FIC: The World's a Stage (X-Men, Jean/Rogue, R)
Title: The World's a Stage
Author: aphrodite_mine
Summary: one sided Jean/Rogue, post X2, some speculation about the return of Jean and her powers
Rating: R, for sexual situation and language
Thanks to: bethalarien, chachirinoda and harvest_blue for initial readings/betas.
Suddenly, the salesman seemed nervous. "Perhaps, Ms. Grey, this is not a good idea."
Shit! What am I doing? Maybe this really isn't a good idea if I'm letting my powers slip like this.
He put down the just-past-the-wrist kid leather gloves and twitched slightly as Dr. Grey's mental grip left him. "Ah, would you like to look at any of our other merchandise?"
Oh, hell with it.
"No, no, that won't be necessary. Thank you for your help. I'll take these." The willowy redhead closed the lid over the soft-as-butter gloves and strode to the check-out.
As the older salesman scanned the barcode, Jean drew a breath. "Yes, ma'am?" he asked.
Jean hesitated. If my powers weren't going berserk right now, I'd just read his mind and save myself the trouble. Damn. "How do I care for the gloves, if they were to... become soiled?" Jean avoided the man's eyes.
He chuckled. "Well, generally, Ms. Grey, you just avoid getting them soiled in the first place, but in the case that it does happen, I have some products I could sell you that do a fair job at returning the leather to its original suppleness..." He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
"I'll purchase some now."
-**-
The door was locked. Jean lived in a mansion full of telepaths, but at least the damn door was locked. If she let her mind relax and expand, she could feel everyone in the mansion; what they were doing, what they were thinking. Professor Xavier was lecturing some students on the pacifist actions of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Scott was in the garage, tinkering with his motorcycle. Rogue was in her room, curled up with a mystery novel.
Oh, Jean. [she put the book down] You're so much more interesting than this ol' book.
Sure, it was corny, but the script was always being re-written.
"Is that so, Rogue? Why don't you come over here and tell me how much."
Here, Jean would lie back on the bed she still "shared" with Scott Summers, fully clothed, and tilt her head.
Ohh.. [she shivers with longing] Jean, I want to touch you so much!
"You can, Rogue. Your gloves,"
Here, Jean would slide the flat box out from under her pillow like she hadn't planned this all before. She would imagine sliding the smooth, supple leather onto Rogue's hands, trembling just slightly, when in reality she was covering her own hands with the gloves.
Such a strong desire had granted Jean and equally strong imagination.
[Rogue pushes Jean down to the bed, the aggressor now that her skin is not a danger. She trails fingertips up Jean's leg while lifting her burgundy skirt waist high. She gasps.] Jean!
Jean smiles. "No underwear, I know. I couldn't wait any longer for you. Touch me, Rogue."
Here, when Jean imagines Rogue's touch, so utterly soft and yet so powerful, wanting, and forceful as her fingers slide into her core, here the illusion fades and Rogue disappears. There is just Jean Grey, lonely telepath reigning in her rampant powers, fucking herself on her marriage bed, wearing gloves because she's in love with someone else.
Author: aphrodite_mine
Summary: one sided Jean/Rogue, post X2, some speculation about the return of Jean and her powers
Rating: R, for sexual situation and language
Thanks to: bethalarien, chachirinoda and harvest_blue for initial readings/betas.
Suddenly, the salesman seemed nervous. "Perhaps, Ms. Grey, this is not a good idea."
Shit! What am I doing? Maybe this really isn't a good idea if I'm letting my powers slip like this.
He put down the just-past-the-wrist kid leather gloves and twitched slightly as Dr. Grey's mental grip left him. "Ah, would you like to look at any of our other merchandise?"
Oh, hell with it.
"No, no, that won't be necessary. Thank you for your help. I'll take these." The willowy redhead closed the lid over the soft-as-butter gloves and strode to the check-out.
As the older salesman scanned the barcode, Jean drew a breath. "Yes, ma'am?" he asked.
Jean hesitated. If my powers weren't going berserk right now, I'd just read his mind and save myself the trouble. Damn. "How do I care for the gloves, if they were to... become soiled?" Jean avoided the man's eyes.
He chuckled. "Well, generally, Ms. Grey, you just avoid getting them soiled in the first place, but in the case that it does happen, I have some products I could sell you that do a fair job at returning the leather to its original suppleness..." He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
"I'll purchase some now."
-**-
The door was locked. Jean lived in a mansion full of telepaths, but at least the damn door was locked. If she let her mind relax and expand, she could feel everyone in the mansion; what they were doing, what they were thinking. Professor Xavier was lecturing some students on the pacifist actions of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Scott was in the garage, tinkering with his motorcycle. Rogue was in her room, curled up with a mystery novel.
Oh, Jean. [she put the book down] You're so much more interesting than this ol' book.
Sure, it was corny, but the script was always being re-written.
"Is that so, Rogue? Why don't you come over here and tell me how much."
Here, Jean would lie back on the bed she still "shared" with Scott Summers, fully clothed, and tilt her head.
Ohh.. [she shivers with longing] Jean, I want to touch you so much!
"You can, Rogue. Your gloves,"
Here, Jean would slide the flat box out from under her pillow like she hadn't planned this all before. She would imagine sliding the smooth, supple leather onto Rogue's hands, trembling just slightly, when in reality she was covering her own hands with the gloves.
Such a strong desire had granted Jean and equally strong imagination.
[Rogue pushes Jean down to the bed, the aggressor now that her skin is not a danger. She trails fingertips up Jean's leg while lifting her burgundy skirt waist high. She gasps.] Jean!
Jean smiles. "No underwear, I know. I couldn't wait any longer for you. Touch me, Rogue."
Here, when Jean imagines Rogue's touch, so utterly soft and yet so powerful, wanting, and forceful as her fingers slide into her core, here the illusion fades and Rogue disappears. There is just Jean Grey, lonely telepath reigning in her rampant powers, fucking herself on her marriage bed, wearing gloves because she's in love with someone else.