Disclaimer: The character belong to Marvel and appear without permission -- however, to my knowledge, Warren Ellis had nothing to do with their creation so at least he doesn't have to worry about having his ideas corrupted by l'il ol' me. OOOPS!!! Great, now I not only have Stan's assassins after me (did you get that fruit basket, BTW, Stan? Peace out man...) but now I'll have chain-smoking Brits out for my hide... WARNING: This story is erotic in nature -- very adult. Don't read if you're not legal. Or at least don't tell anyone...it'll be our little secret...what? what? Oh, and it's... SLASHSLASHSLASHSLASHSLASHSLASH!!!!!! M/M, between known characters, very explicit...deal with it. Author's note: This disclaimer is getting longer than the story... Uhhh, hi there, once again I have prostituted myself for some computer time to bring you a little tale. Thanks to Surisa and Mirage for all their support! It's nice to know that a little smut still has fans... So go to these sites and see all the great stuff they have! http://www.azstarnet.com/~surisa/ http://www.ficworld.com/ Friendly Wager By Dark River The baseball collided with the wooden bat and a resounding "crack" issued forth, only microseconds ahead of the roaring of the crowds. The little white sphere soared upward at an angle, flying unerringly to the outfield. Bobby watched in horror as the small projectile zoomed through the air like it had been shot out of a cannon. "This could be it, folks. Going, going..." "Take, me out to the baaall game, take me out to the crowd..." "It is gone! Mark McGwire has just made history folks..." 'Nononononononononononono...' Bobby tried to impose his will on reality, to no avail. "Buy me some peanuts and cra-ck-er-jacks, I don't know if I'll ever come back..." "He's on his way home now. Another great hit for McGwire and history has been made." 'Diediediediediediediediediedie...' Bobby thought hatefully. "Root, root root for the home team, if they don't win it's a shaaame..." "All right!" Bobby snapped, burying his face in his hands. "Cause it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the old ball gaaaaaaaaaaaaame!" Hank McCoy held the last note like Pavarotti himself, waving a St. Louis Cardinals flag in one giant paw. A team jersey of identical affiliation was stretched beyond capacity around his broad, blue-furred chest. He stood upon one foot gracefully, grinning triumphantly. "It doesn't count," Bobby muttered. "It was a cheap hit." Beast somersaulted over the couch and landed on one hand. He snatched the remote from Bobby's grasp and increased the volume on the television to near-deafening levels. "Roger Maris' record of forty years has been broken today by Mark McGwire ..." the sportscaster blathered. "Your surmise appears to be inaccurate, Mr. Drake," Hank told him smugly. Bobby folded his arms and glanced at his exuberant friend. A bet was a bet, after all, but he was feeling cheated. If the ball had gone into the stands, that would have been one thing, but just limping over the first wall? Not fair at all... Beast flipped onto his feet and stuck his face directly in front of Bobby's sulky glare. "I believe the wager was that the inestimable Mark McGwire would not break the standing record this season, which he has, in fact, done. Are you attempting to renege?" "No..." Bobby muttered sullenly. "Fine, fine, you win! Happy?" Hank gave him a toothy grin. "Quite satisfied. Now, as to the one favor..." "What?" Bobby snapped peevishly. "I am *not* going to clean up your lab." "As if I would so foolishly trust my valuable and delicate equipment to your less than adroit handling." "Then what?" Hank's grin was very self-satisfied. "You, Mr. Drake, get to be my valet for the afternoon." "Excuse me?" Bobby asked indignantly. Hank's eyes sparkled. "A shampoo, condition and brush job. Do you think you can handle that, Mr. Drake?" "That's it?" Bobby asked, sensing a catch. "That is all that I require, but you must be thorough, Mr. Drake. It has been a long time since my luxurious pelt has been properly tended." Bobby let out a sigh of resignation. "Let's get it over with..." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Bobby carefully made sure that the array of shampoos and conditioners (formulas that Hank himself had come up with to maintain his fur) were within easy reach. The brushes -- the number of them surprised him -- were hanging nearby. The main shower of the mansion was a sizable chamber -- as was the style for many of the most expensive homes. The beige tile under his bare feet was clean, thankfully; he didn't want to slip. The shower had a nozzle accessory which would make the procedure easier. Bobby was actually amazed that this was all that he had to do. In fact, though he would never tell his friend (at least not until the bet was settled) he would happily do this any time. As dexterous as Hank was, it would still be understandably difficult to wash all that fur. Bobby turned to the mirror and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He was dressed only in his uniform speedo -- simply because he was expecting to get drenched and it was the only bathing suit he owned at the moment. He grinned a little in a sardonic way. "Valet...yeah, right you arrogant bastard," he thought with a mental roll of his eyes. Hank walked in within moments, a large terry-cloth robe draped around his hirsute frame. He glanced around at the bathroom critically, inspecting every detail with his keen eyes. After a long, judgmental silence, he finally nodded his approval. "Adequate," he stated evenly. He slipped off his robe, revealing his navy-blue trunks underneath. With an air of calm dignity that only Hank McCoy could manage at such a moment, he hung his robe on a hook on the wall. Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head at his friend's ceaseless display of boarding-school manners. "Get over here, Bigfoot." Beast raised one eyebrow. "That's hardly the proper manner for a valet to address a gentlemen with." "You're gonna milk this, aren't you?" "Quite so, Mr. Drake." Bobby sighed heavily. Perhaps this would not be so easy as he had originally estimated. "Very well, Mr. McCoy, if you would be so good as to step over here? I have warmed the water to what should be a suitable temperature.:. Hank padded over as Bobby turned on the water. One giant paw reached out with an incongruously delicate gesture of one finger, testing the water. "A touch warmer, if you please." Bobby gritted his teeth and adjusted the temperature slightly. "Better?" Hank tested it once again. "Much," he approved and started to step into the shower. Bobby cough delicately. "Sir?" His friend turned with a curious expression. "Yes?" Bobby tugged on the waistband of Beast's trunks and then let them snap back into place. "I believe your orders were a complete shampoo. That would be head to foot in my book." For the first time since this had started, his friend looked uncomfortable. "I...that is to say, I would not require so complete a treatment. Propriety suggests a certain decorum must be maintained." Bobby shook his head insistently. "You said a full shampoo...sir. I don't want to run the risk of you saying the debt is not paid because I did not fulfill my end of the bargain." "Bobby..." Hank said in a low voice. "You don't have to..." The lanky X-Man grinned. "I want to. Now, off with them. Sir." Hank was going to balk; Bobby could sense it. Already he was preparing a half-dozen snide remarks in defense, to try and distance himself from the exposing comment he had just made. This was Hank's idea, after all. Bobby was only trying to be thorough... Whatever bantering argument his friends had been considering dissolved into a single, softly-spoke question; "You wouldn't mind?" "Course not," Bobby told him honestly. "Hank, we've been friends forever it seems. There's nothing I haven't seen. If you want a shampoo, I'll give you one." Bobby had seen Hank naked before, but long ago -- back when they had been just students and part-time heroes. He had not seen the scientist in his blue-furred form without the speedo -- at least not clearly or in detail. Hank had been very shy after the mutation. The sight was something to behold. Now, of course, the speedo left very little to the imagination. The only real mystery it left was Hank's penis -- which was where Bobby's gaze locked for a moment. The organ was pitch black and baby-skin smooth in appearance. Flaccid as it was, it lay snuggled against his furry scrotum lazily. The fur of his pubic region was longer, providing a small nest for his genitals. Bobby forced himself to stop staring and turned the shower on. He followed Beast in and grabbed the shower hose. "I'm going to enjoy this," he muttered with a grin and blasted Hank with a torrent of water. Soaking wet, Hank resembled nothing so much as an old mop. His fur darkened and matted, clinging to him and outlining his broad frame even more tightly. Bobby quickly reminded himself that this was his friend, not a model in one of his Playgirls and that he should therefore stop his gaping and get his mind back on track. If he kept gawking like this, it would only be moments before his friend started to suspect him. The shampoo smelled rather nice -- sort of a strange mixture of floral scents with something that resembled cinnamon and...orange and banana? Bobby considered asking his friend exactly what was in the shampoo, but then thought better of it. An hour and a half lesson on chemistry was not what he needed right now. "It was still a cheap hit." "It surmounted the first wall, Robert. That is all that is relevant," Hank returned, unperturbed. Bobby worked the shampoo into Hank's back-fur, finding that he enjoyed the slick, sudsy feeling under his fingers. The water-warmed fur was quite dense, making him work to thoroughly shampoo it. "You are quite adept at this, Robert." "Yeah, well, as a kid, I was always the one who had to wash the dog," Bobby returned with a grin. Hank huffed indignantly. "Which is approximately as close as you came to a shower, I'm sure." "Cheap shot, furball." "That's Mr. Furball, to you." "Whatever." Bobby grabbed one of the oval-shaped scrub-brushes. Gently at first, he ran the brush up and down Hank's back. He could tell right off that he was only effecting the outer fur. Diligently, he applied more force, scrubbing harder. Bobby was not certain what idle conversation to make. He was very aware of Hank's naked body so close to his -- and the fact that he himself was wearing very little. It created a tension that left his mind a total blank. Hank let the silence linger for a while before launching into a long monologue about the new IMAC from Apple. Bobby listened and interjected "uh huh's" where expected, but otherwise tuned it all out. He couldn't seem to focus his concentration on listening, either. Nervous and uncomfortable despite his brash demeanor, Bobby remained in neutral territory for as long as possible. He lathered and scrubbed Hank's torso diligently, careful to tend to every shaggy square inch. Thoughtfully, almost lovingly, he proceeded on to his friend's scalp. Hank was putty in his hands, totally relaxing under the gentle ministrations. His furry bulk sagged against his valet slightly, basking in the attention. Bobby doubted very seriously that his friend had ever been treated to this, and in all likelihood this had been a long-standing wish. That idea made Bobby happy, in some small way. More dangerous territory was around the bend, so Bobby lingered for a while, soaping and massaging Beast's neck and shoulders. His hands were starting to become sore, though, warning him that he would have to stop eventually. His friend was obviously in no hurry, though, so he could stall for a bit longer. But only a bit. Bobby cleared his throat in a demonstration of his growing discomfort. Carefully, meticulously even, he rinsed the shampoo out of the thick fur, knowing all the while this was the last stop before the train headed straight to where he wanted to go and was terrified of visiting. The trouble he found himself in was of unintentionally conveyed meaning. If he ventured into more private areas, Hank might suspect that he had designs on him. Which was not true, of course. He was interested, certainly, but not actually planning anything. Bobby knelt and hesitantly started on Hank's legs -- the back and outsides only, though. He was taking every step down this rocky road with painstaking care. He had to somehow maintain the semblance of propriety. "I do believe that your cold calm is beginning to crack, Mr. Drake." "Huh? What?" "I sense a bit of trepidation." Bobby shot him an affronted look. "I'll show you trepidation." He reached up and started scrubbing the furry ass above him. Hank smirked and steadied himself by leaning on the shower wall. He did not seem to be minding at all. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying it. Bobby was more than a little indignant. *He* had simply been trying to respect Hank's personal space. *He* had been acting out of courtesy. Now his friend was haranguing him for being shy? He determined to make the furry oaf pay for the mistake. Bobby poured a generous handful of the shampoo into his palm and stood, standing very close to his friend's back. He spread the gooey substance between his hands and then caressed it into Hank's hips. "I'll show *him,*" he thought with an evil smile. More shampoo and he was now teasing and toying with the fur in Beast's pubic region. "Urn!" Hank yelped, now completely on the defensive. "I don't think you need-" "It is my duty, sir," Iceman murmured into McCoy's ear. He was taking a sadistic delight in his friend's discomfort. "I must *thoroughly* groom you." "I hardly think that it is proper- Oh my stars and...garters..." More out of vindictiveness than sexual play, Bobby had grabbed a hold of Hank's penis and was soaping it slowly. "Those were your orders, weren't they? Sir? A total grooming?" "Perhaps...you are being...too literal...my good man." Bobby chuckled softly. "Am I? Well, you keep throwing those ten-dollar words around and I-" his words faltered as he felt something totally unexpected. The cock was hardening. The soft, leathery skin became taught as blood engorged it. The large, proud organ throbbed in his hand, obviously enjoying the attention and oblivious to the source. Bobby felt awful of a sudden. He had not meant to get his friend excited. Embarrass him, certainly, but not to this extent. Now he felt beholden to finish what he'd started, which he knew would not sit well with his friend. The only other choice was to leave it be, but Bobby hated getting a person started and then abandoning them. The shampoo was providing an enduring lubricant, letting his hand slide up and down quite smoothly. Looking over Hank's shoulder, Bobby could see the thick black organ twitching in his grip. Iceman caught his breath, keenly aware of his own erection at that point. "Perhaps...you should stop..." Hank murmured, sounding uncertain. Bobby nodded and reluctantly released Beast's penis. He felt guilty and a little flustered. He had *enjoyed* touching his friend. He wanted to continue and he was sure that Hank was aware of that. The thoughts were wrong...so wrong... McCoy was his best friend. It was beyond foolish to think that way of someone you valued so much. What would this do to their friendship? "Children shouldn't play with adult toys," Hank joked boisterously, breaking the tension. Bobby felt relief wash through him, exorcising worry and fear. Hank was letting it go, forgetting about it, so he could too. "Looks child-sized to me," Bobby quipped. "Pardonne-moi? "Nothing." Bobby knelt again and went back to work on his friend's shaggy flanks. With the pall of consternation no longer hanging over his head, the remainder was easy. He gently but thoroughly laved through Hank's lower extremities, staying discreetly behind him. He was not prepared for the odd feelings to return and he knew that they would if he found himself kneeling before Hank. A warm, thorough rinse completed the shampoo cycle. The conditioning was not nearly so involved, under Hank's instruction. Once the gel was thoroughly worked into the fur, Bobby need only wait a few minutes and then simply rinse off his master once more. Afterwards, Bobby dried him off with soft, cotton towels. The blue fur stood up in matted tufts after the brisk rub down, making the dignified scientist look like a bottle brush. Bobby snorted laughter. "You look like a half-drowned cat." Hank gave him a lofty look. "I would not be so quick to laugh, Robert, since your next task will be to brush out my disrupted pelt." Bobby sighed as he dried himself off. "I suspected as much. Okay, let's get to your room." He helped his friend back into his terry-cloth robe and followed him out and down the hall to his room. "On the bed, furball." Hank folded his arms and gave him a long, hard stare. "All right, all right... Sir, please lay down on your stomach," Bobby said contritely. He went over to the dresser where he found another array of densely bristled brushes. Bobby picked one up and tested the short, firm bristles with one thumb. They were so coarse that he had to wonder at the idea that Hank would want him to use it. His friend, though, seeing his hesitation, smiled over at him. "I assure you, a lesser brush would do very little to coerce my fur into order." Bobby shrugged. "Okay, I'll take your word for. Now, if you would do me the honor of lying down on your stomach, sir," he said with exaggerated courtesy. "I will get started." Hank nodded cooperatively and sprawled out on the bed. Bobby rested one knee beside his friend's broad chest and leaned over him. His friend smelled of soap and shampoo -- that pleasantly cozy right-after-the-shower smell that Bobby liked. The dense fur, still quite damp, was warm still from the long steaming it had just received. "Hey, you're sure that hide of yours is pre-shrunk, aren't you?" Bobby quipped. "Brush, good man, and leave the comedy to the professionals." "Oh yes sir, right away sir." Bobby started at the shoulders with a simple downward stroke. The dark blue fur, true to Hank's warnings, did not respond significantly to his initial efforts. Iceman ran his fingers through the coarse fur gingerly, testing the tangles for himself. There was the barest hint of a shiver from his friend, but Bobby paid it little mind. It was apparent that he would have to put some elbow grease into this task. He ran the brush down one shoulder-blade with a bit more force and followed behind with the palm of his hand. A few turns at this showed progress, which he took some small pride in. Now that he was committed to this job, he fully intended to do it properly. There was a heavy sigh of contentment from his friend as the attention flooded his nerves with pleasant tingling sensations. Bobby smiled to himself at that. He had found his overly-intellectual friend's weakness. Now he could win any fight by simply breaking out a brush. Bobby had never really had the occasion to touch his friend like this. The damp fur under his fingers was delightfully soft after the heavy cleansing, making it very enjoyable to touch. Under that pelt, though, were the hard, firm muscles that gave his friend his inhuman strength. The two feelings created an interesting contrast that occupied Bobby's thoughts for several quiet minutes. He paused only briefly before sending the brush over his friend's left buttock. There was a sound from his friend that sounded like a gasp being stifled but winning free in a final death-match. The large, hirsute body under him tensed for a single instant and then relaxed again. Bobby, feeling a little uneasy himself, did his best to seem nonchalant as he brushed out the snarls in the shaggy pelt covering his friend's behind. The fur was just slightly longer around his waist, for some reason that Bobby couldn't guess. Hank's body vaguely resembled an ape's, but there were variances that nothing in the animal kingdom matched. "Guess that's why they call it 'mutation,' dumb-ass," he chided himself. He proceeded down the backs of Hank's legs, discovering a tickle spot behind each of his friend's knees. It was something that he did not exploit at this time but kept it in mind for future reference. There would be a time and place for it later, he was certain. "Okay, time for the front...sir." Hank rumbled something incoherent and rolled onto his back, his eyes closed in bliss. Bobby went to work without delay, smoothing and straightening the chest fur. He was more careful now, though, for he did not want to ruin Hank's experience by scoring one nipple with the sharp bristles. He worked his way over the belly and around the hips, focusing all of his attention as he reached the area around his friend's penis. He could quite easily just proceed on, he knew. But he was not exactly straight and the flaccid penis so close to him was drawing his attention. Bobby held his breath and very gently moved Hank's genitals out of the way as he brushed down the pubic region. Beast gave out a small whimper deep in his throat but did not offer any genuine protest. Iceman did not speak either, not wanting to break the little spell. He just went about his work diligently, enjoying the warm cock in his grip. There was a deep intimacy in the touch, much like it had been in the shower, only more open now. The penis twitched a little bit and started to swell again. Bobby massaged it between his fingers, unable to help himself. He knew it made Hank feel good and it was really turning him on. So he continued to toy with the cock and went about his brushing. But soon the little duty was done and he was left sitting there with Hank's ever-growing erection in his hand, not wanting to let go. There was absolute silence from his friend, which was very close to permission. Bobby continued to stroke the thick black cock with long, loving strokes, his gaze fixated on the sight. He was not as gay as many people thought, but he did have certain inclinations in that direction and the idea that this was his friend -- which should have precluded any arousal at this -- was actually making him even hotter. "Um, Hank?" There was a very long silence filled with near-panic from Bobby. "Yes?" "Do you want me to stop?" More terrifying silence filled with insults and recriminations that only Bobby could hear. Then the single word answer that brought a flood of mixed emotions. "No." ................... "Okay, I won't," Iceman replied, his excitement so high that he thought he might just pass-out for a moment. His grip tightened on Hank's cock and stroked a little more deliberately. Absolute silence reigned in the bedroom except for the faint, far away ticking of a clock. There was a palpable tension in that quiet, but Bobby could not tell if it was from discomfort or apprehension or anticipation...or some odd combination thereof. He could only guess at Hank's thoughts right now, and his own were spiraling in turmoil. Hank was his long-time friend. He was savvy enough to know that trysts like this, however pleasant at the time, tended to turn sour later. Sex between friends raised so many questions and blurred too many lines -- it was like playing with a loaded gun. But it felt so good to be stroking Hank's cock, and from the deep breathing coming from his friend, he knew that Beast was enjoying it as well. To stop now would likely create even more confusion and problems -- questions of, "Why did you stop?" and "Did I do something wrong?" An enjoyable experience, however, would at least leave them only with guilt and maybe the need for some serious, quiet discussions. "Would you like me to put it in my mouth?" he asked quietly. "I'd...r-r-really, um, like to." Beast did not respond verbally. He seemed helpless and paralyzed by the unexpected and forbidden pleasures he was being granted. The bonds of friendship and trust that he shared with Bobby ran so deep, were so powerful, that at this time -- with arousal so high -- this only seemed the next logical step. There was a quick nod of his head to Bobby's question, and that was all. It was all that Iceman needed, though. Bobby slipped further onto the bed and curled around Hank's waist, still stroking that gorgeous black erection. Released now from having to maintain the appearance of propriety, Bobby let his other hand wander over Hank's furry balls. He hefted them and massaged them gently, enjoying their softness. He nuzzled in close, rubbing the warm shaft against his cheek languidly. There were stifled little moans issuing from his friend, now, encouraging him to go even further. His tongue darted out, running over the soft, leathery skin of Hank's cock. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful or tasted so good. Bobby ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft to the head and licked the pre-cum forming there. Then he licked his way down the upper part of the cock all the way to the base. The thick skin was surprisingly soft, making every lick a microsecond of joy. In a moment of daring, he even ran his tongue over the fur-covered ball-sack. Hank jumped at that, making Bobby grin. He tickled the balls with the tip of his tongue and then went to work on the head. The mushroom tip was very wide -- almost too big, but he got his lips around it. He sucked lightly at first, not wanting to overwhelm Hank, and then with more enthusiasm. The salty-tasting flesh felt wonderful in his mouth and he went for more, sucking two whole inches of cock down his throat. Hank shivered and bucked slightly, all pretense of neutrality gone. "Ohhhh...." Bobby slowly fed the whole thing into his mouth, quite proud of himself. He was not the most experienced at cock-sucking, after all. Once he had it, though it was easy to set up a rhythmic pumping motion. The long black cock slipped back and forth rapidly, as much from Bobby's efforts as from Hank's desperate thrusting. It pulsed and throbbed and strained, begging for release. Bobby backed off, licking the base and stroking it gently. "Oh...you bastard..." Hank groaned. "You bet." Hank squirmed away, coming to rest on one side facing Bobby. Iceman froze, worried that he had done something wrong, but he saw no warning signs in his friend's eyes. There was mainly just the glaze of ecstasy, but something else as well... "I feel honor-bound to return this momentous favor," Hank told him quietly. Bobby ran his hand over Hank's shoulder. "You don't owe me anything. I'm happy to do it." Hank shrugged uneasily. "Well, still..." "No, really..." "Bobby, please, allow me just-" "Hank, it's okay...I know you wouldn't normally do this." "Well, no, but in the interest of scientific research, if nothing else..." "Hank, I mean it, you don't need-" "Dear lord, Bobby, I want to suck your cock." There was a stunned silence afterwards as one person attempted to register the words just spoken and the other person struggled to figure out where he had found those words among all the others he'd been considering. "Really?" "Really." Bobby could hardly deny how much he wanted it. His cock had been straining against his speedo forever now. He smiled a little foolishly and slipped that slim scrap of clothing off. Hank took in his lean, toned body with a single, lusty glance. Bobby's cock was rock hard and jutting upwards proudly. It invited the attention that it so immediately received. Beast pressed in close, rubbing his furry body against Bobby's in a sensual embrace that drove both of them wild. One of his huge hands wrapped around Iceman's throbbing penis and stroked it a little awkwardly. Their eyes met for a single moment and something passed between them. Nothing so profound or weighty as love, but just an acceptance of this as a gesture of friendship. Hank slid down his friend's body and began to very carefully, very methodically lick at the rampant cock he was fondling. He explored the head and the shaft with equal attention, taking note of and enjoying every sensitive nerve that he found. His tongue caressed lower, running over the tightly packed nuts. The texture was not at all unappealing, and he found himself licking with more and more voracity. He gazed into Iceman's half-lidded gaze and smiled, enjoying the knowledge that he was pleasuring his best friend. He took a couple of inches of Bobby' cock into his mouth, experimenting, testing the sensation of having a man's penis between his lips. Drake let out a helpless moan and bucked forward, so close to cumming that it hurt. He had been turned on for so long, wanting this forever it seemed. He could not wait much longer . "Hank...let me...get on top..." Bobby adjusted their position so that he was above his friend in the 69 position. He leaned down and took Hank's cock back down his throat, sighing in ecstasy as his own cock was engulfed. Bobby thrust his cock downward into the welcome, lovingly attentive mouth and sucked the one below him down his throat with everything he had. He was so excited, so thrilled to have Hank's mouth on his cock and his friend's penis down his own throat that he soon lost all control. Hank's startled moan was not at all displeased, and he followed very quickly, shooting a jet of cum down Bobby's throat The two did not move for a very long moment, contented and pleased by what they had shared. Bobby finally rolled off and snuggled up close to his friend, assuring both of them that everything was okay. Hank nuzzled back instinctively, still equally lost in the fading echoes of orgasm. "Oh...my..." Hank breathed. "Bobby..." "Shhh..." Iceman soothed and kissed him. They did not speak for a long, long time after. They just lay there and enjoyed the peace they had won with the release of their desires. Finally, though, Bobby propped himself up on one elbow and looked deeply into the sleep-clouded gaze of his friend. "I'll bet you Sosa beats McGwire before the end of the season," he murmured with a grin. Hank rumbled deep laughter. "You're on, Drake..." Finis...? DarkRiver darkriver@cyberdude.com