Author's note: Thank you to kmj1989 for the review! Yeah, I left you on a cliffhanger. Sorry! Hopefully today's chapter makes up for that, though. It's definitely rated M towards the middle, so please be warned. It's spicier/ more citrusy than I've ever published before, but hopefully still tasteful.

Thank you to everyone who reads this, and special thanks to those who review!

Welcome Home

"Now don't those claws look familiar," the feral male says. His voice is so rough it comes out almost like a growl, whether he intends this or not.

Roxanne grits her teeth, determined not to show any sign of fear. "How's that?" she asks. "Do you know my father?"

This rattles him, she can tell. The hint of surprise she sees flicker in his eyes is the first emotion she's seen him express besides menace. "Your father?"

"I share my mutation with my father," she explains, though it's a struggle to get the breath to do so.

"Jimmy? James Howlett is your daddy?"

"Yes."

"And your mama?"

"My mother is- Remus Volpe."

There's no doubt about it, this shocks the scary feral man. His eyes widen, and then narrow. His grip on her throat tightens, constricting her airway even further.

"Romulus," he snarls, followed by a string of words muttered so furiously fast Roxanne can't catch most of what he's saying- especially because the edges of her vision are turning black and there's a faint roaring starting in her ears. She thinks she hears the words "manipulative bastard" and "to his own kin," but she can't be sure.

And then, just as she starts to lose consciousness, he simply drops her to the ground and takes off, leaving the White House grounds on all fours.

For a minute Roxanne lays on the ground, staring at the sky and gasping for breath. She's not an idiot- she knows that she just got very, very lucky and probably just escaped death or worse. She has no idea why that feral released her upon discovering her parentage, but she's certainly thankful to be alive and well.

The question is, why did he let her go? Did he know her mother and Logan?

And that name again. Romulus...

Roxanne sighs and rises to her feet. She feels a little stiff, but fine otherwise. Her wounds are completely healed, and she can breathe just fine.

She jogs back over to the stage, where some medics are already stitching up Peter.

"Is he going to be ok?" Roxanne asks Mystique, who's watching them work with crossed arms and raised eyebrows.

"He's fine," the shapeshifter replies flatly. "Flirting with the nurse, in fact."

Roxanne snorts.

"As for you..." Mystique rounds on the feral woman. "I told you to stay back," she hisses. "And you disobeyed a direct order. You-"

"I told you I wouldn't listen if I didn't agree with an order, Mystique," Roxanne reminds her. "So you can't say I didn't warn you."

The blue woman purses her lips angrily. "We got lucky they didn't seem that committed," she murmurs after a moment.

"I don't think it's because of that," the feral replies. A realization hits her- one of those gut feelings Gramps always put so much store by, premonitions that, according to her childhood memories, her mother got as well. "The assassination attempt was a diversion. They wanted to draw me out. That last guy was a feral as well, and for some reason he let me go. But... he was supposed to either kill me or take me somewhere."

"And how do you figure that?" Mystique demands. She looks wary, and for some reason the feral girl gets the feeling that she knows more than she's letting on.

Roxanne shrugs. "He mentioned Romulus- my birth mother's brother," she explains. "I don't know why he would want me, but for some reason... I can just feel it."

It's a little after midnight, but Hank is still in the lab. He already knows he won't be getting any sleep this night. Not after what he saw on television today- namely, his girlfriend using herself as a human shield for the President and taking several sharp projectiles to the back and stomach. He knows she can heal from such wounds very quickly, but it still sickened him to see her injured.

And then afterwards... Afterwards she shot the would-be assassin and chased down his cohorts. The live television feed cut off after that, leaving all of the news networks to chew over the same footage over and over again for the rest of the day and into the night. While Charles confirmed the X-Men were alive and well after the day's events, not having the proof before his eyes is eating Hank alive.

Roxanne- Huntress, the newest X-Man, Charles oh-so-kindly told the White House to release to the public- is being hailed as a heroine from all corners of the democratic world. And Hank is proud of her, he really is, but seeing her in action and being so far away was the most horrifying, helpless feeling he's ever experienced.

He sighs and puts his head in his hands for a moment, trying to collect himself. Maybe he should go to bed, even though he knows he won't sleep. Roxanne and the others are coming home on an early flight in the morning, and-

"Hank? Are you ok?"

He looks up to see his beloved standing there in the doorway to the lab. "Roxanne. How-? I thought-?"

"We all wanted to get back, so we caught a late flight home. Mystique is putting Peter to bed right now," she explains. "But you weren't in our room, so I came down here to find you. And here you are."

"Here I am," he agrees awkwardly. "Welcome home, Roxy."

The smile she gives him makes his stomach flip flop and his knees go weak. Whether she intended it or not, with just one expression he's already putty in her hands.

"It's good to be home," Roxanne says, looking at him through her lashes.

Hank silently reaches for her, beckoning her closer. She skips over to him and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a heated kiss that immediately sends the passion singing through his veins. Her lips are soft and familiar against his, her taste and warm sweet scent washing over him and calming every fear he had while she was away.

"I missed you, Hank," she murmurs against his lips, "I love you-"

Hank clutches her against him, wanting nothing more than to be as close as possible to her. He promised her a repeat performance upon her safe return to Westchester, and now he wonders if he's brave enough to deliver in the here and now. Perhaps she was joking with him, but there's only one way to find out.

When he tentatively steps forward Roxanne obliges him, taking the unspoken hint. She easily hops onto the lab bench, allowing him to step into the cradle of her thighs. Her claws trace patterns in his hair, sending shivers down his spine, while he boldly slips his hands under her dress to pull her hips flush against his. And then, acting with even more daring, he reaches between them to touch her-

She breaks away his mouth with a gasp. "Oh God," she moans, music to his ears. "Hank-"

He hesitates and begins to move his hand away. "I'm sorry," he says, "I-"

Roxanne stays his hand. "Don't you dare," she warns, pulling his lips down to hers for a hungry, soul-searing kiss that leaves him breathless and wanting.

He loves the way she clutches at his clothes and hair, as if he's the only thing holding her to earth. Every little sound she makes, every catch of her breath and the way her thighs grip his hips- Hank treasures every moment of it.

"Do you want me?" she eventually asks, reaching down to touch him through his pants.

An understatement, to be sure.

"More than electrons want to form a complete valence shell around an atom," Hank breathes.

She giggles. "I love you, Hank McCoy," she tells him fondly.

"And I love you, Roxanne Yazzie," he replies. Taking a deep breath, he hooks his thumbs around her panties. "May I-?"

"Yes, please," she says, and the way she looks at him, with eyes hazy with lust, and wanting, and love, is beyond his wildest dreams. He doubts he'll ever stop believing that Roxanne is his own personal miracle, come what may.

After he stuffs her panties in his pocket- it seems rather unsanitary to throw them on the floor of the laboratory- he holds his breath while she undoes his belt and pants, noting that her hands are trembling. For some reason this makes him feel better, knowing that she's nervous too.

And then-

"Oh my stars and garters," he half-gasps, half-moans into her hair when he sinks inside her, while his darling arches into him with a soft cry.

Hank tries to put love into every movement he makes, using her pleasurable cries and the way she digs her claws into his hair as his guide. The way Roxanne moans his name and encourages him on is a balm to his soul, knowing that he's pleasing her. He wants her to enjoy their lovemaking as much as he does, to satisfy her completely and prove himself as a suitable lover for this vibrant, beautiful young woman.

And satisfy her he most certainly does.

"Come with me this time, baby," she eventually whispers against his mouth, with a naughty nibble on his lip.

He shivers and pushes her back onto the lab bench, gripping her waist, while Roxanne wraps her legs around his hips. "As my lady commands," he murmurs, earning a breathless giggle out of her before returning to more pressing matters.

This time the finish line comes for them both simultaneously. Roxanne chokes back a loud moan as the waves of pleasure wash over her again, and despite his current human form Hank makes a rather bestial snarl as he follows her over the edge.

For a long moment neither of them move, trying to catch their breath.

And then Roxanne finally sits up to cradle his face in her hands. She rubs her nose against his in that feline way she has. "That was amazing," she announces, with a sultry chuckle. "Especially for our first time."

"Indeed," Hank agrees. He kisses her fervently, with every fiber of his being. "I love you."

"I love you," she replies, with a smile that could melt a heart of stone.

They remain like that, bodies still connected and kissing gently, until Roxanne suddenly pulls away and looks towards the entrance to the laboratory with alarm.

"Darling?"

"Someone's coming."

"Oh dear." The realization that someone could've walked in on them during their intimate interlude is almost too horrifying to contemplate. He was just too swept away by Roxanne, by the joy of their reunion and the magnetic pull he feels towards her-

Apparently the thought paralyzed him, because Roxanne springs into action on his behalf. She hurriedly puts his pants and belt to rights. Since there's clearly no hiding the flush to their cheeks and their breathless condition, she stays on the lab bench and pulls him down by the collar for a kiss. Now they merely look as if they're involved in a heavy make out session, and nothing more.

Only moments later a wolf whistle breaks them apart, gasping.

"Looks like these guys aren't wasting any time, are they?" Peter asks cheerfully, nudging a long-suffering Raven with an arm that's in a sling. The irony of his statement escapes neither feral. "Oooow."

The shapeshifter rolls her eyes. "He's very high right now," she explains, shepherding her companion forward into the laboratory.

He nods sagely. "Very."

"But he's saying he's in pain and refuses to go to sleep. Hank, could you check Peter's stitches, or are you too busy sucking each other's faces?"

Hank clears his throat and exchanges a sheepish glance with Roxanne, who flushes even more over their close call. "Yes, of course," he replies, though he knows his own cheeks are burning. "Please excuse us. Roxanne-?"

"I think I'll go shower and head to bed," she announces. She kisses him and hops down from the bench, hurriedly leaving the room after a self-conscious wave at the other two.

Hank tries to keep his expression bland and professional despite the knowledge that his lover's panties are still in his pocket when he turns towards the other X-Men. His face, he's sure, must still be bright red with embarrassment. "Now, let me take a look-"

It turns out that the White House doctors had stitched Peter's wound too tightly, leading to some tugging that would cause unneeded discomfort once the painkillers wear off more. Hank patiently listens to Peter's ramblings while he remedies the situation, and then escorts the speedster upstairs while Raven trails behind, arms crossed and warily watching every move.

"I need to talk to you about your girlfriend," the shapeshifter says once Peter is safely deposited in his own room.

Hank sighs- he had a feeling Raven would have a laundry list of complaints against Roxanne after their mission, and it seems as if he's once again been proven right. "Oh?" he prompts politely. "What's wrong?"

"She told me on the plane she wouldn't listen to orders, and then she didn't-"

Hank bites back a smile.

"-And it almost got her killed."

His amusement- and any lingering post-coital glow from earlier- completely vanishes. "What happened?"

"You saw the attack on the President, I'm guessing?" When Hank nods, Raven continues, "I told her to keep covering him, but she took off after the assassin's allies. One went down easy, but the other one got her by the throat. I recognized him, Hank. The guy's name is Victor Creed. He goes by the alias Sabretooth, and he's all kinds of bad news. He let her go for some reason, but she could've gotten her throat ripped out, easy. And then she says she has this feeling this whole mission was meant to draw her out into the open for some reason? Because of her uncle Romulus? Do you have any idea what any of that's about?"

"Roxanne gets premonitions sometimes," Hank explains slowly, thoughtfully. "Mr. Yazzie- the man who raised her- put great store by them. According to her childhood memories, her mother got them too."

He remembers what it was like to be inside Roxanne's mind like that, to see and feel her thoughts without filter or artifice. Charles tried to keep him focused on the memories he was meant to view, but it wasn't all he saw. It had been very intimate, even with that third obtrusive presence there, and honestly made his feelings for Roxanne even stronger than before that day.

"So if that's true we should assume that whoever bankrolled Sabretooth is after her for some reason, then," Raven muses. "Maybe she's right and it was this Romulus guy."

"Bankrolled?"

"Yeah. He's a mercenary," she tells him. "So how about you talk to your little girlfriend about actually being a team player, will you? She needs to listen to me, or she's going to get herself killed. I'm tired of dealing with this rebel act."

Hank winces. "I'll talk to her," he promises.

Except not immediately.

Because when he reaches their bedroom, he finds a completely naked and freshly showered Roxanne stepping out of the bathroom. The sight drives every other thought completely from his head.