ficlet request #3
12/10/03 17:04![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaCompletely off-topic note:
Sometimes my subconscious fangirl is scary and deluded. Even more so than her conscious counterpart, I mean. Last night I had a dream I was watching a trailer for the third X-men movie, and it included some young!Charles and young!Erik flashbacks with the two of them kissing. I'll leave it to you to imagine the "omg! squee" reactions my dream!self engaged in.
*****
fandom: X-men
pairing: Logan/anyone
fingernail, balm, shine
Jeanie, he knew, would think of this as a betrayal. She would be disgusted. She'd hate him for it.
But Jean was dead.
He thrust harder with a grunt. Mystique -- no, he thought, *Jean*, it was *Jean* -- made a soft keening noise, pulling him in closer with those long long legs.
It had been a long time. He'd forgotten how long. There was nothing like it, not really, the feeling of a soft woman beneath him.
Her hair was messy, covering her eyes as she arched, firy and shining from the sunlight that escaped inside through the shades. Gorgeous, she was still so fucking gorgeous--
She scratched her fingernails down his back in sharp little lines, rubbing them out softly afterwards like a balm for all his sores. "Logan," she moaned, and that was perfect, her voice hitting him deep in his gut.
"Jean," Logan said, the word fighting itself out from his clenched teeth. He didn't want to, dammit, but he couldn't help himself, not with the smell of their sex all around, with her taste of her pussy still in his mouth from a few minutes before. Not with the noises she was making, higher and higher pitched as she shook beneath him.
"Yes, *yes*," she said, and she arched up against him harshly and froze for a long moment, before she fell back on the bed, still trembling.
Logan stared down at her, barely holding himself back. She was ... so goddamn *perfect*. It almost hurt.
"Jeanie," he muttered again, and she opened her perfect eyes and smiled up at him and rose a hand to stroke at his cheek and he clasped his own eyes shut and came as hard as he could remember doing.
He let himself rest his cheek between her breasts for a moment -- just a moment -- and then he rolled off the bed to look for his clothes.
He pulled on his shorts and jeans on quickly, and Jean's voice called softly from the bed, "Logan?"
He couldn't help looking back over at the bed. Mystique lay stretched out, naked and smug.
She said, "Was it good for you, lover?"
Sometimes my subconscious fangirl is scary and deluded. Even more so than her conscious counterpart, I mean. Last night I had a dream I was watching a trailer for the third X-men movie, and it included some young!Charles and young!Erik flashbacks with the two of them kissing. I'll leave it to you to imagine the "omg! squee" reactions my dream!self engaged in.
*****
fandom: X-men
pairing: Logan/anyone
fingernail, balm, shine
Jeanie, he knew, would think of this as a betrayal. She would be disgusted. She'd hate him for it.
But Jean was dead.
He thrust harder with a grunt. Mystique -- no, he thought, *Jean*, it was *Jean* -- made a soft keening noise, pulling him in closer with those long long legs.
It had been a long time. He'd forgotten how long. There was nothing like it, not really, the feeling of a soft woman beneath him.
Her hair was messy, covering her eyes as she arched, firy and shining from the sunlight that escaped inside through the shades. Gorgeous, she was still so fucking gorgeous--
She scratched her fingernails down his back in sharp little lines, rubbing them out softly afterwards like a balm for all his sores. "Logan," she moaned, and that was perfect, her voice hitting him deep in his gut.
"Jean," Logan said, the word fighting itself out from his clenched teeth. He didn't want to, dammit, but he couldn't help himself, not with the smell of their sex all around, with her taste of her pussy still in his mouth from a few minutes before. Not with the noises she was making, higher and higher pitched as she shook beneath him.
"Yes, *yes*," she said, and she arched up against him harshly and froze for a long moment, before she fell back on the bed, still trembling.
Logan stared down at her, barely holding himself back. She was ... so goddamn *perfect*. It almost hurt.
"Jeanie," he muttered again, and she opened her perfect eyes and smiled up at him and rose a hand to stroke at his cheek and he clasped his own eyes shut and came as hard as he could remember doing.
He let himself rest his cheek between her breasts for a moment -- just a moment -- and then he rolled off the bed to look for his clothes.
He pulled on his shorts and jeans on quickly, and Jean's voice called softly from the bed, "Logan?"
He couldn't help looking back over at the bed. Mystique lay stretched out, naked and smug.
She said, "Was it good for you, lover?"
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12/10/03 18:25 (UTC)