At the top of everyone's social calendar was the annual Halloween costume party. It was a gala that rivaled all other festivities, promising a good time for all. There was the prospect of treats prepared by Cook and her kitchen staff. The activities run by the teaching staff were especially popular, notably the Haunted House Hank and Rogue had set up. For many, dressing up and pretending to be someone or something else was enough to feel that rush of excitement that came with the event. As for the students whose mutations affected their physical appearance, Halloween allowed them to experience the feeling of being normal and not self-conscious about what they looked like.

Away from the continued bustling atmosphere of the mansion and the school, Bobby and Jubilee found themselves in the men's section of Halliwells this late afternoon. Not a clotheshorse by any stretch of the imagination, the boyishly handsome Bobby found himself compelled by outside forces to make some new purchases; outside forces being one Maddy Drake. His mother had called him last week to remind him of the baptism for his new baby cousin and soon-to-be goddaughter, Eleanor. She informed him that he would have to wear something nice for the ceremony. While she did not nag or harangue him about his usual attire, she made it clear that Hawaiian shirts and jeans would not be tolerated.

Like most men, with the exception of the fashion-savvy Warren, Bobby was not one who received a special thrill from perusing the aisles of clothing. However, he resigned himself to his task. In the end, it would worth the trouble. It was not everyday he was going to be a godfather. To top it off, he had a perfectly legitimate excuse to do his Brando impression.

He was fortunate enough to recruit Jubilee, who practically jumped at the idea of shopping. Quickly, she took charge, selecting a blue-striped dress shirt, a charcoal-gray V-neck sweater, and a tie with red and navy stripes. What was left was choosing a pair of nice khakis to complete the outfit. The two of them gathered several candidates from the racks before making their way to the dressing rooms.

"So, how are they?" she inquired after several minutes. The young girl was standing outside of the stall patiently, digging her small hands into the pockets of her camel wool, toggle coat.

The royal blue curtain was pulled back as Bobby prepared to model his chinos for his girlfriend. "Crazy! Cool!" he exclaimed, mocking a dance number one would see in a production of West Side Story. He then hummed a few bars from a Cole Porter record his mother had given him months ago.

While many girlfriends would have been mortified by this impromptu and outlandish demonstration of dancing, Jubilee simply laughed. Even the stares and amused whispers of other people passing by failed to elicit any feelings of embarrassment. Finally, her laughter subsided as she shook her head and commented, "You know that commercial's years old."

He grinned, pausing in front of a full-length mirror nearby. "Yeah, but you find my antics quite funny."

"I find you funny," she told him warmly, sauntering behind him to study his reflection. Her sapphire eyes were thoughtful as she gazed at him. "You never answered my question. How do these fit?"

He pulled at the front of the trousers, lifting them slightly. "Kind of baggy," he noted. "That's for all of them. It's hard to find pants for us short guys."

Her sable brows knitted together quizzically. She stared up at him. He towered over her by a good couple of inches, and she was about five-foot-four. "You're not that short."

Bobby turned to her, a wry expression gracing his boyish face. "The normal height for guys nowadays is like six-feet. I'm five-ten, Jubes. That's considered short." He gave her a rather pathetic, somber look before wandering back into the dressing stall.

For a moment, she nearly bought the act and was ready to offer her sympathy. However, the playful twinkle in his gray eyes tipped her off. Smiling mischievously, she decided to see how far she could push him.

"Come on, baby," she chided gently, listening the rustling of fabric from behind the curtain. "There have been plenty of great, short men in history."

He reached for his jeans. "Oh really?"

"Sure," she replied reassuringly. "Let's see, there's Napoleon, John Quincy Adams..." After a brief pause, she added, "Frodo Baggins..."

Almost immediately, a pair of chinos was thrown over the railing of the dressing stall curtain, hitting on her head. She pulled them off of her head and folded them, giggling. Smoothing out the creases, she was reminded of a subject that had been on her mind. "What are we doing for costumes?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked from behind the curtain.

Jubilee frowned, tucking a lock of silky hair behind a delicate ear. "I mean, what are we going as? The party's in two days and we haven't talked about any ideas." Given their hectic schedules, with him teaching more classes and with her in college, their quality time together was growing more and more rare. While they made an effort to spend whatever free moments they could together, it was difficult to do anything but snuggle together and commiserate about their shared exhaustion.

"Oh that," Bobby said, pulling on his jeans and zipping up. "I don't know, Jubes. I was thinking about skipping that this year."

She tried to hide her disappointment as she asked, "What? Why?"

"There's the time thing, first of all."

"OK... So what else?"

"Well, I'm not feeling all that inspired this year. I don't want to sound jaded or anything, but it's like we've done basically all the good ideas. It's hard to get excited."

"Sounds like the stress of grading ninety mid-terms talking, Drake."

"Maybe. But as someone who usually looks forward to this time of year, I think it's more difficult to do something really surprising without being trite."

"Now you're just talking crazy."

"No, Jubes, I'm not. Seriously, I just don't see myself doing it this year. Don't let me stop you, though."

"No, I don't want to do it if you won't. It would be kind of weird. Really, Bobby."

He finally emerged from the dressing stall, pulling on his navy pea coat over his gray, roll-neck sweater and jeans. Smiling, he pressed his lips against her forehead. "Maybe we can go as the couple that can't keep their hands off of each other," he suggested. "You won't have to deal with the pressure of trying to shock me."

Jubilee smiled sweetly up at him, nodded. Then she narrowed her eyes as she walked alongside him. We'll just see about that, .

The Robin was a local bar/club that catered to both humans and mutants. The first thing that was striking was the co-mingling of humans and mutants—drinking together, talking together, and even dancing with one another—things unthinkable outside of these walls. Then there was the building itself. Converted from an old bank, The Robin had a grand staircase entrance, marble floors, and high ceilings. In place of teller windows there was an enormous bar along the interior's east wall, staffed with sleek and swank bartenders. An enormous chandelier hung over the dance floor, laden with flickering orange bulbs in lieu of candles. Above the light fixture was a smoke machine, which sent wisps of smoke floating down through the chandelier. This resulted in an eerie and beautiful effect, something one would see in "The Phantom of the Opera".

As usual, the establishment was abuzz with the many patrons that gathered to enjoy the music, atmosphere, and drinks. The speakers thudded with classic, new wave songs from the 1980s, drowning out the laughter and various conversations. Given the existing décor, management found that they did not have to add much for their pre-Halloween extravaganza. Simply adjusting the lighting, adding themed drinks, and having the wait staff dress up seemed more than sufficient.

Lost in the festive, energetic crowd of costumed revelers was a lone figure sitting at the bar. He was subdued, hunched in his seat at the bar. As one of the few who were not wearing a costume, he did not seem all that concerned about being out of place. Instead, the tall, lean man with pale eyes and calloused hands was lost in his own thoughts, tuning out the carefree air that surrounded him. While it was clear that the atmosphere was incongruent with his mood, he seemed resigned to dwell in his private misery.

Sam exhaled deeply. Glumly, he downed another beer, one of many consumed over the course of the night. He had lost count after the fourth one and the bartenders seemed too overwhelmed with other customers to help him keep track. Not that it really mattered. The effects he was desperately seeking from the alcohol failed to make their presence known. His mind was, much to his disappointment, fully cognizant of the troubles that ate away at him these past few days.

He had tried almost everything he could possibly think of to distract himself from what preoccupied him. Spending long hours in the gym and the Danger Room drained his body, but did nothing to assuage the complicated feelings of longing and self-loathing that consumed every minute of his existence. Tried as he might, the Southern gentleman was forced to ruminate about someone he wanted so badly but could never have.

Unfortunately, each time, it killed him a little bit inside.

Since going to the concert with Jubilee, Sam was trying his best to avoid her. He found it difficult to even be near the object of his unrequited affections, especially after that dream. Throughout the car ride to Westchester, he pretended to be asleep so that he didn't have to talk to her or look at her. To do so would only serve to remind him that she was not his and that she would never be.

The feelings intensified when she expressed concern about him, noting his strange behavior. As much as he hated to, he lied. His mouth tasted bitter as he flippantly told her that he was fine and there was no need to ask further. All the while, he tried to convince himself that his words were true. Yet, his heart would not allow him that luxury. It ached in his chest as he tried to deceive her and himself of what was really happening. He knew she could never know, and as someone who cared for her deeply, he could not fathom telling her. Not now, not when it was so clear she was happy with someone else.

He once considered throwing himself in the dating scene to clear his mind. There were plenty of women who had shown interest, as he was an attractive man. His freshly scrubbed, wholesome country boy looks and sheepish demeanor were enough to make most women go weak in the knees. However, he could not quite bring himself to completely to pursue any of these women. To him, it would simply be unfair. No matter how pretty, how smart, how charming, how funny they might be, there was only one girl he would be thinking about the entire time.

Lila once told him that wanting something you could not have was something of a character builder. According to her, to desire and not immediately possess something as your own made one appreciate the attractiveness of said object. The build-up to wanting was always so much more exciting than actually experiencing the gratification and relief.

Of course, this was hard to believe from an inter-stellar thief and teleporter.

Sam shook his head, placing his empty Pilsner glass in front of him. He swallowed hard and pressed his lips together in a tight line. To hell with character, he decided, his pale eyes suddenly feeling heavy-lidded. All the character in the world isn't going to help me sleep at night, or make me hate myself less. It certainly won't do any good when I want to hold her, kiss her, and make love to her. Fuck character.

He pulled out his wallet to check on his cash flow for the tab he was racking up. As he opened it, a small piece of white paper fell out. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that it was not paper, but a set of photographs from one of those picture booths. He quickly remembered the circumstances surrounding the pictures. They were milling around in Penn Station before the concert, searching for something to do. Jubilee had decided that having their photos taken seemed like a good idea. In these successions of photos, they were crammed into the tiny space, laughing and making faces at the camera. The smile that touched his lips at the memory was quickly replaced by a grimace that reflected his somber state.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a voice drawled, "You look lonely."

Startled, Sam lifted his gaze from his glass. Next to him, was a petite, curvaceous young woman with long, curly, auburn hair. At the crown of her head were four, thick horns, which bent in different directions. These horns matched the red in her skin and eyes. She smiled at him, revealing a set of white, sharp teeth with jagged edges. He could tell that she was a waitress from the standard uniform she wore—a pink, striped shirt over a denim skirt and black, knee-high boots. The empty tray in her hands also gave her away.

He turned back to his glass, which was now full, thanks to the bartender who had been taking his orders. "Somethin' like that," he muttered, unable to tell whether or not the horns and the skin was a costume or her true appearance. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided it did not matter all that much.

The waitress leaned against the bar and towards him. From the anguished expression on his face, she could tell he was thinking about a girl. Her eyes flicked over to the photographs sitting in front of him. In them, he was with a striking girl with dark hair and a dazzling sapphire gaze. The two of them appeared to be the quintessential image of happiness with their broad, radiant smiles.

Then she peered over at him again, observing the distraught frown that marred his features. She watched take a swig of his beer and then asked in a raspy, gin-soaked voice, "You have a fight with your girlfriend?"

Sam flinched, part of him wishing that were the case. Then he stared into the amber liquid, as if the drink held all the answers to his problems. "She ain't with me," he replied bitterly.

"Oh." The waitress sounded pleased to hear this piece of news. She ventured closer to the tall, brooding man, finding herself increasingly attracted to him. "So she's not with you..."

Every muscle in his body clenched at that moment. "No, Ah wish—" He stopped himself, completely in disbelief that he was about to disclose his deepest desire to a stranger. With a shaky breath, he allowed his shoulders to relax. A calloused hand rubbed over his mouth and stubble-ridden chin anxiously. Words seemed to escape him.

She fiddled with the tray in her hands as she tried to ease the tension. "I didn't mean to bring up something that's obviously bothering you," she atoned.

The Southern gentleman sighed wearily before returning his gaze to the waitress's face. He knew full well what her intentions were. Any other time, he might have considered putting up the front that he was interested. However, he was not in the mood. He was too depressed and was sure he would not be good company for anyone. Not tonight, perhaps not ever.

"Listen," he began, summoning the kindest tone he could muster. "Ah thank ya for bein' so nice ta me, but Ah don't feel much like talkin', ma'am. Ah came here ta have some beers and try not ta think about my troubles. No need for ya ta get dragged down 'cause of me."

The waitress looked taken aback. It took her several moments to compose herself. She bit her lower lip nervously and then managed a small smile. "Okay," she finally said, obviously dismayed by his gentle rejection. "I-I hope you have a good night. Try to take it a little easy, hon."

Sam watched her step away from the bar and quickly disappear into a crowd of thirtysomethings, who were dressed as the Village People. He replayed the conversation inside his head. It did not take him that long to realize he could have handled things a little more gracefully. Inwardly cursing his awkwardness, he made the decision to call it a night. He swallowed the remaining of his beer and asked the bartender for his check. Scanning the bill, he calculated the tip for the night and tossed several bills on the bar. Then he pulled on his brown, suede jacket with a sherpa collar before exiting The Robin.

As he made his way outside, he felt his head begin to spin. The tall, lean young man placed an outstretched hand on the wall of the hallway to steady himself. Fortunately, there was no one around to watch him attempt to collect his inebriated self. He paused, still feeling out of sorts. Then he leaned his frame against the supportive wall, hanging his head down. So much for the high tolerance, he mused sarcastically, recalling the tab indicated that he had eight beers for the night.

Breathing heavily, Sam knew that once he got to the front doors and outside, he would be fine. The cool air of the autumn night was guaranteed to clear his head enough for him to take to the skies. Lucky for him, the mansion was only a five-minute flight from where he was now.

He blinked. Now, about getting to those doors...

Still hunched over, his eyes suddenly noticed a pair of legs clad in black, leather boots. He racked his brain to remember where he recognized them from, but was unable to come up with anything. Resigned with his temporary lapse in memory, he sighed but did not bother to look up.

"You really don't look good," the owner of the legs remarked. "Can I call a cab for you?"

He shook his head. "Ah didn't drive," he muttered, noticing that the voice was familiar. "Ah'm gonna be fine, really."

"Doesn't look that way to me."

"Well, Ah am. Ah'm a mutant."

"Mutants get drunk, too."

"No... Ah meant... Ah can get home fine."

"I don't think so. Not the way you're looking."

"Well, who the hell are ya ta say that?" he snapped, raising his head to glare at the other person. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw who it was. Standing in front of him was none other than Jubilee. Her cerulean eyes were quizzical as she studied him carefully. Mixed with her surprise from his outburst was genuine concern that emanated from her lovely face.

Instinctively, Sam wanted to bury himself deep into the ground. He could not believe what his drunken stupor forced him to do. Here he was, pathetic and stumbling, and to top it all off, attacking the one person who meant the most to him. This was truly not his night.

"Oh God," he managed finally. He reached out to touch her shoulder, the material of her pink, striped shirt soft under his calloused hands. "Oh, Ah'm so sorry, sweetie. Ah didn't mean ta yell at ya like that..."

She placed a hand over where his hand rested, steadying him. "It's okay," she said reassuringly.

He was puzzled, staring at her. For some reason, her voice sounded foreign to his ears. Throaty and deep, not at all like the girlish quality he was accustomed to hearing. Staggering back, he shook his head. The alcohol mixed with his overwhelming discomfort was making things more difficult to process. He was not sure what was real and what was part of his growing haze.

After a few seconds, he forced himself to straighten to his full height. In an attempt to put forth a sober act, he asked, "What are ya doin' here, sweetie?"

"I..." Her voice trailed off as she watched him lean his head against the wall. "I wanted to see how you're doing."

He laughed, but it sounded like a rough bark from his throat. The concern Jubilee was expressing for him was both endearing and cruel at the same time. It made his chest ache simply mulling over her words. Finally, he sighed and provided his standard lines to deflect attention from himself. "Ah'm fine. Ah was just on mah way home," he informed her, drawing his hand back from her shoulder as if it stung him. "Ya just go back and have a good time. Don't worry about me."

She shook her head, dark hair rippling down her graceful shoulders and slim back. "I want to worry about you," she insisted. Placing her hands on his arms, she continued. "Listen, I don't think you're in any condition to go home by yourself. If you wait a minute, I can come with you. Let me just grab my things, OK?"

Sam's pale eyes were wide as his mind absorbed what she was saying. As much as he wanted to push her away, there was a part of him that did not. Her sweet face and hypnotic eyes were testing his self-restraint, which was slowly fading into the recesses of his consciousness. Considerations he would normally try to temper were now creeping in, such as declaring his feelings for her. Somehow, he managed to keep things reined in.

He swallowed hard, averting her stare. "What about him ?" he asked, not quite able to even say Bobby's name. Simply thinking about him made his stomach turn with envy.

To his surprise, Jubilee shook her head. "I'm not with anyone," she told him solemnly.

The Southern gentleman looked at her in disbelief. There was so much he wished to say at that moment. However, any semblance of cogent thought escaped his mind. Instead, he was only able to manage, "Really?"

"Really." Her forehead wrinkled slightly as she continued to stare at him with concern. "Stay here. I'll be out in a flash and we can get you home, OK?"

This time, he made no effort to argue. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the new piece of information she had just disclosed. Silently, he nodded and watched her with great longing as she disappeared back into the club. For a minute, he began to believe that he was going mad. His mind, under the alcohol, had somehow orchestrated this illusion of Jubilee talking to him, telling him that there was no one else in the picture. That was the only explanation.

Sam found himself proven wrong when Jubilee returned. She was pulling on a navy, double-breasted coat while clutching a worn, leather purse. Buttoning her coat, she stared up at him, worried. "Now, let's get you home."

The Southern gentleman found himself passively complying. For one thing, he was simply in no shape to argue otherwise at this point. His mental faculties were failing him at the moment. Second, he was overcome with how badly he wanted to be with her. Hearing that she was not with Bobby made his heart sing.

Oblivious to his musings, the young girl gently took his hand and led him outside. The brisk air of the late evening slapped against their cheeks. It was refreshing, though cold, for the eldest Guthrie. His head was quickly pulled from the initial haze he experienced inside the club.

Meanwhile, Jubilee was scanning the front lot for taxis, which were usually waiting in a line outside of The Robin. "Where are all the cabs?" she asked aloud. "How are we going to—"

"Ah've got an idea," he interrupted her, suddenly inspired. Throwing his inhibitions out the window, he wrapped his arms around her small waist. "Just hold on ta me, sweetie. Ah won't let anythin' happen ta ya."

Her sable brows furrowed together quizzically. "What? What are you talking about?" she demanded. "What—"

The question she was about to pose was quickly cut off by a shriek of surprise as they soared through the night skies over Westchester.

Sam wanted to say that he was able to remember the journey back to the mansion. He wished he could truthfully state that he was clear-headed enough to recall landing in front of the door, fishing his keys from his jacket, and opening the door to venture inside. To even be able to declare that he was of sound mind to walk by himself up the stairs would be a feat. However, none of these things happened. And yet, this did not bother him one bit.

Because he was with her /.

In fact, during the entire time, all he could focus on was her—holding her body close to his as they soared through the air, feeling her clutch to his lean form for support, and noticing how she roused emotions of euphoria just by being with him. He tried not to reveal too much of his giddiness as she helped upstairs, her arm wrapped around him. As small and somewhat trivial as this was, it was his piece of happiness for now.

When they reached his door, Sam smiled and rested his forehead against it. The alcohol was beginning to seep into his brain again. Already, it was difficult for him to formulate a rational thought. He felt he should be saying something to, but what, he was not sure. His tongue was like rubber, too awkward to even attempt to utter anything.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Well, let's get you in, hon." She reached out and turned the knob. Gently, the young girl took his hand and led him inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

Sam's room was a reflection of the country boy that continued to dwell inside him. Natural hues and rugged textures of the fabric and furniture revealed a fascination with the environment. The space will filed with muted spice tones of serapes and Navajo rugs interwoven with well-aged wood, hand-tooled leather, and woven rope.

Throwing off his jacket, he ambled over to the far corner of the room, where his bed was. It was a four-poster, Joshua Tree bed, decked with plateau linen throw pillows, khaki bed linens, and a suede throw blanket. While he wanted to sink his weary, intoxicated body into the inviting softness of his bed, he had to make sure that Jubilee was really with him. He had to know, before sleeping off his alcohol-induced haze, that she had been here. Reluctantly, he turned around.

She was studying him carefully with those old-soul blue eyes that haunted his dreams for so long. "Do you want me to go?" she asked hoarsely, biting her lower lip.

He shook his head. His hand trembled as it cupped her soft cheek. He suddenly found his fingers twining through her silky hair. Then, without thinking, he leaned towards her, pressing his mouth against hers. The tip of his tongue snaked out, reaching to taste those rose-red lips. Gently, he ran his tongue over her mouth, tasting her sweetness. With a quiet moan, her lips parted to allow him access inside. Meanwhile, his other hand reached around to press the back of her head gently, allowing the kiss to further deeper. His tongue eased past her lips, brushing softly against the insides of her cheeks, dipping to rub lightly against her teeth, and sliding against her tongue.

Suddenly, he froze. Logical thought processes took over for a moment. This was wrong. Abruptly, he pulled away from. His shoulders shook as he breathed, a task that was getting hard to do given the situation. He could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment, guilt, and anxiety over what she might be thinking of him.

"Ah'm sorry," he mumbled, blond hair falling into his eyes. "Ah... Ah didn't mean ta freak ya out. Ah—"

Before he could finish his rambling, she kissed him back. Unlike the dream, this was a real kiss. He could feel her, taste her, and hear her as she sighed. It was a gesture that relayed so much. Most importantly, how much she wanted for it to happen. Encouraged, his hands began to roam across her body. Sliding down the small of her back to curve around her bottom, he pressed her hips closer to his. The Southern gentleman groaned when he felt her small hands untuck his shirt before they ran across his back.

Head swimming, he pulled back and removed her hands. "Yer really here?" he managed, still feeling dizzy from it all. Sure, he felt her lips and her hands, but he thought he had done so in the dream he had several weeks ago. Heaven help him if this was another delusion fueled by his wish to be with her. There was only so much he could truly take before losing his mind completely.

In response, Jubilee dropped her purse to the floor, along with her coat. Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, slipping it off of her slender frame. Still silent, she then reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. The garment fell in a whisper at her feet. As she stood there, only in her underwear and boots, she looked stunning as she always did. Her long, silky hair rippled down her graceful shoulders and back. Under the dim light, her creamy skin glowed. Those hypnotic sapphire depths now stared at him with curiosity and desire for him.

Yet, there was something else about Jubilee. He could not quite put his finger on it. The situation, as blissful as it was, was off in a way.

Before he could question the events that were transpiring at this moment, she stepped towards him. Her sapphire eyes bore deeply into his face as she cupped his face in her delicate hands. "I'm really here," she whispered, brushing her lips against his cheeks. "I'm here if you want me."

As she planted soft kisses along his cheeks and jaw, Sam came to the realization that this was definitely happening. There was so much he wanted to tell her. The thoughts and feelings he buried deep inside him were threatening to overwhelm him. Declaring his love for her was on the tip of his tongue. However, he found that the drinks he had at the bar clouded his brain, much to his dismay.

He sighed in disappointment, his pale eyes heavy-lidded. "Ah..." he mumbled, desperately trying to get the words out of his damned mouth. The alcohol had made his tongue feel too thick to produce cogent words.

A slender finger was placed between his lips. "You don't have to say anything," she murmured. "Just show me."

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers as he drew her slim body closer. Staring deeply at her beautiful, flushed face, he nodded his understanding. Then the former coal miner's calloused hands unhooked her bra, slipping it off of her with care. Feeling increasingly inebriated from the feel of her skin underneath his fingertips, his movements became bolder. He slid his hands to her breasts, cupping them gently. His thumbs circled the nipples, stroking.

"Ya feel so good," he said thickly, gathering her into his arms. There was no way he was about to wait any longer. His body and his heart did not allow him that kind of luxury. He had to touch her, have more of her, and show her how he felt all this time.

Scooping her lithe body into his loving arms, Sam carried her to the bed. Jubilee rose to her knees, staring up at him with her dazzling eyes. He smiled dreamily as her mouth covered his in a lingering kiss. Her fingers danced across his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off of him. She sighed against his mouth when her hands descended to his jeans. Within a matter of seconds, they, along with his boxers, joined the other articles of clothing on the floor. He drew back, much to their mutual disappointment. Hurriedly, he kicked off his hiking boots and socks. Then, fully undressed, he lowered his long, lean frame on the bed.

"Sweetie," he murmured, unzipping her boots. He discarded one boot, gently easing it off her slim foot. "Ah can't believe yer here..."

She propped herself up on her elbows, blue eyes watching him by the pale moonlight that streamed through the blinds. "I am," she reassured him, tossing her hair over one perfect shoulder as he disposed of the second boot. Her breathing steadily increased as his fingers slid up the inside of her leg. "Come to me..."

Sam willingly followed, ready to do anything she asked of him. He was entranced by her, heady with the sight and feel of her gorgeous curves underneath him. Without realizing it, he found himself on his back and gazing up at her.

Kneeling over him, she framed his face with her soft hands and leaned forward to meet his lips again. He stared at her lovely face, transfixed by how lucky he was to have this angel. As real as all of this felt, his mind could not let go of the feeling that something was amiss. In the back of his mind, there was a nagging voice screaming at him that somehow, this was wrong.

Sensing his trepidation, she drew back slightly. "Are you okay?" she asked in a breathy, but increasingly raspy voice.

His pale eyes gazed at her delicate features. "Ah've been alone for so long," he said quietly, placing his broad hands over her small ones. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed wearily. It was harder and harder for him to express himself with words. He was not sure if it was the alcohol or the intensity of the moment that was draining his rational mind. "Ah was gettin' used ta bein' by myself..."

"You don't have to worry about that," she told him, her voice suddenly husky. Her mouth brushed against his in an affectionate kiss before she added, "There's just us tonight."

Sam smiled, his elation returning and flooding his senses once again. His fingers traveled to her panties, sliding them off and throwing them aside. Then he pulled her down on the bed with him.

Propping himself up on an elbow, the Southern gentleman ran his hand across her supple skin. Gone were his doubts of this experience not being some illusion. The feel of her, the sound of her moans and sighs, and the exquisite sight of Jubilee naked in his arms pushed those thoughts out of his consciousness. All he wanted to do was to believe that he finally had what he desired for so long.

Her legs spread slightly as his hand trailed past her belly. He reached between and began to gently play with her curls at the apex of her thighs. His head then bent down to take her nipple into his mouth. She moaned as he finally allowed his fingers to touch her, stroking back and forth lightly then deepening until the lips parted. He buried a finger inside of her, relishing her warmth and softness.

The young man from Kentucky peered up at her, still suckling on her nipple. He didn't think it was possible for her to look even sexier, but somehow she managed it. Her pupils were wide, skin was flushed pink, and her breathing ragged was ragged. He could feel her clit swell against his finger. Growing more and more heady from the feel of her lush body, he brushed it with the tip of his finger. Her head was thrown back as she gasped in the rapture of his touch. He could feel her hands holding his head against her. In response, Sam added another finger, sliding them in and out of her until she came, crying out something unintelligible to his ears.

After the waves from her orgasm subsided, Jubilee drew back quite suddenly. She straddled his chest and lifted his arms above his head. Surprised, he followed her lead, taking hold of the headboard and stretching his chest out. Lying on her side beside him, she ran her hand across his chest, circling his nipples with her fingertips. Teasingly, she leaned over and circled one with her tongue, the sensation of warmth and wetness sending tingles across his skin. Meanwhile, her hands made a journey across his abdomen, her leg stroking his gradually sliding further over until her knee between was his legs.

She released his nipple from her mouth, her sapphire eyes twinkling at him mischievously. Sam exhaled shakily, both enthralled and confused as to what was going to happen next. He watched her raise herself over him until she was staring deeply into his face. Then, wordlessly, she took hold of his cock and began to run her hand up and down its length. A low, guttural sound escaped his lips, her touch flooding his senses. He was uncertain as to how much more ecstasy his body could take before exploding from all this bliss.

His thoughts were pushed aside when she kissed him hungrily before lowering herself to take him into her mouth. He felt one of her hands adding to the experience, where one was massaging his balls and the other moved underneath him to slide a wet finger inside his anus. Upon this invasion, he was shocked and wondered where she had learned how to do that. However, his musings faded in a series of gasps and groans as she began to slip her finger in and out. All the while, her mouth was steadily pleasuring him. He found himself now moaning in time with her rhythm, spiraling higher and higher into the depths of excitement. There was no way any of this could be a dream. The feelings he was experiencing were tangible, reverberating throughout his entire body.

Sensing that he was close to the edge, she slid her finger out and drew her mouth away. Sam opened his eyes, perplexed and desperate for release. Coyly, Jubilee smiled at him and reached over the side of the bed. She grabbed her purse, which had been thrown on the floor next to the bed, and began digging around in it. Then she sat back up, triumphantly holding up a condom.

"Didn't think I came prepared, did you?" she asked, tearing the wrapping carefully. Her face seemed redder than it did before.

He reached a hand out to caress her hip tenderly. "This whole night's been full of surprises," he remarked, his voice thick with a hint of slurring. His head was still buzzing with the events that had transpired thus far.

Jubilee laughed, a raspy sound that sent shivers down his spine with anticipation. Then she took hold of his cock. Her fingers caressed it and his balls, but soon desire overtook her. Carefully, she put the condom on. Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, she mounted him. He grasped her hips as she slid herself gently onto his engorged member. Sam likened the sensation to oiled silk, so moist and cool where he burned.

With a great deal of restraint, he allowed her to move as slowly as she wanted. He was breathless, staring up at this beautiful vision making love to him. It was everything he dreamed of for so long. There was nothing he wanted more was to make Jubilee his and only his. Anything outside of this room and the two of them was insignificant. Lingering thoughts of the repercussions, other people's reactions were inconsequential. All that mattered was having her here with him.

Unwilling to wait any longer, he pulled her to him, pressing her breasts and belly against his chest. In a quick maneuver, he rolled her over onto her back. He began to pump his hips against hers. At the depth of every stroke, pleasure pulsed through every fiber of his being. Upon hearing her moans and cries, he obliged her by thrusting harder into her.

By now, she was gasping with every breath that flowed through her lungs. "Oh baby," she wailed, grabbing fistfuls of blanket and wrapping her coltish legs around his waist. "Yes..."

He felt himself on the edge. There was no telling how much longer he was going to be able to hold out. As much as he needed a release, Sam could not allow himself to reach that peak before her. He wanted to make their first time as special as possible.

Thankfully, she came rather quickly. "Yes!" she screamed, her limbs trembling around his lean body.

Taking her cue, he released himself too. He shuddered a few moments later. The groan he uttered against her throat muffled out her name. Panting for breath, they lay quiescent in each other's arms. The heat they had generated together permeated the air in the room, their sweat mixing together in a musky fragrance.

Gingerly, he slid out of her and wrapped himself around her, exhausted. "Are ya...?" he began, staring deeply into her sapphire eyes. His tone and the look etched across his features were searching desperately for some indication that she did not regret what just occurred. Somehow, his mind was collected enough to be aware of this concern.

She pressed her fingers against his mouth tenderly. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him. "I'm fine," she replied huskily, smoothing his straw-colored hair from his forehead. Then she added, "You were...incredible."

Heart racing with indelible joy, he managed a grin. He took her hand away and kissed her. "So were ya," he told her earnestly, yearning for a way to express further what he was feeling at the moment. Again, words and the means to put them together into meaningful sentiment were far from his mind. His alcohol-and-sex-induced fatigue was beginning to get the better of him.

She shifted against him slightly in an attempt to sit up. "I've got to use the restroom," she informed him, watching his pale eyes become heavy-lidded.

The Southern gentleman suppressed a yawn. He pointed to the doorway of his private bath on the other side of the room. "Right there," he told her, hearing the bedsprings creak as she rose. He leaned over and took her hand, pressing his lips against it. "Don't be too long."

"I won't."

Sam smiled and fell back onto his pillow. For the first time in what seemed to be ages, he was going to be able to sleep peacefully tonight. Adding to this wonderful prospect was the fact that the girl he had wanted for so long was now his. Fondly, he watched her traipse towards the bathroom. His eyelids felt heavier and heavier in spite of his attempts to force them open. Just before they closed and slumber overtook his weary mind, he could have sworn that as the moonlight illuminated her form, her hair looked red and curly.

Meanwhile, Kitty ascended the stairs, drinking a bottle of water she had grabbed from the kitchen. She was ready for a night in with the latest Harry Potter novel, wearing a long-sleeved, green shirt and navy, flannel pajama pants with sheep embroidered on them. Her wavy, brown hair was arranged in a loose ponytail with tendrils framing her face.

The recent college graduate was nearing her room when she heard a series of strange noises from behind one of the doors. Curious, she paused in her steps. To investigate would not constitute nosiness, she decided. After all, I live across the hall. If something's up, I should be concerned, right? That, and it might interfere with my sleep!

As she attempted to discern which room the sounds were coming from, her ears picked up on a door opening at the other end of the hallway. She turned her head to see who was approaching. Heaven forbid the person should be Emma Frost. The former Hellfire Queen was currently occupying the top slot of her list of least favorite people around the mansion.

Much to her relief, the blond telepath was not making her way down the hallway. As the person came closer, Kitty placed a finger to her lips. "Shh..." she whispered, still trying to figure out the source of the noises.

"What's going on?" Jubilee asked in an equally hushed voice, sapphire eyes round as saucers. She pulled nervously at the strap of her green tank top with blue trim, which was paired with blue-and-white striped pajama pants. Carrying a burnt-out light bulb in her hand from Bobby's room, she was in search of new ones from the utility closet downstairs. She was distracted from her task when she saw Kitty in the midst of what she construed as spying.

"Listen." Kitty tilted her head towards the direction of the sounds, which were muffled but increasingly louder.

Jubilee bit her lower lip, smiling impishly as if they had uncovered some naughty piece of information. While the noises could easily be heard at this point, they were still not defined enough to identify exactly what was going on. "What is that, dude? Better yet, where's it coming from?"

Kitty shrugged, but was intensely focused on discovering the answer. She frowned thoughtfully, the sounds becoming clearer with each passing second. Taking great care not to make her presence known, she crept quietly to follow the trail of noises. She suddenly found herself in front of the door from which they were emanating.

"Well?" Jubilee raised her brows expectantly. Her curiosity was certainly piqued. Given that none of the doors had any identifying markers to indicate their occupants, it was difficult to know for sure who was responsible for the guttural noises.

Kitty put the cap back on her bottled water. She leaned her head towards the door again, confident that she correctly deducted the individual. The young woman nearly jumped when she heard a deep groan. Her heart-shaped mouth formed a sly grin. "Looks like our friend from Kentucky got lucky."

Inside the Sam Guthrie's private bath, water splashed in the sink. After several seconds, the faucet was turned off. Grabbing a towel from the nearby rack, the occupant dried her face and hands. Slowly, she pulled it away and stared at her reflection. Gone was the image she temporarily taken on earlier that night, replaced by her true form—long, curly, auburn hair, four, thick horns, which matched the red in her skin and eyes.