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Entry tags:
ficlet
Liz requested X-Men smut, any pairing. And so it's Scott and Jean, and a bit of angst...
They don't get to do this often (well, they do, but there are times that saving the world takes too much out of you, and oral stimulation only goes so far before exhaustion sets in). Scott has always considered himself pretty vanilla when it comes to sex. Not that Jean ever seemed to care.
Even when living in the future, in different bodies, it was more about speed and less about pleasure. And silence. Always silence because that extra noise could alert the patrols (not that the silence didn't gain its own eroticness after a time).
"Scott." a soft gasp, a plea for salvation.
He thought she was beautiful like this. Light and shadow and desparate passion. But then, he always thinks she's beautiful, even when covered in mud and caked with sweat.
It doesn't take much for him to shift and pull her above him. For a moment, she stares down at him with wide dark eyes. And then she begins to move.
This, he thinks, is what was missing for so long.
When she's close, he reaches between them and finds the right spot. Pressing, stroking, he pushes against her until she breaks above him, shattering into a hundred thousand pieces and breaking free of Earth's gravity (not that he wants that, because at some level, that means the Phoenix).
Then it's her turn to coax him, her eyes open and meeting his as she fucks him (and there's no other word for the long sharp strokes she slams down onto his pelvis) until he's crying out his release.
She's smug when she leans forward and kisses his chin. He finds that understandable, being a little smug himself.
Without speaking, they shift until they're curled against each other.
"Love you." Her voice is soft in the stillness of the room.
He tightens his grip on her. "Love you, too."
They don't get to do this often (well, they do, but there are times that saving the world takes too much out of you, and oral stimulation only goes so far before exhaustion sets in). Scott has always considered himself pretty vanilla when it comes to sex. Not that Jean ever seemed to care.
Even when living in the future, in different bodies, it was more about speed and less about pleasure. And silence. Always silence because that extra noise could alert the patrols (not that the silence didn't gain its own eroticness after a time).
"Scott." a soft gasp, a plea for salvation.
He thought she was beautiful like this. Light and shadow and desparate passion. But then, he always thinks she's beautiful, even when covered in mud and caked with sweat.
It doesn't take much for him to shift and pull her above him. For a moment, she stares down at him with wide dark eyes. And then she begins to move.
This, he thinks, is what was missing for so long.
When she's close, he reaches between them and finds the right spot. Pressing, stroking, he pushes against her until she breaks above him, shattering into a hundred thousand pieces and breaking free of Earth's gravity (not that he wants that, because at some level, that means the Phoenix).
Then it's her turn to coax him, her eyes open and meeting his as she fucks him (and there's no other word for the long sharp strokes she slams down onto his pelvis) until he's crying out his release.
She's smug when she leans forward and kisses his chin. He finds that understandable, being a little smug himself.
Without speaking, they shift until they're curled against each other.
"Love you." Her voice is soft in the stillness of the room.
He tightens his grip on her. "Love you, too."
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More people should write them. *nods*