Title: Dark Red
Author: KJ Draft
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jean (Dark Phoenix)/Logan, Movieverse.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,252
Warning/Spoilers: It's a smutty, semi-darkfic. Don't read if you're unspoiled for the film and wish to remain that way. If you dislike semi-darkfic you'll probably want to pass, too. (But it's Dark Phoenix! It has to be a little dark! ;) Takes off from "the lab scene" (awww yeah) in X-Men III.
Disclaimer: Nobody and nothing belong to me.
Comments: Are very, very welcome and will be cherished. This is my first Jean/Logan fic, though not my first X-men fic, and I've love to know what you think.
Summary: "Her eyes were shiny black marbles and he knew with a terrifying clarity the woman he loved was gone; but he could love this Jean, too."
Dark Red
"Logan, you're making me blush."
"Are you reading my thoughts?" he asked.
"I don't have to."
He swallowed, unsure what to do but rooted to the spot -- by lust, or love, or pain, he didn't know. Probably all three. Jean had never looked so pale or so fiery. Her hair was long again, dark, tawny red, and he wanted to drag his fists through the silky tendrils, thrust her head back, expose her and devour her.
"It's okay," she whispered. She sat up and placed her long, lean legs on either side of his hips, loosely trapping him. He was instantly hard.
Her enigmatic, seductive smile was still in place. He swallowed again, a bit nervously; power emanated from her in waves. "It's okay."
Her face came closer. Logan resisted briefly, but it was useless.
He turned toward her abruptly, capturing her lips. She responded immediately, eager and angry and demanding, gripping him tightly and shoving his flannel shirt off his shoulders to expose his muscular arms and chest. He clutched her creamy white thighs around his waist and lay her back on the bed, crawling on top and hungrily pressing her into the mattress.
God, she's flexible; her legs wrapped tightly around his upper back, heels digging into his shoulder blades to spur him on. Jean's nails tore so deeply into his arms that his skin split open like a piece of fruit and he reared back in shock and pain. As usual, the healing process hurt more than the injury, and he gasped while his flesh and sinewy muscle knotted itself back together.
Her eyes were shiny black marbles and he knew with a terrifying clarity the woman he loved was gone; but he could love this Jean, too.
Maybe he already did.
We aren't alone. He knew it and she knew it. Besides the equipment that had been monitoring her, shooting information back to be analyzed, the Professor was no doubt aware she'd woken up, and that Logan was with her.
Logan didn't give a damn. Let them see. Let them know. Let everyone know. She's mine.
They kissed more, hasty and messy and desperate, tongues tangling, teeth gnashing...
He drew her small black shorts off her legs and buried his face deeply between her thighs. He never thought this moment would arrive; never thought he'd get to touch her this way; taste her; feast on her; bring her pleasure. While he tongued her, she gripped his hair tightly with her fingertips, burning his scalp and making him cry out. He licked his lips and went back for more of the decadent, coppery tang that drowned him and surrounded his senses.
He'd never felt so out of control. Want to shred her clothes with my claws, rip them from her body, tear her apart, fuck her in half...
"Do it," she said.
He paused, scared of what she'd become but not wanting to break away.
"C'mon, Logan," she taunted, using his thoughts against him. Her tongue flicked out to caress the smooth, pink line of her bottom lip. "Fuck me in half."
I don't want to hurt her, he thought.
"You won't hurt me. You can't hurt me," she hissed disdainfully. Her black tank top tore itself open, six lethal strips, as though he'd done it with his claws. He stared lustfully at her chest, imagining his tongue circling her pert nipples.
"I know this is what you want. I saw it," she said, vaguely amused, tapping one slim fingertip against his temple.
His belt undid itself and flew out of his jeans, whipping the air. The top button popped open and his zipper shot down. Eyes wild, Logan gaped at her in astonishment. Jean lay back, watching him with a cool, calculating gaze.
"Let the animal out," she ordered breathlessly.
Not an animal, his brain feebly protested.
"You are if I say you are," she told him.
He watched, blood lust rising, as her little black shorts shredded themselves and flew off her ankles.
She massaged the part of his brain that couldn't control itself; deliberately triggered the part that went berserk, turning the world black until his enemy was ripped apart by claws and teeth and he came to surrounded by carnage and chaos.
He growled and stepped out of his jeans, driving into her without pretense, battering his hips against hers.
"This what you wanted?" he groaned.
"Deeper," she coaxed, moaning, arms and legs imprisoning him. "Harder, Logan."
His fingers dug into her ass as he speared her, over and over, frantic and wild with need. When he calmed down somewhat, he kissed her down her smooth pale neck, and over the curving softness of her breasts. She smiled and threw her head back, indulging him, but quickly growing bored with his attempts at tenderness.
"My turn," she said quietly, flipping them over telekinetically so they were on the floor of the lab and she was on top of him.
Riding him roughly, she clasped his hands in hers and pinned them above his head. After a few minutes she closed her eyes and rhythmically clenched her slippery walls around his cock. Despite all the times he'd fantasized about this and imagined her getting off, nothing compared to the actual sight and feel and shape of it. He shuddered and prepared to follow her into the abyss.
His claws shot out of his knuckles at the moment of his climax; they knew before he did something was wrong: he was under attack, he was...frozen. Jean smirked at him. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. The world around them was still, and she was controlling his orgasm with her mind. She kept him on the precipice of release at the most pleasurable moment, not allowing a single drop of ejaculate to exit his body.
He roared.
"You like that?" she murmured and he nodded, mesmerized.
"I could keep you like this for hours," she told him, delicately caressing his sweat-soaked brow. "Weeks. Right at the edge. Never going forward."
He pleaded silently and tried to thrust.
She telekinetically pinned his hips to the floor. He could only watch as she rode him quickly to another climax of her own, sliding up and down his stiff, throbbing cock, circling the engorged head. Her skin looked thin as rice paper, nearly translucent, mapped with light blue veins, and he swore liquid fire swam through her.
For several lengthy, excruciating minutes he came but didn't come, and the unrelenting, body-wracking pleasure slowly transformed into pain. His claws shot out and retracted involuntarily, his muscles tensed like bowstrings, and the cords in his neck ached.
"Oh, god," he cried out, disturbed by the sound of his own voice; wary, and gruff, and full of wonder. He couldn't take much more, but at the same time he didn't want it to stop. Jean, darlin'... please.
"Phoenix," she corrected, clawing at his abdomen, watching clinically as his skin tore open and healed itself.
"Phoenix," he begged. "Please."
"You're not the professor's pet anymore, Logan," she said. "You're mine."
His name on her lips was like the caress of a knife as it maps out your most vulnerable spots before plunging in.
One of her eyes flickered shut, almost like a wink, and his body was once again his. He grit his teeth and clutched her hips, pumping frantically and rising up to finish his climax at last. He wasn't sure what would come out of him -- spunk or blood or fire -- but at this point any release was preferable to eternal stasis.
He groaned helplessly and bit her shoulder, continuing to piston in and out as he shot his load inside her heated depths. His eyes rolled back and his chest heaved as he struggled to regain consciousness.
She licked the salt from his cheeks and rolled them so he was on top again.
"Shall we do it again?" she asked, but Logan knew it wasn't a question.
She was going to kill him. Burn him up from the inside out.
Not today. Maybe not for weeks; months; she'd have fun with him first. But eventually she'd kill him and he couldn't think of a better way to go.