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March Madness	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 6426 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or universe of X-Men: Evolution; Marvel does. I make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7: Double Teamed

“Just as I predicted,” Bobby sighed. “A fucking sweep.”
Beside him on the sofa, Jubilee made a sympathetic face. “That sucks, dude. I’d have thought the Celtics would win one game, at least.”
The two teens then sat in silence for a bit. Bobby had accepted Jubilee’s invitation to watch the Celtics’ playoff games together. Beginning with last Saturday’s Game 1, they’d watched together on alternating nights, culminating in this Game 4 on a Sunday afternoon that abruptly ended Bobby’s team’s playoff run.
During these games, Bobby felt a great deal of tension regarding his companion. Even though she wore fairly nondescript shirts and shorts, the young man couldn’t stop checking Jubilee out. Every stretch and shift and other move called to him on a primal level, stoking his passion in frustrating ways. He spent the duration of every game with a boner, just from having Jubilee around.
For her part, Jubilee felt just as frustrated. All the occasional brushes of skin on skin as they sat together, passing drinks and snacks and so forth, along with the obvious tent Bobby always pitched, had driven her into a frenzy over the past week. Not one game passed that didn’t leave her with dampened panties, and today was no exception.
“Poor baby,” she joked, turning toward her friend. “I hope you’re not too upset,” she teased further.
Bobby shrugged. “Not really. It was kind of a miracle they even made the playoffs, and I knew they were running into a little buzz-saw named LeBron James.”
“Still, if you need me to comfort you,” she intimated, “my offer still stands.” Jubilee surprised him by climbing into his lap. Through both their shorts, both teens felt their groins pressing together – Jubilee’s warmth against Bobby’s stiffness. They stared into each other’s eyes, breaths quickening.
“Jubes,” Bobby whispered.
The young woman ground her hips, a soft moan passing her lips. “I know you’re horny,” she murmured. “I’ve been horny all damn week. How bout we help each other out here?”
“We… we shouldn’t,” he replied. “It’d be breaking the rules, sorta, remember?” Against the wishes – really, the screamed protests – of the more primal parts of his brain, Bobby put his hands on Jubilee’s hips to hold her still.
Frustrated, Jubilee punched the seat cushion. “Dammit!” she swore. “I guess we really can’t be around each other until your month is up, then. It’ll just drive us both crazy.” With that, she climbed out of Bobby’s lap.
“It’s only another week or so,” Bobby reminded her. “We can make it.”
“Yeah, sure,” grumbled Jubilee. “I’m gonna go jill off. See you on May 5.”
“Thanks for watching hoops with me again,” he called after her as she stormed off. “At least you can masturbate,” he added grumpily, though more quietly. He arose from the sofa and headed for his twentieth cold shower in the month, thoughts of Jubilee with two fingers buried knuckle-deep in her pussy racing through his head.
As soon as she got to her room, Jubilee stripped down and started stroking her pussy. Two fingers soon slid into her soaked snatch, eliciting a lengthy, lusty moan. For the fifth time in as many nights, the horny teen pumped away inside herself until she sated herself. After her sixth orgasm, she finally fell asleep, waking just before dinner.
*****
Later that week, Bobby received a text from Amara, inviting him to play a game of pool with her in the rec room. Since he hadn’t spent much time with the Nova Roman princess since their fling last summer, he accepted. On the way down, the young man reflected on those summer nights which now seemed so long ago.
After Jubilee had left, seemingly forever, Bobby and Amara hung out a few times – chatting and flirting by the pool or in it, which led to a movie date or two, which led to dancing at the under-18 clubs in town, which led to some intense make-out sessions. As he’d told Jubilee – was it really only about a month ago? – it had culminated in a handjob from the lovely Latina.
At the time, it’d looked like they were going to hook up, but Tabby’s return to the Mansion and moving into the same room as Amara interfered. Both he and Amara agreed to let Tabby get re-acclimated to her new/old life among the X-Men without him all up in their business. By the time they thought about picking up where they’d left off, Jubilee made her return; rebuilding that friendship had since occupied most of Bobby’s time and attention.
I wonder if this is gonna be awkward for me, given that Amara is smoking hot and I get hard-ons with the slightest breeze these days, Bobby mused as he reached his destination.
When he opened the door and saw Amara leaning over the table to rack the balls, her own rack on display beneath a lavender tank-top, her dark hair falling in a wavy cascade over her shoulders and around her lively, vivacious face and dark, sparkling eyes, Bobby had his answer.
Amara noticed his entrance and beamed. “Long time, no see,” she greeted him with a warm grin. She looked upward thoughtfully. “That is the right expression, I hope.”
Bobby chuckled; one of her more endearing traits was an uncertain command of English idioms, a result of learning the language primarily through textbooks rather than through immersion among native speakers. Her native Nova Roman – a relative of the other Romance languages, like Roberto’s Brazilian Portuguese or the several Spanishes he’d often heard among Boston’s sizable immigrant population – also inflected her vowels in novel ways, giving her speech a unique cadence all her own. Not that Bobby thought of any of these aspects in such terms – he just thought she had a sexy accent.
“Nah, that works,” he answered with his own smile. “You’re right; it’s been too long.” His eyes flicked along her curves as Amara rounded the table in what could only be called a sashay. Clinging to her hips, a billowy, almost tropical skirt hung down to her ankles, deep crimson at the waist and fading to white above the hem. Bobby felt himself stiffen in his shorts and suppressed an eye-roll at his body’s overreaction.
Amara hugged him close, as she did with all her friends. He hugged back, a bit awkwardly. Due to their height differences, her head fit perfectly under Bobby’s chin as he tried to ignore her breasts pressed against him. With a giggle, Amara noted, “You are pleased to see me, I think.”
“Sorry… that… kinda happens on its own,” he apologized, half-truthfully.
The Nova Roman girl backed off a little and looked into Bobby’s eyes. “I like that I still do that to you,” she replied, her dark eyes sparkling, “even after this time apart.” Her café-au-lait skin, Bobby noticed, contrasted nicely with the lavender top, especially along her cleavage.
“I’m, um, sorry if you felt ignored,” the young man replied. “I wanted to give you space to rebuild your friendship with Tabby. I didn’t want to get in the way or make her feel like a third wheel.” He gave her a friendly smile.
Amara pulled away a bit further. “And Jubilee returned. Are you two…?”
“I don’t know. It’s complicated,” he interjected.
Before either of them could say more, Tabby emerged from the restroom on the other side of the rec room. “I thought I heard my name. Oh, hey Bobby.” The blonde gave him a saucy smirk and sauntered over to the pool table. The young man tried not to stare at her powder-blue shirt – seemingly a size too small, given how the fabric stretched across her bosom – emblazoned with the phrase, “Can’t handle me at my worst?” written in a sparkly, silvery, fancy font.
“Hey, Tabby. What’s up?” he responded, in a stilted fashion due to his confusion at her presence.
“I invited her too,” Amara explained, “so we could have a three-way?”
“Um… what?”
Tabby snickered. “Phrasing, babe. I think she wants all three of us to play together.” Realizing she hadn’t really corrected the innuendo, she added, “A game.”
By this point, Bobby had regained his footing, so he teased, “On the table? With the long sticks and the balls?” To his surprise, Tabby reddened. Holy shit, he marveled, did I legit embarrass Tabby with that one? I gotta tell Jubes about this later.
“Yes!” Amara answered enthusiastically. “Do you know any games like those?”
Bobby laughed. “I can think of a few,” he replied, though he now had to fight the mental images he’d summoned for himself with his teasing.
*****
Over the course of the next hour and a half, they played several games of Cut-Throat, a three-player game Bobby had learned growing up. Each player claimed five of the fifteen balls and took turns trying to eliminate the opposition by sinking their opponents’ balls; sinking the cue ball, or “scratching,” allowed one’s opponents to return a sunk ball to the table. Confident in his skills, Bobby always claimed 11 through 15, which let both of the girls shoot before him.
Amara was a terrible shot and had little practice, so she was always the first eliminated. She seemed not to mind, though, since she was playing for the company rather than the competition. She spent her time chattering about some of the rumors floating around the Mansion, sprinkled with occasional bursts of curiosity about the impending arrival of the English royal family’s newest member, a fellow prince or princess she might one day interact with.
Tabby, on the other hand, knew her way around a pool cue. She knocked down shots with practiced ease. At one point she mentioned having hustled men twice her age when she still lived with her dad; a melancholy expression passed across her features when she mentioned him. Both Bobby and Amara knew enough about Tabby’s rough home life growing up that they didn’t press the matter.
While these games were playing out, Bobby scouted his opposition. The back of Tabby’s shirt, for instance, had a black-and-white rendering of a reclining Marilyn Monroe above the rest of the quote: “Don’t deserve me at my best.” The blonde’s khaki capris stretched taut over her ass each time she leaned over to line up her shot. Amara’s billowy skirt, on the other hand, obscured the contours of what Bobby knew was a plump, shapely posterior; so the young man made do with the tantalizing glimpses of cleavage when the Latina was facing him.
While lining up his shots, however, it was all business. Bobby focused on cue and table and angles, able to tune out the distractions of his raging hormones for just a few blessed moments. He could ignore his two sexy companions and blot out lingering fantasies of all the girls at the Mansion he wanted to fuck.
Tabby shook her head as the last of her balls was pocketed. “Good shot,” she grumbled. “That makes… three to two, right?”
“Correct,” Amara answered. “I thought you had him that time.”
“I did, until I knocked one of my own balls in with my stupid boob. These babies really get in the way sometimes,” she complained, cupping them to adjust them. Tabby flopped into her seat beside Amara.
“You’re telling me!” the curvaceous princess agreed. “I shall also claim that my boobs are the reason I’m losing.”
Bobby chuckled and shook his head in disbelief that they were actually having this conversation with him present. “Hate to break it to you, Amara, but… that’s not why.”
“Not even if mine are the larger?” she asked.
“They are not!” protested Tabby. “I’ve tried to explain it, like, a zillion times!” She turned to Bobby and rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t get the concept of ‘sister sizes’ – bigger cup on a smaller frame and smaller cup on a bigger frame, same total boobie mass.”
Bobby blinked. “Really? So just saying the cup size —“
“— doesn’t mean anything by itself,” Tabby finished.
Bobby rubbed his forehead. “I… don’t understand.”
Tabby sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I’m a 34C; Amara’s 32D. We could, in a pinch, wear each other’s bras. But Jean is a 34D, and her bras wouldn’t fit either of us; the cups would be too big for me, and the band would be too big for Princess Stubborn.” Amara stuck out her tongue playfully in a most un-princess-like fashion.
The young man, imagination now firing on all cylinders, tried to process everything he’d just heard. “I understand how you know Amara’s, but how do you know Jean’s bra measurement?”
“Sirens’ secret,” Amara replied cryptically.
Bobby licked his lips. “What about Rogue?”
Tabby rolled her eyes. “I’m not telling you that! I just used me and Jean and Amara as examples!”
“C’mon,” Bobby pleaded. “Some of the fellas have a pool going. I bet twenty on F… or is it triple-D? Anyway, if I’m right, I win a hundred bucks.” He smiled charmingly. “Split it with you?”
The blonde shook her head. “I will tell you you’re wrong, though. And a jackass.”
All three teens laughed for a bit. Amara glanced at her roommate and best friend petulantly. “I still don’t think what you say makes sense,” she stated. To Bobby, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I guess I’d need to see them side-by-side to compare them,” he replied, assuming the ridiculousness of the suggestion would’ve been apparent and thus clearly a joke.
Amara looked over at Tabby. The blonde shrugged. In unison, they both pulled their shirts and bras up to their chins. Bobby stared in awe.
Amara’s jugs jutted proudly from her slim frame. Bobby had seen them before, while they were fooling around last summer, and he fondly remembered the way they’d felt in his hands as he fondled them. Her supple brown skin maintained a uniform tone across the considerable surface area presented, except for the milk-chocolate-colored nipples, which he remembered were quite sensitive – enough that she’d climaxed just from him rubbing them.
Tabby, on the other hand, was presenting a novel sight. Her breasts displayed the “mashed potato” look – scoops of pale, presumably delicious goodness created by the presence of her tan lines, where only the cups had apparently remained in place. Her reddish-purple, or purplish-red, nipples presented a stark contrast to the pale flesh. On the underside of the left breast sat an eraser-sized dark splotch, likely a birthmark or large, lone freckle.
The young man’s eyes darted back and forth between the two pairs of knockers as he looked his fill. “It’s, um, hard to say,” he finally answered, licking his lips. “Amara’s look a little bigger, but she’s also shorter and skinnier.”
Tabby glowered and lowered her shirt. “Did you just call me fat? After showing you my tits? Fuck you, dude.” She fiddled with her bra cups to situate them properly.
Amara, having lowered her shirt also, did likewise. “I’m certain he didn’t mean that.” Bobby shook his head to confirm her assertion. Tabby merely humphed.
Deciding to push his luck, the young man suggested, “Maybe if I felt them, I’d get a better idea —“
“Dream on. Not happening,” Tabby interjected huffily. “Let’s just play another game.”
“You two play. I think I’ve… had my fill?” Amara stated, clearly unsure if that was the right phrase. With the brilliant grin of the suddenly-inspired, she added, “Winner receives a kiss, from the loser or from me.”
“Can’t I have both?” Bobby asked, faking a confidence he didn’t feel. He thought he might not be able to focus with the sight of two fantastic racks dancing in his mind’s eye.
“Only if I can’t sink a single ball,” Tabby answered as she racked the balls for classic 8-ball, a fierce glint in her eye.
*****
Fifteen minutes later, the black 8-ball barreled into the pocket emphatically. Tabby smirked at Bobby and blew on the tip of her cue as if it were a smoking gun. Bobby shook his head in disbelief; he’d only managed to sink the 4 and the 6 in the time that Tabby sank all the stripes before finishing him off. “Looks like I win a kiss,” the blonde purred in her sultry alto.
Bobby shrugged. “There’re worse fates,” he replied, being in the midst of one as they spoke. As he’d predicted, the young man’s focus had been completely shot in that game, overridden by the allure of two exquisite pairs of tits he’d seen. The boner he’d sprung from that little display still hadn’t gone down.
Tabby snorted. “Who said I’d kiss you? Especially after you’re all ‘could be worse, hurr durr,’” she mocked him, dropping her voice about an octave at the end.
Amara perked up. “Will you kiss me instead, then?” she asked hopefully.
“Wait a sec,” protested Bobby. “I know Amara is bi, because she told me; but… are you?”
“Dunno,” answered the blonde with a breezy shrug. She sat down next to her roommate and snaked an arm around the Latina’s shoulders. “Wanna find out?”
The princess beamed. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now,” she admitted in a murmur as she leaned in.
Bobby watched, waiting, thinking that Tabby would pull away at any moment, or that maybe she’d just kiss Amara’s cheek, to demonstrate that she was bluffing. Part of him, though, hoped that she wasn’t. He’d never actually seen two girls make out before.
The girls’ lips pressed together. Guess Tabby wasn’t bluffing, Bobby observed with a smirk. Fond memories of his own experiences kissing Amara broadened his smile, especially when Tabby emitted a startled, muffled noise as her partner deepened the kiss. The shy-seeming princess, Bobby knew, became quite the passionate lover once lips were locked.
After watching them make out for several minutes, the young man realized that the girls may have forgotten about him. That’s okay, he thought, I need a cold shower anyway. Aloud, he told them, “I’ll just leave you two alone.” Still kissing obliviously, they made no move to show they’d heard him, so he slipped out of the room.
Some time after Bobby had left, Tabby and Amara finally broke the kiss, now panting with desire. “Whoa,” Tabby breathed, her cheeks thoroughly flushed.
Amara beamed. “I hope this means you are… like me?”
“Nah,” Tabby replied, and Amara’s face started to fall. “I mean, I don’t think I’d like kissing just any other girl. You’re a special case, babe.”
Amara perked up once more. She stroked Tabby’s cheek and suggested, “I think we should… head upstairs and explore one another more fully, yes?”
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, slightly longer for additional reader enjoyment! Just to give everyone an idea of where this is going, I've got 2-3 more chapters planned. With the way my work/school schedule works out, I'll have a couple weeks off until June starts, but then it'll be balls to the wall till the end of July. What this means for y'all is that if I can stay on schedule, a chapter each week, I should be able to have this story finished before I lose a lot of my usual summer writing time. From there, I don't know.
In the meantime, please let me know what you thought about this chapter via rating, review, PM, or posting on the discussion thread!
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March Madness