Fandom: Wolverine
Colour Prompt: Red
Title: Strawberry
Rating: R for naughty words and naughtier thoughts
Pairing: L/J
Genre: Foof
'Verse: Ulti
Disclaimer: Not mine, never been mine, everything belongs to Marvel and/or Fox. Except for Hugh Jackman, who belongs to Mrs Jackman
Summary: Jean liked the view from her window. She liked it a lot.
Notes: Kind of slightly AU Ulti-verse. Because if it was up to me, Ulti!Logan and Ulti!Jean would still be making the 'mutant-with-two-backs' together. Stupid Marvel. Stupid Angst. Stupid Flanders!
Strawberry
If there was something Jean was certain she could appreciate it was the beauty of the human form. The human male form especially. One human male in particular and she sighed wistfully as she watched him.
He wasn't really doing anything in particular. Tinkering around a bit with the engine on his bike, fidgeting, doing those things people do when they don't think anyone's watching and they have nothing on their mind other than the mindless passing of an afternoon. And in doing nothing, he was absolutely beautiful, she thought. Unselfconscious in his movements, graceful when at ease, lips pursed in a half-murmured, half-whistled ditty about a girl from Plymouth Sound he'd undoubtedly picked up on one of his travels. The tune, that is. Not the girl, though with him sometimes it was difficult to tell. She could easily sense the words rolling around in his head and the unthinkingly ribald lyrics made her both blush and smile at the same time, hiding her snicker behind the cover of her sleeve as he pottered around the courtyard below her window.
If she'd been a better artist she thought, he'd have made an excellent muse. Coupled with the opportunity to ask him to strip off it made her wish, not for the first time, that she'd paid more attention in art class. Physics was all well and good but it didn't really involve a lot of nudity. Maybe biology would have been a better option...
Either way though, she hadn't, and he probably wouldn't have agreed. Not unless she could have bribed him with beer or something. The man was shameless, yes, but not one for sitting around doing nothing even if he was naked at the time. A brief thought flittered through her mind of what they could do to keep him entertained in his naked state, and she flushed redder, biting her lip to keep from giggling.
He must have heard her somehow though, even through glass, because he stopped what he was doing and turned to stare up at her window, giving Jean a questioning look. Damn those super-senses, she smirked, couldn't get away with voyeurism for long.
She waved cheerfully and Logan rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he went back to his bike, squatting down a moment to tighten something or loosen something or whatever it is that men do to engines with such regularity. She didn't know, and she didn't particularly care. She had a great view of solid, hard thighs wrapped in taut, skin-tight denim. Exactly what he was doing was entirely secondary to the view it offered as he did it.
Shifting positions again Logan knelt down carefully on the flagstones that lined the courtyard, his legs sliding apart almost obscenely wide as he stuck his fingers back in the depths of the engine and Jean's eyes widened, biting her lip with a moan as he paused for a moment to peel off his grease-stained t-shirt. The corner of his mouth was lifted in a knowing smirk as he nonchalantly adjusted his crotch, the denim riding tight and close into his groin, bunching slightly down the crease of each thigh. The toned, firm muscles in his chest and abdomen seemed to absorb the hot, bright rays of the afternoon sun and Logan picked up his wrench again, running his hands down it thoughtfully before setting about playing with his pistons.
...Fucking tease, Jean hissed. He was a tease and an arrogant son of a bitch sometimes, but the worst thing was that he knew he looked good enough to get away with it. But then most of the time he also looked good enough to make her fingers itch and she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the low, yearning ache of desire start to smoulder inside her.
Big hands, she thought. Broad shoulders. Sheer physical presence that drowned her in the best possible way. The hot, masculine taste of him seemed to linger like a phantom on the back of her tongue and she couldn't stop the shiver of remembrance, her mind playing back to early that morning and the way he growled when he woke up to the feel of lips around his dick... The way he consumed her every time they were together.
Damn him, she thought, glancing out the window again. He really did look good on his knees.
On his knees with his head between her legs...
On his knees with his head between her legs, hard cock pushing out against restrictive denim with his hands bound tightly against his back...
A flush of heat blazed through her, setting up a tightness in the pit of her stomach with the thought. That was it, she decided. Her fingers fumbled on the window latch before she shoved it wide open and leaned out as far as she could get.
"You. Inside. Now," she shouted and Logan glanced up, an innocent 'Who, me?' expression on his face.
"Yes, you," Jean said, watching him climb lazily to his feet. He wiped oily palms across his stomach and chest before brushing the dust off his knees, shooting her a quizzical expression as she moaned heatedly.
"Get your ass up here now, Logan," she yelled, pulling the window half-shut before thinking better of it and leaning out over the courtyard again. "And bring a bowl of strawberries," she added. "And a bottle of baby oil. And then maybe, if you're very lucky, I'll even let you fuck me!"
The window slammed shut to the sound of him laughing and Jean smiled to herself as she leaned back against the wall, the cold plaster blessedly refreshing against her hot skin.
Oh yeah, she thought. This was going to be fun.