Psychosomatic
RATING: R for F/M sexual situations.
FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Men. Movie canon only.
SERIES: Sucks To Be You: Episode IV
SUMMARY: Logan/Jean. Jean's turn.
FEEDBACK: Yes, any and all comments welcome.
DISCLAIMER: Marvel. Fox. Not me.
MORE FIC: http://prillalar.tripod.com/fic/fic.html
TIMELINE: For the purposes of this series, I'm inserting an as
yet unspecified amount of time between the completion of the
mission and Logan's departure. At least a couple of weeks.
CANON: Movie canon only. I've made no attempt to reconcile more
than twenty-five years of comic book canon to a ninety minute
movie, either in characterisation or in events. In some cases
I've actively avoided language or wording that might seem
referential.
WARNING: While this series overall is slash (Logan/Scott), this installment
is het (Logan/Jean). I know that's pretty kinky and all, but hey. The next
part will get back to the slash.
Jean is in her lab, a cup of tea steaming beside her. Early morning and she's alone. It's the best part of the day.
If she ever thought about it, she might find it interesting how she's almost pure mind here, all brainpower, leave the body behind, use the TK to pick up the pencil, she's working so hard.
But in the morning, in the lab, she's hardly self-aware. She takes a drink of tea and it's cold, not early any more, but who's paying any attention to that when this is fascinating, write it down, look in the microscope again. Fascinating.
Someone comes in, speaks to her, and she's annoyed, long enough that it will shame her later. Then the Hippocratic oath kicks in and there's Bobby, holding his bloody arm.
"How -- never mind." She stands, takes his arm, looks at the cut. "I'll give you a tetanus booster anyhow. And you'll need stitches." She smiles at him. "Again."
"Couldn't I just..." The skin under her fingers starts to cool.
"You can't. So don't." She reaches out, plucks what she needs from the air. "Not until the stitches come out, in fact. Now this might sting a little."
He winces, but silently, and watches as she sews him up. "Know where I could get a healing factor too?"
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" It would be nice and now she's itching to get back to her work. To the cells she's watching, prodding, trying to make react. To find out how they work. It would be nice.
Bobby's pretty stoic until he gets the booster. Then he yelps, almost, and is embarrassed that he does. She's glad. It keeps him from hanging around too long.
Released, she sits back down but her eyes catch the clock and she knows she shouldn't skip lunch again. It's half an hour later when she realises she hasn't stopped working.
Jean walks out into the hall and step by step her body comes back to her. Tension in her neck, pain in her lower back. Hunger, thirst. A draft on her cheek. Her watch slipping down her wrist.
And desire.
It's been on her for a few days now, the dull hot pull between her legs, the twist in her gut, the sensitivity beneath her skin. She must be ovulating, fertile as hell.
At night she's been making her move, but Scott is Mr Not Tonight right now. Mr Roll Over And Go To Sleep. He's brooding, it happens sometimes, and Jean's not in the mood to coax him out of it; she's in the mood to fuck. So when he turns her down, she doesn't stop to worry about it, she just comes anyhow and she's not thinking about him when she does.
She's not thinking about him now. She wants to touch herself, run her hands over her breasts, cup her belly, jam her fingers hard against her clit. She wants to rub against another body, press herself against the wall, go to the laundry, wait for the spin cycle, anything. But she's in the hallway and it's lunchtime and she's not sure what else.
She's not thinking about Logan either. Not about the sandpaper stroke of his voice. Not about his eyes following her. Not that half smile of his that must mean either "fuck you" or "fuck me". That bit of swagger in his walk. The claws sliding out of his fist. His arm around her throat, so tight she couldn't breathe.
At night she thinks about that.
Jean turns the corner and there he is. Waiting for her. As if her panties weren't wet enough already.
"I was going to come in and get you but I figured you'd just stick something sharp into me." Logan is leaning against the wall and his back arches as he stands.
"Or cut something off."
"You want to watch it grow back?"
She smiles and he smiles and she's sure that he can smell just how aroused she is. "By the way, I'm perfectly capable of getting to lunch on my own."
He's walking beside her, his arm brushing hers. "You're just trying to avoid me."
"You're certainly easier to deal with at the cellular level." She turns her head, looks at him. She wants to wind her fingers into his coarse dark hair, yank his head to the side, kiss him, bite his lip. He wants that too. Jean's in control of the situation. She's not going to, she's a good girl. But damn.
"You cloned me yet?" He's looking at her too. Right into her eyes and she feels it all the way down.
She turns away, smiling. "Not quite."
"I'm not getting any younger."
"You're not getting any older, either." They round another corner and Jean lets herself drift a little, a brief press of thigh, of shoulder. He puts his hand on her back. She can almost feel it moving down, sliding up under her sweater. Almost feel it hot on her bare skin. Almost feel his whole body heavy against her.
"You did clone me. You just want him for yourself." He's waiting for her to pull away a little, to make him drop his hand.
She doesn't. "To experiment on." Something shifts in Logan and she wishes she hadn't said that. It's part of what he wants from her, she thinks. Someone he doesn't have to talk to. Someone who will know. She thinks.
But only part of what he wants and Jean's damn tired of thinking. A look from her and he'd take her arm, pull her into the shadows. Hard or gentle, however she wanted it.
Right now, she wants it hard, then gentle. She'll lose him in the end, regardless, she knows it. She wants something to lose. She's moving closer to him now, no accident. The next door they come to, she's going to open it and pull him through. Pull him through and fall on him and rake his skin and tear his clothes and fuck him til he screams. Or she does.
She's going to do it and she can hardly see, hardly knows where they are. Doesn't care if Logan wants to or not. She'll bend him to her will. But he does want to and she knows it. She feels it -- his mouth on her breasts, his cock hard between her thighs. Feels both her desire and his.
There's a door and she opens it and there's Scott, in the kitchen, eating lunch.
He looks up, at her, at Logan, and the tension sours, turns dangerous. They're going to fight. She doesn't want to see.
"I'm not very hungry," she says and shuts them in together.
Jean goes back to her lab and looks through her microscope. The cells are dead. She doesn't know what killed them.
The End