Post by Cascadia on Aug 12, 2006 22:46:40 GMT -5
Jean walked outside onto her balcony, looking up at the stars. From here she could still hear the jazzy music, the notes floating up to her from below in haunting tunes, only deepening her thoughts. Remy had returned, and Ororo and a few others had put on some records and thrown a small celebration, chips dip and soda strewn all over the common room.
She could hear the voices, weaving in and out of the melodies, laughter that hung in the air, the stars sparkling through the thick joy. It was contagous, everyone breathing in the happiness and raising the level of hysteria, gleefully shouting and cheering at utter nothingness. Jean was choking on it.
She knew why she'd slipped away from the party, she knew why she couldn't be down there with the smiles and laughter and music. She closed her eyes on the sky, as if blinding herself to the stars and moonlight would hide her farther in the darkness inside her. The cool wind on her face rustled her hair softly, and she could swear it was whispering his name. Scott...
The last she'd seen him was two weeks ago. About that. Maybe more, maybe less. She wasn't keeping close track. Why should she ? He'd been the one to storm out. She hadn't seen or heard from him since. Sure, she could use her telepathy, or ask the professor, but it wasn't her problem. If he wanted to throw a tantrum and walk out on her, fine. Let him act like a child.
She opened her eyes, staring into the endless blue-black of the sky. She took a deep breath, relaxing her mind, streching her arms out, her hands smoothing over the banister lightly. Suddenly, she sensed someone and spun around, her eyes darting over the shadows quickly. Nothing was there, perhaps it was just her wishing for something to comfort her. Something that was never coming.
She closed her eyes, lowering her head, feeling the weakness come again. She took slow, even breaths while the tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. And even in the silence of the night, it grew somewhat quieter, the deaf level of sound enveloping her while she wept, not for Scott, but for herself.
Logan watched from the shadows of her doorway, leaning against the wood frame of the french doors. He instinctivly reached to his pocket for a cigar, but stopped his hand in time. He didn't want to smoke in her room. He'd almost already gotten caught when she turned. Had she used her telepathy, he would have been. But she'd just looked away, and he continued to stare silently.
He cocked his head, sniffing quietly when he caught a different scent on the air. It wasn't the same as what he'd gotten his fair share of downstairs, joy and annoyingly hyper teenagers. No, this was faint, wafting over to him on the soft air and suddenly it was overpowering, so strong he almost didn't recognize it. And then there was the word, popped into his mind as he fought the urge to sneeze. Grief. Despair. And along with it came the even fainter smell of salt. She was crying, and just the sheer amout of her pain, was like a nasty creature, piercing his chest and ripping out his insides with it's razor claws.
Even though he'd just returned, he'd heard about the breakup, Scoot's disappearence. He'd heard he'd gotten pissy, and walked from Rogue. And Kitty. And Bobby. Storm, Jubes, and everyone else in the damn school.
Why should he care ? Everyone told him, and stood watching as they expected him to run up to her, and then what ? Pull her into his arms, sweep her off her feet, rescue her from whatever was driving her nuts up here alone in her room.
Like hell he would. He was smarter then that. She needed time. He knew that. But walking up on the way to his room, trying to escape the party, he couldn't help but be drawn to her open room like a moth the the flame.
Well are you conforting her now ? His thoughts reminded him. No. You're not. Just standing there like an ass. He shook his head, deciding now was as good a time as any to let her in on his presence.
"Jean ?" He watched her jump and her head snap up, the moon creating a crimson halo behind her. He could just make out the silver streaks staining her pale face, and felt the creature twist it's claws around once more. She caught herself, her shoulders rolling back, posture returning, sniffling once and turning away, hand quickly wiping the remaining tears from her face.
"Logan, I didn't know you were back," she said, her voice firm. He managed a smile, though her charade of strength only made him want to tear into something, the lack of emotion in her voice driving him farther form his sanity. He kept smiling, though all the while gritting his teeth.
"I always come back." She looked so small, so fragile. Even her unwavering voice, just showed how lost she was. His eyes slid over her face, almost gently, as if even his piercing gaze might hurt her somehow, break whatever dignity she was trying so hard to mantain.
She managed a small smile, but the green gems he loved staring into, while at the same time, hated fixed on him, stayed dull. What happened to your sparkle, Jeanie ? He thought to himself before giving in.
"What's wrong, Red ?" He crossed his arms, still leaning against the doorframe. Christ, he could use a smoke. Her face fell slightly, eyes growing misty once more.
"How'd you know ?"
"This is a high school." He smiled wryly, trying to lighten her mood some, get those full lips to turn up.
"So you've talked to Rogue some." She nodded, as if this would change the subject from her breakdown. He raised an eyebrow, catching her desperation to get his eyes off her, train his focus elsewhere. He smirked, letting it slide slightly, deciding her comfort was more important then details right now.
"And Ice, and Jube, and Cajun -"
"Alright, I get it," she snapped, though the corners of her lips raised ever so slightly and he smelled her relief on the air. Her muscles relaxed some. He let the silence linger, growing longer but not awkward, just quiet companionship. Finally he replied quietly.
"Why were you crying, Jean ?" His eyes raised from the balcony floor to her eyes, which unexpectedly met his briefly, before returning to the dark sky.
"I don't know." Her voice came lightly, almost as faint as her scent, carried off on the breeze.
"Was it Scooter ?" He pushed himself up from the wood, arms still crossed and walked farther onto the balcony, his eyes following hers to the stars as if his questions' answers might be found there.
"No, it wasn't...him." She paused, refusing to say his name. He smiled, he ain't the only one 'round here who's too stubborn for their own good. He let silence settle on them again, feeling her holding back, and waited. Finally she continued, "I knew it was coming." He remained quiet, listening. "I've known for a while. It was obvious, everyone saw it." She said the last with a face, as if disgusted she let it happen anyway. "His heart wasn't in it. All he cared about was work, and himself, and I -" she broke off, and he heard her swallow, her teeth clench. He felt as if he should say something, comfort her in a way, but kept his mouth shut, knowing that she just needed to get started, and rant for a while.
Looking away, he smelled salt on the air again and gripped the banister, forcing himself not to reach for her. Her sob drew him from his urges, and he turned to look at her as her anger and frustration spilled over.
"God I was so stupid," she let out another sob, his eyes moving over her sadly as it wracked through her thin frame.
"Hey," he said gruffly, pulling her into a hug, her hands reaching for him deperately, clutching his shirt.
"I kept telling myself it would work out, he would change, he would no - notice how I was feeling," she shook her head vigorously against his chest, tears soaking into his shirt. "I was lying to myself. I was lying. I knew he was going to leave me. And I kept telling myself otherwise."
Logan lowered his eyes to the top of her head. The creature had buried it's hand in his heart, and was now twisting his soul. She remained quiet for a time, and he knew that was all of a breakdown she'd allow, her pride broken enough. He couldn't force anymore, not right now. He glanced down at her, expecting tears, but she looked more angry then pained. Well, maybe he could push a little.
"What did he say when he left ?" Jean let out an indignant snort.
"Don't test me, Logan." She shook her head and pulled gently from his arms, turning to stare out over the grounds. He looked away, tapping his fingers on the banister. Her tone had given him enough answers. Not to his question persay, but whether or not now was the time.
"What did he say before he walked out ? He yell at you ? Tell you to kiss his ass ? Cyke finally grow some balls ?" Logan turned to face her, a smirk playing on his lips, smelling her anger pulse on the air. She opened her mouth and snapped it shut instantly, obviously thinking better of the two-word responce she'd been ready to spew at him. Taking a quick breath, she tilted her head, replying
"Would you just drop it Logan ? Please ?"
"So he just said something. Didn't hit you. That's good, then I'd have to kill him," he said roughly, pulling the cigar out of his pocket, giving into his urge. Putting the tip in his mouth, he reached for his lighter.
"Logan, why ?" Her hands dropped off the banister as she turned to face him fully. "Why ? Why do you have to start this now ?" Her voice was pleading, but when he turned to look back at her, he paused, smiling. Her eyes were shining again, that fire he loved seeing burn ignited once more.
"So what'd he say, Red ? What'd he say that's got you hidin' up here alone ?" Jean let her shoulders drop, either astounded by his courage to stand here and defy her, or annoyed at his stubborness to stand here and defy her. She looked him over, finally taking a deep breath.
"He told me I was putting too much pressure on him. I asked, what had I ever done to make his life so difficult, and he said," she paused, closing her eyes, as if recalling his face to properly remember his voice and words. "He said, 'by wanting me to be what I'm not'." Her eyes reopened and stared over the trees. "Then he left." Logan took a puff, the end of the cigar finally lit, and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
"That wasn't it." Jean turned her face to him again, her frustration seen plain on her face.
"How do you know, Logan ? How the fuck would you know ?" He glanced up, startled by her choice of words and looked her over once more, raising an eyebrow. Looking back down at his lighter, he flipped it open and lit it, snapping it shut again and returning it to his pocket, shrugging slightly, speaking with the cigar hanging on his lips.
"Cause, it that were all, ya wouldn't be standin' here cryin', darlin'." Jean stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open, and finally realized, shutting her mouth and taking another breath, composing herself.
"Well, as fun as this chat has been, I'm going to bed." She turned from him, walking into her bedroom. He smirked, and a moment later, she returned. "You want to get out so I can go to bed ?" He chuckled lightly, ashing his cigar and looking around, grimacing before putting it out on his hand again. Wincing, he shook off the pain and pocketed his smoke. Turning around, and walked past her, pausing in her doorway. He looked back, catching her eyes.
"Tomorrow you're gonna tell me what he said that upset you so much, Jeannie." He spoke to her gently, wanting to leave on a good note, not with her pissed at him. Jean scowled in the dark. "You know, you don't look too pretty with a glare like that on your face." He walked back in, giving her a sympathetic smile and pulled her into a loose hug.
Jean shook her head, and he smelled salt on the air again. He heard her sniffle once, and a muttered 'oh Logan,' and clutched her tighter. He looked behind her, about to lower her to the bed, but she'd avoided it. Confused, he stroked her hair, not wanting to bother her, but unable to stop himself from asking.
"When's the last time you and Cyke slept together ?" He grimaced, not wanting an answer to this, but sensed it was part of the problem. Jean crying harder into his shirt answered his question good enough for his tastes. He'd rather not have a definate date anyway.
Walking her over to the bed, he lowered her until she was sitting on the edge, himself kneeling before her. "What'd he say, Jean ?" He was almost pleading now, and he frowned, knowing that no other woman brought him to his knees like she did, now quite literally.
She raised her hands to her face, as if ashamed by her tears. He understood completely, having felt weak in her presence before. Gently, he pulled her hands from her, holding them in his own rough ones. "What did he say ?" He repeated himself, hearing her calm down a little.
"He said I 'didn't please him.' I put too much pressure on him, and was 'never there to relieve some.' I wasn't good enough." She cried pitifully, and Logan sighed.
"You think he meant, you didn't please him...in bed ?" God he hated where this was going. He had no need to hear of whatever sex story was backing this. He remembered the one time he'd been here for their fucking.
He was in his room, trying to relax when he'd heard them whisper. Wasn't like he was eavesdropping, he couldn't help but hear them. Two rooms down with his senses - it was like they were yelling in his ears. They'd seemed fine then, jumping into bed. He'd grabbed the pillow, ready to suffocate himself rather then listen in.
But it didn't help. He heard every slip of silk over her buttons until ol' one eye had her shirt off, and then dropped it on the floor. Next came her bra, and his shirt. Belt, pants, his boxers, her panties, and then the kissing. He could pratically taste both of them on the air, their sweat and sex making it hard for him to breath.
He'd closed his eyes, begged silently for it to stop, his heart thumping painfully inside his chest, hearing her whimper for him, but they'd kept going. And he had the pleasure of hearing every squeak of the bed frame, every quiet entrence, as Scott pushed into her, every moan and cry torn from her throat.
It took all his self control to leave that night. He'd walked past the room, after they'd finished of course, it would be insane to walk by while they were going at it, and left. He'd had to, or else he would have torn Cyke's dick off, probably shoved it down his throat, and claimed the female for his own. But that was Wolverine speaking for him. And Logan, the cage of the beast he had to keep locked away, had forced himself out, away from the asshole who'd claimed the woman for his own.
The woman who sat before him now, her hands clutched in his. Swallowing, Logan pushed back the painful memories. Willing his voice to remain steady, he spoke to her.
"Jean, if he said you weren't woman enough for him.." he was grasping at straws. What do you say to someone who feels unimportant ? How do you remind them just how much they mean ? Logan looked away, still trying to find words. Letting out a breath, he shook his head. Fuck it.
(( Alright it said I was out of room. The rest is pure smut, so if you're horny look for part two. ))
She could hear the voices, weaving in and out of the melodies, laughter that hung in the air, the stars sparkling through the thick joy. It was contagous, everyone breathing in the happiness and raising the level of hysteria, gleefully shouting and cheering at utter nothingness. Jean was choking on it.
She knew why she'd slipped away from the party, she knew why she couldn't be down there with the smiles and laughter and music. She closed her eyes on the sky, as if blinding herself to the stars and moonlight would hide her farther in the darkness inside her. The cool wind on her face rustled her hair softly, and she could swear it was whispering his name. Scott...
The last she'd seen him was two weeks ago. About that. Maybe more, maybe less. She wasn't keeping close track. Why should she ? He'd been the one to storm out. She hadn't seen or heard from him since. Sure, she could use her telepathy, or ask the professor, but it wasn't her problem. If he wanted to throw a tantrum and walk out on her, fine. Let him act like a child.
She opened her eyes, staring into the endless blue-black of the sky. She took a deep breath, relaxing her mind, streching her arms out, her hands smoothing over the banister lightly. Suddenly, she sensed someone and spun around, her eyes darting over the shadows quickly. Nothing was there, perhaps it was just her wishing for something to comfort her. Something that was never coming.
She closed her eyes, lowering her head, feeling the weakness come again. She took slow, even breaths while the tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. And even in the silence of the night, it grew somewhat quieter, the deaf level of sound enveloping her while she wept, not for Scott, but for herself.
Logan watched from the shadows of her doorway, leaning against the wood frame of the french doors. He instinctivly reached to his pocket for a cigar, but stopped his hand in time. He didn't want to smoke in her room. He'd almost already gotten caught when she turned. Had she used her telepathy, he would have been. But she'd just looked away, and he continued to stare silently.
He cocked his head, sniffing quietly when he caught a different scent on the air. It wasn't the same as what he'd gotten his fair share of downstairs, joy and annoyingly hyper teenagers. No, this was faint, wafting over to him on the soft air and suddenly it was overpowering, so strong he almost didn't recognize it. And then there was the word, popped into his mind as he fought the urge to sneeze. Grief. Despair. And along with it came the even fainter smell of salt. She was crying, and just the sheer amout of her pain, was like a nasty creature, piercing his chest and ripping out his insides with it's razor claws.
Even though he'd just returned, he'd heard about the breakup, Scoot's disappearence. He'd heard he'd gotten pissy, and walked from Rogue. And Kitty. And Bobby. Storm, Jubes, and everyone else in the damn school.
Why should he care ? Everyone told him, and stood watching as they expected him to run up to her, and then what ? Pull her into his arms, sweep her off her feet, rescue her from whatever was driving her nuts up here alone in her room.
Like hell he would. He was smarter then that. She needed time. He knew that. But walking up on the way to his room, trying to escape the party, he couldn't help but be drawn to her open room like a moth the the flame.
Well are you conforting her now ? His thoughts reminded him. No. You're not. Just standing there like an ass. He shook his head, deciding now was as good a time as any to let her in on his presence.
"Jean ?" He watched her jump and her head snap up, the moon creating a crimson halo behind her. He could just make out the silver streaks staining her pale face, and felt the creature twist it's claws around once more. She caught herself, her shoulders rolling back, posture returning, sniffling once and turning away, hand quickly wiping the remaining tears from her face.
"Logan, I didn't know you were back," she said, her voice firm. He managed a smile, though her charade of strength only made him want to tear into something, the lack of emotion in her voice driving him farther form his sanity. He kept smiling, though all the while gritting his teeth.
"I always come back." She looked so small, so fragile. Even her unwavering voice, just showed how lost she was. His eyes slid over her face, almost gently, as if even his piercing gaze might hurt her somehow, break whatever dignity she was trying so hard to mantain.
She managed a small smile, but the green gems he loved staring into, while at the same time, hated fixed on him, stayed dull. What happened to your sparkle, Jeanie ? He thought to himself before giving in.
"What's wrong, Red ?" He crossed his arms, still leaning against the doorframe. Christ, he could use a smoke. Her face fell slightly, eyes growing misty once more.
"How'd you know ?"
"This is a high school." He smiled wryly, trying to lighten her mood some, get those full lips to turn up.
"So you've talked to Rogue some." She nodded, as if this would change the subject from her breakdown. He raised an eyebrow, catching her desperation to get his eyes off her, train his focus elsewhere. He smirked, letting it slide slightly, deciding her comfort was more important then details right now.
"And Ice, and Jube, and Cajun -"
"Alright, I get it," she snapped, though the corners of her lips raised ever so slightly and he smelled her relief on the air. Her muscles relaxed some. He let the silence linger, growing longer but not awkward, just quiet companionship. Finally he replied quietly.
"Why were you crying, Jean ?" His eyes raised from the balcony floor to her eyes, which unexpectedly met his briefly, before returning to the dark sky.
"I don't know." Her voice came lightly, almost as faint as her scent, carried off on the breeze.
"Was it Scooter ?" He pushed himself up from the wood, arms still crossed and walked farther onto the balcony, his eyes following hers to the stars as if his questions' answers might be found there.
"No, it wasn't...him." She paused, refusing to say his name. He smiled, he ain't the only one 'round here who's too stubborn for their own good. He let silence settle on them again, feeling her holding back, and waited. Finally she continued, "I knew it was coming." He remained quiet, listening. "I've known for a while. It was obvious, everyone saw it." She said the last with a face, as if disgusted she let it happen anyway. "His heart wasn't in it. All he cared about was work, and himself, and I -" she broke off, and he heard her swallow, her teeth clench. He felt as if he should say something, comfort her in a way, but kept his mouth shut, knowing that she just needed to get started, and rant for a while.
Looking away, he smelled salt on the air again and gripped the banister, forcing himself not to reach for her. Her sob drew him from his urges, and he turned to look at her as her anger and frustration spilled over.
"God I was so stupid," she let out another sob, his eyes moving over her sadly as it wracked through her thin frame.
"Hey," he said gruffly, pulling her into a hug, her hands reaching for him deperately, clutching his shirt.
"I kept telling myself it would work out, he would change, he would no - notice how I was feeling," she shook her head vigorously against his chest, tears soaking into his shirt. "I was lying to myself. I was lying. I knew he was going to leave me. And I kept telling myself otherwise."
Logan lowered his eyes to the top of her head. The creature had buried it's hand in his heart, and was now twisting his soul. She remained quiet for a time, and he knew that was all of a breakdown she'd allow, her pride broken enough. He couldn't force anymore, not right now. He glanced down at her, expecting tears, but she looked more angry then pained. Well, maybe he could push a little.
"What did he say when he left ?" Jean let out an indignant snort.
"Don't test me, Logan." She shook her head and pulled gently from his arms, turning to stare out over the grounds. He looked away, tapping his fingers on the banister. Her tone had given him enough answers. Not to his question persay, but whether or not now was the time.
"What did he say before he walked out ? He yell at you ? Tell you to kiss his ass ? Cyke finally grow some balls ?" Logan turned to face her, a smirk playing on his lips, smelling her anger pulse on the air. She opened her mouth and snapped it shut instantly, obviously thinking better of the two-word responce she'd been ready to spew at him. Taking a quick breath, she tilted her head, replying
"Would you just drop it Logan ? Please ?"
"So he just said something. Didn't hit you. That's good, then I'd have to kill him," he said roughly, pulling the cigar out of his pocket, giving into his urge. Putting the tip in his mouth, he reached for his lighter.
"Logan, why ?" Her hands dropped off the banister as she turned to face him fully. "Why ? Why do you have to start this now ?" Her voice was pleading, but when he turned to look back at her, he paused, smiling. Her eyes were shining again, that fire he loved seeing burn ignited once more.
"So what'd he say, Red ? What'd he say that's got you hidin' up here alone ?" Jean let her shoulders drop, either astounded by his courage to stand here and defy her, or annoyed at his stubborness to stand here and defy her. She looked him over, finally taking a deep breath.
"He told me I was putting too much pressure on him. I asked, what had I ever done to make his life so difficult, and he said," she paused, closing her eyes, as if recalling his face to properly remember his voice and words. "He said, 'by wanting me to be what I'm not'." Her eyes reopened and stared over the trees. "Then he left." Logan took a puff, the end of the cigar finally lit, and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
"That wasn't it." Jean turned her face to him again, her frustration seen plain on her face.
"How do you know, Logan ? How the fuck would you know ?" He glanced up, startled by her choice of words and looked her over once more, raising an eyebrow. Looking back down at his lighter, he flipped it open and lit it, snapping it shut again and returning it to his pocket, shrugging slightly, speaking with the cigar hanging on his lips.
"Cause, it that were all, ya wouldn't be standin' here cryin', darlin'." Jean stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open, and finally realized, shutting her mouth and taking another breath, composing herself.
"Well, as fun as this chat has been, I'm going to bed." She turned from him, walking into her bedroom. He smirked, and a moment later, she returned. "You want to get out so I can go to bed ?" He chuckled lightly, ashing his cigar and looking around, grimacing before putting it out on his hand again. Wincing, he shook off the pain and pocketed his smoke. Turning around, and walked past her, pausing in her doorway. He looked back, catching her eyes.
"Tomorrow you're gonna tell me what he said that upset you so much, Jeannie." He spoke to her gently, wanting to leave on a good note, not with her pissed at him. Jean scowled in the dark. "You know, you don't look too pretty with a glare like that on your face." He walked back in, giving her a sympathetic smile and pulled her into a loose hug.
Jean shook her head, and he smelled salt on the air again. He heard her sniffle once, and a muttered 'oh Logan,' and clutched her tighter. He looked behind her, about to lower her to the bed, but she'd avoided it. Confused, he stroked her hair, not wanting to bother her, but unable to stop himself from asking.
"When's the last time you and Cyke slept together ?" He grimaced, not wanting an answer to this, but sensed it was part of the problem. Jean crying harder into his shirt answered his question good enough for his tastes. He'd rather not have a definate date anyway.
Walking her over to the bed, he lowered her until she was sitting on the edge, himself kneeling before her. "What'd he say, Jean ?" He was almost pleading now, and he frowned, knowing that no other woman brought him to his knees like she did, now quite literally.
She raised her hands to her face, as if ashamed by her tears. He understood completely, having felt weak in her presence before. Gently, he pulled her hands from her, holding them in his own rough ones. "What did he say ?" He repeated himself, hearing her calm down a little.
"He said I 'didn't please him.' I put too much pressure on him, and was 'never there to relieve some.' I wasn't good enough." She cried pitifully, and Logan sighed.
"You think he meant, you didn't please him...in bed ?" God he hated where this was going. He had no need to hear of whatever sex story was backing this. He remembered the one time he'd been here for their fucking.
He was in his room, trying to relax when he'd heard them whisper. Wasn't like he was eavesdropping, he couldn't help but hear them. Two rooms down with his senses - it was like they were yelling in his ears. They'd seemed fine then, jumping into bed. He'd grabbed the pillow, ready to suffocate himself rather then listen in.
But it didn't help. He heard every slip of silk over her buttons until ol' one eye had her shirt off, and then dropped it on the floor. Next came her bra, and his shirt. Belt, pants, his boxers, her panties, and then the kissing. He could pratically taste both of them on the air, their sweat and sex making it hard for him to breath.
He'd closed his eyes, begged silently for it to stop, his heart thumping painfully inside his chest, hearing her whimper for him, but they'd kept going. And he had the pleasure of hearing every squeak of the bed frame, every quiet entrence, as Scott pushed into her, every moan and cry torn from her throat.
It took all his self control to leave that night. He'd walked past the room, after they'd finished of course, it would be insane to walk by while they were going at it, and left. He'd had to, or else he would have torn Cyke's dick off, probably shoved it down his throat, and claimed the female for his own. But that was Wolverine speaking for him. And Logan, the cage of the beast he had to keep locked away, had forced himself out, away from the asshole who'd claimed the woman for his own.
The woman who sat before him now, her hands clutched in his. Swallowing, Logan pushed back the painful memories. Willing his voice to remain steady, he spoke to her.
"Jean, if he said you weren't woman enough for him.." he was grasping at straws. What do you say to someone who feels unimportant ? How do you remind them just how much they mean ? Logan looked away, still trying to find words. Letting out a breath, he shook his head. Fuck it.
(( Alright it said I was out of room. The rest is pure smut, so if you're horny look for part two. ))