The Wanting Time (NC-17) 3/5
Author: JaqofSpades
Verse: X-men Movieverse (post X2)
Rating: NC-17 (for the odd swear, sex, sex, sex, and lashings of sex.)
Disclaimer: Not for profit, just for fun.
Title: The Wanting Time
Chapter 3: Taste
Her arousal hung so heavy in the air, he could taste it. His mouth was open as he breathed her in, and the molecules landed sweet on his tongue, enfolding him in Marie scent. Five steps away - he wanted nothing so desperately as to cover that ground, and kneel by her bed.
Except, perhaps, to do as she said. To obey her command.
“Make me come, sugar. Tell me how.”
He had been hard from the moment they started this … whatever it was. No game, that’s for sure. Sex with Marie was deadly fucking serious. And if he was going to do this, talk her up and over, and drench himself in the smell and the taste of her, he was pretty damn sure he would come too. Sex, in his book.
Was he ready to do that? Have sex with Marie, even if he didn’t lay a hand on her? jaq-of-spades.livejournal.com/21918.html
Logan kept his gaze focused inward, refusing to let himself be railroaded by her need, or worse, his need for her. For once in his godforsaken life, he was going to think something through. Without being led by his cock, or a beseeching pair of brown eyes. Pretty tits too, an unhelpful inner voice added. He told himself to shut the fuck up - he needed to think.
She was young. Too young, everyone would say, and judges in most every state of the Union would agree. But he’d never paid lip service to anyone’s rules, and just because something was against the law, didn’t make it wrong. Was this wrong?
Cyke and Ororo would think so. Jeannie, too, but maybe not for the right reasons. Xavier? He didn’t know. Xavier treated Marie differently than all the other kids. He’d once said life experience couldn’t be erased, even if it wasn’t your life, and that’s when Logan began to suspect Marie was more of a fully realised adult than he was. Could that be allowed to count?
He opened his eyes, then, and looked at her. Head tossed back on the bed, hands still working over her sides, down her waist, fingers tracing her belly button, then returning up to her nipples. Pressing at that thin little shirt, harder by the moment. Little moans as she waited for him. Flick, flick. Pinch. Her hips rose off the bed and her anguished moan made Logan shudder. She had taken charge, refusing to be passive as she waited for him to decide.
She looked almost belligerent as she stared at him for a moment, chocolate eyes huge with arousal. Behind the drive to fuck, however, was something else: a warmth he had never seen in a woman’s eyes. A commitment, even. He wasn’t just a body, to her. He was a man - her man. And if he wasn’t ready for her, she would wait.
And writhe. And suffer. Needlessly, he decided. Not for another fucking second.
“Take it off.” His own voice shocked him with how desperate he sounded, but he needed to see her. Bare. Needed to watch every inch of her body flush and shake.
Her eyes flew open, straight to his. She wasn’t frightened, exactly, but he could smell her hesitation. Naked was a big deal. The biggest, for her. And no clothes meant no get-out-of-jail-free card. No question of sliding this under the carpet as a flirtation that got out of hand, or some sort of twisted Sex Ed lesson. He smiled to reassure her that he knew the stakes, and had chosen this. Chosen her.
“I won’t lay a hand on you. But if I’m gonna be smelling you come and tasting you in the air, darlin’, I want to watch you. Every fucking gorgeous part of you.”
Just in case his meaning wasn’t clear, Logan levered himself out of the chair and maneuvered its heavy bulk to face the end of her bed. Her eyes had fluttered open to watch him, their chocolate depths now signaling a mix of desire and frank curiosity. He felt a predatory grin stretch across his face as he slid back into the chair without ever losing eye contact - and with one booted foot, pushed her legs wide.
“Take your clothes off, Marie.” He hadn’t meant to growl, but a gush of scent had given him the urge to yank her jeans clear off her body. Better she do it herself, or his promise not to touch would vanish quicker than her panties.
She seemed to be feeling cooperative. Her t-shirt was gone, and before he could even think “thank you God,” she was wriggling her way out of the tight, tight jeans. Something had told her he was way past a striptease, right now, and she was unhooking her bra quicker than he could admire the sight of magnificent tits pushed high and proud by dark red satin.
Then, her nipples put dark red satin to shame, so it was all good. It was so freaking good he needed to sit back in that chair, and fight the urge to dig his claws deep into the antique wood. Control. He needed some. Not over her - never her - but his will had frayed thin over the months of exertion, and now … where was his fucking self control?
“What about you?” she asked, and the claws came out anyway, slicing him free of the last of his inhibitions.
It was a demand, and one he had no intention of refusing. He sheathed the blades, then held her eyes as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his cock. Marie sat up a little, eyes riveted, as he pulled out its full length, sliding his hand up and down a time or two more than necessary. Her tongue came up to caress her pout, and he couldn’t decide whether it was that tempting pink tongue, or her fascinated admiration, that drew the first drops of precome from him.
She gasped, and he growled. “Did you really think I could watch you playin; with your titties and not be feelin’ this, darling? If you want to stop this, say so now, because I might still be able to walk away.”
“You move an inch and I might have to kill you, sugar. I was surprised, that’s all.” She bit her lip, and he knew there was something she wasn’t quite brave enough to say. What the fuck could be out of bounds now? He saw her take a deep breath and push her chin up, and knew. Absolutely nothing.
“Logan .. what .. how … I want to know,” she broke off, blushing. Tried again. “How does it taste?”
He felt his eyebrow hitch high, and resisted the urge to howl. Ran his fingers over the tip of his cock, collecting the stickiness there before bringing it to his mouth. “Salty. Tangy. Sticky, but not stringy, not like …” he wondered if that was enough detail. She jumped in and completed his sentence. “Not like when you come properly … that’s different, right?”
Oh yeah, darlin’. Real different. Gallons of fuckin’ different. He could feel his balls drawing up already, and knew that even without being allowed the sanctuary of her body, his orgasm would be mind-blowing.
Right now, though, he just wanted to get on with blowing her mind.
“Why are we talking, Marie? When we could be … talking?” She seemed put out by the reprimand, but when he hunkered back down in the chair, and spread his legs wide so she could see his hand give a few hard pumps, focus returned. He thought.
“Logan - take off your shirt. And wifebeater.” He tried not to smirk as he yanked them overhead, and threw them on the end of her bed. “Anything else, ma’am?”
“No. Leave your jeans on, open like that. But … pull out your belt and give that to me.” His eyebrows nearly shot off his face at that, but he complied anyway. Sat back as she organized pillows behind her head so she could sit opposite him, and watch. As he would watch her. His mouth went dry at the thought, and words deserted him. But not for long.
*
“Jesus, Marie, you look fucking edible sitting up there like that. I had no idea your tits were so big. I want to weigh them - one in each hand. I’d lift them up and tickle you underneath and my thumbs …” she knew what they would do, because her own long fingers were tickling the underside of her breasts, while her thumbs flicked her now well abused nipples. They must be sore, he thought, but she didn’t seem to care. Once again, her own fingers were making her hips jerk, and she hadn’t touched herself below the waist yet. Soon, he promised himself, he’d move on …
“Oh, that’s it baby, flick them hard. Pinch them. I can smell how much you love that, oh God it’s killing me.” He pumped himself, hard, and felt his own arousal switch up a gear. His tongue had to be hanging out, tasting the air, but he didn’t care. Just more of this. More.
“I’d bite you now, Marie, hard. It might even send you over, but we’re not done. Fuck, we’ve got a long way to go yet. I’d stick my tongue in your belly button and swirl it around and use my fingers up and down your side, finding all those places you don’t even know about yet. Oh, and then, I’d be sliding down, baby. Right down to taste you. Fuck, I need to taste you.”
He told himself the air was good enough, for now. Was this what ambrosia tasted like, if you were a God? Thick and rich, and hot and sweet, and everything good. Nothing this good. Except, except … his brain insisted on torturing him with how much better she would taste, inside. His tongue inside her.
“You’d taste like maple syrup, I think. Sweet and sticky and so friggin’ good you can’t ever get enough. I’d stick my tongue so deep inside you I’d feel your walls around me and I would suck and suck, and slurp and make you drip with it. I wouldn’t even touch your clit, at first, ‘cause I don’t want you to come too fast, darlin’. I want you to be fuckin’ aching for me. Aching.”
She thrashed her head back against the headboard and moaned, her own fingers working inside her. Growled at him.
“I AM aching, goddamn you, Logan! Please …” she writhed on the bed, lost. He almost felt bad about teasing her, but he wanted to hear it again.
“What, Marie? Please, what?”
“Make me come! You promised!” she yelled.
He laughed. “Oh, darlin’, you will come. You won’t believe that comin’ could be this fuckin’ good, you’ll come so hard.” And he could feel it building, already, and while he could make himself wait, he didn’t want to. They’d both been waiting long enough.
“When I’d drunk my fill of you, licked you clean inside and out, I’d have to start with your clit to get you wet all over again. When I’m eating you out, I’d pull you right up to me and my fingers would be ticklin’ your sides and pinchin’ you a bit and holding you wide open for me, but when I’m playin with your clit, I need my hands back. My tongue would be flicking it back and forth, and my lips giving it little tugs and if you could take it, I’d be using my teeth, too, but my hands … I’d have three fingers inside of you, so you could feel me inside and out.”
“I’d be stabbin you with them, baby. Inside you, ticklin’ those walls and findin’ that spot that’s gonna make you scream, kid. Scream the fuckin’ house down.”
Logan heaved in a huge breath at the thought of it, and was hit anew with her scent. He had been so caught up in what he would do to her, he had forgotten, for a moment, to watch her. He lifted his attention to her face, fierce with the approaching onslaught, and then slid his gaze to her downwards - her sweat-slicked breasts, a delicious bellybutton, and the glorious triangle below. He’d promised he wouldn’t touch, but he craned forward in his chair to see better. The view was tremendous; pink, and glistening and oh-so-fucking tempting … he bent his head a little further, and blew. A benediction, hot and moist, on her over-sensitised clit.
She screamed. The scent of Marie, orgasmic, enfolded him, just as he saw the moisture gush from her sex. He heard his name - again, and again, and again. He forced his eyes to stay open, drinking her in, even as he began buck in the chair, his overloaded senses throwing him headfirst into orgasm.
***
To chapter 4
Verse: X-men Movieverse (post X2)
Rating: NC-17 (for the odd swear, sex, sex, sex, and lashings of sex.)
Disclaimer: Not for profit, just for fun.
Title: The Wanting Time
Chapter 3: Taste
Her arousal hung so heavy in the air, he could taste it. His mouth was open as he breathed her in, and the molecules landed sweet on his tongue, enfolding him in Marie scent. Five steps away - he wanted nothing so desperately as to cover that ground, and kneel by her bed.
Except, perhaps, to do as she said. To obey her command.
“Make me come, sugar. Tell me how.”
He had been hard from the moment they started this … whatever it was. No game, that’s for sure. Sex with Marie was deadly fucking serious. And if he was going to do this, talk her up and over, and drench himself in the smell and the taste of her, he was pretty damn sure he would come too. Sex, in his book.
Was he ready to do that? Have sex with Marie, even if he didn’t lay a hand on her? jaq-of-spades.livejournal.com/21918.html
Logan kept his gaze focused inward, refusing to let himself be railroaded by her need, or worse, his need for her. For once in his godforsaken life, he was going to think something through. Without being led by his cock, or a beseeching pair of brown eyes. Pretty tits too, an unhelpful inner voice added. He told himself to shut the fuck up - he needed to think.
She was young. Too young, everyone would say, and judges in most every state of the Union would agree. But he’d never paid lip service to anyone’s rules, and just because something was against the law, didn’t make it wrong. Was this wrong?
Cyke and Ororo would think so. Jeannie, too, but maybe not for the right reasons. Xavier? He didn’t know. Xavier treated Marie differently than all the other kids. He’d once said life experience couldn’t be erased, even if it wasn’t your life, and that’s when Logan began to suspect Marie was more of a fully realised adult than he was. Could that be allowed to count?
He opened his eyes, then, and looked at her. Head tossed back on the bed, hands still working over her sides, down her waist, fingers tracing her belly button, then returning up to her nipples. Pressing at that thin little shirt, harder by the moment. Little moans as she waited for him. Flick, flick. Pinch. Her hips rose off the bed and her anguished moan made Logan shudder. She had taken charge, refusing to be passive as she waited for him to decide.
She looked almost belligerent as she stared at him for a moment, chocolate eyes huge with arousal. Behind the drive to fuck, however, was something else: a warmth he had never seen in a woman’s eyes. A commitment, even. He wasn’t just a body, to her. He was a man - her man. And if he wasn’t ready for her, she would wait.
And writhe. And suffer. Needlessly, he decided. Not for another fucking second.
“Take it off.” His own voice shocked him with how desperate he sounded, but he needed to see her. Bare. Needed to watch every inch of her body flush and shake.
Her eyes flew open, straight to his. She wasn’t frightened, exactly, but he could smell her hesitation. Naked was a big deal. The biggest, for her. And no clothes meant no get-out-of-jail-free card. No question of sliding this under the carpet as a flirtation that got out of hand, or some sort of twisted Sex Ed lesson. He smiled to reassure her that he knew the stakes, and had chosen this. Chosen her.
“I won’t lay a hand on you. But if I’m gonna be smelling you come and tasting you in the air, darlin’, I want to watch you. Every fucking gorgeous part of you.”
Just in case his meaning wasn’t clear, Logan levered himself out of the chair and maneuvered its heavy bulk to face the end of her bed. Her eyes had fluttered open to watch him, their chocolate depths now signaling a mix of desire and frank curiosity. He felt a predatory grin stretch across his face as he slid back into the chair without ever losing eye contact - and with one booted foot, pushed her legs wide.
“Take your clothes off, Marie.” He hadn’t meant to growl, but a gush of scent had given him the urge to yank her jeans clear off her body. Better she do it herself, or his promise not to touch would vanish quicker than her panties.
She seemed to be feeling cooperative. Her t-shirt was gone, and before he could even think “thank you God,” she was wriggling her way out of the tight, tight jeans. Something had told her he was way past a striptease, right now, and she was unhooking her bra quicker than he could admire the sight of magnificent tits pushed high and proud by dark red satin.
Then, her nipples put dark red satin to shame, so it was all good. It was so freaking good he needed to sit back in that chair, and fight the urge to dig his claws deep into the antique wood. Control. He needed some. Not over her - never her - but his will had frayed thin over the months of exertion, and now … where was his fucking self control?
“What about you?” she asked, and the claws came out anyway, slicing him free of the last of his inhibitions.
It was a demand, and one he had no intention of refusing. He sheathed the blades, then held her eyes as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his cock. Marie sat up a little, eyes riveted, as he pulled out its full length, sliding his hand up and down a time or two more than necessary. Her tongue came up to caress her pout, and he couldn’t decide whether it was that tempting pink tongue, or her fascinated admiration, that drew the first drops of precome from him.
She gasped, and he growled. “Did you really think I could watch you playin; with your titties and not be feelin’ this, darling? If you want to stop this, say so now, because I might still be able to walk away.”
“You move an inch and I might have to kill you, sugar. I was surprised, that’s all.” She bit her lip, and he knew there was something she wasn’t quite brave enough to say. What the fuck could be out of bounds now? He saw her take a deep breath and push her chin up, and knew. Absolutely nothing.
“Logan .. what .. how … I want to know,” she broke off, blushing. Tried again. “How does it taste?”
He felt his eyebrow hitch high, and resisted the urge to howl. Ran his fingers over the tip of his cock, collecting the stickiness there before bringing it to his mouth. “Salty. Tangy. Sticky, but not stringy, not like …” he wondered if that was enough detail. She jumped in and completed his sentence. “Not like when you come properly … that’s different, right?”
Oh yeah, darlin’. Real different. Gallons of fuckin’ different. He could feel his balls drawing up already, and knew that even without being allowed the sanctuary of her body, his orgasm would be mind-blowing.
Right now, though, he just wanted to get on with blowing her mind.
“Why are we talking, Marie? When we could be … talking?” She seemed put out by the reprimand, but when he hunkered back down in the chair, and spread his legs wide so she could see his hand give a few hard pumps, focus returned. He thought.
“Logan - take off your shirt. And wifebeater.” He tried not to smirk as he yanked them overhead, and threw them on the end of her bed. “Anything else, ma’am?”
“No. Leave your jeans on, open like that. But … pull out your belt and give that to me.” His eyebrows nearly shot off his face at that, but he complied anyway. Sat back as she organized pillows behind her head so she could sit opposite him, and watch. As he would watch her. His mouth went dry at the thought, and words deserted him. But not for long.
*
“Jesus, Marie, you look fucking edible sitting up there like that. I had no idea your tits were so big. I want to weigh them - one in each hand. I’d lift them up and tickle you underneath and my thumbs …” she knew what they would do, because her own long fingers were tickling the underside of her breasts, while her thumbs flicked her now well abused nipples. They must be sore, he thought, but she didn’t seem to care. Once again, her own fingers were making her hips jerk, and she hadn’t touched herself below the waist yet. Soon, he promised himself, he’d move on …
“Oh, that’s it baby, flick them hard. Pinch them. I can smell how much you love that, oh God it’s killing me.” He pumped himself, hard, and felt his own arousal switch up a gear. His tongue had to be hanging out, tasting the air, but he didn’t care. Just more of this. More.
“I’d bite you now, Marie, hard. It might even send you over, but we’re not done. Fuck, we’ve got a long way to go yet. I’d stick my tongue in your belly button and swirl it around and use my fingers up and down your side, finding all those places you don’t even know about yet. Oh, and then, I’d be sliding down, baby. Right down to taste you. Fuck, I need to taste you.”
He told himself the air was good enough, for now. Was this what ambrosia tasted like, if you were a God? Thick and rich, and hot and sweet, and everything good. Nothing this good. Except, except … his brain insisted on torturing him with how much better she would taste, inside. His tongue inside her.
“You’d taste like maple syrup, I think. Sweet and sticky and so friggin’ good you can’t ever get enough. I’d stick my tongue so deep inside you I’d feel your walls around me and I would suck and suck, and slurp and make you drip with it. I wouldn’t even touch your clit, at first, ‘cause I don’t want you to come too fast, darlin’. I want you to be fuckin’ aching for me. Aching.”
She thrashed her head back against the headboard and moaned, her own fingers working inside her. Growled at him.
“I AM aching, goddamn you, Logan! Please …” she writhed on the bed, lost. He almost felt bad about teasing her, but he wanted to hear it again.
“What, Marie? Please, what?”
“Make me come! You promised!” she yelled.
He laughed. “Oh, darlin’, you will come. You won’t believe that comin’ could be this fuckin’ good, you’ll come so hard.” And he could feel it building, already, and while he could make himself wait, he didn’t want to. They’d both been waiting long enough.
“When I’d drunk my fill of you, licked you clean inside and out, I’d have to start with your clit to get you wet all over again. When I’m eating you out, I’d pull you right up to me and my fingers would be ticklin’ your sides and pinchin’ you a bit and holding you wide open for me, but when I’m playin with your clit, I need my hands back. My tongue would be flicking it back and forth, and my lips giving it little tugs and if you could take it, I’d be using my teeth, too, but my hands … I’d have three fingers inside of you, so you could feel me inside and out.”
“I’d be stabbin you with them, baby. Inside you, ticklin’ those walls and findin’ that spot that’s gonna make you scream, kid. Scream the fuckin’ house down.”
Logan heaved in a huge breath at the thought of it, and was hit anew with her scent. He had been so caught up in what he would do to her, he had forgotten, for a moment, to watch her. He lifted his attention to her face, fierce with the approaching onslaught, and then slid his gaze to her downwards - her sweat-slicked breasts, a delicious bellybutton, and the glorious triangle below. He’d promised he wouldn’t touch, but he craned forward in his chair to see better. The view was tremendous; pink, and glistening and oh-so-fucking tempting … he bent his head a little further, and blew. A benediction, hot and moist, on her over-sensitised clit.
She screamed. The scent of Marie, orgasmic, enfolded him, just as he saw the moisture gush from her sex. He heard his name - again, and again, and again. He forced his eyes to stay open, drinking her in, even as he began buck in the chair, his overloaded senses throwing him headfirst into orgasm.
***
To chapter 4