Fic: Astonishing X-Men, Emma/Phoenix, Ace of Wands Challenge
Title: Potential
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: Astonishing X-Men, set after “Dangerous” but before Issue #14.
Pairing: Emma/Phoenix, implied Emma/Scott and Scott/Jean
Summary: "You don't want to resist me, Emma..."
Rating: Adult
Word Count: ~900
AN: Written for the fandom_arcana “Ace of Wands” challenge. The traditional meaning of the Ace of Wands is of power, potential, opening to greater possibilities. Thanks to carlos_thedwarf for the beta!
Potential
“I thought Scott was supposed to be dreaming about you, not me.”
Emma knows that it’s stupid to talk to people in your dreams. They’re only manifestations of your subconscious, and talking to them doesn’t really accomplish anything other than make you look foolish.
She knows this, and yet here she is, facing Jean Grey on the darkened shores of a beach where the water runs red up on pure white sand, and she’s talking to her like they can have a conversation, or even like she wants to have one.
“Oh, no, Emma. If Scott dreams of me, it is a nightmare. The lover of whom he still dreams is gone far away, far away.” Jean smiles, and behind her there is a rushing sound like a tidal wave, and orange and red break over Jean’s body and frame her like a halo.
That’s when Emma knows she’s not speaking to Jean, but that other, that being that burrowed inside Jean’s mind and broke free in a torrent of flame and death.
The Phoenix.
“Exactly,” the woman purrs, and she looks like Jean but her eyes are glowing like the soft outer edges of the sun, yellow like buttercups. There is slow steady warmth rushing across Emma’s body, and even in her dream-state she feels the hair on her neck rise and fights the urge to shift her form.
The Phoenix laughs and the sound seems to come from everywhere; above and below and inside, swelling like a flame gathering strength. “It makes no difference to me, mortal, what form your flesh takes. I could still destroy it with a thought.”
Emma’s body is shivering-cold beneath the continual press of the warm heat; the earth tilts and shifts and she’s on her back, lying in the sand. The Phoenix is floating above her, brilliant red hair spilled like blood on the inky backdrop of the night sky, and her fingers press with gentle insistence on Emma’s lips.
Her mouth opens because she can do nothing else. The primordial power before her is too great to resist, and-
“You don’t want to resist me, Emma,” the voice murmurs, and Emma feels fingers pressing on her breasts and stroking down over her stomach. She’s helpless to stop it and her head is tossing on the sand, and all she can hear is the crash crash crash of the waves tumbling on the shore, incessant and drowning.
This close, the Phoenix’s eyes are not burning-bright any longer; they are calm and cool like reflective pools. Just as Emma feels fingers hot as brands sliding inside of her, she sees her own reflection and gasps, the sound swallowed by lips pressing against her own.
Phoenix tastes of sunlight and flame, destruction and chaos, and Emma’s body shudders helplessly as the power overtakes her. She is drenched in pleasure and fear, burning with something so bright it feels like she’ll disintegrate and wash away, and there will be nothing left of her at all…
Is this what it felt like, for Jean, when she tried to resist it? Did it seduce her like it’s doing to me? This being knows her body, Emma will give it that, knows how to stroke and rub and slide.
Yes…I can give you what you want, Emma Frost, if you would only surrender unto me…I could make you strong…I could make you a God…
Emma wraps a hand in Phoenix’s hair, twists fingers around the scarlet strands writhing like Medusa’s serpents, and smiles against that devouring, beautiful mouth. Jean fought this being until the very end, when it broke forth from within her and went soaring back into the heavens from whence it came.
She’ll be damned if she does anything less.
“Darling,” Emma breaths, shifting her form to cold hard diamond, pressing fingers insistent and strong into the hollow of the ancient being’s throat, “I already am.”
She pushes and forces it back with every mental power she can harness, until she’s staring into eyes fathomless and glimmering as if the very stars are trapped within.
The face that stares down at her is no longer Jean Grey’s. It is ageless and terribly blank, like some Greek statue with a vacant expression and a knowing archaic smile. “I will have you if I want you, Emma. Do not resist me. I am eternal, you are nothing. Nothing. You are like a single grain of sand on this beach upon which you lay, alike as to all the others and just as easily carried back to sea.”
Emma smiles and leans up, pressing her mouth once more to Phoenix’s. She tastes like roses left too long to bloom and wilt in the summer heat. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”
The clarion sound of Phoenix’s laughter resonates like a church bell high up in a stone tower. “We shall, oh, we shall…I know your secrets, Emma Frost, I know with whom your loyalties lie…foolish little girl, playing games you can’t ever win…”
The presence fades away until all is left is the sound of the sea and the dizzying array of stars in her dreamscape sky. Emma watches a bird of orange fire soar across the horizon, and wonders why she can’t quite make herself wake up, wonders why part of her longs for it to return and consume her completely.
She wonders if this is what it felt like for Jean, that beautiful fear and that terrible promise. She would have liked to have asked her.
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: Astonishing X-Men, set after “Dangerous” but before Issue #14.
Pairing: Emma/Phoenix, implied Emma/Scott and Scott/Jean
Summary: "You don't want to resist me, Emma..."
Rating: Adult
Word Count: ~900
AN: Written for the fandom_arcana “Ace of Wands” challenge. The traditional meaning of the Ace of Wands is of power, potential, opening to greater possibilities. Thanks to carlos_thedwarf for the beta!
Potential
“I thought Scott was supposed to be dreaming about you, not me.”
Emma knows that it’s stupid to talk to people in your dreams. They’re only manifestations of your subconscious, and talking to them doesn’t really accomplish anything other than make you look foolish.
She knows this, and yet here she is, facing Jean Grey on the darkened shores of a beach where the water runs red up on pure white sand, and she’s talking to her like they can have a conversation, or even like she wants to have one.
“Oh, no, Emma. If Scott dreams of me, it is a nightmare. The lover of whom he still dreams is gone far away, far away.” Jean smiles, and behind her there is a rushing sound like a tidal wave, and orange and red break over Jean’s body and frame her like a halo.
That’s when Emma knows she’s not speaking to Jean, but that other, that being that burrowed inside Jean’s mind and broke free in a torrent of flame and death.
The Phoenix.
“Exactly,” the woman purrs, and she looks like Jean but her eyes are glowing like the soft outer edges of the sun, yellow like buttercups. There is slow steady warmth rushing across Emma’s body, and even in her dream-state she feels the hair on her neck rise and fights the urge to shift her form.
The Phoenix laughs and the sound seems to come from everywhere; above and below and inside, swelling like a flame gathering strength. “It makes no difference to me, mortal, what form your flesh takes. I could still destroy it with a thought.”
Emma’s body is shivering-cold beneath the continual press of the warm heat; the earth tilts and shifts and she’s on her back, lying in the sand. The Phoenix is floating above her, brilliant red hair spilled like blood on the inky backdrop of the night sky, and her fingers press with gentle insistence on Emma’s lips.
Her mouth opens because she can do nothing else. The primordial power before her is too great to resist, and-
“You don’t want to resist me, Emma,” the voice murmurs, and Emma feels fingers pressing on her breasts and stroking down over her stomach. She’s helpless to stop it and her head is tossing on the sand, and all she can hear is the crash crash crash of the waves tumbling on the shore, incessant and drowning.
This close, the Phoenix’s eyes are not burning-bright any longer; they are calm and cool like reflective pools. Just as Emma feels fingers hot as brands sliding inside of her, she sees her own reflection and gasps, the sound swallowed by lips pressing against her own.
Phoenix tastes of sunlight and flame, destruction and chaos, and Emma’s body shudders helplessly as the power overtakes her. She is drenched in pleasure and fear, burning with something so bright it feels like she’ll disintegrate and wash away, and there will be nothing left of her at all…
Is this what it felt like, for Jean, when she tried to resist it? Did it seduce her like it’s doing to me? This being knows her body, Emma will give it that, knows how to stroke and rub and slide.
Yes…I can give you what you want, Emma Frost, if you would only surrender unto me…I could make you strong…I could make you a God…
Emma wraps a hand in Phoenix’s hair, twists fingers around the scarlet strands writhing like Medusa’s serpents, and smiles against that devouring, beautiful mouth. Jean fought this being until the very end, when it broke forth from within her and went soaring back into the heavens from whence it came.
She’ll be damned if she does anything less.
“Darling,” Emma breaths, shifting her form to cold hard diamond, pressing fingers insistent and strong into the hollow of the ancient being’s throat, “I already am.”
She pushes and forces it back with every mental power she can harness, until she’s staring into eyes fathomless and glimmering as if the very stars are trapped within.
The face that stares down at her is no longer Jean Grey’s. It is ageless and terribly blank, like some Greek statue with a vacant expression and a knowing archaic smile. “I will have you if I want you, Emma. Do not resist me. I am eternal, you are nothing. Nothing. You are like a single grain of sand on this beach upon which you lay, alike as to all the others and just as easily carried back to sea.”
Emma smiles and leans up, pressing her mouth once more to Phoenix’s. She tastes like roses left too long to bloom and wilt in the summer heat. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”
The clarion sound of Phoenix’s laughter resonates like a church bell high up in a stone tower. “We shall, oh, we shall…I know your secrets, Emma Frost, I know with whom your loyalties lie…foolish little girl, playing games you can’t ever win…”
The presence fades away until all is left is the sound of the sea and the dizzying array of stars in her dreamscape sky. Emma watches a bird of orange fire soar across the horizon, and wonders why she can’t quite make herself wake up, wonders why part of her longs for it to return and consume her completely.
She wonders if this is what it felt like for Jean, that beautiful fear and that terrible promise. She would have liked to have asked her.