Rating: R, 18+. Take your pick. There be porn and naked people.
Pairing: Jean Grey/Scott Summers Set: Sometime around 1997, so, uh... Uncanny 350ish?
Spoilers: Cable comes from the future, Rachel's from an alternate universe and Madelyne Pryor is a creature made entirely of light (or is that Shard.
Length: 1,300 Notes: This was written for the Inclement Weather challenge that was just posted on jeanniexslim, and I blame nique entirely for mocking me when I said Jean was complaining about no lemon in her tea.
On Account of the Rain by ALC Punk!
"This is your fault, you know." Jean was sitting on the bed, shoulders hunched. There were four blankets wrapped around her, a mug of hot tea in her hands, and she was still chattering her teeth. She was a bedraggled mess: hair soaked, cheeks chapped red with the wind and lips slightly purple from the cold. It was disturbingly patriotic, in a way.
To Scott, the snaky tendrils of her wet hair were rather adorable all messed-up like that, but he had the feeling she'd glare if he said that. Instead, he raised his eyebrows as he gathered her wet clothing and his into the hamper. "How is it my fault?"
"You suggested going for a sail on the lake."
It occurred to Scott that rain was better than a giant octopus, but Jean might not appreciate the reference to his marriage to Madelyne. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Hmph." She took a sip of her tea and pouted, "You didn't put lemon in it, Scott."
Clamping his lips closed on the chuckle that threatened to erupt, he studiously kept his head down so she wouldn't see the tell-tale twitch of his lips as he replied, voice remarkably calm, "I'm sorry, honey, I was trying to get it to you as fast as possible."
Something in the kitchen clattered, and she made a cranky noise again. "I can hear what you're thinking, you know."
Of course he knew. Scott raised his head and eyed her, thinking very hard about how he'd been distracted by her hardening nipples and the water trailing down her wet shirt.
"Scott!" She didn't, however, sound upset. More amused.
"Can't help it if my wife's hot," he pointed out, lips stretching into a truly awful lecherous grin.
She threw a pillow at him.
He dodged it adroitly and checked that it hadn't landed on their wet shoes before moving to stand by the bed, "Did you want lemon now, dear?"
Jean paused in mid-sip, then pulled her mug away from her mouth and swallowed. "No. Next time, though, you'd better not forget it."
"Mmm." Scott lay down, stretching out next to her, surprisingly warm for a man who'd been practically dunked in the lake. "I'll keep that in mind. What'll happen if I forget?"
"You sleep on the couch."
"Very stiff punishment for a minor infraction." he noted, reaching out to curl a strand of her hair around his finger. Jean's hair was fascinating, dark and rich--it was apparently red, but he couldn't tell that it was red, he could just see the shifts and texture of it. And so soft.
"Forgetting lemon is not a minor infraction," Jean informed him, voice stuck between amused and testy.
He tugged on the curl around his finger. "Yeah?"
"Yes." She chuckled and bent to kiss him, upside-down. "Mr. Summers, your language skills are deteriorating."
"My apologies," he replied, releasing the strand of hair and sitting up. "Unfortunately for the processing centers of my brain, the impairment of my faculties is occurring because there is a rather attractive and luscious Titian-haired woman in my bed."
Jean snickered, "You've been talking to Hank way too much, Scott."
"Yup." He grabbed for her mug. In the brief tussle that followed, Scott groped her through the blankets, Jean wriggled her way flat on the bed, and neither spilled a drop. Scott smirked as he set the mug on the night stand before pressing her down into the pillows. "It is, however, true."
"All the blood is otherwise occupied, hrm?" A phantom caress stroked down his side.
Scott let out a groan, reflecting that having a telekinetic for a wife was sometimes a good thing. In the case of the dishes that sometimes impacted the walls and floor, it was sometimes a bad thing. "I hear you're cold, Mrs. Summers."
"It's starting to go away, though, Mr. Summers," she replied.
"Good." He kissed her lips gently, then pulled back, a thought occurring to him. "Hang on a minute, Jean. You should have kept the rain from hitting you--from hitting both of us if you'd wanted. Why didn't you?"
She grumbled a moment, then replied, "I was hoping for warm-me-up sex."
"Ah." That explained things. Scott kissed her again and then sat up and began unwinding the blankets from her, "It's kinda like a present," he informed her before stopping to admire the half-naked woman before him. He could stare at her all day, really. Possibly all night, too.
Jean groaned and reached out to stroke his hardening erection. "Look later, Scott."
"I could take a picture and frame it," he mused, leaning back and bringing his hands up to bracket her.
A telekinetic slap on the ass made him jump.
"Mr. Summers. While I appreciate your appreciation of my aesthetic qualities," Jean said, sitting up and untangling herself from the rest of the blankets with a little bit of telekinesis, "I have quite another thought on my mind."
Jean pounced, knocking him onto his back and straddling his waist. "Yes."
Well. Scott didn't have to be a telepath to figure out what she wanted. Especially not when her hand went between them, and she wriggled, then sank down onto him with a soft little sigh. "Right. No pictures," he managed, his brain beginning to lose coherency as he watched her muscles flexing as she rode him. Her breasts were bobbing with every move she made, and it seemed perfectly natural to reach up and cup them.
A throaty moan escaped her and she pressed into his hands, grinding down against him.
It seemed to take her only a little time to become flushed and coated in sweat. Scott's legs and muscles strained as he thrust upwards. He could see the sheen on her skin, making her look almost other-worldly as she moved above him, head tilted up and back. His eyes followed the line of her throat to her shoulders and then chest, and he had to admit that she had rather magnificent breasts.
"Thank you," Jean gasped.
Scott realized his appreciation had been rather loud, "You're welcome." He rubbed a thumb over one hard nipple and she shivered from the contact, moaning softly.
The shiver led to another, and with a low growl, Jean surged up and down once more before she climaxed, hands flattening on his chest as she stayed upright, rocking and moving against him until she was limp and sagging forwards.
"Warm?" Scott asked, tugging her down against his chest and wrapping his arms around her.
"Mhmm." She kissed his throat and rocked her hips.
A groan escaped him.
Having apparently regained some of her strength, Jean planted her hands to either side of him and began moving against him again. Her breasts were just brushing his chest, so Scott cupped them, stroking the nipples and smirking when the sensation made her gasp.
"Scott..." She dropped her head and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth as she quickened her pace.
Ten telekinetic hands danced down his sides, stroking the skin, and he lost his battle with control, crying out as he orgasmed. She tightened around him, drawing an extra millisecond of sensation out of the spasms.
Satisfied that he was spent, she flattened against his chest with a soft sigh. "All warm now."
Tugging her, Scott wriggled them both out of the wet spot, then grabbed a blanket, "Take a nap, Mrs. Summers," he suggested.
"Planning to." She yawned and snuggled closer, pulling the blanket around both of them.
Feeling drowsy and sated, Scott closed his eyes, the last thought he had before sleep dropped over him was that he was the luckiest man in the world. And he was a damned sappy idiot. But the latter might have been Jean, he wasn't quite sure.