Mmm, smells good. Your hair. That’s a nice way to wake up. Hey there, sweet thing, don’t roll over to face me just yet. You just stay right . . . there. Just gonna curl around ya, wrap my arms around ya a little bit tighter . . . and reach down and . . .

Oh, hey, already good and ready for me, huh, Marie? What were you dreamin’ about, eh? That’s cute, them little sounds you make. Wanna hear some more of those. Just gonna . . .

Grrrrrghhh . . . ahhhh. So hot. So tight.

Best way to wake up, for sure. So glad ya got a handle on that pesky life-draining habit of yours. And y’know, the whole superhuman durability, unpierce-able, uncut-able skin thing, that’s pretty damn nice too. So glad we can spend the night together without killin’ each other now. So, so glad. Aw, fuck am I ever glad. Yeah, move your hips, just . . . like . . . ahhhh.

Yes, yes—damn, that’s a little too good. ‘Bout to go over the edge already, and I need ya there with me, darlin’. I’ll just press right . . . there—oh, heh, like that, huh? Yeah, you say my name, that’s right.

Grrrrrrghhhh . . . ooh, no, shit. Uh, ten nine eight seven six five—Hank in a tutu! Hank in a tutu!

Whew. That was close. Okay, baby, come on. Maybe if I pinch . . . yeah . . . and rub right there, not too rough . . . uh huh . . . and then a bite or two on your shoulder, gotta taste that milky skin . . . oops, sorry, too hard. Nah, it’s okay, ya like it, I can tell. Gonna do that again. Sends ya right over the edge, don’t it?

Arrrghhh you bet it does. I can feel ya . . . Ah, ah, shit, never felt anything that good in my life. Oh, I’m gonna—Grrrrrrrrghhh!

Pant. Pant. Pant. Ahhhhhhh, so nice.

No, don’t move, don’t roll over yet, never wanna leave—Aww, alright, fine. Good mornin’ to you, too, baby. But don’t call me sleepyhead. I like it better when you call me sugar.

Yeah. Like that. Like when you say, Get us some breakfast, sugar, and I’ll get ready for round two.

Yes’m. I love the way you think. I love the way you talk. I really fuckin’ love the way you look when you stand up and walk to the bathroom, swayin’ them hips like—Hey, focus. Breakfast.

Okay. Just gonna pull on some jeans, grab that t-shirt—ew, no, reeks. Musta been the one I worked out in yesterday. Oh well. Jeans is decent, right? Just goin’ to the teachers’ lounge, grab some grub, and get back to my girl.

Good, hallway’s clear. Might not even have to run into any—Fuck. My. Luck. The hell ya want, Cyke-o? ‘Course I ain’t forgot about the meeting later, y’arrogant little prick. April first. Put it on my calendar an’ everythin’. Yeah, I have a calendar. Got pictures of landscapes and shit. Wanna say somethin’ about it? And when have I ever forgot about a meeting? Well, ‘cept that one time.

And that one other time—but hey, that wasn’t my fault. Marie did this thing . . . with her tongue . . . total mind wipe. Couldn’t think straight for days.

You . . . are you laughin’ at me? What’s s’goddamn funny? Don’t walk away from me, bub. Hey! What the hell are ya laughin’ about?

Whatever. Fuckin’ weirdo. Probly Jeannie inside his mind, makin’em go nuts or some shit. Glad I saw the light on that one. Only one girl in this world I wanna get inside right now. And she is willin’ and ready and in my bed and what the fuck am I doin’ not in there with her?

Oh yeah. I’m huntin’. Providin’ for my mate. Heh. Yeah, makes me feel all manly and shit. Gotta keep them energy levels up, baby, ‘cause I ain’t near finished with you yet.

Let’s see . . . just gonna russle up some Cheerios, maybe a bagel or two. Coffee, for sure. Apple or banana? Hah, like there’s even any question whicha those I’d rather see’er pretty lips wrapped ‘round.

Fuck. Is it two sugars, one cream or one sugar, two creams? I can never remember it right, and she always gets all pissy, and that just ain’t conducive to mind-blowin’ early mornin’ sex. Oh, hey, Yellow. Yeah, get in here, gotta ask ya somethin’. Y’know how Rogue takes her coffee?

Wha—Goddamnit, what is with you people? The hell’s so funny? It’s a simple fuckin’ question. What, did I—nope, nope, my fly ain’t undone. Maybe my hair looks weird or somethin’.

Nah, my hair always looks weird. Hey, what’re you laughin’ at? Oh. Oh shit. What did I do? Why the fuck are you cryin’?

Oh. ‘Cause you’re laughin’ so hard.

Ugh, little yellow punk. I ain’t got time for this shit. Just gonna grab a handful of them little sugar and cream packets, put’em on the tray. Let’er do it herself. There. Now back to the room, ASAP.

Round fuckin’ two. Yeehaw, ride me, cowgirl.

Okay. ‘Ro just giggled. She just looked at me and giggled like a fuckin’ schoolgirl and hurried on down the hall. There must be somethin’ seriously fuckin’ wrong. Shit. Were we that loud last night? I mean, we kick up a ruckus sometimes, but I soundproofed the room pretty good. Huh. Better sneak on back, don’t wanna run into anyone else ‘til me and Marie figure out what this is all about.

Here. Back to the room. Phew.

Oh, nice, barely even got the door shut before my Marie’s all sidlin’ up to me, wearin’ that sexy smile, that I-know-somethin’-you-don’t smile, that I-know-somethin’-you-don’t-and-it’s-that-I’m-about-to-blow-your-mind-with-my-tongue smile. Hell fuckin’ yeah.

Hey baby, lookin’ awful nice in that suit. Didn’t realize it was your birthday. Heh. Heh.

Aw, whatcha gigglin’ about? Wanna play shy, huh? Like ya need a little persuadin’? Happy to oblige, darlin’, more’n happy. Lemme just set this tray down . . . there . . . and I’ll wrap my arms around ya . . . like that . . . see, nothin’ to be shy about. In fact, why don’cha slide on down an’ give little Logan a kiss good mornin’? He’s mighty happy to see ya.

That’s real cute, bitin’ your lip like that. Yeah, you’re real nervous, ain’cha, Miss I-Said-Fuck-Me-Harder-That-All-You-Got-Big-Boy?

Whatcha doin’ now? Why you touchin’ my forehead? Huh? Is that—

What the FUCK, Marie?! How did a smiley face magnet get stuck to my forehead?!

“April Fool’s, sugar.”