Drabbletag - Control
Title: Feather-Light
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Control
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Pairing: Jean/Ororo
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 250
Notes: Set before X-Men 1
Ororo struggles to keep her face impassive. She doesn’t want to shatter Jean’s concentration, doesn’t want the game to stop but, oh, it’s difficult. Catching herself before she can gasp, but she can’t quite hold back her shiver. There’s a sheen of perspiration beginning to show across Jean’s chest as she pushes herself and her powers further and further.
The feather glides through the air, twisting and turning as Jean wills it. Such a small thing, so light, but it’s the precision that’s such a challenge. The soft edge drags up the back of Ororo’s knees, ticklish enough that she has to bite the inside of her cheek. Swirling up over her hip, fluffiness moving up her navel. It travels between the valley of her breasts, circles one dark nipple with just the barest hint of pressure, and Ororo murmurs quietly despite herself.
Jean smiles distractedly, proud of her control, of the way she always coaxes those noises from Ororo eventually, no matter how Ororo may try to hide them. And then the feather is spinning, the harder nib scratching across Ororo’s nipple, and she bucks into it, groaning for the sudden bite against sensitive skin.
Jean’s panting now, hands shaking a little in the air as her fingers flex like a puppet master. The feather drops lower again, nib turned away and the downy softness stroking down the lines of Ororo’s labia, sliding through her wetness, making her groan aloud.
Jean’s smile grows sharper. The feather keeps on stroking.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Control
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Pairing: Jean/Ororo
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 250
Notes: Set before X-Men 1
Ororo struggles to keep her face impassive. She doesn’t want to shatter Jean’s concentration, doesn’t want the game to stop but, oh, it’s difficult. Catching herself before she can gasp, but she can’t quite hold back her shiver. There’s a sheen of perspiration beginning to show across Jean’s chest as she pushes herself and her powers further and further.
The feather glides through the air, twisting and turning as Jean wills it. Such a small thing, so light, but it’s the precision that’s such a challenge. The soft edge drags up the back of Ororo’s knees, ticklish enough that she has to bite the inside of her cheek. Swirling up over her hip, fluffiness moving up her navel. It travels between the valley of her breasts, circles one dark nipple with just the barest hint of pressure, and Ororo murmurs quietly despite herself.
Jean smiles distractedly, proud of her control, of the way she always coaxes those noises from Ororo eventually, no matter how Ororo may try to hide them. And then the feather is spinning, the harder nib scratching across Ororo’s nipple, and she bucks into it, groaning for the sudden bite against sensitive skin.
Jean’s panting now, hands shaking a little in the air as her fingers flex like a puppet master. The feather drops lower again, nib turned away and the downy softness stroking down the lines of Ororo’s labia, sliding through her wetness, making her groan aloud.
Jean’s smile grows sharper. The feather keeps on stroking.