X-Men fic: double drabble, Jean/Ororo
Title: Solace
Disclaimer: not mine
Rating: R? Sex.
Set: it's been so long, I think I'm just assuming this is sometime around the whole Twelve debacle. (though I can easily fanwank it as being after Onslaught, too)
Pairing: Jean Grey/Ororo Munroe
Length: 200 words.
Notes: I don't think this really fits the current prompt at femslash100, sadly.
Jean thinks of it as an exchange of Goddesses. Two powerful women, dancing around one another until they both succumb. Ororo always laughs, the sound real and feeling vibrant against Jean's skin. For her part, Jean always sighs, begs, fingers clawing into the sheets as the wind whips around them (there's lightning storms that night, and the electricity pops along her skin until she's lost in a whirlwind).
Afterwards, they don't need to speak; they've been friends for what feels like forever. Through life, death, clones, de-powering and far worse.
Sometimes, Jean thinks that these things that have shaped them have shaped this, as well. That Ororo arching into her fingers happens because Jean can remember eating stars. That the curses and whimpers that escape from Jean are from having to learn to feel without the elements at her beck and call.
In a way, morning comes as a warning that it can't last. The first of the dawn light streaking them both in lines of light and dark, reminding them a world exists outside the walls of Ororo's room.
"Breakfast," Jean will murmur, fingers stroking regretful goodbyes.
Ororo will smile, and Jean will walk away. She always does.
Disclaimer: not mine
Rating: R? Sex.
Set: it's been so long, I think I'm just assuming this is sometime around the whole Twelve debacle. (though I can easily fanwank it as being after Onslaught, too)
Pairing: Jean Grey/Ororo Munroe
Length: 200 words.
Notes: I don't think this really fits the current prompt at femslash100, sadly.
Jean thinks of it as an exchange of Goddesses. Two powerful women, dancing around one another until they both succumb. Ororo always laughs, the sound real and feeling vibrant against Jean's skin. For her part, Jean always sighs, begs, fingers clawing into the sheets as the wind whips around them (there's lightning storms that night, and the electricity pops along her skin until she's lost in a whirlwind).
Afterwards, they don't need to speak; they've been friends for what feels like forever. Through life, death, clones, de-powering and far worse.
Sometimes, Jean thinks that these things that have shaped them have shaped this, as well. That Ororo arching into her fingers happens because Jean can remember eating stars. That the curses and whimpers that escape from Jean are from having to learn to feel without the elements at her beck and call.
In a way, morning comes as a warning that it can't last. The first of the dawn light streaking them both in lines of light and dark, reminding them a world exists outside the walls of Ororo's room.
"Breakfast," Jean will murmur, fingers stroking regretful goodbyes.
Ororo will smile, and Jean will walk away. She always does.