![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: What is this that stands before me?
Fandom: X-Men
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,944
Characters/Pairings: Scott/Emma
Author’s Notes Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stupidmetalbint
Summary: Rainstorms always make Scott think of Emma. And thinking of her is the first step to wanting her.
More and more, Scott felt like his memories of Jean were being excavated, replaced with Emma. He felt a quaint sadness over this, in addition to the less obvious relief. When Jean died, it seemed that everyone had reminded him of her, like his memories had covered everything in barbed-wire. Now he could see Jubilee and it would bring a memory of a guest lecture he had given to Generation X. Sean and Emma sitting beside him at the podium fuming at each other. Emma probing at his mind in boredom and him rebuffing her mental caress with the barrier Jean had taught him.
Even sitting at his desk checking over the X-Men’s expenditures, he could feel her presence, that same gentle caress now welcomed. He smiled, a little more widely than he had back then. Scott was wearing his sweatsuit in anticipation of a run but it looked like the gathering stormclouds would be denying him. He tapped at his crotch idly, almost subconsciously.
When it rained, he remembered their time in the Savage Land as if he’d been physically transported there. The smell of her perfume, a lush scent reminiscent of the fruits they’d plucked, inescapable as they’d huddled under his leaf-and-stick shelter from the rain. The ponderous arousal that had held both of them as she touched his mind, expanding his senses until he couldn’t separate his fingertips from the beads of rain rolling down her body. The feel of her breasts, slick and warm, in his hands as he’d stripped away her ridiculous safari outfit. The clatter of her pith helmet being thrown away. Then the sweet warmth of her body giving itself to him.
Passion gripped him like an invisible lover’s embrace. He needed her. Now. Right this minute. Scott saved the files he was working on and left, willing down his erection for the walk to her classroom.
Outside the rain was rattling the mansion, tearing through the trees and pelting the walls, the glass pinging like ice chipping. In the morning, the cleaners would need to come to clean away all the branches and leaves littering the grounds. Scott made a mental note to call them, wedged it in between the overpowering thought of Emma’s body and soft utterances, the casual contentment she favored him with when he was inside her. He had to have it. She was driving him wild, making him feel like a hormonal teenager again, balanced on the razor’s edge of frenzy. God, how long had it been since he’d had this feeling, and why had he settled for anything less?
The classroom was empty when he arrived and Scott inwardly sighed in relief at not having to make an excuse for ending class early. Emma was leaning on the front of her desk casually, wearing a dapper white pantsuit with the jacket hanging off her chair. The pinstripe vest covering her Oxford shirt flattered and completely covered her breasts. In his present state, leaving her body to his imagination was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“I sent the students out early. I thought we’d covered the lesson quite thoroughly. Loyalty. They have some fascinating preconceptions about it.” She was going over a clipboard with a red marker, circling, scratching, underlining. Scott stood in front of her, just close enough for the metal clip to slice into his puffed-out chest. Emma highlighted a particular word.
Scott pressed his fingers into her thighs, letting her feel the urgent need there. When she didn’t respond he undid her belt.
She bit her lip. “Scott, it wouldn’t be fair to the students to delay the intake of knowledge to their precocious little skulls.”
“They’ll live.”
He dropped her belt on her desk. Her pants slid down, helped along by the way Emma was squeezing her thighs together. She deftly stepped out of them, leaving her long bare legs adorned only by white panties. They were surprisingly conservative, almost briefs.
“My, my, who is responsible for the grammar in this school? Do these children think that just because they can shoot lasers from their fingertips, it is acceptable to end a sentence with a preposition?”
Hunching slightly to bring his face down beside her precious clipboard, he enticingly moved his hand up her left leg, across her groin, then down her right leg. She shifted her weight after he’d stopped, but that was all.
Scott pinched the waistband of her panties in both hands and began to pull them down slowly, just enough to reveal the teethmarks of the elastic band on her flesh.
“What are you doing?” Emma asked, voice husky.
Scott brushed his fingers over the downy hair he’d uncovered. “I’m just going to give you a little kiss, Emma. Not for long. Just until you come.”
Sighing melodramatically, Emma set down her clipboard. “In here? When it’s such a lovely day outside?” She walked to the French doors. The shadow of the raindrops played down her sculpted legs. “Can you fuck me out there, Scott? In the rain? Where anyone can see us?”
He went to her, his body pressing her against the chilled glass, Emma’s left leg pulling up to wrap around him. Their lips finally met. Scott felt like he could drown in her. He reached past her to turn the doorknob, letting the door swing open. Emma hung off him as the sound of the storm intensified, scattering loose paper through the classroom.
Emma pulled him outside, slamming the door shut after him. Despite her nonchalance, she sent out a psychic message for everyone to stay away from the windows lest they be injured by possible broken glass. Not that she cared overly much about being seen, but she didn’t want anything to diminish Scott or herself in the eyes of the student body or team. Besides, she liked having Scott all to herself.
The patio outside her classroom was one she frequently used when she wanted to enjoy a bright day, letting the students take their lessons outdoors while she slipped on a pair of Gucci sunglasses or worked on her tan. Scott shoved her down onto the metal grate of a patio table. She spread her legs in obvious invitation and their bodies grinded against each other, still clothed, not enough, not nearly enough. His fingers working frantically at the slick buttons of her vest until she grabbed the obscenely priced wool and ripped it open. Then it was just thin linen and her bra.
He got the idea, ripping open her dress shirt and then going for her bra, but she stopped him with a psychic burst of indignation. Emma had to draw the line at damaging a four thousand dollar Bien Fée Pour Toi underwire. While he hung back, amused, she undid it and dropped it onto one of the chairs, which she then scooted under the table where it at least couldn’t get wetter.
“You wanna throw it in the dryer, too?”
“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same if I stained the leather in the Blackbird.”
”You didn’t, did you?”
“Impossible man…” She shone briefly in her diamond form to tear open his sweatshirt and running shirt, then back to flesh to run her hands over his chest as he crawled over her. He returned the favor, fingers squeezing her milk-white breasts like he wanted to tear into them. She could feel his arousal in every muscle in his body, every thought that went through his mind.
He was just the right size, big and strong enough to be overpowering physically, but not one of those awful musclebound brutes who tripped over their own biceps. He was more powerful than her and she was more powerful than him and she loved that paradox, far more than all those vacuous pretty-boys who couldn’t keep up with her if their lives depended on it.
She cupped his groin, certain she could feel the violent throbbing his mind was reporting. A tug on his sweatpants and then she was unzipping his shorts, then running her fingers over his hardness as she kissed his cheeks and jaw.
With a deep kiss he fell on her, no longer able to hold himself over her. Scott pulled down her saturated panties, not caring that they ripped as he tugged them down her legs. Rain hit her slit like the beginning of an orgasm.
It had started to hail, all the noise mingling into a world-ending roar as he entered her. Emma threw her head back, acutely feeling the rain on her face. The hail, ice the size of peanuts, stung his back as Scott worked viciously into her. Hard thrusts sent electric shocks through her body. The wrought-iron pressed into her flesh like she had backed against a cage. Emma heard lightning crashing into thunder, Scott’s panting breath rushing over the sound of rain. His large, forceful hands were all over her, squeezing her ass, thighs, hips, waist as he forced himself deeper. Emma felt short of breath, drowning above water. She threw her arms out to catch the edges of the table.
“Never stop!” she told Scott, stuttering from the way she was being overwhelmed. He was inside her, above her, and the rain was all around her. It was too much. She poured her pleasure into their psychic link, letting him have everything she was thinking. In the physical world, her mouth hung open to let helpless mewls of pleasure escape.
She savored him coming inside her, her breasts flattened against his hard chest, wrapping her arms around him in love and possessiveness. He was hers to do with as she pleased, and to do with her as he pleased. What could be more perfect?
The sunlight reflected off the fallen rain, gilding the world. Scott rolled off her, taking a brief moment to enjoy the last of the rain on his face. “So tell me… was that you getting my heat up?”
“Heat up?” Emma petted his slick hair. “Scott, darling, never forget you’re as much of a kinky bastard as I’ll ever need. If I had to get inside your head to get you warmed up, I’d get tired of all the heavy lifting.”
Scott wished they could spend the afternoon out here like they had in the Savage Land, playing at nudist colony, but there was work to be done and he didn’t want anyone but Emma to know about his tattoos. He gave her a soft kiss before gathering up her clothes, even the ripped ones, and apologetically piling him into her hands. Emma left them hanging off her arm for the longest time as she helped him dress, finally pulling up her panties and throwing on her shirt so it hung down to her hips. Scott loaned her his sweatsuit’s bottom, and Emma pouted exaggeratedly as she bore the indignity of wearing it. It wasn’t like her panties were anymore skimpy than some costumes.
“How do you feel about salmon for dinner?” Scott asked her, somehow looking classically heroic in gym shorts and a sweatshirt. “Once you’ve finished grading papers, of course.”
Emma nudged some fallen hail around the table with her hand. “How about we dry off before going back to the grindstone? We can use my towels. You can help me pat down those hard-to-reach places.”
Scott smiled as he followed her inside, popping a ball of hail in his mouth to chew on. She was right. His feelings for her didn’t need any coaxing. Knowing how she felt for him, knowing the truth she hid with sarcasm and pointed glares, was more potent than any manipulation.
Fandom: X-Men
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,944
Characters/Pairings: Scott/Emma
Author’s Notes Betaed by
stupidmetalbintSummary: Rainstorms always make Scott think of Emma. And thinking of her is the first step to wanting her.
More and more, Scott felt like his memories of Jean were being excavated, replaced with Emma. He felt a quaint sadness over this, in addition to the less obvious relief. When Jean died, it seemed that everyone had reminded him of her, like his memories had covered everything in barbed-wire. Now he could see Jubilee and it would bring a memory of a guest lecture he had given to Generation X. Sean and Emma sitting beside him at the podium fuming at each other. Emma probing at his mind in boredom and him rebuffing her mental caress with the barrier Jean had taught him.
Even sitting at his desk checking over the X-Men’s expenditures, he could feel her presence, that same gentle caress now welcomed. He smiled, a little more widely than he had back then. Scott was wearing his sweatsuit in anticipation of a run but it looked like the gathering stormclouds would be denying him. He tapped at his crotch idly, almost subconsciously.
When it rained, he remembered their time in the Savage Land as if he’d been physically transported there. The smell of her perfume, a lush scent reminiscent of the fruits they’d plucked, inescapable as they’d huddled under his leaf-and-stick shelter from the rain. The ponderous arousal that had held both of them as she touched his mind, expanding his senses until he couldn’t separate his fingertips from the beads of rain rolling down her body. The feel of her breasts, slick and warm, in his hands as he’d stripped away her ridiculous safari outfit. The clatter of her pith helmet being thrown away. Then the sweet warmth of her body giving itself to him.
Passion gripped him like an invisible lover’s embrace. He needed her. Now. Right this minute. Scott saved the files he was working on and left, willing down his erection for the walk to her classroom.
Outside the rain was rattling the mansion, tearing through the trees and pelting the walls, the glass pinging like ice chipping. In the morning, the cleaners would need to come to clean away all the branches and leaves littering the grounds. Scott made a mental note to call them, wedged it in between the overpowering thought of Emma’s body and soft utterances, the casual contentment she favored him with when he was inside her. He had to have it. She was driving him wild, making him feel like a hormonal teenager again, balanced on the razor’s edge of frenzy. God, how long had it been since he’d had this feeling, and why had he settled for anything less?
The classroom was empty when he arrived and Scott inwardly sighed in relief at not having to make an excuse for ending class early. Emma was leaning on the front of her desk casually, wearing a dapper white pantsuit with the jacket hanging off her chair. The pinstripe vest covering her Oxford shirt flattered and completely covered her breasts. In his present state, leaving her body to his imagination was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“I sent the students out early. I thought we’d covered the lesson quite thoroughly. Loyalty. They have some fascinating preconceptions about it.” She was going over a clipboard with a red marker, circling, scratching, underlining. Scott stood in front of her, just close enough for the metal clip to slice into his puffed-out chest. Emma highlighted a particular word.
Scott pressed his fingers into her thighs, letting her feel the urgent need there. When she didn’t respond he undid her belt.
She bit her lip. “Scott, it wouldn’t be fair to the students to delay the intake of knowledge to their precocious little skulls.”
“They’ll live.”
He dropped her belt on her desk. Her pants slid down, helped along by the way Emma was squeezing her thighs together. She deftly stepped out of them, leaving her long bare legs adorned only by white panties. They were surprisingly conservative, almost briefs.
“My, my, who is responsible for the grammar in this school? Do these children think that just because they can shoot lasers from their fingertips, it is acceptable to end a sentence with a preposition?”
Hunching slightly to bring his face down beside her precious clipboard, he enticingly moved his hand up her left leg, across her groin, then down her right leg. She shifted her weight after he’d stopped, but that was all.
Scott pinched the waistband of her panties in both hands and began to pull them down slowly, just enough to reveal the teethmarks of the elastic band on her flesh.
“What are you doing?” Emma asked, voice husky.
Scott brushed his fingers over the downy hair he’d uncovered. “I’m just going to give you a little kiss, Emma. Not for long. Just until you come.”
Sighing melodramatically, Emma set down her clipboard. “In here? When it’s such a lovely day outside?” She walked to the French doors. The shadow of the raindrops played down her sculpted legs. “Can you fuck me out there, Scott? In the rain? Where anyone can see us?”
He went to her, his body pressing her against the chilled glass, Emma’s left leg pulling up to wrap around him. Their lips finally met. Scott felt like he could drown in her. He reached past her to turn the doorknob, letting the door swing open. Emma hung off him as the sound of the storm intensified, scattering loose paper through the classroom.
Emma pulled him outside, slamming the door shut after him. Despite her nonchalance, she sent out a psychic message for everyone to stay away from the windows lest they be injured by possible broken glass. Not that she cared overly much about being seen, but she didn’t want anything to diminish Scott or herself in the eyes of the student body or team. Besides, she liked having Scott all to herself.
The patio outside her classroom was one she frequently used when she wanted to enjoy a bright day, letting the students take their lessons outdoors while she slipped on a pair of Gucci sunglasses or worked on her tan. Scott shoved her down onto the metal grate of a patio table. She spread her legs in obvious invitation and their bodies grinded against each other, still clothed, not enough, not nearly enough. His fingers working frantically at the slick buttons of her vest until she grabbed the obscenely priced wool and ripped it open. Then it was just thin linen and her bra.
He got the idea, ripping open her dress shirt and then going for her bra, but she stopped him with a psychic burst of indignation. Emma had to draw the line at damaging a four thousand dollar Bien Fée Pour Toi underwire. While he hung back, amused, she undid it and dropped it onto one of the chairs, which she then scooted under the table where it at least couldn’t get wetter.
“You wanna throw it in the dryer, too?”
“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same if I stained the leather in the Blackbird.”
”You didn’t, did you?”
“Impossible man…” She shone briefly in her diamond form to tear open his sweatshirt and running shirt, then back to flesh to run her hands over his chest as he crawled over her. He returned the favor, fingers squeezing her milk-white breasts like he wanted to tear into them. She could feel his arousal in every muscle in his body, every thought that went through his mind.
He was just the right size, big and strong enough to be overpowering physically, but not one of those awful musclebound brutes who tripped over their own biceps. He was more powerful than her and she was more powerful than him and she loved that paradox, far more than all those vacuous pretty-boys who couldn’t keep up with her if their lives depended on it.
She cupped his groin, certain she could feel the violent throbbing his mind was reporting. A tug on his sweatpants and then she was unzipping his shorts, then running her fingers over his hardness as she kissed his cheeks and jaw.
With a deep kiss he fell on her, no longer able to hold himself over her. Scott pulled down her saturated panties, not caring that they ripped as he tugged them down her legs. Rain hit her slit like the beginning of an orgasm.
It had started to hail, all the noise mingling into a world-ending roar as he entered her. Emma threw her head back, acutely feeling the rain on her face. The hail, ice the size of peanuts, stung his back as Scott worked viciously into her. Hard thrusts sent electric shocks through her body. The wrought-iron pressed into her flesh like she had backed against a cage. Emma heard lightning crashing into thunder, Scott’s panting breath rushing over the sound of rain. His large, forceful hands were all over her, squeezing her ass, thighs, hips, waist as he forced himself deeper. Emma felt short of breath, drowning above water. She threw her arms out to catch the edges of the table.
“Never stop!” she told Scott, stuttering from the way she was being overwhelmed. He was inside her, above her, and the rain was all around her. It was too much. She poured her pleasure into their psychic link, letting him have everything she was thinking. In the physical world, her mouth hung open to let helpless mewls of pleasure escape.
She savored him coming inside her, her breasts flattened against his hard chest, wrapping her arms around him in love and possessiveness. He was hers to do with as she pleased, and to do with her as he pleased. What could be more perfect?
The sunlight reflected off the fallen rain, gilding the world. Scott rolled off her, taking a brief moment to enjoy the last of the rain on his face. “So tell me… was that you getting my heat up?”
“Heat up?” Emma petted his slick hair. “Scott, darling, never forget you’re as much of a kinky bastard as I’ll ever need. If I had to get inside your head to get you warmed up, I’d get tired of all the heavy lifting.”
Scott wished they could spend the afternoon out here like they had in the Savage Land, playing at nudist colony, but there was work to be done and he didn’t want anyone but Emma to know about his tattoos. He gave her a soft kiss before gathering up her clothes, even the ripped ones, and apologetically piling him into her hands. Emma left them hanging off her arm for the longest time as she helped him dress, finally pulling up her panties and throwing on her shirt so it hung down to her hips. Scott loaned her his sweatsuit’s bottom, and Emma pouted exaggeratedly as she bore the indignity of wearing it. It wasn’t like her panties were anymore skimpy than some costumes.
“How do you feel about salmon for dinner?” Scott asked her, somehow looking classically heroic in gym shorts and a sweatshirt. “Once you’ve finished grading papers, of course.”
Emma nudged some fallen hail around the table with her hand. “How about we dry off before going back to the grindstone? We can use my towels. You can help me pat down those hard-to-reach places.”
Scott smiled as he followed her inside, popping a ball of hail in his mouth to chew on. She was right. His feelings for her didn’t need any coaxing. Knowing how she felt for him, knowing the truth she hid with sarcasm and pointed glares, was more potent than any manipulation.
