-hear-you-la-la-la.'

"So, what else do co-ed girls do on these sacramental beauty nights? I will understand if you’ve taken an oath of silence on these secret rituals of womanhood."

Jubilee laughed. "We waste a lot of time sitting around and badmouthing our boyfriends. We talk about sex a lot," she added bluntly, "but mostly its hair and nails and makeup, and a huge gossip fest."

"I’ll skip the makeup tips, thank you all the same," Hank volunteered. "And my nails are seldom of concern to me."

"Liar. I’ve seen the emery boards lying around here." She grabbed one hand and inspected the thick, dark nails. "You could use a good file, then maybe some clear topcoat."

"Truly?" Hank questioned, intrigued.

"Yep. It would keep the ends from splitting. At least, I think it would. We could experiment, I guess."

"Hmm," he said, spreading his fingers and extending the tips to their fullest. "As long as you don’t suggest a neon pink. I think black would be the best choice."

"Please. Goth is so over. I’d go with an electric blue. Matches your eyes," she teased, ignoring the fact that every other inch of him was blue as well.

"I’ve always seen the poodles come out of their doggie salons with pink or red."

Jubilee turned off the dryer and lowered it to the bed. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You think I don’t know? You dis yourself, so nobody else can do it first. I know that game – hell, I practically invented it. You don’t need to do that with me, Hank. I never once thought of you as an animal tonight."

Hank heaved a sigh. "You combed virtually every inch of fur on my body, considered the best treatment for my talons, and you tell me you do not think of me as an animal? I did not think you capable of such falsehood, Jubilee."

"HEY." Jubilee dropped the brush and grabbed the fur on either side of his head. "To me, you’re just Hank. You’ve got fur, and talons, and yeah, you’ve got some impressive dental works there. But you’re also the smartest, nicest MAN I’ve ever known."

"A man," he echoed scornfully. You look at me, and you see a man? Be honest, Jubilee. Am I truly a man in your eyes? Could you ever look at someone like me and see anything that would attract a woman?"

"Yes," she replied instantly. "I always thought Trish was the biggest idiot on the face of the planet for not wanting to spend the rest of her life with you. Don’t give me that self-pitying routine. I get enough of that ‘I’m an animal’ crap from Wolvie, and you know how I feel about him."

"Yes, I do," Hank said, instantly apologetic. He knew of Jubilee’s continued attraction to the feral man, and said man’s refusal to accept her love.

She curled her legs together on the bed, despondent. "Hell, Hank. You have a lot that would appeal to a gal - way more than me. To a guy, I mean," she amended.

"You have a great deal to offer, Jubilee. Do not discount your value…"

"Look at me," she interrupted. "I know I’m not the smartest gal, and I may not be gorgeous, but I'm not exactly repulsive, ya know? And I know I'm his type - hello, Asian chick! Why can’t Wolvie get it through his head that I’m a grown woman?"

"He’s concerned for your safety, Jubilee. He cares about you a great deal."

"But he doesn’t love me," she said quietly. "I know he doesn’t."

"How do you know?" Hank asked.

"I finally told him how I felt," she confessed.

"You did?" He was shocked.

"Yeah. About two weeks after I got back. Remember when we went on that mission to Ireland, with Banshee? Wolvie and I had a little down time, and I finally just up and said it. Told him everything."

"And how did he respond?"

"Well, without going into gory details, he basically said it wasn’t mutual."

"I see. And do you think he was being truthful?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." She snuffled and rubbed her nose on one of the surplus towels. "I think I always knew it. And I have accepted it, mostly. I mean, it’s been six months now. If he was lying, I think I would have seen it. He doesn’t love me."

"He has seemed somewhat distant from the rest of the group as well."

"He's been a complete bastard, and you know it. Even Cyclops is getting tired of his shit, and Cyke can put up with anything."

She sniffed again, and shot Hank a look, part challenge, part amused. "Isn’t this the part where you tell me there are lots of fish in the sea and how I could have any man I want? C’mon, I need the ego boost right now."

Hank grinned. "Jubilee, you are a beautiful young woman. Wolverine is a complete cretin to reject your love. Any man should count his lucky stars if you so much as glanced his way."

"Ooh, you’re good at this. Tell me more," she demanded.

"Well, let’s see. You are intelligent, funny, beautiful," he began.

"You said that already."

"It bears repeating," he stated firmly. "And any man who does not find you highly desirable does not deserve to draw breath."

Jubilee’s grin faded a bit. "Do you find me desirable?" She asked softly.

"Yes," he replied, honestly. She looked back at him, and the moment stretched out between them, seemingly crystallized in the cool air. Then she shivered, her nipples contracting and pointing through the fabric, and Hank could not draw his eyes away. He could not have said who leaned first, but her mouth was warm under his, tasting faintly of gum.

"Hank," she breathed, wonder and surprise in her voice, and it pulled him in again for another kiss. Her lips parted under his, but it was her tongue that reached out first, tentatively sweeping his pointed front teeth before reaching in farther. He met it with his own, exploring gently as he rolled her flat onto the bed. Abruptly sanity returned and he broke the kiss.

We should not be doing this," he said breathlessly.

"We shouldn’t? Why not?"

"Jubilee, I’m far too old for you," he began.

"Of all the stupid -- I’ve had the hots for a man who’s probably got a hundred years on me, and you had no problem with that!" she retorted.

"Exactly. You’re in love with Wolverine, and…"

"No. No, I’m not. I was, for a very long time. But.. I think I’ve been over him for a while now." She reached up, stroking the fur on his face and then running her fingers through the long fur on his head. She found the edge of his ear, hidden in the blue pelt, and traced it curiously. "If I weren't, I wouldn’t be here with you."

She pulled his head back down, and this time she was the aggressor, kissing him deeply. He responded instantly, pulling her body closer to his. She was pliant in his arms, molding herself to his chest as they kissed feverishly again and again. When she paused and carefully investigated each and every tooth with the tip of her tongue, lingering over his longer canines before plunging in for a deeper kiss, he thought he’d go insane.

"Are you sure about this?" he questioned breathlessly when she released his mouth.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," she replied, nuzzling his neck, exhaling warm air into the fur under his ear. She seemed fascinated when she discovered the slight point at its upper tip and immediately began to nibble on it. Not one to waste time, Hank began to kiss the vulnerable curve of her neck and shoulder, getting a sigh in return.

Abruptly she pushed him on his back. "You know, I just realized I didn’t finish the job," she said with a grin, reaching for the towel that remained barely draped over his lap.

"You don’t need to do that," he objected, but she had a firm grip on the towel.

"Heard it before, didn't listen then, not listening now," she told him in a sing-song voice. Pulling away the towel, she took a long look at his manhood and a smile grew on her face. "So it wasn’t a troop of miniature boy scouts pitching that tent," she teased.

Hank felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The fur that covered his body thinned abruptly as it reached his privates, leaving his smooth, naked length exposed. Uncircumcised, his penis was as blue as the rest of him, and undeniably in proportion to the rest of his huge body. His previous liaisons had not accepted his appearance with such equanimity.

Jubilee grabbed the brush and began to finish combing out his upper thighs and lower belly, apparently ignoring the twitching her actions summoned, but the warm air stream of the hairdryer rushed teasingly over him several more times than accidents would allow.

"Enough," he growled, plucking the appliance from her hand and tossing it across the room. He pulled her onto his chest and kissed her again. His hands found their way under the hem of her tank and pushed it up.

"You’re overdressed." She sat up obediently and pulled off the top.

"I’m speechless," he told her in a quiet voice, taking in the sight of her small but full breasts, and she actually blushed a bit at the reverent tone in his voice. She remained still while his hands rose up, cupping her gently, and bit her lip to prevent the small sounds from escaping as he rubbed his thumbs over her dusty pink nipples, causing them to harden to dark peaks. Wrapping his large hands around her waist, he pulled her closer until he could run his tongue over the very tips. He drew one into his mouth and suckled, then bit down gently.

"Hank," she moaned, her hands planted on his shoulders, gripping tightly. When he repeated on the other nipple, her fingers combed down through his chest fur until she discovered his own nipples and rake them with her nails.

Nipping his way up her neck, he lowered her chest to his until he could deliberately rub her sensitive breasts on his chest fur. His hands found her breasts again and squeezed firmly, getting another gasp.

"Do you prefer to be on the top?" he whispered into her ear, just before he drew the lobe between his teeth and raked it lightly. His warm breath in the curve of her ear caused a shiver to run down her back.

"I’m not sure," she replied after a second. "I don’t really have a preference."

"Hmm," he murmured, still massaging her nipples. "I know some women have difficulty reaching orgasm unless they are in the superior position." Her legs had tangled with his, and he bucked up against her, rubbing his erection against the flannel of her boxers.

"I don’t know," she confessed. "I’m not really – I mean, it’s been awhile…" flustered, she blushed again.

"You’re not a virgin?" Hank queried, surprised.

"No," she retorted, somewhat exasperated. "I just haven’t really gotten all the kinks worked out when it comes to sex."

He frowned at her, pulling her hands away from their exploration of his chest. "Explain."

Jubilee’s chin set, a mulish expression on her face. "Let’s just say in the few encounters I’ve had, the whole joy of sex thing has been over-rated. Way too much work for too little reward."

"You’ve never had an orgasm with a man?"

"Does my Mr. Shower count?" she shot back.

"No. No, it doesn’t." His voice slid down into a deeper range, almost purring, and Jubilee raised one eyebrow.

"What?"

"Umm," he rumbled, a thoughtful gleam in his half-lidded eyes. "You should know, Jubilee, that nothing interests me so much as a challenge."

Before she could respond, he’d flipped them both over and kissed her again. She could feel the change in him, a dominant instinct that something deep within her female soul recognized. She giggled, but arched her neck back as he left her lips and began to work his way down her throat. His hands pinned her arms to the bed.

"Don’t move," he growled in an undertone as he moved to her breasts, nibbling and licking until she was short of breath, eyes closed in ecstasy. He paid special attention to what made her moan, returning again and again to tease and taunt her.

His chin brushed down on her ribs to her stomach, and she suddenly convulsed in laughter.

"Ticklish?" he asked unnecessarily, and she nodded. "Good."

One blue eye popped open, and she peered up at him. "Why good?"

The look he gave her was intense, and caused a streak of heat to run down her belly. "Because ticklish zones are also erogenous zones."

"Sure," she agreed dryly, but sucked in her breath as his tongue ran down her ribs to the taunt muscles on her abdomen. Dipping into her navel, he was rewarded with another gasp. A faint prickle of his nails was all the warning she had as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her boxers and slid them down, following the edge of the fabric with his mouth. He found the points of her hips and gently bit one, then the other.

"Hank," she protested as she realized his intention. "Hank, don’t."

"I take it none of your previous paramours have done this for you."

She did not reply, so he surged up her body and claimed her mouth for a searing kiss. When her arms came around him he seized her wrists and pulled her up slightly.

"I said, don’t move," he growled, and she gave him a saucy smile. He grabbed a pillow from where it teetered on the edge of the bed and shoved it behind her, propping her shoulders and head up slightly.

"Watch," he ordered, and kissed her breasts again, curling his tongue around one nipple and giving the other a pinch. Sliding his hands down her sides again, he hooked the boxers and pulled them down and off. Following with his mouth, he kissed her hipbone, deliberately blew on the sparse black silk that covered her mound and moved on down her thigh, pressing kisses all the way down her legs.

"I see you wax during your beauty rituals," he murmured, noting the infinitesimal dark shadows on her shins. The tiny hairs did not bother him; and after all, who was he to object to slightly hairy legs?

"That’s not the only place I wax," she replied, breathless, and he chuckled as he glanced up and noticed the neatly kept condition of his destination. With mouth, hands, and tongue he teased his way back up Jubilee’s legs, insinuating both his knees between her calves and nudging her thighs apart until she lay open and exposed before him. His broad chest separated her knees farther as he sank down and began to touch her carefully with the pads of his fingers, his talons kept away from her sensitive flesh. She made a small whimpering noise as her sex opened under his caresses, her arousal wetting the ball of his thumb as her rubbed up and over her labia.

"Are you watching, Jubilee?" he called, and glanced up to make sure she was paying close attention when he bent and licked her from bottom to top. Her muscles clenched under the unaccustomed sensation, and he was forced to use his considerable strength to hold her thighs apart as he continued to delve deeper and deeper, occasionally stroking the small bundle of nerves at her center. Teasing, fondling, he pinched her repeatedly with his lips, suckling one moment, only to return to the deep explorations that brought breathless cries and helpless begging from Jubilee’s lips. Finally she stiffened, her muscles quivering, her head thrown back as she mewled unintelligible words in her release.

Jubilee loosened her death-grip on the edges of the mattress and slowly came back to earth while Hank crawled back up to see her awe-struck face. He didn’t think she was ready to taste herself, and was content to press kisses along her jawline and on the delicate eyelids.

"That was… wow," Jubilee commented, and chuckled at the superior expression on Hank’s face.

"Just wait," he promised, deliberately rubbing his chest against her breasts as he reached into the nightstand.

She giggled and ran exploratory fingers over his backside as he dug in the drawer. "Jubilee," he protested, "I’m having enough trouble here without your… interference." The last word was somewhat garbled as her hands found what they were looking for and began to stroke his length. "Oh, hell," he managed to blurt out, unable to concentrate on his search while her fingers performed their work. "My dear, you must stop that, or we’re not going to need these." Grabbing her offending hand, he made her stop long enough to filch the box from its hiding place under the other items in the drawer. He peered at the unopened box and frowned.

"These things expire?"

"Yep. How long ago? If it’s just a month or so…"

"If my brain is still capable of performing simple math, which I have serious doubts at this moment," and he made another attempt to still her hands, "they expired seventeen months ago."

"They’re toast," Jubilee said succinctly. Her fingers continued to rub and coax a response from him, and Hank groaned as she found a rhythm that threatened to undo him entirely. He thrust against her fingers, dropping his head onto her shoulder as his hips began to move of their own volition. His thigh rubbed between hers with ever movement, dragging a response from her that he had not intended, but did not stop. Her breasts begged for attention and he gave it to them, lipping the hardening peaks and drawing them one after the other into his mouth. The rational part of his brain told him he should stop, but it was hopelessly outnumbered by the rest of him.

"Hank," Jubilee called to him softly, desperately. "I’ve never had unprotected sex. I should be clean, and I’m on the pill, so if you’re worried about that…"

He groaned. "It has been two years since I’ve had sex, Jubilee. Please don’t tempt me."

"I need you," she whispered, finding his ear with her teeth. "Please, Hank. I need you inside me," she panted.

Her legs parted further when he shifted, settling between her thighs and rubbing his erection into the juncture until he could feel her secretions coating the underside. Jubilee bucked against his weight, trying to maneuver him into position, but he continued his teasing until she was frantic. Only when her fingers clutched at the fur on his shoulders did he dip down and lave her nipple with his tongue, while his shaft at last entered her and drew a satisfied hiss from both of them.

Hank’s hot length sinking into her was the most exquisite sensation, but his size was more than she had bargained for. Hank felt her stiffen and slowed his penetration. Impatient and apprehensive all at once, Jubilee whimpered and twisted beneath him, then let out a moan as he reached down with both hands and pulled her knees up and out. He found her mouth, kissed her, and began making short strokes, each one deeper than the last.

When at last he was fully sheathed in her, he paused. "Are you well, Jubilee?" he asked, concerned.

"I’m fabulous," she whispered, rocking her hips and making him groan.

"I must concur," he replied, pulling back experimentally and sinking back into her depths. She groaned, arching again, and he complied with her unspoken demands by starting a rhythmic motion she had no trouble matching.

In no time at all he was at the edge, but he was determined not to repeat the mistakes of Jubilee’s previous encounters. He kept his pace steady as Jubilee writhed underneath him, even though his eyes were crossing and he was reduced to calculating square roots in his head. Her breath came in short pants, and he began to realize something was wrong just before a frustrated keen came from her throat.

"Just go on, Hank, do it. I can’t. I just can’t," she blurted out.

Hank gradually slowed until he was barely moving and kissed her, hard. "I’m not going anywhere," he promised her, stroking her shoulders with his hands as he feathered kisses across her face. "Not without you." Disentangling her fingers from their harsh grip on his shoulder fur, he kissed each palm until it relaxed, all the while continuing his subtle thrusting. His headboard was originally a wrought iron railing he’d bought years ago, and he guided her hands up to grasp the curlicues.

"Don’t let go," he told her with another kiss. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging and plucking at her nipples until they were hard peaks. "I want you to listen to me, Jubilee. Close your eyes."

She did as he told her, and he gazed down at her face, wondering why he’d never realized just how beautiful she was, even with her short black hair in wild disarray. "You can feel my hands, can’t you?" She nodded. "Your breasts are full and lovely, Jubilee. They deserve to be worshipped and adored, and I do adore them," he continued, bending down to suck on each nipple alternately. "You can feel my fur rubbing them, can’t you?" he asked, lowering his body to hers and sliding his chest across her hardened nipples. She bit her lip at the feel of the silky fur sliding across her chest, and he took it as an encouraging sign.

"And your hips, darling, are a rare and beauteous creation, designed for pleasure of both visual and tactile sensation," he added, his thumbs running circles around her hipbones as he shifted his grip to her waist. "Now, I want you to do something for me. I want you to clench your inner muscles on me, as hard as you can. Will you do that, Jubilee?"

After a moment, he could feel her contracting deliberately, and had to suck in a breath as it nearly sent him over the edge. "Now feel what I can do for you, love." He surged unexpectedly, and she gasped as he went incredibly deep. "That was your cervix, and it has many functions. This," and he changed his angle, "is commonly called the G-spot. Its true purpose is to produce endorphins during childbirth, but the pleasure it produces during lovemaking is an exquisite bonus."

This time, Jubilee moaned, and Hank continued to alternate the two strokes until he could feel the tension slowly building in her again. He tightened his hold on her hips and began to drive into her harder. "Now I want you to concentrate, Jubilee. Can you feel my whole length, inside you, making love to you? Can you feel the friction on your clitoris?"

"Oh God," Jubilee cried out, her body tensing like a drawn bow.

"I’m going to make you scream," Hank whispered into her ear, doubling his efforts, grinding into her with every stroke.

"Oh my God. HANK!" Jubilee shouted as her back arched, hard. Her inner muscles clenched around him in spasmodic waves of pleasure. It was not the scream he had predicted, but hearing his name shouted with such delight caused him to lose control in a hot roar of sensation that left white stars spinning behind his eyelids. He pumped into her velvet depths, lost in an overload that was as much emotional as it was physical.

In truth, Hank had more that half expected her to shout out Logan’s name rather than his when she reached her pinnacle. He knew she had been in love with the other man for many years, and did not really believe that she had let that love go. But the sound of his own name on her lips had pierced him to the heart, bringing unexpected feelings along with the exquisite sensations.

The sensation of her hands running through the fur on his back finally brought Hank to reality and he moved to get off, only to have her arms tighten around him. "Don’t go," she whispered.

He settled back down, trying to keep his substantial weight off her. "I fear I shall crush you," he confessed.

"Don’t care." Her hands went back to stroking his shoulders.

Hank smiled at her truculent tone, and decided on a compromise. One hand slid under the small of her back and he rolled, taking her with him. She snuggled down in his arms, angling her hips so his softening shaft did not disengage. To his surprise, a twitch answered her movement. Hank held still and hoped Jubilee did not notice. He did not want her to think him insatiable.

"So… that’s what the big deal is, huh?" she said nonchalantly a few moments later.

Hank stroked her hair back from her forehead. "Yes, I believe so." She shifted, and another twitch came from his extremity, despite his firm admonishment.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He chuckled, and continued to trace random patterns on her spine. "Believe me, Jubilee. It was my pleasure, and a unique privilege I will not soon forget."

She lifted her head and looked down at him, an odd, thoughtful expression on her face. One hand came up and she traced his eyebrows, stroking the rumpled fur into place, tracing his lips with her fingertip. He kissed it as it glanced by, and a slow smile grew on her face.

"You’re a wonderful man, Henry McCoy," she told him, and lowered her lips to his. Soft and sweet, it was the kind of kiss he knew he would treasure during cold, lonely nights in the future.

Unfortunately, her movement also brought more animation to that portion of his anatomy that refused to cooperate.

When Jubilee raised her head, a curious expression on her face, Hank groaned. "My apologies, Jubilee. Having let the genie out of the bottle, it does not seem content to grant a single wish and then vanish."

She gave him a speculative look. "I always heard it was three wishes." She eased back, forcing the half-erect shaft deeper. It responded with an eager surge that made her eyes widen.

"Three?" Hank rumbled, cupping her breasts firmly. "You have had two, and I but one. I think that means you owe me."

"Really?" she purred, circling her hips and getting precisely the response she expected. "Are we keeping score?"

"I’m planning on losing track," Hank promised her, planting one large hand on her behind and forcing her down as he bucked up into her. She giggled, and he pulled her down for another searing kiss.

Hank woke slowly, feeling the effect of overused muscles. Two years of drought did not prepare one for Hurricane Jubilee, he mused. Her desire to see which positions did, indeed, allow her to orgasm had kept them busy for most of the night, and Hank had proven to her once and for all that the right partner could make all the difference. They had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, sated and exhausted.

Smiling, he rolled over and reached out, only to find the bed empty and the sheets next to him barely warm. The smile died, and he realized he was faintly disappointed that she had not seen the need to wake him up when she left. He buried his head in the pillow and told himself to be reasonable. Their impromptu affair did not indicate that it was something she would wish to continue, or even have known in the atmosphere of the group.

When he heard the voices, he stilled and lifted his head, listening. While his hearing was not as acute as Wolverine’s, it was still better than average, and he had no trouble understanding the conversation outside the door to his room.

"Where've you been?"

"In the kitchen, if you really want to know. I was hungry."

"At five-thirty in the morning." The Wolverine’s voice was low, growly, and definitely not happy. "Work up an appetite, did you?"

"I’m not having this conversation with you, Wolvie. You don’t get to have an opinion of my love life." Jubilee's voice was hollow sounding through the wood and plaster, but her defiance was clear.

"Love life, or just sex life, Jube? You spent the night with McCoy, didn’t you?" he accused. "I can smell it. I can smell him all over you."

"Logan," her voice protested, and her faint inhale accompanied by a slight thump that let Hank know that Wolverine had moved, perhaps trapping Jubilee against the wall.

When a long silence followed, Hank closed his eyes and let his head sag down. Logan was obviously kissing her senseless. He tried to be happy for her, knowing that Jubilee was finally getting what she’d always wanted, always deserved, but the sudden pain in his heart was unexpected and unwelcome.

When her voice came again softly, he was shocked at her words.

"Logan, if you’d done that at any time in the past five years I would have thrown myself in your arms and fallen into bed with you without a second thought. But not now."

"Jubilee…"

"NO. I’m not doing this. You didn’t want me then. And now it’s too late. You can’t have me."

"You can't leave me hanging like this."

"I’m not leaving you anything. You left me. Just like you always do. But this time I’m not going to come running because you whistled."

"But… you said you loved me."

She sighed heavily, her anguish evident even through the wall. "I do love you, Logan. In so many ways. But I’m not a little girl any more. And I think I’ve finally realized that being in love doesn’t have to mean it hurts all the time."

"I refuse to believe you’re in love with Blue." The pain in Logan’s voice was equal to the confusion in Hank.

"I didn't say I’m in love with him. But I could. It wouldn’t be hard. Not at all."

"Jube," Logan's voice came again. The tone this time was nearly begging.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Hank heard what might have been the faint sound of another kiss, and then the knob was turning. Jubilee slid into the room, carrying a bag of powdered donuts, which looked a bit crumbled after being dropped on the floor, and a quart of milk. She stopped abruptly when she realized he was awake.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Good morning," he replied.

She held out the plastic jug and bag. "I brought crumbs to put in the bed. Did you save me a spot?"

Hank suddenly realized she was unsure of her welcome. He moved back and mutely held the covers up in silent invitation. The food was plopped unceremoniously on the beside table as she dove under the covers, wrapping herself around his warm form.

"You came back," he said, wonder in his voice.

"Well, yeah. The floor's cold out there, and it's nice and warm in here."

He stroked her back, tracing the bare skin between the tank top and shorts she'd re-dressed in to run to the kitchen. "Why?" he asked softly.

Jubilee raised her head, and gave him a long look. She obviously knew he'd heard her entire conversation with Wolverine.

"You make me laugh. And I make you not so serious. And I don't do one night stands," she added in a rush.

Hank blinked at her. She was very much like him, he realized. She hid her feelings with a cloak of humor, but she cared deeply for the people around her and would defend them fiercely if necessary. And she'd just turned her back on the man she'd loved desperately for years, choosing instead to be with him, in his bed.

"Do I take it you would not be adverse to continuing this relationship?" he asked tentatively.

"Do you think it's worth a shot? Us, I mean?"

"I like the sound of that," he told her. "Us." He kissed her forehead, smiling foolishly at the ceiling.

She snuggled up a little closer in his embrace. "Me, too."

~fin~

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