Disclaimer: the X-Men do not belong to me and I make no money from these stories. A Touch of the Blues Part 6... by vangiekitty Continued from part 5... Rogue's eyes flew open to acknowledge the truth of the situation. Hank's large, warm palm still cupped her cheek, and... and nothing was happening! Hank was OK! He wasn't dying, and she wasn't absorbing his thoughts, emotions or life force. They froze for a moment, unable to grasp the situation. At last, Rogue spoke, "Hank... you touched me!" Ever so slowly, Hank drew back the hand that had cupped Rogue's cheek. His fingertips seem to linger little longer than necessary, however, as if he were sorry to withdraw. Rogue, too, was sorry to lose the contact. Her eyelids fluttered briefly and a deep sigh escaped her as Hank finally withdrew his hand. "What happened?" She asked, wonderment shining in her eyes. "Ya touched me and it didn't kill ya, Hank. How is that possible?" Hank was examining the palm of his own hand, covered with the fine, velvety fur he had shown Rogue on an earlier occasion. "I believe I should have surmised that this was possible." He said in a distracted voice. "Yes, of course, it makes perfect sense. I can't believe I never thought of it!" "Thought of what, Hank?" "Look," Hank explained, "People are only in danger when they coming to direct contact with you my dear. That is -- skin to skin contact -- correct?" "Yeah..." Rogue was still puzzled "But when there is some kind of clothing, (even the thinnest kind of material will do), it acts as a barrier -- an insulator against your power and the danger is neutralized. I believe," he continued. "That my fur, even though it is very minimal on my palms, is acting in the same way. It insulated and protects me from your power while still allowing me to touch you." "But Hank, you're covered in fur! Or wait-- are you? Everywhere I mean?" He smiled. "That is a rather delicate and personal question my dear." "Oh -- I'm sorry!" Rogue looked abashed. "But I don't mind answering." Hank continued, still smiling. "As far as I have been able to ascertain, the only area of my anatomy which is not "covered in fur", as you put it, is my mouth and lips. For which I am profoundly grateful, I might add. The fur and extends to every other, ah, region of my body." Rogue got a faraway look in her eyes. "All this time..." she murmured. "All this time ya a could a touched me, and I didn't even know. If only I hadn't let myself be distracted by Gambit..." "Water under the bridge, my dear." Hank told her gently. "And don't forget, a large part of that time I was with Trish." "Yeah, that's true..." Rogue looked up at him, warily. "Are ya sure it wasn't just a fluke, Hank? A onetime thing? And," she asked a bit shyly, "can I... touch you too?" "You wish to perform an experiment?" "Uh... if you don't mind, Sugah. Do you?" "Not at all; I believe it to be utterly safe. Would you like to touch my arm?" "Yes, please." She whispered. Hank nodded to indicate she should feel free. Hesitantly, Rogue removed her right glove and stretched a trembling hand towards the short, dense blue fur of Hank's arm. "I... can't." She whispered. "I'm scared I'll hurt ya, Hank." The answer to her fear was simple, Hank lifted his arm to meet her until her hand was buried in the thick blue plush. Rogue gasped in alarm and delight to find herself in actual contact with someone for the first time in years. Her fingers gripped his forearm convulsively and Hank could feel her enormous strength in that touch; she was not a woman to be taken lightly. Rogue at last found her voice, "It feels, You feel almost exactly like my blanket, Hank!" She exclaimed in delight. He smiled. "I'll take that is a complement, my dear, considering what you have told me of that much esteemed icon of your childhood." Rogue didn't answer. She seemed mesmerized by the feel of his left arm under her hand. Lightly, she passed her right hand up to his massive shoulder, (sliding under the sleeve of his T-shirt to do so), and then down to the large hand which lay palm up on his knee. Hank decided to try an experiment of his own. Slowly, he lifted his right hand and gently cupped her cheek once more. Rogue's reaction to his touch was instantaneous. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a look of pure ecstasy crossed her face. Like a kitten wishing to be stroked, she leaned into his palm. It was Hank's turn to be mesmerized. He let his hand slide down from her cheek to her slender neck, which she arched gracefully for him. He could feel her pulse racing under his fingers and her respiration had also increased. Slowly, hardly knowing what he was doing, Hank let his hand travel further down, to settle over the skin at the top of her chest -- just below the hollow of her throat and just about her heaving breasts. Rogue was nearly panting now and he could feel her heart pounding under his palm. Her eyes were still closed and her full pink lips were parted, her head was thrown back and her cheeks flushed. Hank realized, with the start, that she looked like a woman in the throes of passion. With his enhanced mutant senses, he could smell her desire, although her body language alone was enough to tell him she was aroused. Anyone observing her face would have thought they were in the middle of... making love, instead of the simple touching that had been going on between them. Hank moved his hand minimally to test his theory, and Rogue gasped, arching her back at the feel of his warm, velvety touch on her bare skin. Hank saw that she was even more aroused than he had supposed -- possibly even close to orgasm! And all from the simple touch of his hand. He was afraid if he moved his palm anymore, it might send her hurtling over the sexual brink. And though he longed to see her reach that pinnacle, he knew it would not be right. They weren't lovers, after all. They were still just friends, despite the feelings that had been declared tonight. Hank didn't feel he had a right to see what he was seeing: her intense desire and arousal. He didn't have the right to push her over that edge -- not tonight. Reluctantly, Hank removed his hand. Rogue's eyes flew open at the sudden loss- she was still panting softly. "Hank?" There was a depth of longing and a desperate question all rolled into that single word -- his name. Hank fumbled. Not knowing what else to say he mumbled at last, "I believe we have ascertained that touch is indeed possible between us." He was uncomfortably aware that he was aroused himself. Of course, touching a beautiful woman, watching her nearly orgasm just from that touch -- well, it was a very arousing experience. Quite a normal reaction, really. He told himself, trying to be analytical- scientific. Rogue seemed to think she had offended him. "I'm sorry, Hank. I... it's just been so long since anyone touched me. Can you... understand?" "Of course." He said, more stiffly than he meant to. Damn! If only his erection would go down! It was so obvious in sweat pants... "I... uh... understand completely." "OK." Rogue said softly. Then there was an awkward silence -- Rogue sense that somehow she had offended him. Actually, she was ashamed of herself. It wasn't Lady like to let herself get so hot and bothered in front of him like that. But how could she help it? The feeling of his palm on her skin, like warm, crushed velvet... it was more than the fact of being touched again after so many years. It was the way his touch felt, the fantasies, long since put by, that it evoked. And then there was The Dream... she shivered. Looking at Hank still sitting on her bed and appearing distinctly uncomfortable, Rogue felt her face flush as all the old thoughts and feelings resurfaced. She had to do something -- say something to distract herself. "Uh..." she began; her brain felt numb with desire- not exactly a witty conversationalist right now. But Hank saved her the trouble. "I, ah, believe there are some experiments I have been neglecting in the lab. If you will excuse me, my dear?" His tone was formal. "Sure, Hank." Damn -- he was leaving on an awkward note! Rogue still didn't know how he felt. Was he angry -- or just uncomfortable? She didn't know how to ask, didn't know how to say " please don't leave me, not like this..." "Um, thanks for comin' in ta comfort me to." She said lamely. "Anytime, anytime at all my dear." Hank said with forced joviality. "After all, what are friends for?" Mentally, he kicked himself. Now he had put them back into the context of friendship, ignoring all the feelings that had been exposed tonight. He saw Rogue flinch -- she hadn't missed it. "Yeah, friends." She murmured, looking away. She had long since removed her hand from his arm and now she slid off the bed and stood up. Hank did the same. Thankfully, his erection had gone down to half-mast. He felt that he had spent the whole evening and most of the night with the hard-on. How could a man be expected to make intelligent decisions under such circumstances? He certainly hadn't made any. Like now -- instead of staying and taking Rogue into his arms and making love to her wonderfully responsive body as he wanted to, he was making stilted excuses and farewells as he walked out her door. How had this happened? He could see by Rogue's body language how upset she was. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and her eyes refused to meet his. "God, she thinks I don't want her -- don't want to touch her!" He thought, but before he could correct the impression, she was gone and the door was shut firmly in his face. Standing stupidly in the hall, staring at the door, Hank heard the sounds of soft weeping began again. The same sound that had brought him here in the first place. He wanted to knock on the door a second time -- wanted to correct all the stupid mistakes he had made. But he lacked the courage. "Tomorrow." He told himself glumly, and trudged down to the lab to drown his sorrows in his work, as always. Inside her room, Rogue undressed slowly for bed while tears continue to roll down her cheeks. The same thoughts played over and over in her miserable brain a she climbed into bed -- "I finally found a man who can touch me. Not a jerk either -- a sweet, considerate guy with intelligence and compassion. Someone I could spend my life with. And he doesn't want me!" "He doesn't want me..." she whispered aloud. Fresh sobs shook her and she cuddled the soft, blue blanket close to her. It felt so much like Hank's fur! She wanted so much to wrap him around her the same way she used to wrap the blanket around her as a child. Yet she didn't think that would ever happen now -- somehow she had spoiled it for herself. If only she could fix her mistake -- there must be a way! Sniffling, she fell asleep with the tears drying on her cheeks. And that night, for the first time in months, she had The Dream... Continued in Part 7...