Title: Food Fight

Author: Blu (blufurredbeast@yahoo.com)

Website: http://www.atomicfantasy.com/blufiction/

Rating: NC-17

Pairing / Main characters: Beast/Iceman

Series/Sequel: complete unfinished

Summary: Hank and Bobby clean up after a Thanksgiving foodfight.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel; story copyright Blu.

Archive/distribution: Not to be used without permission; contact the author.

Date: Nov 2001

Notes: Humorous silly fic.

Warning: Slash.

________________________________________________________

 

Food Fight

By Blu

 

Chapter One

"Robert, what are you watching?" Hank asked speculatively. He peered at the television incredulously, dark blue eyes tilted over the silver-wire frames of his spectacles. The small barking noises had disrupted his nightly reading of the Wall Street Journal Money section. "What is that thing?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him when his friend didn't immediately reply.

"Blue."

"What?"

"It's Blue, Hank."

"Oh. I had thought you were referring to my oft-used alias." There was another moment of silence. "Robert?" hank said tentatively.

"What?" Bobby asked over his shoulder, annoyance in his voice. Hank stiffened slightly at the tone.

"What show is that?"

"I just told you."

"No, you said it was Blue - referring to that... creature... running around on the screen next to a man in a ridiculous green and gray rugby shirt. Am I then to assume that the program is titled 'Blue?'"

Bobby huffed in annoyance. He turned around and looked at Hank. "No, idiot. The DOG is named Blue - the show is about Blue running around leaving clues for little kids to find and put together to find out the secret of the episode." Hank furrowed his brow trying to comprehend the simple concept. Bobby snorted. "God, Hank - ya know you can really be a dense beast when you try hard enough." Hank lifted a brow at him. Bobby quickly smiled a nervous smile and then turned around, trying to hide a blush that Hank had already perceived. "Anyway it's called Blue's Clues and thanks a lot, Blue - ya made me miss the best part!"

"What, you mean that howling that thing is doing right now?"

"YEAH - and it's not howling! She's singing."

"It's a she?" Hank asked in surprise.

"YES! Now will ya quit bothering me and go back to reading 'how to slaughter your opponents in the business world!?'" Hank smiled to himself and noisily rattled the paper to his friend's chagrin. "That's it!" came the expected reply. Bobby jumped up onto the couch, sending cushions bouncing out in disarray, and vaulted over the back of it to land in front of Hank and tackle him. "You asked for it, blueberry!"

Hank remained dignified, putting one large arm out to either side of his body. Bobby straddled his stomach - sat on it was the more applicable term, since his knees couldn't quite touch the carpeting from around Hank's girth. Hank pushed himself up and off the floor in one quick, fluid motion, the excess weight seeming not more than a heavy sweater to his hyper muscular frame. Bobby toppled to the floor and blinked - enough time for Hank to turn the tables and straddle his friend. He leaned over the younger man with a smug smile on his face, his spectacles had hardly lost their perch. He put one elbow to his knee and two fingers to his chin, pretending to scratch himself in thought. "You were saying, Robert?" A groan answered him. "What's that? No, really, please - go on. Oh? Oh yes. Yes I am a very strong man. Yes. Yes that's quite right. I always win. No - no you've never won, I -

"Oh shut up you big lug and get off me before I suffocate or die of heatstroke under all this fur and my GOD do you weigh a lot."

"Oh please, Bobby. I'm not even on you." Bobby looked down for a moment and noticed that Hank's bottom hovered a half inch from resting on his stomach - Hank sat on his haunches. "Nice try, though."

"Yeah yeah. Geez. I should know better than to try and get the best of you. Help me up, will you?"

Hank, always the gracious gentleman, held out an oversized hand palm up in an offering of peace, the silky blue midnight skin exposed. "Certainly."

Bobby grabbed hold. "Come on, big man - PULL. PULL me."

Hank gave him a suffering look. "Very well. If you insist." He went to give a tug that he assumed would wrench Bobby's arm a bit and make him think twice the next time, just for fun, of course - but to his surprise his hand grew icy cold and then his grip slipped, and he toppled to land hard on his rear-end with a thud that shook the plants and standing lamps in the room. "Yow!" he exclaimed before he could save himself.

Bobby stood over him in laughter. Hank rolled his eyes, getting up from the floor and patting his undoubtedly bruised backside. "Oh funny, Bobby. Smashing. Grand. Go ahead, have a laugh at your best friend's expense. No, really, I insist."

"HA HA HA - ahhhhh ha ha HA! That was toooooo good!" the other man exclaimed. "Hey! You asked for it. All I wanted to do was sit and enjoy my little show - but NOOOOO. Someone had to snick their big blue snout into it, didn't they? You used your powers -

"Bobby I can hardly help but use them. They are innate after all and require no conscious thought on my part so -

"AND I can use mine! Stop sniveling, fuzzbutt. You lost this one! hehehehe." Bobby poked a finger into Hank, who stoically took it while he bent his neck around as best he could to see if any visible damage had been done to his rear-end. "Hank your ass is fine, I'm sure. It'll live to see another fall - I mean another day." Bobby continued to chuckle at his monologue. "Or are you just worried about your tight little fuzzbutt fur being messed up? hahaha!"

Hank sighed at the lost cause. "And how would you know it's a 'tight little fuzzbutt' as you put it, Robert, hmmmm? Do tell."

"Just a joke, Hank. Geez. Relax - stop preening like some proud peacock. Come on. Let's go to the kitchen and see what's goin' on. I'm starving."

"Undoubtedly. What about," Hank pointed to the TV, "the azure hued cerulean pup?"

"What? Oh. It's almost done with. Hank, Blue isn't green, besides!"

Hank only shook his head in mock dismay and grinned at his friend. "And to think - I am all you have to learn from."

"Damn right, buddy." Bobby put an arm around Hank's broad shoulders as they left the room.

"You go ahead. I just need to collect my paper."

"All right - see ya in a few."

Hank went to the armchair he had been sitting in and picked up the scattered paper. As he walked out of the room, he stopped in front of the mirror and admired himself. Turning, he pulled his trunks tighter, and then stood away from the reflection and looked over his back. "Hmmm. They do look rather nice if I may say so, myself," he thought with a pleased smile. "Proud as a peacock, indeed, McCoy. Next you'll be buying Pantene for your fur!"

The kitchen was bustling with activity, as it always was this time of the evening - provided the X-Men didn't have pressing matters at hand, like an alien invasion, a sentinel attack, clones of Scott or Jean running rampant, madmen bent on world domination, impending nuclear holocaust, or demon visitors from another plane. No - more often than not their lives were fairly ordinary, all things considered. Hank walked in to the scene of Ororo and Rogue, resident cooks, arguing over the food, while Remy, resident womanizer and thief of hearts, used the diversion to steal tastes of unknown mixtures from a number of crockery bowls. Warren, resident playboy and millionaire extraordinaire, sat casually cat-like, lounging on one of the long benches next to the large table by the window opposite the door Hank stood in - he was wearing only a bathrobe, and that left open down to - dangerously close to - his midsection. His hair was still wet and he looked as if he had just gotten out of the shower. On the other side of the room Scott and Jean were having a debate about a cookbook recipe while the stove above them leaked out black smoke. Kurt, Kitty, and Piotr were seated across from Warren having a quiet conversation as the three of them so often did. Charles wheeled himself into the room and stopped at the door. Hank spotted him wearing a look on his face that must have mimicked Hank's own - a pausing scrutiny turning to slight disbelief and then amusement.

"Excuse me, toots," Jubilee said as she pushed her way past Hank's bulk. She squeezed her 5'3" frame by his side. "Ugggggghh - GAWD, Hank - you're gettin' FAT!"

Hank harrumphed. "I beg your pardon, Jubilation - but I think you are mistaken."

She grinned. "Oh Hank, still talking in rhymes, eh? That's alright - you still have a" she darted a small arm around him and pinched his rear, making him jump at the unexpected twinge, "GREAT butt!"

He stared at her in amused shock for a few moments, and then the smile took over his face as he innocuously put a hand to himself, patting it lightly. "My, I must really remember to wear -these- trunks more often," he thought to himself. The feeling of self-indulgence was a foreign one to him but he did allow his moments, now and then.

He walked into the room. Bobby was apparently elsewhere, so he took a seat next to Warren. "May I, oh unctuous teammate?"

Warren began to slide over and then stopped, narrowing his eyes. "What did you just call me?" he asked curiously.

"Unctuous."

"I know that. What does it mean?"

"You are the shining beacon of all that is pure and civil and unmaterialistic in this world."

Warren grinned. "Have a seat, Hank. Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I know," he replied. He thought he would keep it to himself that the word meant nothing of the sort. It was, after all, an indulgent night, and he needed his fun now and then, too. If it had to remain a private affair, so be it.

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

"Oh," Warren said, casually flipping out an arm towards the chaos at the kitchen sink, "I have NO idea. Ask one of those darlings over there - you know, the ones with the claws and froth at the mouth?" Hank genuinely laughed at Warren's joke. The man had a witty sarcasm to him that Hank could appreciate, even if the Angel wasn't as bright as his halo at times.

"Smells like potatoes ta me," Logan's voice said in its typical gruff manner as he pulled up a stool and sat down with the rest of them. "Potatoes, 'n," he sniffed the air; Hank marveled, even he couldn't separate scents so easily - "gravy. But I think that's what th' argument's about. Gravy. Ha. I oughta go over there an' show 'em how it's done."

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Jubilee said loudly as she bounced over to the table and put her arms around the man, giving him a light kiss on one rough cheek, which he accepted with more dignity and - pride? - than he ever did anything, Hank noted.

"Like a peacock strutting around," Hank thought as he observed Logan puff out his chest and hold his chin a little higher. He grinned at the sight.

"Besides," Jubilee went on, pushing herself in next to Hank, on the end, "they've got the Cajun. I mean come on - if anyone would know how ta make gravy it'd be him! He's Creole an' all."

Piotr turned away from the conversation he'd been in for a moment. "I know how to make gravy," he said with a smile.

"I'll bet," Jubilee snorted at him.

"No, really. I do," he replied with an innocent look. "We used to make it all the time at home. Illyana would help my father and I do it - she'd bring us the spices - she was only a little girl. We'd tell her which ones to get from the rack and we'd all help her to read them. Sometimes, if she couldn't reach one, I'd hold her up so she could pick them out."

The table had grown quiet while he talked. Hank looked around and noticed that even the rest of the kitchen had quieted down. Remy was rummaging through the refrigerator and Rogue and Ororo were cutting up something at the counter. Charles had gone to rectify Scott and Jean. It was one of those moments when everything gets quiet all at once just by chance. Piotr looked around and grew slightly red in the face. Since Illyana had died no one ever said her name, and Hank wasn't sure that the others felt comfortable talking to him or asking him about her, either.

"That's really sweet," Kitty said, an obvious attempt to rectify an awkward situation.

Piotr smiled. "You don't all have to get so quiet on me whenever I mention her. It's alright. I prefer to think of her like that rather than dwell on the fact that she's gone. And she is gone." His voice took on a more serious tone. "She is. Nothing will change that. But I'm ok with it, now."

At that moment Bobby came bursting into the room, wearing an electric blue feather boa and tap shoes with a black suit. He was missing a shirt and the jacket hung open, exposing his chest. Ororo burst into a fit of giggling when she saw him - something that made Hank chuckle to see her do, as well as Bobby's entrance.

"Da da da da da da! I AM, your sing-ing tele-gram!" He tapped into the room and stopped behind Logan, removing the feather boa and running it around the man's neck and shoulders. Logan sat with his chin in hand, but there was a smile in his eyes as he looked at the other from under his brows. He smirked.

"Alright, aright! That's enough, Drake. Siddown before ya hurt yerself."

Instead, Bobby moved quickly to the sink where Rogue stood, and pushed in between she and Ororo. "My my my. What do we have here? Oooh. Look at this," he said in excited whispers. Then, turning around: "It's a FEAST, I say - A FEAST FOR KINGS AND MEN!" He came over to the table and shoved in next to Kitty. "Thanks, babe," he said to her.

"Robert, please," Hank said. "You'll probably scare the poor thing half out of her mind. I've known you for years and you're scaring ME - how do you think the newest member feels?"

Jubilee piped in before Kitty could say anything in her defense. "HEY! She's not the newest - I am. Well. Kinda."

"What the hell's it matter - y'all been here fer years, anyway. No one's 'new' anymore!" Rogue shouted over her shoulder. Jubilee stuck her tongue out at her.

"It's alright, Hank," Kitty said. "I'm used to it by now. But thanks for being the older brother."

"Alright," Scott voice said over everyone. "Dinner's comin' up! 'Ro are you done?"

"Just about," Ororo answered. "I just have to finish the clouds!"

"Rogue?"

"Hold yer horses, one eye. It'll get done when it gets done!"

 

Chapter Two - The War

"Christ! 'Bout ready yet, woman?"

"You shut your trap, Logan - Ah said it'll get done when it gets done!"

Logan growled in mock frustration. Putting his hands to the table he looked around darkly. "I swear I never waited so long ta eat in my LIFE."

"Awwwww. Come on Wolvie - you know you've gone half starved before. This isn't so much different."

"I heard that, Jubilee!" Ororo said over her shoulder.

"Finally!" Bobby exclaimed as Rogue carried over a bowl of salad at the same time Jean said:

"Alright, everyone! Here we are! Scott and I finally managed to figure things out - imagine that!" she laughed.

"Oh WOW," Jubilee exclaimed, bouncing off of her perch on Logan's right knee and squeezing in next to Hank again. Hank groaned but he could already feel his mouth watering.

"This look to be quite the feast, indeed - Robert you called it correctly. I must say. I'm impressed."

"Give it up, Blue," Bobby said with a mouthful of small tomato and leaf lettuce, which he had forked right out of the bowl as soon as Rogue set it down. "I'll always win."

"Hmmm. We'll see."

Even Warren, trying to act suave and debonair achieved a greedy lust in his eyes as Jean set down the turkey and potatoes. Ororo came over next.

"CRANBERRIES!" Jubilee squealed into Logan's ear. He put a pinky into the offended hole and cleared the noise with a smiling frown. Jubilee, noticing the face, gave him a playful slap. "As if you weren't thinking the same damn thing, old timer."

"Hey," he retorted with a half serious look in his face. She went innocent.

"What?"

"Watch your language."

"Well you ARE old, Wolvie. I mean come on - you're like," she scrunched up her face, "ewwww. I've never thought about that. You're like my dad - no, my grandpa even! You were probably born like... 100 years before me. EWWW."

"OK ok," Logan huffed, looking at her. "Gee, darlin' - I think we get the idea now."

She smiled and said: "That's alright, I still love you," and rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek, again.

Scott came over from the counter carrying a bowl of peas, and Ororo returned with a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes, to much sighing and groaning.

"One more thing!" Jean said. "Everyone sit down - Remy, Charles." She shoed the protesting gentleman away from the cookbook. The Cajun loped over, as well.

"Room for one more?" he asked. Kitty slid over, pushing an already cramped Piotr into the wall.

"GEEEZ," Bobby complained. "If any more people sit down I'm gonna be able to feel Kurt's food digesting." He stuck out his tongue as he reached for more salad. Kurt eyed him apprehensively.

"If anyone should be worried, it should be me!" he joked. "You are the one stuffing it down! And look at our poor Russian friend." He waved two fingers at Piotr, who was sitting, looking very complacent, at the end, across from Warren. "How are you down there, friend?"

Piotr held up a hand. "Fine, comrade. Da. Just fine."

Warren smirked. "I'd say." That drew stares from everyone present at the table. Warren looked around, surprised and as close as any Worthington of his name ever came to looking abashed. Embarrassment did not run in the blood. "What? Was it something I said?"

Hank let out a laugh and the heads swiveled to him like one collective beast. He put a hand to his head and hid his eyes in his giant-sized hand, big blue fingers covering most of his face. His shoulders still shook with laughter, though.

"Uhh - Blue, ya know, you might wanna control that problem of yours. It's impolite to laugh at the dinner table - 'DON'T YA KNOW!?'" Bobby sent out the feather boa, snapping it across the table. Whap!

"HEYYYYY!" Jubilee and Logan both said at once.

"Watch it, Drake!"

"Yeah - what she said. I want some o' that bird without feathers. 'Sides - Blue looks better on Hank."

"OK OK." Rogue returned with Ororo and they both sat down with Warren, Hank, and Jubilee. Scott and Jean pulled up chairs and Charles took the far end.

"Happy Thanksgiving, everyone," Jean said, holding up her wine. "I wish some of the others could be here. It's been a tough year - but look - we made it through. Here's to another!"

They all joined in with comments and cheers. And then the eating was on.

"Pass the potatoes!"

"No me first!"

"HA! Ya both're late - I got 'em 'fore any o' ya!"

"Do you want gravy, too?"

"Where's the salt?"

"Here. Oh. Dear no that's pepper."

"Mmmmmmm. These tomatoes are great!"

"Cranberries for me!"

"I'll take some turkey, thanks."

"Hey where's the squash?"

"Under your big ass, most likely. I can't even move!"

"Watch it, popsicle."

"You know I never noticed how nice your fur feels."

"This is all very nice, everyone. I am so proud to be sitting here with all of you. I would have never guessed that so many years after my dream began, it would be this strong. Thank you."

"Oh - thank you, Professor. If it wasn't for you I don't know what I would have done," Jean replied. Her comment was echoed by everyone present.

 

The meal went smoothly for a good two hours. Hank observed it all with a pleased detachment.

"More wine!"

"More turkey!"

"More gravy!"

"More everything!"

Inevitably, people became stuffed. Inevitably, people became stuffed, as often occurred when too much food and drink were consumed in one sitting. Kitty sat back first, daintily wiping her mouth on her napkin. She stretched and then yawned.

"Well, everyone - I hate to be the first one to leave the party, but I couldn't eat another bite if my life depended on it. So if you don't mind, I'm going to excuse myself now so I don't bother Bobby too much in about 20 minutes."

"YEAH YEAH. BOOOOOOORING," Bobby mocked.

Kitty stopped halfway out of her seat and turned an eye to him, brown hair falling over her face. "Would you mind saying that again, Bobby?" Behind her shoulder, Kurt handed something to her.

"'I'm tired. I have to go to sleeeeep,'" Bobby mimicked in a high voice. "'I'm too full. I must be a lady and, ahem - excUSE myself!'" He broke off the mimicry in a fit of laughter. The laughter was abruptly ended with a smashed baby tomato to the forehead.

Groans went up all around. Bobby's face went blank, the only expression the small twinges of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Without warning, a volley of peas came across the table, hitting him mid chest. He blinked and looked over to the giggling trio. Warren shrugged.

"You did ask for it," he said.

"Oh ya'll stop it - Ah didn't make all o' this food so's you could throw it aroun -

SPLAT! Rogue was speechless. "Who - ?" she looked around in disbelief. Her green eyes settled on the least likely person. "NO!" she exclaimed in stunned disbelief. "Professor! Why - why! Oooooooooh. THAT'S it, Charlie! THIS time ya gone too far! I can take yer lectures an' yer talks - but this! This means war! Who's with me!?"

At this time, the table erupted into a cacophony.

"Can't we have dessert first?" Piotr asked.

"Here," Ororo said, holding one out to him. "Pudding in a cloud. Or whip cream if you prefer." Piotr leaned forward to take it from her but a smile leapt onto her face and she pushed the small dish into his face, smearing it over his nose instead. He licked his lips.

"It's good! We all need one!" he shouted, jumping up and sending the bench clunking back against the wall. Pudding still on face, he got the tray out of the refrigerator. "Who wants!?"

Hands went up.

"Me!"

"I'll take one!"

"Give one here, homme."

"What the hell, might as well enjoy it."

"Ok, Ok," Piotr said, the 4 glasses of wine evident in his voice. "Hold on. Here... is yours... and yours and YOURS AND YOURS..."

Each dessert was subsequently put in the face of its respective recipient, until it got to Warren, who dodged, grabbed it, and splattered it on Hank. "Big mess, now, Blue! Guess you're in, eh!"

"This. Means war." Hank leapt up - "I'm with you, Rogue! To the potatoes!" Brandishing the wooden spoon of the potato bowl as if it were a weapon of choice, Hank proceeded to dole out mashed potatoes like a catapult. "You're first, rich boy!" he shouted as a double helping went to Warren, running down his just-cleaned chest.

Shouts and yells rang out around the kitchen as everyone joined in full force. What had begun as a civilized meal was ending after only a short peace time - now a full scale war. Tomatoes, lettuce, pudding, cranberries, olives, turkey bones, whip cream, potatoes, carrots, peas. Such was the artillery.

The tide turned when an uneasy yet highly effective alliance was formed between Jean, Charles, Remy, and Scott. Jean was particularly deadly, able to hide behind the kitchen island and avoid malicious fire while sending every possible food and combination thereof sailing towards unsuspecting opponents. Remy had fun jumping about and exploding cranberries and carrots in people's faces. Charles made a shield around the four of them - and Scott simply whipped the nearest projectile at whomever he could find the quickest.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the front, Ororo, Rogue, Kurt and Kitty did their best to defend against the onslaught of culinary bombs. Kitty phased out, effectively being the only one not covered in goo from head to toe. She would quickly phase in long enough to return fire and then phase out again. Rogue and Ororo were both sporting red hair where it was normally white, and cranberries ran down their necks and arms, covering their clothes. Ororo also had bits of peas stuck here and there in her now disheveled hair and Rogue was biting off the tops of carrots like grenade caps and tossing them shouting: "Fire in the hole! Dive! Dive!" At which point Ororo would send out a burst of electricity and make a small crack of thunder that rattled the pots hanging overhead.

"We need armor!" she said. They then took the aforementioned pots and wore them like helmets upside down on their heads.

And on the other side of the kitchen the battle had broken out into the surrounding areas, namely the dining room and coat area. Kurt had been backed into the corner by a Uzi-like pea-shooting Warren, and was being defended by a gallant yet undeniably wounded Hank. Dark red spots stained his blue fur, and whipped cream lay on half his head, dripping down his nose to his lips which he occasionally licked with a red tongue. He managed to block most of the shots so Kurt could nimbly fire out mashed potatoes. He had managed to confiscate the cache from the table and the two worked as a team.

"I'll help you, Warren!" Jubilee said as she hopped the overturned stools and grabbed the last of the pudding from the tray.

"Uh uh uh - he's mine," Bobby said, grabbing the dish from her and heading to Hank. "You help out Logan!"

"Yes sir!"

"Now," Bobby said, "time for the showdown to end it all, Hankster. Just you. And me. Old buddy."

Hank, momentarily distracted trying to cover Kurt, didn't hear the rant until it was too late. Kurt shouted "Look out!" and he turned just in time to receive the vanilla-cream swirl -

"RIGHT WHERE IT COUNTS! HA!" Bobby exclaimed. Hank looked down to see the substance sitting in a nice poofy pile, jiggling as if it were happy, right over his crotch.

"Oooooh, Bobby-boy you are IN FOR IT!" he said, and with a yell, abandoned his post to chase after a now hollering Bobby, into the dining room.

"You won't get me so easily!"

"Watch me." Hank scooped what was left of the whip cream from his head and the quickly chilling spot between his thighs, and threw it at the other man. It landed dead on as Bobby tried to duck out of the way.

"OOOOOOOH GROSS! That's been right next to your dick, Hank! EWWWWWW!"

"Oh please. As if you didn't put it there yourself," Hank said with a vindictive smirk. He then strode back into the chaos of the kitchen, leaping into the foray with a yell of: "For the Stars and Garters!"

Most of the battle had died down. Casualties were everywhere, he noted. Jean lay nursing a head wound that Scott had received. Half a carrot protruded from Rogue's bosom. Ororo lay laughing and panting on the floor, sipping wine with Kitty. Remy had his arm around Kurt and they took Warren in the circle as well, the three of them sitting down and finishing their dinner, looking strikingly civilized despite their appearance. Remy was sitting atop the island, metal helmet on head, surveying the damage.

"Captain," he whispered to the air while taking spoonfuls of cranberries, "dere's two down, now. I don' know'f we can keep it up, lieutenant. Commander, he took a hit, bad. Shields are down. De nurses dey be doin' dere best - but... I jus' don' know. It don' look good, man."

A crash and yells came from the basement stairs. Hank had forgotten all about Piotr and the others. He ran down to see Logan and Jubilee laying atop the transformed colossus that was Piotr Rasputin. They had taken the stores of ice cream, mostly chocolate and butter pecan, from the looks of it - Hank ran a finger over one and then tasted it.

"Mmmm, cookies and cream," he thought. Ice cream lay melting all around, along with chocolate syrup on the walls and congealing in pools next to the victims. "Fear not, good soldiers. I'm here," he said, lending them each a helping hand and pulling them up. All three groaned as the troop made its way up the stairs to the battlefield.

All in all, the damage was quite great.

"Ugh. Who wants ta clean this mess?" Rogue asked putting hand to hip and forehead.

Hank, feeling benevolent, raised his hand. "I will."

"Oh, Hank - not all alone. We should all help," Jean laughed. "After all - we helped make this mess."

"No, no. It's alright." Jean was quite intoxicated and hank doubted she would stand much longer than... but then again, he himself was feeling the effects - and that took some doing given his 355 pound frame. How many glasses of the stuff had he downed. anyway?

Bobby came back into the room. "I'll help. Just for you, my bestest bud!" He draped an arm around Hank as he licked food from his fingertips.

"Not me - I'm goin' to shower. An' then bed," Logan said.

"Sounds good to me! Will you carry me? Pleeeeeeeeease?" Jubilee asked.

Logan looked at her. Then back at the others with a helpless look and outstretched hands. "Can't argue with that, now can ya? Night all." He scooped up the girl and carried her away.

"Like a knight with the proverbial damsel in distress," Hank thought wryly.

"Well, Robert. It's you and me and our mess," Hank said after the others had all departed with much regret and offers of payment at future dates. Hank had let them all go, feeling the need to let his head settle in relative quiet. "Shall we?"

"Let's get to it, Blue. Like old times."

 

Chapter Three - Clean-up

"You know what we need?" Bobby asked.

"What?" Hank replied from the sink, where his forearms were submersed halfway in soapy water. Suds reached up like vines, dampening the fur further up.

"Some music!"

"Well, I had hoped to enjoy the silence, but now that you mention it.... that would make the time go faster."

Bobby dashed off to get it, dropping the pan he had been drying. It splashed down into the sink, sending water splashing up on Hank. "Ugh," Hank said, looking at his drenched arms. "Thanks, Bobby," he muttered dryly.

The younger man returned momentarily, hands full with dozens of CD's. "Let's see, here. What do you feel like, Hank?"

"Well," Hank said, thinking, "some Tchaikovsky would be wonderful. Or maybe Mozart's Fifth. Actually, I'd really like some John Phillip Susa if you -

'... OOPS - I DIDN'T KNOW WE COULDN'T TALK ABOUT SEX...'

Hank groaned. Bobby bounced back up to the sink. Hank glared at him.

"What? WHAT? This is Madonna at her prime! Besides. I like it."

Hank chuckled. "Why does that not surprise me? Marilyn Monroe, Marilyn Manson, Madonna. Weird Al. I mean really. It's all the same to me." He held a dish out with a smirk.

Bobby snatched it from him, indignant. "Shut up and wash, blueballs." Hank, thoroughly amusing himself, did as he was told.

The dishes were the easier of the cleanup jobs. The floor was coated in all kinds of - Hank couldn't think of a more applicable word - gunk. As they worked - he got the floor job while Bobby did the counters - the gunk, by means of osmosis, apparently it was highly intelligent - made its way onto Hank's body, adding to his already sticky condition. His fur was matted and even ossified in some places. Finishing the last corner of the floor, he got up off his hands and knees.

"What time is it?" he asked, stretching and wiping his hands off on the well-soiled apron he had tied to his waist.

"Almost 3," Bobby answered in a tired voice. "Haven't you been keeping count, Hank?" he said with a grin. "This is CD number 6 in the 'Music Hank Hates' collection. Otherwise known as 'Bobby Faves.'" Hank shook his head. Bobby regarded him. "Geez, Blue, you're a mess."

"Is it that obvious, Robert? I hadn't noticed. And yes. I did take minor note of the Madonna marathon. It's not everyday one is told to - how was it? Oh. 'Express oneself.'"

Bobby chuckled. "Well - we're about done with this place. Now the real task starts. How do you plan on cleaning yourself, furball?"

"Well. For starters I was planning on getting into a big bath, with lots of pink bubbles. Maybe shaving my legs. They look a little hairy - don't you think?" Hank stuck out one leg from under the apron, holding it tight to himself to make it look like a skirt. He angled moved his foot about as if examining it.

"Hank!" Bobby laughed, "I'm serious! There's no way in hell all that shit is coming off of you easily! Everyone else is in bed and..."

"And?" Hank prompted.

"Well," Bobby faltered. "I mean - it might be kinda hard for you to wash it all off, by yourself."

Hank eyed him. "I've done it before," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "Robert are you suggesting that you would give me a bath and brush job?"

"Gawd, you make it sound like some kinky sex act... well... yeah. That's what I meant."

"And in return? Don't tell me this extreme pleasure would come without a price? Not from the man who would be my best friend since the age of 14?"

Bobby straightened from where he had been leaning on the mop. He held out his hands. "Come on, Hank! This is me you're talking about! Bobby! The Bobster. Bobbo. Your best bud -

"Yes that's what I said. Price."

"Nothing," Bobby said finally. "Maybe I just want to because I AM your friend. Will you stop being so goddam stubborn for once and accept that fact?"

Hank laughed at his friend's expression. "Alright, Robert. You win. I happen to be so inclined as to accept offers of unconditional grooming. It doesn't happen often, after all."

"I know. Now come on." Bobby grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind him, the blue feather boa trailing along and tickling Hank's stomach.

"A little anxious, aren't we, Bobby?" Hank teased.

Bobby turned his head partway around and smirked. "Please, Hank. I'm SO over that. It didn't take me long to realize you and I weren't compatible."

"No. Seven odd years isn't all that much time."

Bobby huffed. "Well," he said lightheartedly, "imagine if you had to live with gorgeous, big busted women who had the perfect bodies and were smart, funny, caring and all those Hollywood things everyone looks for but never finds - imagine if you found one. What would YOU do? Sit around?"

"Bobby," Hank laughed. "I DO live with perfect pin-up girls! You don't think bodies like Rogue and Ororo just fell from the sky, do you? Not to mention Jean or Betsy! I assure you, Robert - it is every bit as hard as you describe it to be. I can empathize."

"I'm sure it is," Bobby said under his breath. Hank gave him a joking shove from behind.

"Oh just move it, Bobby. I want my bath."

"Anything else?"

"Bobby!"

"Ok ok. Geez. Don't start molting or anything."

Hank could feel the warm steam around him in the large bathroom as the hot water slowly filled the giant tub. A bath was a rare luxury for him; he got a secret pleasure from taking them. He pulled off the dirty apron. It came off with a few chunks of fur, as well. "Yeooowww," he growled softly as he peeled it away from his sticky chest. Bobby glanced over from where he was at the tub.

"Let me get that," he said. Hank didn't complain.

"You're like a kid, sometimes, you know that, Hank?"

Hank blinked. "That's an astute observation. Your basis for it?"

Bobby chuckled. "I don't have any. Just intuition, I guess. I am giving you a bath, after all."

"It was your idea, Bobby."

"I know. Just talking out loud, I guess. Forget I said it."

There was a pause. "Is the bath ready?"

"Almost."

"Did you remember to put the bubble stuff in it?"

Bobby burst into laughter. "You see!? THAT'S what I meant! 'Bubble-stuff!' HA! The walking dictionary uses a word like that - not to mention asking for it in his bath in the first place!"

"Well if you're going to be this way, Robert, perhaps I should just wash myself," Hank teased as he folded his arms over his chest. He jumped when Bobby smacked his behind.

"The bath is ready, Blue. Off with 'em."

"I can leave them on." Bobby turned and looked at him from under his eyebrows. Hank wasn't having it. "You're not washing me THERE, Drake. I can just leave them on. They are trunks, after all."

"Shy, Blue?" Bobby joked. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before. Only about a few thousand times or so. Why now?"

"Why not?"

"What do you have to hide?"

"What do you want to -see- so badly!?" Hank retorted with a grin.

Bobby tossed up his hands. "Fine. Fine. If you want pudding on your pole and cranberries in your crotch, be my guest. You might even get some compliments on the flavor the next time around."

Hank sighed. Bobby did have a point, he had to concede that to himself. And it wasn't as if this wasn't anything Bobby hadn't seen already. But there was a problem...

"Ummm. Bobby could you..." Bobby stared at him with questioning eyes. "That is. I have a bit of... ummm - well could you just turn around until I'm in the tub?"

Bobby pulled the boa off of his neck and turned around with a huff. "I suppose. Good?"

Hank yanked off the trunks and dashed to the tub. SPLASH! Suds and water went sopping over the edges. "Jets please," he commanded from his new throne. Bobby turned on the jets and Hank felt the relaxing air bubbles massage his thighs and stomach. "Ahhhhhhhhh. This shall be good. Let's start with the back, if you would."

Bobby came up behind him, taking off his food-stained jacket.

Hank presented his broad back to him, and Bobby began to brush it with short hard strokes. Hank let his arms rest on the porcelain tub and reclined a little while Bobby scrubbed his neck and shoulders. It occurred to him that his friend might be taking a little more time than necessary. "It doesn't matter," he thought. "Let yourself enjoy it, Henry. It doesn't happen everyday." Besides. He felt a little gratified that, even if it was another man and even if that man was Bobby, someone was getting enjoyment from his body, on some level. "Lord knows no one else has any time recently."

He felt the man's hands work into his shoulders and then come around the base of his neck and massage his collar-bone and the surrounding muscle of his upper pectorals. Hank let his eyes slowly fall close until the light in the room was a dim haze. He took deep, relaxing breaths and felt himself sink lower into the tub. Four fingers on each of Bobby's hands worked their way into the fur of Hank's chest. He had to admit it to himself: it felt good. Very good, in fact.

"Forward a bit, Blue," Bobby said in a distant tone.

Hank grumbled his ascent and slid forward in the tub, letting himself slouch over a bit. There was a sound behind him; he turned his head to see Bobby lowering his legs into the water, suit pants pulled up past his knee. He sat there on the edge of the large bath, supported by the steps and wide porcelain ledge. Hank felt toes brush against his backside.

A guilty sort of pleasure went through him at the touch. He worked to maintain his dignity but the sensations his long neglected body was getting were having a not altogether unexpected effect on his natural functions. He was glad for the deep water and the dense suds floating atop it. 'If Bobby were to see this, he might not be able to keep his earlier promise of avoidance,' Hank thought wryly.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound about them being the hum of the fan overhead and the clicking buzz of the heat lamp timer. Bobby paused, after a time, and stretched his arms and back. "Alright, Hank," he said. "Time for the front." Hank slid himself around, sitting Indian-style under the water. Bobby frowned. "I can't wash you like that."

If Hank didn't have fur covering him, he was certain Bobby would have seen his face grow red. One advantage to it, at least, he thought. "Well what do you propose I do - stand up?" He knew it was the wrong remark to make when Bobby got a smirk on his face.

"Well, I mean... I wouldn't STOP you if that's what you wanted to do -

Hank gave him a long look. "I don't think so, Bobby," he said with a chuckle.

"Well. I mean. I could. Uhh. Well..."

Hank prompted him on with a shake of his head. "Yes?"

"Get in," Bobby said all at once and then stared at the floor.

"Towel, please," Hank said. Bobby looked at him, and Hank thought he saw the tiniest bit of - was it remorse, or regret? - on his face. His friend got up and pulled a big green terrycloth bath towel from the nearby bar, and handed it to him without saying anything. "Hold it up, if you please," Hank motioned. Bobby stood and held it out for him. Hank slowly rose out of the water, feeling it run down his skin beneath the soaked fur. "How about this?"

Bobby grinned, a sight that truly made Hank feel happy in a way he didn't often feel. "That's fine. I'll suds you up," he said, smiling.

Hank stood stoically and without remark while Bobby poured shampoo onto his chest and stomach and worked it in. Very thoroughly, Hank noted. He was becoming almost painfully aware of his own arousal at the touch. He feared to look down and measure the state of the blanket as it lay over his groin. At one point, Bobby waded into the tub, bending down a bit to work one hand into Hank's abdomen while steadying himself by keeping his other hand on Hank's shoulder.

Hank looked down. Good God Bobby don't slip now, he thought. He kept his head forward and his eyes locked on the mirror. Unfortunately, it was unavoidable NOT to look into it, and the view he was getting wasn't helping. Bobby's head hovered inches from his waist, the distance between them and the mirror distorting his depth perception and making it look like Bobby was doing something else entirely.

What are you thinking, Henry? This is Bobby. Bobby for God's sake! Your truest friend and the person who idolizes you and always has. This isn't right... His internal monologue went on for a few minutes until Bobby stood up.

"Time for the rinse!" He pulled down the snaking shower head and turned it on to a low but steady stream, then pushed it close to Hank's fur, following the flow with his other hand and moving in circular motions to rinse out the soap. He laughed abruptly.

"What's so funny?" Hank asked.

Bobby chuckled a bit more before answering. "I feel like I'm washing a dog," he said.

Hank puffed out his chest and stood up straight. "Well," he said, "I'm quite certain I smell better than that!"

Bobby was quiet for a minute. "Definitely," he said. "Like shampoo right now - but I've always thought you smelled good. Remember that time we played football - it was like one of your first years at the school - and I got knocked out when Scott rammed me into the mud on that catch? Remember that?"

Hank smiled and gave a little chuckle. "heh - yes I do indeed."

"Well. Guess what I never told anyone."

Hank felt a secret coming on. "Uh oh. Do I want to hear this?"

"Maybe not. But I'm telling you anyhow! Anyways. When you carried me back, I was only pretending." Hank looked at him with wide eyes. Bobby wore a smile from ear to ear. "Yup. Only a little trick I played so I could... well. Be in your arms a little bit. I mean - remember I was only 16 and I had a crush on you Hank like you wouldn't have believed."

"I think I can believe it now without much effort, at any rate. It doesn't surprise me much, Bobby. I wasn't so oblivious to your feelings as you might have thought. Remember that time we were studying biology. I was your tutor, helping you understand the concepts of cell division, meiosis, muscle fiber replacement and such. Elementary stuff, really. Not too difficult at all. I couldn't believe you were having such a hard time with it -

"Ok, Blue," Bobby said, "I get it. Heheh - I know I wasn't the best at that stuff. What's your point?"

"My point is," Hank admonished with a finger to Bobby bare chest, "that you might have done better and learned or remembered more if you weren't placing your gaze on me for the majority of our lessons."

Bobby got red. "Yeah. I know. It was pretty bad wasn't it?"

Hank nodded in grave humor. "Undoubtedly so."

Bobby sighed, looking him over. "Well, I think you're pretty much clean. I'll get another towel for you - just a sec. He stepped out of the tub, then turned and said, "and for what it's worth, Blue, you've still got the sexiest face and the nicest ass in on the team. Fur or not." He turned and walked out of the room to get another towel - there weren't any more, having been used by Ororo or Jean for their hair, no doubt - and for the second time that night Hank admired himself in the mirror. Bobby came back in and he jerked back to his previous stance.

"Were you just checking yourself out?"

"Nonsense."

"You were! HA!"

"Bobby please. I am far above that level of petty vanity. I don't need to look at myself in mirrors."

"You're so full of shit sometimes, you know that Hank?" Bobby laughed, tossing him the towel. Here. Let's dry you off. Anyways I just told you look good. There's nothing wrong with a little enjoyment."

Hank didn't say anything, but proceeded to put the towel through his hair and then ran it over his chest, drying the short fur on his pecs and abdomen as best he could. He started to climb out of the tub but the towel at his waist was soaked through and threatened to fall off if he stretched too far. Bobby wasn't paying attention, fussing with the oversized hairdryer, so Hank made a quick hop, intending to bounce right out.

It didn't work out quite as he planned.

The tiled floor was wet from Bobby, and he slipped when he landed and fell flat to his back, the towel came off, flipping up and opening, exposing him to all the world just as his friend turned around.

"Are you alright! - Oh my... oh my - ummm. Are you OK!?"

Hank quickly pulled the towel over his exposed midsection. "YES, I am fine." Bobby's face was red as the tomato stuck to his neck. He started to laugh. "Not funny," Hank muttered darkly, grabbing the hairdryer from the doubled over form before him. "You're turn. In the tub. I'll dry myself."

"If you say so," Bobby said, still laughing as he stripped down. "See Hank? I'm not afraid. Big boys don't hide it."

"Big boys don't flaunt it."

"From the looks of things -

"Don't even go there, Bobby."

"Ok! I'll just pretend nothing happened then. Hankster. Big buddy of mine."

Hank huffed. "IN!" he commanded.

"Alright alright!"

There was a splash of water as Bobby hopped in the tub and began scrubbing. I'll get him back for that one, Hank thought to himself with a wicked grin.

He turned on the hair dryer and dropped his towel. There was a very loud splash behind him and he heard his friend mutter something about slippery soap. Hank continued to dry himself, putting the dryer to his groin and airing things out down below.

"Ya know, I never thought about it much... but what's it like having to take care of yourself - uhh - down there?"

"Very normal and uninteresting," Hank answered immediately.

"Hank," Bobby said, and the tone of his voice made Hank pause in his work. "What's it look like?"

Hank was flabbergasted. "Bobby you've seen it a hundred times. Besides - this isn't third grade."

"Show me yours I'll show you mine?" Bobby asked teasingly.

"NO!"

"Ok. You still have a fine ass."

Hank smacked it once, for effect. "Enjoy it while you can."

"Hank, I think I'm really feeling that wine. You might have to carry me to my room."

"You can walk."

"No I can't."

"Yes."

"No!"

"If I can, so can you."

"You weigh more and are smarter."

"What does that have to do with it!"

"I dunno. Please?"

Hank threw up a hand and looked at Bobby in the mirror. "Alright. This once. And I never did anything of the sort come tomorrow morning."

"YES!" Bobby said, slapping the water and getting Hank wet all over again. "Triumph!"

Bobby quickly finished his bath and hopped out nimbly, seeming perfectly capable of moving, Hank noted. Hank pulled his towel around him, his fur mostly dry. He gave Bobby stare. "Ready, princess?"

"Oh yes, handsome prince," Bobby said in high tones, "please - carry me from this dungeon and make me WHOLE again! I beg you! PLEASE!"

Hank didn't bother to comment, but just held out his massive arms. Bobby jumped into them, acting nothing so much as seven years old. "Are you going to suck your thumb, too."

"No. Not my thumb. Not MY anything." He put a hand to Hank's chest. "Ooooh. Nice nipple."

"Will you stop!?" Hank had to laugh at it in spite of himself. He did feel a little drunk and he did admit to having a good time with his friend. It had been quite awhile since they'd had a night like this one.

"My room," Bobby said in princess voice. "Dear sir - carry me over the thresh hold and lay me in my chamber so I might have a revvy."

"Reverie. And you're not using it correctly."

"That' what I said, Hankster."

Hank moved into the room. It was dark and he stumbled a few times. "Jesus lord, Bobby. Do you know how to clean?"

"Nope."

"I didn't think so."

He abruptly ran into the bed and unceremoniously dumped Bobby onto it. He bounced up and down, laughing. "You're drunk, Hank. I can tell. You tripped three times."

"It's dark."

"Uh uh. You're drunk. Don't deny it!" he waggled a finger in Hank's face. Hank quickly took hold of the wrist, meaning to push it down, but Bobby took firm hold of him and before Hank knew what was going on he had toppled to the bed, and lay atop his friend. Bobby had gone dead quiet in an instant. Hank stared right at him, the dim light from the hall reflecting dark in his blue eyes. Hank made a move to push himself off and Bobby stopped him with an arm.

"Is it really so bad?" he asked.

"It's not bad, Bobby."

"Then why have you always turned me away?"

"I haven't."

Bobby looked at him. Hank felt himself breathing hard and his heart racing.

Something had changed in him, years ago, when he drank his own experiment. Becoming the Beast had been more than a simple physical change. He worked hard to keep it hidden, but he had desires that scared him, thoughts that made him feel guilty - or simply those that he couldn't reason his way out of or explain. "I never avoided you, Bobby. I avoided myself." There was a pause. "Let me up. Please," Hank said in a soft voice. He was surprised at how he sounded.

"Why?" Bobby asked in an even softer tone. It was surreal and Hank felt himself quickly losing his control. Getting close to the level of subconscious that was more bestial than human.

"Because I can't control myself much longer," he said in a barely audible tone.

"Then don't."

 

Chapter Four - Relax

Notes: This is Hank in his pre-cat days - the Blue that us long time readers know and love dearly. Don't ever say I never gave you anything. : P

Today is the last day that I am using words.
They've gone out, lost their meaning -
Don't function anymore.
I'm traveling, leaving logic and reason
To the arms of unconsciousness.
Let's get unconscious, honey.
Let's get unconscious.
Words are useless -
Especially sentences.
They don't explain anything.
How can I explain how I feel?
I'm going to relax
In the arms of unconsciousness.

- Bjork, Bedtime Story (written for Madonna)

 

Hank breathed hard. He could feel Bobby underneath him, feel all the muscles in the man's body, tensed and waiting, in anticipation. Bobby's lips, pale pink, were slightly parted, and he stared back at Hank, unmoving, unblinking. Hank could feel him breathing hard, as well. When Bobby's arm came up around his neck, he didn't do anything to stop it. He felt his face being lowered closer to the other man's. When the pressure stopped, his lips were brushing Bobby's; he could feel the man's breath coming out from his nostrils, warming his cheek. He could smell the scent of soap mixed with body heat and skin and the cotton of the sheets. He bent his neck low, ever-so-softly letting his own lips brush the other man's neck; inhaling the scent deeply. His chest expanded as his lungs filled with air, and his muscles relaxed; his weight shifted lower and he now fully felt the body beneath his own: the heartbeat in the chest, the rapid intake and release of air. Bobby's hand moved from the back of Hank's neck, down his spine, the fingertips giving him chills as they weaved through the short fur, making his back ripple. He shut his eyes and let Bobby explore him, keeping his face buried in the younger man's neck, motionless.

The hand moved down to the top of the towel. Two fingers slipped under the loose fold and touched Hank at the base of his spine. Another hand came up and joined it, and the two worked in tandem, lightly gripping Hank's backside, working into the muscle, moving up and down. The hands continued to rove over him in an unassuming, slow, almost cautious exploration. The fingers seemed to find every spot on Hank that was sensitive: all the small crevices and recesses between his muscles, the back of his neck just below his ear, the side of his hips at the oblique. All the while Hank breathed Bobby in, listened to the man's breathing at his ear, felt him grow hard under the towels that separated them.

"Come on, Hank. Let it go," Bobby whispered. Hank eased the tension out of his elbows and sank further into the surreal oblivion he was feeling.

He parted his lips, shaking, and kissed the warm neck. Bobby twisted his head to the side slightly and made a noise, his grip tightened on Hank's back, the arms closing around him and hugging him. Hank let out a breath that seemed to have been held up for the last 7 years. He brought his arms closer, one heavy bicep pressing into Bobby's small, rounded shoulder, the other arm going around under his back, cradling him in a big hand at the base of his neck. Hank used that hand and gently shifted Bobby's neck to the right. He put his lips to the skin again, and with an almost inaudible growl he kissed it once more, this time touching his tongue the smooth flesh. It was clean and slightly damp, the texture different from a woman's. Smooth, yes, but - rougher in some way, as if the cells themselves were larger and more ruggedly woven together. Not quite as delicate.

Under him, he felt Bobby arch upwards slightly, pressing his hips into Hank's own. He had parted his legs and the knees were at either side of Hank's hips. Hank realized that he was matching Bobby's rhythm. He hadn't even thought about it. His own legs were pushing him forward, his stomach contracting with each breath, pushing him down onto the form beneath. He could feel his own erection keenly, straining awkwardly under the towel. The thought went through the back of his mind that this wasn't him - he wasn't on top of his best friend, pressing to him, rubbing against him... he wasn't getting pleasure from his best friend touching him, moaning his name softly in his ear, urgently begging him with increasingly pressured movements. No. It wasn't him with Bobby.

But it was, and something snapped loose in him with the realization. No one was watching them. No one could hear them. No one even knew they were in the same room together. He didn't need to hold back. He was in it. It had started almost without him, he realized. The feeling was liberating in a strange way. He didn't have to feel guilty about getting pleasure. Why should he? There was no reason not to enjoy it with all that he had in him.

He lightly, very lightly, bit Bobby's neck. It was a strange impulse, but he didn't think about it. He wanted this man underneath him, wanted to make him his own and to have him, wanted to taste him and explore him and know him in a way he had never in his life permitted himself to experience. He ran a thumb over the two small marks, looking at them. Bobby turned his head with a curious look in his eyes.

"What was that?" he asked softly.

Hank looked at him and smiled. Not a sarcastic smile, not an embarrassed smile, not a condescending smile. Not any smile that Hank had ever given a man. It was smile that spoke for him. "Bobby, I," he began to say, but stopped, changing his words. "I want you," he breathed out. "Call me crazy and call this insane. Call it wrong even. I can't help myself. God I can't help myself."

Bobby stroked his hand through the short hair at the back of Hank's head. "It doesn't have to be called anything, Hank."

For what seemed like a long time to Hank, he looked at his friend. Truly looked at him. At the features of his face, the flecks of color in his light eyes, the shape of his lips, the lines on them, the fine stubble around his jaw and mouth, the white of the skin. And then, without thinking, without being able to stop himself, Hank lowered his lips to the other man's, and kissed him. He opened the smooth lips with his own. Indigo met pale pink. The lips were soft and warm. Hank was surprised at how they felt. They felt... good. He took the time to taste them, sucking on the lower one first, running his tongue along it, then the upper one; he kissed the sides of the mouth, too. Bobby let him explore, not moving or attempting to further the kiss. Hank pulled away and looked at his eyes, again.

"Are you ok?" Bobby asked him.

"I'm ok," Hank said. He found a sense of disbelief in his voice. He wasn't reassuring himself. He was stating a fact. "I'm ok."

He leaned down and this time kissed Bobby fully, opening the mouth and pushing himself into it. Bobby's tongue was warm and wet and tasted faintly of wine and cinnamon, or mint. Hank let his own tongue idly explore the inside, the textures of the gums and teeth and cheek. He pulled back a little, not wanting to force the kiss, not wanting it to be a hard kiss. For time that Hank lost track of, neither of them moved. They kissed for minute after minute. Hank felt like he was 17 again.

Bobby moved his arm under Hank's chest and pushed gently. Hank pulled back and looked at him. "Lay back," Bobby whispered. Hank didn't move right away, uncertain. "It's ok. Just lay back and relax."

"Ok," Hank answered in a low voice. He was strangely aroused at hearing Bobby tell him to relax. Something deep inside him grew proud as he leaned back on the headboard of the bed and stretched himself out. He let his arms lay at his side, his legs spread slightly. The towel had come loose but still covered him partially. It was open at his groin, where his thighs met, but higher than that it held. Hank didn't care about it, anymore though. He let it be as it was. He felt good, better than he had in a long time, about himself. He wanted to show off. He wanted to let Bobby see him. He wanted someone to tell him that he was beautiful and attractive, even with blue fur and a body so muscled and large as to be disproportionate. Why should it matter if Bobby was that person? It didn't.

Bobby climbed over him and reached into the nightstand, pulling out a pack of matches. He lit a small candle that was sitting atop the stand, and then moved over, settling on top of Hank's pelvis, straddling him. Hank took time to look at his friend, again. Bobby had small, dark nipples that were low on well-developed pectorals. A tight line ran down the center of the muscles, and his abdomen was taut and defined. All of it was smooth and white except for a trail of fine, short dark hair that started below the navel and went down. Tentatively, Hank put his hands to the body. Bobby stayed still, closing his eyes. Hank noticed him swallow and put his hands to Hank thighs as if steadying himself. Hank ran his hands lightly over the skin, feeling it. He let his fingertips skate along the skin, feeling the hard ridges of the stiff nipples idly, then going lower. Slowly, he undid the towel and it fell behind Bobby onto Hank's knees. His hand closed around Bobby's shaft. It fit into his hand better than he would have thought, and his friend grinned at him. Hank smiled back, starting in on slow, long, light strokes, his palms almost hovering around the shaft rather than gripping it. Robert closed his eyes for a moment, then took Hank's hands in his own, and laid them back down at Hank's sides. He slowly backed down Hank's body and then came up again between Hank's legs.

Deftly, gently, he pushed apart Hank's thighs with his arms, and then undid the knot in the towel and removed it. Hank watched for a moment, seeing the expression on Bobby's face before closing his eyes and laying his back on the headboard. He felt hands on his chest, fingers at his nipple, squeezing lightly. Between his legs a warm sensation hit his furred scrotum. The warm sensation turned wet as he felt the tongue run over them. The short fur, which was almost a fuzz, conducted the sensation to his skin, amplifying it. He felt the skin tighten. His cock grew rigid as Bobby continued what he was doing. Hank felt sticky liquid on his stomach. He heard himself moan. He had said Bobby's name. Bobby's name...

"Uhhn," he grunted. "Yes," he panted out. "God yes, Bobby. Don't... don't stop that."

Hank tensed his neck and put his head to the wood behind it, clunking awkwardly with the frame. He opened his eyes and looked down, able to see only the top of Bobby's head between his thighs: the soft brown hair, cropped short, tickled them, adding to the sensations he was feeling. One of Bobby's hands left Hank's nipple and flowed down the length of his torso. The thumb scraped Hank's cock along the side, long and slow, the nail feeling cool and smooth on Hank's hot skin. Hank watched as the hand disappeared, and he felt an odd pressure below his scrotum. He realized that Bobby was pressing into him, opening him ever so slightly. He put his hands to Bobby's shoulders. Bobby looked up.

"Trust me."

Hank nodded and went still as Bobby slowly pushed one finger inside of him. The sensation was not altogether foreign to Hank, but having someone else do it, and not for a medical reason, was an entirely new experience. One or two of his girlfriends had asked him about it, but he had never let them try, always having preferred the more direct approach to love making.

This was different. He could feel it inside him, and then it hit what Hank knew was his prostate. Just touching it. His cock jumped and after a few moments he saw it drip with clear fluid. He put his hands into Bobby's hair and let out a grunt. "Jesus lord, Bobby. Unngh -

Bobby stopped working on his balls and chuckled. The finger pulled out slowly, teasing Hank. Bobby moved his head up to hover over Hank's cock, and Hank's world spun as he felt the tongue hit his skin. It spun faster when the warmth moved around his shaft entirely. Hank watched in rapture as the lips slid down it. They didn't go all the way down, but Hank had never seen anyone get half so far. "Wow," he said in genuine disbelief. Bobby didn't stop in his attention. He kept up a steady rhythm, moving up and down, until the shaft glistened and Hank felt it warm all over. All the while his friend had kept one palm on Hank's furred balls, rubbing in small circles. It played havoc on Hank's senses and he soon was making slow pumping motions in time with Bobby.

He was getting ready to tell Bobby to stop, knowing he was going to come if the sensations kept up. Instead, Bobby stopped. Hank looked at him. "How did you...?"

"I'm a guy," Bobby smiled. "I like guys. I know the signs. You've got them all and then some," he chuckled. "If these guys got any tighter," he pointed between Hank's legs, "they'd be rock."

Hank grinned as Bobby came back up to kiss him. He pulled away with a serious look. "What?" Hank asked.

Bobby looked uncomfortable for minute. "I want you to do something, but I can't..."

"It's alright, Bobby."

Hank motioned for him to move forward. In the back of his mind, he wondered what he was doing. He had no idea how to go about it. He wasn't even sure if he could do it in the first place. He ignored the doubts and thought about how much pleasure Bobby had shown him. As the other man slid forward, Hank was presented with the close-up. It disoriented him for a second and he thought he wouldn't be able to do it.

"If you don't want to," Bobby began, but Hank cut him off.

"No. It's not that. It's just. This is really new for me. I'm not sure - with my teeth... I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't think that's possible, Hank."

He took one last look at the younger man and then craned his neck forward. It was an awkward position. Bobby put a pillow behind his head and he found he could relax his throat more. Slowly, he did what he thought - had never imagined - he could ever be doing to another man. The taste was like skin, except a little heavier. It was soft, round and firm, and he found himself liking how it felt. Slowly, careful about his sharp incisors, he took more of it in. To his surprise, he found it easy to take all of it, down to the base. Bobby groaned loudly as Hank placed his large hands tentatively on the hips, and began a slow pace. Trish had used the technique on him and he loved it - it was the only knowledge he had to go by, now, as he did the same to Bobby. As the pace grew gradually faster, Bobby put one hand into Hank's hair. With the other he rubbed one of Hank's nipples.

Hank felt his animal instincts taking over as he fell into it more. He could smell everything, the sweat and salt and something deeper that was Bobby in its essence. He could hear the man's breathing like drums in his ears, could feel the panting in Bobby's stomach, the muscles at his forehead. Hank knew, from being a doctor rather than from practical sexual experience with men, that Bobby was getting close. His temperature was going up, from the waves of heat and drops of sweat Hank felt. His cock had gone solid. Bobby groaned loudly again and Hank tasted something sweet on his tongue - with shock realizing what it was.

Bobby pulled out, panting.

"Not like this," he said.

Hank was confused. "I thought you liked it..."

"I do, Blue. God do I ever. It's. Its fucking incredible. But I don't want to cum like this. I... I want you inside me."

Hank had to admit that the idea was one he had thought about before. He remembered, once, when they were younger, and Bobby had had his first experience, he'd come running in to tell Hank about it. Hank hadn't really wanted to hear it but he let Bobby talk, anyhow. What he'd never told a soul was that it had aroused him to hear Bobby talk about it. He had wanted to do it to his friend, himself. The feelings had been buried long ago and now they came flooding back into his mind like a dam that had been breached.

He breathed out slowly. "Ok. I want to do that with you, Bobby. I've wanted to ever since you told me about it 4 years ago. I'd," Hank laughed, "I'd completely forgotten about that until now."

Bobby was flabbergasted. "Are you serious? You... when I... you - you WANTED to!?"

"Well. Yes. That's what I said."

"Jesus," Bobby breathed. Then he smiled. "Well, I guess we won't waste any more time then."

He all but jumped off of Hank, going to the dresser and rummaging through it.

"You know," Hank said, his head cocked sideways as he watched his friend from the back, "you're ass isn't so bad, itself."

Bobby got what he was looking for and held it up. "Ah ha! Knew I hadn't thrown it out... it's been awhile." Then hearing Hank's comment: "Listen to -you- Mr. High and Might Stick up His Butt. I see what some good lovin' does to you. Makes you talk like a human for once."

Hank grinned. "I suppose so," he mused. "But no. You don't know what sex does to me. Not yet, at any rate."

Bobby gave him s suddenly voracious look. "Really," he said flatly. He climbed back atop Hank. Hank watched as he poured liquid from the small bottle. He took Hank's cock, which was throbbing now and nearly aching from the prolonged tension it had been under all evening and half the night, lovingly in hand and spread the lubrication over it. Hank grunted out softly at the feeling of the slick warm hand. Bobby kept it up for several minutes before adding more. While Bobby readied himself, Hank watched him - the hair, the eyes, the skin, the arms, the truly beautiful muscles - all of which he had never seemed to notice before. How? He idly stroked himself and his eyelids fell half closed.

"Alright," Bobby said. "Don't worry. I'll do the work. Just relax. Just relax..." his voice faded into a whisper as Hank felt a tight warmth move over the head of his cock.

"Oh my stars and garters."

"Nope. This is better than that. Just wait."

Hank did wait, though he didn't think he could wait much longer. He was overcome with the urge to grab Bobby's hips and slam them down onto his shaft and slam into them over and over and over. He had never felt anything half so good in his life. If he'd ever had intercourse with a virgin girl, he thought this would be what it felt like. As it was, he had never felt a woman nearly so tight as Bobby was on him right now. It was almost too much.

He began to pant in quick time. Bobby slid down him and now was moving back up. Hank was urgent. He couldn't help it and thrust up faster, causing Bobby to wince. He immediately stopped. "I'm so sorry, Bobby. Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's ok. It's just been a long time for me since I've done this with anyone. And. Well. You're big. Very big, actually. Just give me some time."

Hank nodded, concerned. He lay still until he felt Bobby going faster. "Ok," Bobby said softly. He leaned down and kissed Hank, then whispered to his lips: "Fuck me, Beast."

And Hank did as he was told. He held Bobby's hips and pushed up, starting off cautiously at first, but, taking Bobby's moans as encouragement, he quickly reached a fevered pace. The bed was creaking on its posts and the sheets were a tangled mess at the foot. Hank watched Bobby's face as the younger man rode him. They got a glazed look to them that made Hank crazy. Bobby hands ran over his chest and gripped his fur. At one point, Bobby leaned back far, and Hank thought he would lose it for certain.

"God Bobby, I think I'm gonna... shit. Oh god. Oh god. Fucking shit," he panted out, all his monosyllabic words gone and locked up in the smoke that was his mind at that moment.

Bobby lurched forward. "Turn me over. I want you to take me from behind, Blue."

Hank did so without further comment. The view from behind sparked something in him that brought out the most primal levels of his being. He went in and out of the small ass between his hands, every thrust seeming like a new paradise in his mind's eye. Finally he couldn't hold it back.

"Bobby," he said in a full voice. "I can't keep it back. I'm going to come inside you. Are you... are you sure... is it what you -

"FUICK YES!" Bobby yelled. And Hank came inside his best friend with full force. It was the most incredible feeling he'd ever had. It blew him away. His mind reeled through what seemed six different dimensions before stopping with a crash landing on Bobby's back.

They lay together, panting. Sweat soaked the sheets around them. Hank opened his hand from where it had clamped around Bobby's cock, and felt it sticky with the other man's fluids. He chuckled deeply.

"What," Bobby said dreamily.

Hank thought. "I can't say," he said. "I'm at a loss for words."

 

END