Fic: Dark Tide NC-17 Slash Warning
Hmm my last post was a bit depressin' and so here's a fic for you....
Title: Dark Tide 1/?
Rating: NC-17 Explicit Sex
Author: Varien
Summary: Power was an intoxicating aphrodisiac as any, and a powerful woman was even worse than having all the capability in the universe.
Pairing: Dark Phoenix/Rogue
Disclaimer: I do not own them. Stan Lee, Marvel, Fox and some other shirts do.
A/N: Yeah - M this is all your fault. And thanks oh so much for making me think of this. (Notice the deadpan and total lack of enthusiasm) Oh and at first I'm purposely unclear as to WHO the first person pov is. But it's Rogue. Think about it. Mull over it, and see how it leads up to the point of 'no return'. Also, I'm perfectly aware I'm butchering comic cannon - but it works in this instance. And also I never really liked the 'real' Jean, she really is boring.
Started: 02/21/05
It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I'm not sure what should have… but not this. Nothing like this. You see - power is the most potent of aphrodisiacs, and I, just like most others - human or mutant - fell for it. She was so compelling, so strong, so… extreme.. and willing.. that it almost seems like I ran to her.
Normally she was so .. perfect. Uninteresting, unassuming - totally PERFECT. I hate perfection, whether real or an illusion, because it's so insipid. Jean, Most Wonderful and Perfect entity in the X-Men.
Talk about boring.
But after the crash, everything changed. Suddenly Jean was calling herself The Phoenix, her powers were stronger, and something started happening with her mind. Continually she sought out experiences, new ones that peaked with her finally leaving us for places unknown for a while.
No one who asked her where she'd been got an answer. Not Scott, not Logan, not Storm. Not even her putative father the Professor.
Those were the days, the days where I tried to ignore the things around me, when I drank from the cup of power, and it’s no wonder why the X-Men still look at me askance.
Doors slammed and voices were raised, Logan and Scott even more contentious than ever, and I had to get away. So I went to one of my usual haunts to escape the ongoing soap opera to Knock'N'Balls, for some pool and a little booze.
Jean, red leather pants, black tank drinking something that looked fiery, appearing to be nothing less than a living flame. More and more this is the way she was becoming. Like a female version of the trickster god Loki, all fire, chaos and beauty.
As I entered, covered in my everyday armor, as usual done so that I was all about being looked at and not touched, my gaze never wavered from her.
Forcing myself to look away from Jean, I chalked my cue up, and broke the balls sitting on the table waiting for me.
The loud crack, and plink plunk of them hitting each other then the boundaries, masked the sound behind me, until I saw a short glass of something spicy and warm with ice clinked down on the wood next to me.
"Teach me how to play," dear god, even her voice crackled like fire, pure energy, pure… power.
Straightening up, weight balanced on the cue, holding it in front of me like a talisman, in some futile attempt to not reach out for her, I nodded.
"Grab one of the cues over there. Chalk it up."
Before I was even done saying that, one of the long wooden polls flew to her hand, chalk whizzing past my ear to land in her open palm. Her eerie white eyes glowing and focused on me as she rubbed the blue chalk on the tip.
Never being one to think that doing something that simple to be sexy when others did it, I couldn't help but wish - if just for a moment - that it was me those long fingers were touching. My mouth was dry, my palms sweating even in their thinnest encasing, and I struggled to make myself look away from her. When she bent over to mimic the way I'd held the cue earlier, she tossed a look over her shoulder at me, lips sliding into a lazy smile.
"Rogue - are you going to show me how to play or not?"
Curling my body over hers, my hands guiding hers to hold the cue properly, and how to slide it back and forth made me ache in places I usually tried to not think about.
Once she got the hang of it, I grabbed the drink she'd set down earlier downing it in one continuous swallow, my head tipped back. Burningly sweet, smooth bourbon flowed down my throat like hot honey.
It continued that way through the afternoon, we’d play a game, and then each of us would down a glass.
I’m not too sure what happened after that, just that the next morning I woke up in tangled bed sheets, with liquid latex on parts of me, and my head pillowed on Jean’s covered chest.
Easy to put two and two together isn’t it?
I'd had sex with Jean Grey.
……….
Funny how even then I wasn't mortified by having sex with a married woman, but the thing that does bother me to this day…. Is that I can’t remember it.
What is the nature of addiction? I mean is one born an addict? Or does it build slowly, pulling you in with little laps of ecstasy until it becomes a tug, then a pull, then a yank, then a rope tied tightly around you that wrenches you into the gaping maw that we call ‘addiction’?
I was asking myself those questions more and more as what was once Jean Grey became even more strange, just as my relationship with her did.
That time, I'm in a shower, half hoping that she won't enter the stall with me, and half hoping that she does. Because it's been two days... two days without her having touched me. And it's moments like then that I knew I was addicted.
I always knew though when she was thinking of me. Such a strong telekinetic/telepath can do ... very... interesting... things with their powers.
I was aching, my thighs quivering for her ghostly hands, my own a poor substitute.
Sudden whisking of the green shower curtain being torn from the pole, and I was slammed with telekinetic force against the wall.
It felt as though a body were being pressed against me, lifting me up higher, as Jean's white eyes glowed.
"Miss me?" her mind crackled into mine, as she used her TK to make my aching vagina feel as filled and stretched as it could be.
Still clothed, she stepped into the stall with me, the shower head spraying hot water on both of us, as she leaned into me her mind thrusting in and out of me.
All I could do was gasp, my bare hands scrabbling to hold her close to me, her hips pressed tight, and her mouth millimeters from my parted lips.
It felt so big - bigger than any of the toys I'd bought myself for my own explorations the last few years - ridged, and it was moving rapidly in and out of me, bouncing me back against the cold tile repeatedly. Jean's breath puffed against my cheek, her breasts pressed against mine, gloved hands holding my hips, and white eyes burning into me. Her power crackled in warm energy around us, as she watched me begin to shatter.
It came up in a dark tide, dragging me down the spiral and for a moment I didn't know who I was.
When my awareness came back I was in a heap on the floor of the shower, with Jean standing over me.
Looking up, at her I felt the grin tugging my lips. I knew that for her to be that domineering that she must've missed me too. It wasn't love, but it was more than enough for me.
Her returning smile was glorious. For a moment, looking at that smile I forgot that she was someone I didn't really know anymore, and I finally answered her, "Yeah."
Sometimes I can't remember what a touch feels like, skin on skin. At others... it's so clear in my mind that I can see it, feel it... My skin itches when the clarity is there. Only a few people were ever willing to touch me skin on skin after my powers manifested. My 'mothers' Mystique and Destiny, Logan, and at that time Jean.
She wanted me to have control you see, I can feel her buzzing around in my head, this little whirlwind of force in me, and she wanted me to practice on her. I never thought anything could be softer than a baby's skin. Hers was though. It was softer than silk. More like rich whipped cream, with tints of honey.
Laying with my head on her stomach, her bare hands smoothing circles into the skin of my back. Long fiery hair spread out everywhere, and she smells like cinnamon and charcoal. I don't think anyone knew what she and I had been doing, the sex or the sessions on control. It almost made me wonder what she told Scott, but then again that took too much energy. Odd - every time I took a taste of what she had inside my strength surged, and what I once considered my 'normal' levels... seem so weak after her powers would settle down in me.
With Jean in my head, some of the other abilities I'd absorbed began resurfacing in tiny little waves, like she was stirring them up, but not the personalities. I could smell her then, so much better than I could without ever having taken in Logan multiple times.
Every bit of her saliva on me, every trace of mine on her, the musky sweet fluid dripping from our thighs. Colors were sharper too, and I could hear everything. It was like I just reabsorbed Logan. My eyes itched, and I wondered if they were turning red. I hoped not - I only touched Scott a couple times and only for short periods.
But her powers had been crackling over my skin in waves, and at times seemed to be so hard to control. The mini version of her in my mind though had been, and even still is, feeding me directions on how to manage most of the time.
Her fingers tangle into my hair, massaging my scalp, "You don't talk much," Jean's voice so rich and dark.
I shrug, and rub my cheek against her stomach. "Words don't mean much. Besides I'm usually too busy to say much. On the other hand - what would I say?"
I watched the light in the room dim and rise in time with how she blinked her eyes.
"You could ask me things, where I've been. Or do you have all that in here?"
Both of her hands slid down over my face, lifting my head, while her fingers tapped against my temples.
One of my eyebrows quirked up as I shook my head. "It doesn't work that way all the time. Sure I got a lot of you in there - but with people I've taken a lot of, if they're powerful, are more like separate entities. The you in there, she doesn't really show me anything. More like a set of impressions."
Kissing the soft skin near my mouth once, I slid up so she and I lay side by side, entwining my fingers with hers.
"You should ask me where I've been," it came out in a soft sigh, as Jean threw her leg over mine, and pressed her face into my shoulder.
Pursing my lips, I shook my head again. "No. Because if you tell me, everything will change. And if you don't tell me when I ask - everything will still change. Either way it's not going to help anyone or anything."
I reached out with my mind, flicking the lights off, knowing that in the morning Jean wouldn't be next to me.