PART EIGHT: "Our boy from Long Island" and the midnight kitchen posse.

Hey there, another part at long, long last. Sorry about the delay, I needed to get back into "the zone" for this one. More fun and frolics for all. Low comedy and more aspersions on Kurt's dubious sexuality. If you thought my previous instalments were "sick and twisted" to quote one reviewer, wait until you've read this. What else can I say? More Reviews Please!

"Hi there and welcome back to the "Dating Gayme" our special gay episode of the "Dating Game" and here's your hostess with the mostest, Miss Jubilation Lee!"

"Welcome back everyone! Now just before that commercial break, celebrity gay super stud Jean-Paul Beaubier, otherwise known as that dishy superhero the Northstar, picked our boy from Long Island Bobby Drake!" exclaimed Jubilee done up to the nines in a silver drop waist dress with bright pink lilies in her hair.

"Erm, Jubes, what the heck are you doing here?" whispered Bobby as the studio lighting began to roast him in his skin.

"That's for me to know, and you to wonder, sweetheart!" whispered the hostess with the mostest as she turned to face camera six.

"And now," she announced her teeth glistening as if they were made of diamonds, "where are you two camp crusaders gonna go?" and she whipped open the silver envelope, "oh my! An all inclusive break to the sunny shores of Attabur Terru, that jewel of the Pacific, complete with a sea cruise to the verdant Krakatoa, the island that walks like a man."

And then Jubilee's smile froze as the VT took over and the man with the chocolate voice began extolling the virtues of the Pacific island tour.

"Waitaminute," said Bobby, "the new X-men fought the walking island years ago and sent it into outer space!"

Jubilee turned and once again smiled that perfect smile, there was a distinct "ping" as her teeth glinted in the bright lights of the studio, "Oh dahling! Don't worry! Mojo TV can get anything! It's all possible with the magic of television."

And then Bobby noticed that Jean-Paul was wearing the same fixed smile and glassy gaze. And so was Paige on the floor with a clipboard. And so was the Professor behind the camera. And so was Kurt the warm up guy.

And then Bobby screamed, "Arrrrrrrghhhhhh!"

And then he fell out of bed.

Laying there tangled in the sheets, Bobby looked up at the ceiling. The dreams hadn't stopped, they'd changed and he would give anything to have the old ones back. The ones where Jean-Paul danced around the room naked except for the sheen of baby oil covering his pale skin. The one with the swimming pool where they got up to lots of…erm… exercise. Bobby would even have settled for the one where the girls carried out a perfectly orchestrated panty raid on the guy's locker room and the effect was embarrassing to say the least. They were normal dreams. These ones, however, were fricking insane.

Bobby dusted himself off, grabbed a pair of shorts and made for the staff kitchen seeking that elixir of life known as coffee.

Unfortunately, things didn't get any more normal in the kitchen. Quite the opposite.

"Come on, now, Kurt, those shorts are fricking indecent. I'm only calling them shorts because I don't know what else to call them. You could come in here in a loincloth and you'd still be more dressed." Bobby walked into the kitchen to find his new boyfriend in animated conversation with Nightcrawler, who was wearing the shortest shorts Bobby had ever seen. Well, the shortest shorts Bobby had ever seen outside certain specialised publications that had somehow, unbeknownst to him, made their way under his bed.

Then Bobby made his way round to his lover's side, and, leaning on the back of his chair, discovered that Kurt if ever in want of gainful employment could easily find himself work with those selfsame magazines. Maybe not exactly the same magazines, thought Bobby, but I'm pretty sure there must be one with a title like "Studs in Spandex" and if there isn't, there will be after they see him.

Nightcrawler was wearing, as you might have deduced by now, a very short pair of gym shorts that just skimmed the top of his midnight blue thighs. The red silk contrasted brilliantly with the blue fur. They were also very, very, tight. Bobby began to feel a burning desire to sit down very quickly, preferably on the other side of the stout kitchen table. He looked down at his boyfriend, clearly great minds thought alike.

"I don't think so. They are sehr praktisch really. I mean, if I'm going to swing around the gym, I need something that gives me complete freedom to move. I mean, you worked in a circus once, didn't you Jean-Paul, you know the kind of work involved. And there really aren't any young and pure maidens about at this time in the morning." Kurt glanced towards the clock, it was four thirty in the a.m., a time that Bobby had hitherto believed not to exist.

"No, you're not wearing them because they're practical, Kurt, you have tights for that. You're wearing them because you're a little slut." Jean-Paul was not letting being in love get in the way of being his usual acerbic self, plus he had now been sitting very very still in a self-conscious fashion for nigh on twenty minutes.

Kurt's mouth opened slightly and he froze in shock for a moment, then his posture changed slightly and he ran his tongue over his sharp pointed front teeth. What had previously been painfully noticeable was now very noticeable indeed, from the tight shorts to Kurt's bare chest to the slight tilt of his slim hips.

"Robert, I think our little slut here needs to be taught a lesson, n'est pas? Do you agree?"

Bobby nodded mutely. He didn't really trust his mouth on this one.

There was a blur of movement and then Nightcrawler found himself hauled bodily over Jean-Paul's lap with his chest held firmly down onto the speedster's thighs. Jean-Paul waved his free hand in the air. Kurt hadn't teleported away because he was either too far in shock or he wanted to find out how far Jean-Paul was willing to go.

"Robert? I really think our little tease here needs a spanking. For his own good, you understand." Something dark glinted in Northstar's eyes and it thrilled Bobby. Here was the one person who didn't expect the sweet little Bobby act, the one person who could see inside those dark recesses of his mind and do all those things he desperately wanted to do. Bobby yearned now for some time when they would be totally alone, preferably in a bedroom, but that was not an absolute prerequisite, he'd settle for the potting shed, when he could tell Jean-Paul exactly what he wanted to do.

One perfect hand took his smile as signal and painfully slowly swung down onto those teasing shorts. There wasn't any reaction from Kurt. And then the hand swung down again slightly faster the palm flatter and Kurt wiggled in that vice-like grip. And then the hand swung faster still and a surprised squeal came from the blue-furred teleporter's lips.

Jean-Paul raised the hand again and paused, turned his head to one side, and said, "Do you want a go, Bobby?"

Bobby grinned. Then he heard the voice, "'Morning Bobby, 'morning Johnny, not disturbing you, am I? Just getting myself a six pack for breakfast." and Logan strolled up to the massive refrigerator, grabbed his beer and headed back into the corridor without a backward glance.

BAMF! Kurt disappeared only to reappear by the kitchen door, clearly he had miscalculated the distance in his… uh… distraction, and ran awkwardly into the corridor, "Logan, mein freund, I can explain."

The camp crusaders (Bobby had decided he rather liked the phrase) heard a growly voice come back, "Don't wanna hear it Elf, whatever you wanna do for kicks is fine by me, just don't do it in the kitchen, it's enough to put a guy off his beer."

"Aber…" Jean-Paul and Bobby didn't hear anything more; they were too busy laughing.