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seriousficTitle: Findings
Fandom: Wolverine And The X-Men
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,275
Characters/Pairings: Emma/Scott, mention of Scott/Jean
Timeline: Takes place after Overflow
Summary: Scott needs someone to find Jean. That’s all he needs Emma for.
Emma had known Scott was coming for her the same way some people could feel storms coming. He’d been in Arizona, the lone wolf, taking one of the solo assignments that he preferred. (Emma wondered if what he really wanted wasn’t to partner with her. She’d have to check next time he let her into his mind.)
Scott was thinking of her and that charming gumbo of loathing and lust brewed hotter the closer he got. Relishing the chance to be ‘surprised’ by him (he thought telepathy was all proximity, just because that’s how it was for Jean), she threw on a particularly daring nightie and took a catnap.
It was midnight when his boiling-over feelings awoke her. She rolled onto her side and laid her head against the pillow with a smile. He was in the mansion. In no time at all, Scott was raging against the door like a man possessed.
“It’s open,” Emma called out with a false yawn, and then there he was.
She could tell he hadn’t slept since she’d seen him last. The insomnia didn’t weaken him; on the contrary, it seemed to heighten the strength and raw force that he could only express through his eyes. He’d stopped shaving again, and smelled of sweat and adrenaline rather than the lavender soap Jean had once bought for him, that he now bought for himself. His showers had been brief and unhygienic, pale shadows of memories which had suds and bubbles and toweling off and Jean.
“Can’t sleep? Need a lullaby?” She threw the sheets off her body, enjoyed the stab of desire in his loins almost as much as the hot guilt that followed it. “A few drops from Auntie Emma and you can have sweet dreams until dawn. Or not-so-sweet; your choice.”
“I didn’t come here for that.”
“Then what did you come to me for? You’re interrupting my beauty sleep. Not that I need it, clearly…”
He shut the door behind him. Without even the low light of the hallway coming into the room, the greatest source of illumination was his blazing visor. “I want you to run another scan for Jean.”
“That would make, what, five? You want a nice round number before you accept the glaringly obvious? I have better things to do.”
“Like what?”
Emma got out of bed, letting him strain those red eyes watching her blade through the darkness. She put on a nightgown, but didn’t tie it very tight. “My home theatre system still lacks surround sound, no one is delivering fresh fruit to me first thing in the morning as I require, your boss Logan wants me to train his parody of a cohesive commando unit in psychic resistance and I need to think of a way to get out of it…”
“Jean is more important than all that!” Scott yelled.
Emma waited for the room to settle after that outburst. “To you, perhaps. But I’m not biased.”
Scott, drearily predictable at this stage of the game, took a step forward and tried to intimidate her with his physical superiority. “Run the Cerebro scan!”
“Make me.” Emma couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.
Nor Scott the desperation out of his. “How?”
“Surprise me.”
“What do you want? I’ll do anything.”
“Bribery. Good start. But like I said, surprise me. Think of something you could offer me. I’m sure it won’t be easy, but think hard and maybe something will come to you.”
He was boomeranging between anger and despair with a speed that was fascinating to watch. “Do you want to play games? Is that it?” He took hold of her, finally, and slammed her against the wall hard enough to tease. “I can play hardball!”
“Mmm… you do play rough at that.”
When he let go, his fingers would leave bright red marks on her upper arms. Like lipstick. “Too much for you?”
“Oh, no, you’ll have to play much harder.” She leaned against the wall he had her pressed against, slowly sliding down it, drawing him down with her. “Can you do that, Scott? You’re just starting to convince me of how desperately you need Jean. Because, usually you hide your loneliness so well…”
It was like he couldn’t stand letting his anger out for too long, else it would crack that ruby quartz of his and he’d never be able to put it back in the box. “Please! Please, I’ll…” He fell to his knees, his head slowly sagging against her belly. She knew the satin of her nightie felt good on his cheek, the same way his stubble felt good through the satin. “I’m on my knees, please!”
“And there are all sorts of lovely things you might do down there… but are you any good at them? Maybe we should ask Jean. Oh, wait…”
“You goddamn bitch!” With something that was half judo, half sheer anger, he had her flipped down onto the rug. Then he was on top of her, fingers digging into the carpet on either side of her head. “You never had any intention of doing the scan! You just wanted to toy with me for your own sick pleasure!”
Emma wondered what would happen if she kept stoking the fire. Every time he got passionate, it burnt hotter, longer. That compelled all sorts of thoughts.
“You’re right that I want to do something with you, and yes, I suppose you could say it’s for my sick pleasure, Mr. Grieving Widow, but toying with you? I don’t need your consent to do that. Why do you think that’s worth my time?”
“Then you—“
“Want to know what Jean saw in you. Show me.”
He was halfway between tears and virulent, impossible rage.
“Show me.”
There was a strangled noise deep in his throat.
“Show me.”
She canted her head up and licked the salt from the orbit of his eye. When she lowered her head again, he jammed it against the floor with a kiss.
“You’re a…” When he spoke, his lips were dragged from her teeth. “You fucking whore.”
“Language, Scott. What would Jean think of your gutter mouth?”
His hand was at her throat, squeezing, and she let him have the satisfaction of that for a moment before crystallizing.
“You haven’t been looking for Jean! You want me all to yourself! You’ve been deliberately not finding her!”
“For a man with such low self-esteem, you can be awfully full of yourself. I don’t need air in this form, so squeeze as hard as you like. It’s quite an interesting sensation… not unpleasant.”
With a roar, and a visor bright as the sun, he was up and stalking for the door.
“Scott? Don’t go.” He stood in the doorway, hand cocked on the knob, fuming. Emma watched his muscles bunch across his back, with anger dissipating and gathering. She sat up. “I’ll do the scan… if you’ll promise we can do this again. Perhaps, over dinner?”
“You’re sick.”
“Delightfully so. And I think this is the most fun either of us have had in ages. Perhaps next time, we can bring some condoms. Just in case.”
He opened the door, letting the ambient light in. It made him look almost angelic, except for the brimstone hovering around his eyes. “Do the scan.”
“It’s a date. Who knows, I might even find her. She can get back in time to watch…”
Scott left, but the peals of her laughter stayed with him. He hoped Emma would either find Jean or stop looking once and for all. Maybe then, if he didn't have an excuse, he could stop seeing her.
Fandom: Wolverine And The X-Men
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,275
Characters/Pairings: Emma/Scott, mention of Scott/Jean
Timeline: Takes place after Overflow
Summary: Scott needs someone to find Jean. That’s all he needs Emma for.
Emma had known Scott was coming for her the same way some people could feel storms coming. He’d been in Arizona, the lone wolf, taking one of the solo assignments that he preferred. (Emma wondered if what he really wanted wasn’t to partner with her. She’d have to check next time he let her into his mind.)
Scott was thinking of her and that charming gumbo of loathing and lust brewed hotter the closer he got. Relishing the chance to be ‘surprised’ by him (he thought telepathy was all proximity, just because that’s how it was for Jean), she threw on a particularly daring nightie and took a catnap.
It was midnight when his boiling-over feelings awoke her. She rolled onto her side and laid her head against the pillow with a smile. He was in the mansion. In no time at all, Scott was raging against the door like a man possessed.
“It’s open,” Emma called out with a false yawn, and then there he was.
She could tell he hadn’t slept since she’d seen him last. The insomnia didn’t weaken him; on the contrary, it seemed to heighten the strength and raw force that he could only express through his eyes. He’d stopped shaving again, and smelled of sweat and adrenaline rather than the lavender soap Jean had once bought for him, that he now bought for himself. His showers had been brief and unhygienic, pale shadows of memories which had suds and bubbles and toweling off and Jean.
“Can’t sleep? Need a lullaby?” She threw the sheets off her body, enjoyed the stab of desire in his loins almost as much as the hot guilt that followed it. “A few drops from Auntie Emma and you can have sweet dreams until dawn. Or not-so-sweet; your choice.”
“I didn’t come here for that.”
“Then what did you come to me for? You’re interrupting my beauty sleep. Not that I need it, clearly…”
He shut the door behind him. Without even the low light of the hallway coming into the room, the greatest source of illumination was his blazing visor. “I want you to run another scan for Jean.”
“That would make, what, five? You want a nice round number before you accept the glaringly obvious? I have better things to do.”
“Like what?”
Emma got out of bed, letting him strain those red eyes watching her blade through the darkness. She put on a nightgown, but didn’t tie it very tight. “My home theatre system still lacks surround sound, no one is delivering fresh fruit to me first thing in the morning as I require, your boss Logan wants me to train his parody of a cohesive commando unit in psychic resistance and I need to think of a way to get out of it…”
“Jean is more important than all that!” Scott yelled.
Emma waited for the room to settle after that outburst. “To you, perhaps. But I’m not biased.”
Scott, drearily predictable at this stage of the game, took a step forward and tried to intimidate her with his physical superiority. “Run the Cerebro scan!”
“Make me.” Emma couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.
Nor Scott the desperation out of his. “How?”
“Surprise me.”
“What do you want? I’ll do anything.”
“Bribery. Good start. But like I said, surprise me. Think of something you could offer me. I’m sure it won’t be easy, but think hard and maybe something will come to you.”
He was boomeranging between anger and despair with a speed that was fascinating to watch. “Do you want to play games? Is that it?” He took hold of her, finally, and slammed her against the wall hard enough to tease. “I can play hardball!”
“Mmm… you do play rough at that.”
When he let go, his fingers would leave bright red marks on her upper arms. Like lipstick. “Too much for you?”
“Oh, no, you’ll have to play much harder.” She leaned against the wall he had her pressed against, slowly sliding down it, drawing him down with her. “Can you do that, Scott? You’re just starting to convince me of how desperately you need Jean. Because, usually you hide your loneliness so well…”
It was like he couldn’t stand letting his anger out for too long, else it would crack that ruby quartz of his and he’d never be able to put it back in the box. “Please! Please, I’ll…” He fell to his knees, his head slowly sagging against her belly. She knew the satin of her nightie felt good on his cheek, the same way his stubble felt good through the satin. “I’m on my knees, please!”
“And there are all sorts of lovely things you might do down there… but are you any good at them? Maybe we should ask Jean. Oh, wait…”
“You goddamn bitch!” With something that was half judo, half sheer anger, he had her flipped down onto the rug. Then he was on top of her, fingers digging into the carpet on either side of her head. “You never had any intention of doing the scan! You just wanted to toy with me for your own sick pleasure!”
Emma wondered what would happen if she kept stoking the fire. Every time he got passionate, it burnt hotter, longer. That compelled all sorts of thoughts.
“You’re right that I want to do something with you, and yes, I suppose you could say it’s for my sick pleasure, Mr. Grieving Widow, but toying with you? I don’t need your consent to do that. Why do you think that’s worth my time?”
“Then you—“
“Want to know what Jean saw in you. Show me.”
He was halfway between tears and virulent, impossible rage.
“Show me.”
There was a strangled noise deep in his throat.
“Show me.”
She canted her head up and licked the salt from the orbit of his eye. When she lowered her head again, he jammed it against the floor with a kiss.
“You’re a…” When he spoke, his lips were dragged from her teeth. “You fucking whore.”
“Language, Scott. What would Jean think of your gutter mouth?”
His hand was at her throat, squeezing, and she let him have the satisfaction of that for a moment before crystallizing.
“You haven’t been looking for Jean! You want me all to yourself! You’ve been deliberately not finding her!”
“For a man with such low self-esteem, you can be awfully full of yourself. I don’t need air in this form, so squeeze as hard as you like. It’s quite an interesting sensation… not unpleasant.”
With a roar, and a visor bright as the sun, he was up and stalking for the door.
“Scott? Don’t go.” He stood in the doorway, hand cocked on the knob, fuming. Emma watched his muscles bunch across his back, with anger dissipating and gathering. She sat up. “I’ll do the scan… if you’ll promise we can do this again. Perhaps, over dinner?”
“You’re sick.”
“Delightfully so. And I think this is the most fun either of us have had in ages. Perhaps next time, we can bring some condoms. Just in case.”
He opened the door, letting the ambient light in. It made him look almost angelic, except for the brimstone hovering around his eyes. “Do the scan.”
“It’s a date. Who knows, I might even find her. She can get back in time to watch…”
Scott left, but the peals of her laughter stayed with him. He hoped Emma would either find Jean or stop looking once and for all. Maybe then, if he didn't have an excuse, he could stop seeing her.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 09:55 pm (UTC)*madly fangirls*
He’d stopped shaving again,
and
She knew the satin of her nightie felt good on his cheek, the same way his stubble felt good through the satin. “I’m on my knees, please!”
HEEEEEEEEEEE. YESS.
I love this so much!!!!!
Is this: His hand was at his throat supposed to be hand was at her throat, though? And you tagged Scott Summers wrong! DD:
Anyways, I looooved this so much!! *shares with boyfriend*
Oh, and I seriously need an icon of Emma/Scott TOGETHER in Wolverine y los X-Men.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-02 12:00 am (UTC)Scott stoically catching a pained Emma or Kama Sutra buttsex? You decide!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-09 08:00 pm (UTC)I love your spot-on portrayal of Emma again. You are very talented with your characterizations. <3
:: made my day ::