SCARLET, SONJA, SPIRAL, SILVER: Chapter 5

Her hands as sure and steady on the controls of the Blackbird as her thoughts were inside her carefully ordered mind, Jean piloted the aircraft through the gale-force winds roiling off of the winter squall, carrying a hold full of mutant patients back to Westchester. There had been plenty of mutants caught in the nor’easter, injured, and even if human hospitals took them, there was no guarantee they could treat patients with as many abnormalities as the average X-gene holder. The trauma center at the mansion was much better equipped to handle them, while taking a load off the hospitals in the area.

It was a good call, a wise call. But still, Jean second-guessed herself. She wondered if it was the choice Scott would’ve made. Not that she didn’t have faith in Storm as team leader—she just missed Scott, his steely presence and clear-headed leadership—and she missed him as a man, if nothing else. She missed her husband.

Trying to banish those thoughts, she focused on the task at hand, helping to unload the Blackbird of its precious cargo. Her telekinesis came in very handy, moving those who could not move themselves. When everyone was situated in the trauma center, she took a moment to freshen up, allowing herself some vanity. The howling winds and pouring sleet truly had done a number on her, but it only took a tiny visit to the bathroom to restore herself. Her long, lean body had never needed much work to look good, nor did the sculpted features of her face, if Jean did say so herself. 

Finished touching up her make-up, Jean admired herself in the mirror. Her body was sheathed in skintight yellow, unstable molecules that were a highly effective shield against the elements, while also showing off her statuesque physique. A second layer of blue fabric adhered almost as tightly to certain sections of her body, serving as added body armor for her vital organs, while also padding some of her curves. Not that Jean needed much help in that department.

Looking at the—eye-popping combination of yellow and blue, Jean had to admit that, while she’d never been the most fashion-conscious of girls, it was perhaps lacking in a certain stark simplicity, the elegance that resulted in iconic status. She wasn’t half-dressed like Psylocke, but still, the ninja did have a more memorable, perhaps more stylish outfit than her. 

Not that she cared about such things. They were Scott’s colors, she was proud to wear them, and happier still to wear anything that was so far from the Phoenix. That had to be put behind her, all of it, from the Dark Phoenix to the Black Queen. It was gone. She was just Jean Grey now—Jean Grey-Summers—and it didn’t matter what she wore. Scott didn’t care what she wore. What was underneath satisfied him completely, and that was for her husband alone. No one else mattered.

God, she missed him. Going into action without Scott felt far too much like the poignant absence of a fallen team member, a phantom limb in the body of the X-Men. She knew that was ridiculous. He was just out of action, it happened to each and every one of the X-Men sooner or later. But it wasn’t like he was nursing a broken arm in the trauma center either. She didn’t know that he was safe and sound. His road trip was right in the middle of the storm’s path and there was no telling what might’ve happened to him.

Jean resolved to find out. Certainty in every step, she made a quick detour to Cerebro. She would center in on Scott’s thoughts, make sure he was okay, then take the Blackbird out once more. It would take no time at all; the jet would still not be refueled before she finished up. And if he wasn’t in pristine condition, she would fly the Blackbird to hell itself to pull his lawfully married ass out of the fire.

No sooner had she thought this than it was done. She was at the door to Cerebro, submitting to a retinal scan to ascertain her identity. The vault-like door opened, allowing her into the most powerful psychic amplifier in the world, and she quickly moved to the station Professor X usually occupied, dead center in the massive spherical chamber. A moment’s work to affix the control helmet over her red hair and then the machine was live, providing a portal out of her physical body, a suit of armor around her astral self, a computerized helping hand as she sifted through the collective unconsciousness of the human race, searching out the distant sound of her husband’s voice… but hearing Betsy’s resonant psyche instead.

Scott, it’s my turn now. Let me suck your cock. I know you liked how my pussy tasted. How about giving me a taste of your cum?

***

Scott stood frozen like a statue in the light of the fireplace, his only movement the throbbing of the immense erection that speared out from his crotch. I dropped to my knees before him, my face only inches from the huge cock I wished to pay homage to. I licked my lips as I looked up at him.

“Are you going to suck it?” Scott asked, his voice quavering with apprehension. He was still unsure, his mind still in doubt while his body had yielded. It led to stupid questions as the two attempted to reconcile.

“Suck what?” I teased.

“My…” Scott began, then stopped in stony silence, his cock throbbing as if answering for him.

“Say it,” I insisted, wanting to hear that sexy little word from his lips.

“My cock,” Scott forced out. “Are you?”

“If you like,” I smiled up at him. I loved seeing his stern face crack as I talked dirty to him. “If you want me to, I’ll eat your cock right down to the balls. And then, once you’ve fucked my throat enough, you can fuck me. Right here on the floor. I’ll spread my legs until my pussy is wide open, so you can see everything when you stick your hard cock in it, and fuck me until we both come. Do you want that, Scott? Do you want me?”

“Yes,” he gulped, his face contorted into a grimace like he was already weathering the tightness of my cunt.

Without hesitating any longer, I took his cock in my hand, shocked at how hard it was throbbing, and thrust the bellend into my mouth. The taste immediately filled my senses, but even more than that, with his cock being sucked, Scott went wild. His hands grasped my head and held me totally still as he pumped the rest of his shaft into my mouth, forcing his prick all the way down my throat, until his bloated balls were pressed against my chin. I felt my pussy clench at his roughness, one hard spasm following on the heels of another as I choked on his manhood, each one throbbing through my keening body like a tiny orgasm. The more he fucked my throat, the more I loved it, even as I was left gasping for breath.

I forced myself away from him, sprawling on my back, spreading my legs to offer him my open cunt. His prick still jutted out from his groin, dripping with the saliva I had left coating it. Scott dropped down to his knees, then lowered himself on top of me, grunting once, achingly, as he thrust himself inside the obscene invitation of my wet pussy. The size of his intrusion actually caused pain, a wonderfully sweet pain I could not have enough of.

“Hurt me!” I gasped hungrily. “Shag me, hurt me, hurt me with your cock!”

Scott wouldn’t tolerate insubordination, even at a time like this. He held me down, his big hands on my shoulders, and pinned me to the floor with his lunging thrusts, battering my pussy as only a real man could, with a rising speed and a rock-hard cock that went deeper with every hammering stroke. The lust I had felt when I throated his manhood only increased in intensity now that he was inside me, fitfully being answered by him pistoning into my sex, making me walk a razor’s edge of desperate need and complete satisfaction second by second. I panted for air as he used my cunt to what felt like the limit of what I could take.

When Scott orgasmed, it was like he was unleashing all the cum he had stored up as we did our little dance, waiting until the levees broke and he took me like we both wanted him to. He bathed my cunt with a sea of teeming sperm and I rocked my hips against his, stuttering with each liquid jolt he gave me, determined to drain his balls of every drop in them. My folds tightened on his cock like I wanted to keep it inside me forever.

It felt as if Jean hadn’t touched him in years, not since their wedding night, as Scott came and came, filling my sex completely with his steaming seed. It actually felt uncomfortable, wonderfully so, as he made me the recipient of all the lust I’d ever inspired in him, until I felt a distinct lack of room, the gulping sensation of his cum spilling back out of me with nowhere left to go.

Finally his scalding ejaculation ended. I was out of breath, fraught, feeling ballooned with the sheer amount of cum stuffed into me. Then Scott began rutting into me again, his cock thrusting into my pussy and pistoning back out like he was just starting to fuck me instead of finishing up. Every phallic drive pumped out the cum he’d just filled me with, alleviating my stuffed feeling a little, but replacing it with a brutal tension as I felt the friction of his stroking prick alongside the sensation of being crammed full of his seed.

His unending lust for me aroused me even more than how his cock was slamming into my cunt—I went wet and hot and tight and came as I realized this was no afterparty, he just wasn’t going to stop fucking me. Scott really was going to force orgasm after orgasm out of me until he was satisfied with my performance. The man was exactly the same as both a lover and a team leader.

I seized up, thrashing so intensely that if it weren’t for his muscular body pressing me down, I would’ve flown up through the roof. I felt like I was falling apart, taking all of his endless passion. With no other choice, I screamed in agonized bliss, letting out some of my boiling excitement.

“Bloody hell, Scott! Fuck me! Fuck me forever! Are you ever going to stop?”

With the glare of his red sunglasses concealing his eyes, he might have intended to go on infinitely. His impaling cock was the only answer I got and the only one I needed. Scott’s naked body came ceaselessly down on mine, his cock seeming to be harder and bigger every time it entered the tightness of my clutching sex.

And then he was coming inside me all over again. The rapture I had experienced before was left in the dust by a climax so intense that I could scarcely believe it. I felt my pussy strain to the limits, taking both his cock and the cum he spurted endlessly inside me—it felt like it was actually stretching, so much semen coming out of him that there wasn’t time for it to backwash out of me. 

I was beyond screaming. I was coming so hard, with such pain and pleasure and the pleasantly, odiously stuffed feeling of having eaten a feast, that my voice broke and I whimpered hoarsely as a hungry dog. I was helpless—completely dominated by the rampaging prick that was using me as nothing more than a repository for all the cum I had backed up in him, flashing my tits and ass, making smutty little remarks and flirty little looks. I had brought this on myself, asked for it, begged for it, and now Scott was giving me every inch, every drop, that I could’ve possibly wanted.

Scott didn’t care that my belly was bulging from its former tautness, my pussy now a lake of his cum. He was utterly single-minded, determined to put me to the use I’d volunteered for. Fucking me wide open and filling me with all the spunk I’d been foolish enough to solicit, from the gaping, well-stretched lips of my slit to the very depths of my womb.

He stopped coming, but that just meant it was once more time for him to rut into me, shagging me so hard that his cum sloshed around in the bulge it’d made of my stomach, spilled out of my splayed cunt in rivers that soaked my buttocks with warmth. His cock was stiff as ever, fucking me even harder than before. My mouth gaped, eyes wide as I realized he was going to come in me again, fill me with even more cum. He’d blow me right off his prick if he came as much as he had the last two times.

I was almost totally exhausted, my cunt aching pleasurably from how it’d been reamed and the ocean of spunk it’d had to hold. But I didn’t care. I was pushing my limits as hard as I ever had on the battlefield. All I wanted was to take his cum again, one more time.

I ran my hands down his back, with its ridged scars and defined muscles, reaching his bare ass and gripping it tightly, to hold his slippery flesh together with mine. I wrapped my legs around his, feeling their sweaty hair glossing against my tender skin, and kissed him passionately in thanks for the harsh, reckless, infinite fury he was shagging me with.

Shit, how long had I wanted this, how long had I dreamed of Scott bloody Summers and his bloody bulge and my needy little cunt filled to the brim—now here it was, even more wonderful than I had imagined, almost more wonderful than I could take, but this was what I wanted out of life. I pitied Jean, the poor dumb slag, not knowing or caring that she could get a toss this good out of her loving husband. Her loss was my gain. It didn’t matter how much he gave me; I would take it all before I let Jean have an inch.

As though he could read my mind instead of the other way around, Scott positioned his hands under my ass, digging his fingers into the perfect curves he’d stared at for so long, forcing me even harder against his furious pumping. His prick went deeper and deeper, filling me until it didn’t seem like there could possibly be a molecule of room left over. I thought I might burst when he came in me again. 

“Oh Lord!” I moaned, my lips breaking away from his as another orgasm rocked my foundations. It felt like the very core of my being was under assault, being replaced entirely with pleasure and devotion to him, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. “You’re going to kill me! Scott, you’re shagging me to death!”

Scott’s lips curled in a rare smile. “Like X-Men ever stay dead,” he taunted me, and I reeled from the joke as much as the fuck as he came in me, his seed as thick and warm and copious as the first time. “Hrrrh!” he roared, as savage as Wolverine had ever been, a beast that I’d finally brought out after what felt like hours.

His cock burned me from the inside out, he spasmed, and then conceded his mortality, collapsing on top of me, his prick finally still. He lay motionless inside the tangle of my arms and legs, his bulk resting on me, both of us too weary to move. I was bloody paralyzed except for the river of spunk that issued from my gaping cunt, slowly diminishing the pregnant bulge in my stomach. The relief was almost as orgasmic as the sex. I cooed and whimpered as each dollop of cum that emptied out of my sex brought an aftershock of raw pleasure, like Scott still hadn’t stopped shagging me even after this triple dose of ejaculate. Maybe it was another of his master plans.

It had been amazing, having him come in me over and over again, but it felt even better to finally defeat him, or at least join Scott in being overwhelmed by the sex. His naked, sweat-soaked flesh was perfectly joined with mine, both of us sharing the same beautiful exhaustion.

But the really amazing thing was, despite how out of breath he was, Scott’s prick was still inside me, as hard as ever. I couldn’t understand it. I thought it would go soft eventually, but then it started to throb, pulsating harder and harder, with growing urgency, until my cunt was reawakening too, dragged along for the ride.

“Are you going to shag me again?” I demanded, giddy and scared all at once.

“Yes… just let me… catch my breath,” he panted.

“I don’t think there’s any more room,” I said, still feeling buckets of cum bloating me, waiting to leak out.

“Then turn over,” Scott said firmly. Now he’d gotten his second wind, or fifth. “There’s plenty of room in your ass.”

***

Jean came back to herself. She’d fallen to the ground under the intensity of even the secondhand experience Betsy’d had, her long legs scissored open while her hips rolled rhythmically up and down, following Betsy’s lead as she fucked Scott. Jean’s panties were wet. She had come in her pants—orgasmed from the sensation of her husband cheating at her. 

And that hateful realization only seemed to make Jean more aroused. She was tender all over, her entire body tingling, aching to be in contact with Scott, her hands wanting to touch him, her moistly clasping sex wanting to hold his cock. But she couldn’t. Betsy was with him, the bitch. And it had turned Jean on.

Jean’s red hair swished around her face despite the lack of breeze in the subterranean chamber. She thought of how she might repay Betsy for so generously taking care of another woman’s husband. With her cunt throbbing, the solution occurred to Jean almost immediately. Her hair danced like flickering flame as she thought that if Betsy liked being fucked so much, she would damn well see to it she was fucked.