Author's note: Thank you to kmj1989 for the review! It's going to get a little spicier, to be honest. But hopefully we're not crossing the line into smutty. I love how you mentioned that of course Hank drove Roxanne a little crazy with his gentlemanly behavior- but isn't that part of why we love him? Thank you to everyone who reads this! I hope you enjoy the sweetness in today's chapter, though some big events are coming up...

Say That Again

Roxanne wakes up the next morning feeling both well-rested and utterly content after the hardcore make out session of the night before. She had been starting to think that Hank didn't want her in that way, considering his lack of initiative in moving forward with the physical side of their relationship, but the heavy touch-fest of last night certainly put those worries to rest.

And then some.

She smiles as she remembers the heat in his eyes as he looked down at her, the passion with which he kissed her and the way he touched her so intimately. He was tentative at first, but gained confidence with encouragement. Hank McCoy is a quick study in all things, apparently.

Roxanne loved the way his body pressed hers into the mattress, how it felt to let her hands roam all over him as he took her higher and higher, until she fell apart from his attentions. Twice. She thought she was going to burn up in a fiery cloud and float away, it was so intense. To call him "eager to please" would be a definite understatement.

Hank may seem like an awkward nerd on the surface, but underneath that he has a sensual side that speaks to something deep within her own self. She looks forward to exploring that even more with him, encouraging both of them out of their shyness so they can share the passion between them without feeling self-conscious about it.

But where is he, anyway?

Roxanne can't sense him anywhere in the room or the adjoining bathroom. His bed is so saturated with his scent that she unfortunately can't tell how long it's been since he got out of it.

A little niggling anxious feeling passes over her as she sits up. What if he didn't want to face her this morning? Is he going to be all weird after what happened last night? Is he disappointed that she didn't return the favor? Does he regret it, or think they're moving too fast?

Roxanne still considers herself a novice when it comes to romance. She's only ever had one relationship that went anywhere before, back when she was an undergrad.

Michael Sawyer was a handsome journalism major taking the same history class for general education credits in her freshman year. She commented on the book he was reading before class one day- War and Peace- and he asked her out for coffee. This led to dinners and also the few parties she ever went to in college.

After a few months she felt comfortable enough to tell Michael that she was a mutant, though she obviously had some trepidation about it. Thankfully he didn't mind- if anything, he seemed even more enamored with her than before. He wanted her to wear her hair so her ears would be visible when they went out, but Roxanne knew how dangerous that could be and prudently declined. He argued with her to be proud of what she was, but she wouldn't budge. It wasn't just her life at stake- what if word somehow got back to Eagle Village about her? What would happen to Robert and Gramps?

Looking back, that was already the beginning of the end. But of course she couldn't see it at the time.

Michael seemed to fixate on her being a mutant, pushing her to proudly declare herself to their shared social circle. After the White House incident, he argued, it was safe to openly be a mutant now. There was nothing to be scared about. He'd even bring her being a mutant up in the middle of sex.

It made her feel more and more like he was no longer interested in her as a person. Just as this mutant plaything, an exotic trophy that he wanted to brag about to his buddies.

And he did exactly that.

He went behind her back and blabbed to his friends about her mutant status, and the only reason she found out was because a couple of them inappropriately propositioned her. They wanted a "walk on the wild side" with the mutant, they said. To see if it was any different than with a real girl, the way Michael claimed.

A real girl? Because being a mutant meant she was less-than-human?

Michael didn't deny it, though he claimed that it was all "locker room talk"- not how he truly felt. He tried to apologize, but she couldn't forgive him for betraying her trust.

Finding out that her first- and until now, only- boyfriend had done that to her was devastating to Roxanne. The whole experience had left her feeling rather wary about romantic relationships, especially with humans. Hank is the first man she's had any interest for since then, and a more cynical part of her is disturbed by the ease with which he's made a place for himself in her heart already. She's fallen in love with him so easily that it's been like breathing, and yet... she's afraid.

Is she going to get hurt again? He seems almost too good to true, and-

The door opens just as she starts to really sink into an internal crisis.

It's Hank, still in the pajama pants and t-shirt he wore to sleep. His hair is attractively disheveled, reminiscent of the way she buried her claws in it last night. He's holding a tray of food obviously meant for them both.

Roxanne giggles, secretly relieved that his absence was for such a positive reason. "Well isn't that a sight for sore eyes," she teases as he shuts the door behind him and approaches with the food. She can tell that there's a plateful of biscuits and gravy (her favorite breakfast food) on the tray, among other things. "A handsome man and my favorite breakfast? Are you trying to spoil me, Hank?"

He grins shyly as he sets down the tray in front of her. "Perhaps I am," he replies. "Good morning, Roxy."

Hank hesitates for the briefest of moments before leaning down and kissing her. She expects it to be a chaste good morning kiss, but instead his lips linger on hers. He kisses her until she's gasping for breath and the heat rises in her skin.

It's a struggle to regain some semblance of composure. "This is so nice of you, Hank," she says as he sits down on the edge of the bed, the tray of food between them. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he murmurs. His voice is as soft as velvet, rich and warm.

"I'm pretty sure the pleasure is all mine," Roxanne retorts, with a coy smile.

He ducks his head bashfully, which of course makes her want to shove the tray between them right off the bed so she can tackle him.

Oh, the things I want to do to you.

The eroticism of her own thoughts surprises Roxanne, because she's never thought of herself as a particularly sensual person. How ironic that a rather geeky scientist would be the one to awaken that side of her. But it's true- she wants him so badly it's almost a physical ache.

They chat as they eat their shared breakfast, though Roxanne feels the events of last night hovering between them. She can sense it in the way his breathing catches when she looks at him through her eyelashes, how her skin tingles when he smiles. His blue eyes are tender, vacillating between uncomplicated affection and heated desire as he gazes at her.

His obvious admiration makes her bold.

"What time is training again?" she asks when they're done eating.

"Not for another hour and a half," Hank replies.

She smiles. "Good," she says, and she slips off of the bed so she can move the tray out of the way. "We have plenty of time, then."

"Time for what?"

Roxanne steps closer, so she's standing between his legs while he remains sitting on the bed. His hands seem to automatically rise to slip around her waist of their own accord.

She reaches up to run her claws through his hair, noting how his scent changes, growing heavier in response. His pupils dilate and his gaze drifts to her cleavage, almost level with his eyes, before he quickly looks back up again.

Stifling a giggle over his unsubtle ogling, she leans in and nibbles on his ear. "Time for me to return the favor from last night," she whispers.

His hands squeeze her waist just a bit tighter. "Y-you don't have to," he stutters breathlessly. "I didn't do that on the expectation of recompense or-"

Roxanne silences him with a thorough kiss. "I know," she murmurs against his lips. "But I want to."

Her claws skim down his chest to the waistband of his pajama pants, going slow just in case he truly wants to stop her.

He doesn't- though he does seem to be holding his breath.

"Breathe, Hank," she reminds him as she kneels down in front of him. "Relax and enjoy it."

Hank lets out a shaky exhale. "A-as my lady commands," he replies.

Hank is still trying to catch his breath and compose himself after the heights of ecstasy Roxanne just brought him to when Charles' voice suddenly whispers in their minds.

I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, but we have an emergency mission to see to. Please come to my office immediately.

Roxanne bites her lip. "Good thing he didn't pop in two minutes ago," she mutters shakily.

Hank gives the feral woman a rather sheepish look. "We really can't be sure he wasn't politely waiting for us to finish," he replies apologetically.

She blanches. "Yikes."

"Indeed."

With that rather horrifying thought in mind, they dress quickly and make their way to the Professor's office, where thankfully Peter and Kurt are already waiting. This saves them the awkwardness of being alone with Charles and wondering how much he saw of what transpired between them mere minutes before.

The telepath makes no sign either way, and the other X-Men join them soon enough.

"The Secret Service have reached out to me regarding a possible assassination attempt on the President at his address on the White House lawn tomorrow," Charles tells them all.

"So move it inside," Scott says. "Problem solved."

"I did suggest that idea, yes, but the Secret Service didn't approve. They-"

"What if it rains?" Ororo suggests.

"Another sound idea, but I think their concern is catching these would-be assassins, not thwarting their attempts and leaving them free to try another day," Charles explains. "With that in mind, I think it best if Raven, Peter, and Roxanne go down to Washington to assist. You'll be embedded with the Secret Service, and-"

The telepath gives more details, but Hank can no longer comprehend them through his rising horror. The thought that Charles would send Roxanne on a mission- especially her first mission- without him is too alarming to truly grasp.

But what can he even say?

If he protests, it will seem as if he has no faith in Roxanne's abilities as an X-Men. And that's not the case at all- Hank knows she's completely capable of handling herself.

It's just... he hates the idea of not being there to protect the woman he loves. But he can't say this, because he knows that Raven is still looking for any excuse to kick Roxanne off the team, and he's well aware that his compulsion towards overprotectiveness will do the feral woman no favors in the shapeshifter's eyes.

So he bites his tongue and finds some semblance of a smile for Roxanne as he tags along behind her to their room so she can pack.

"I don't even have a suitcase," she muses as they walk upstairs.

"You can use mine," Hank offers.

She smiles gratefully and slips her hand through his arm. "Thank you."

"So... are you excited?" he asks once they reach their room. "Protecting the President. Your first mission as an X-Man, and it's a doozy."

Roxanne shakes her head and disappears into the closet. "No. I'm not nervous, either," she says, loud enough that he can hear. "I just want to get it done so I can get back home." She comes out, holding an armful of clothes. "What about you? Nervous?"

Hank answers honestly, without thinking. "The woman I love is going off to stop an assassination attempt on the leader of the free world without me," he says dryly. "Yes, I'm nervous."

The magnitude of what he just said doesn't immediately register for him, but it clearly does for Roxanne. The way she pauses, looking at him with wide hazel eyes, makes him realize it a fraction too late.

"Um- I'll get the suitcase, shall I?" he offers, turning towards the closet with his eyes cast down and the heat rising in his cheeks. He doesn't know what he would prefer right now- a gentle let down, or for Roxanne to completely ignore his slip. Does she realize how much power she has over him now, how she holds his heart in her hands?

But before he can move further, Roxanne drops her clothes and steps close enough to wrap her arms around his neck. "I love you too, Hank," she murmurs, her eyes shining up at him like stars.

He swallows thickly, almost unable to believe his own ears.

His parents told him they loved him but seldom when he was growing up- they weren't demonstrative individuals to begin with, and his mutation was such a constant source of shame for them both that they'd always emotionally distanced themselves from him, consciously or not. Hank is thirty-two years old, and yet can count on his fingers how many times his own mother and father said those words to him, their only child.

No one else has ever told him they loved him, until Roxanne.

He closes his eyes and reaches up to grip her wrists gently. "Say that again," he begs.

"I love you, Hank," Roxanne repeats.

He blinks back the sudden burning in his eyes and leans down to kiss her. "And I love you, Roxanne."