Caught

He’d had enough.

The distant look in her eyes whenever they were together. Her daydreaming. Forgetting little reminders for dates they’d planned. Accusations and arguments that he didn’t know what he was talking about.

How could she think he didn’t know?

The first time their empathic link faltered, it was like a cold dash of water in his face. He felt wrenched with a stomach-plummeting fear. Death was the only thing that ever separated them. He’d already known the worst outcome of loving her, yet they’d weathered it.

The lapses were more frequent.

Jean? What happened?

Nothing, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.

You were gone for a minute…

Don’t worry. No biggie.

Excuses for her late arrival to their suite were scant and mumbled, quick and low while she shucked her clothing and headed for the shower. She never came to bed without taking a shower, now. Her cell was frequently turned off.

And there was the smug fucker downstairs, leering at her. Giving her knowing smiles and double entendres as she passed, not hiding his admiration of her swinging walk and curve-hugging clothing. She laughed it off, flipping her hair and offering him bedroom eyes.

She’d always said he meant nothing to her. Her heart already belonged to someone else.

Besides, she didn’t even like cigars. And she preferred tall men.

That didn’t put his mind to rest. Not in the slightest.

She said she was going out. He had to pry it out of her after several rounds of “why do you want to know?”

Because he had to know.

He made his own excuses. Maybe he’d taken in a movie with Alex. Sink a few balls at Harry’s. He might be home late. Don’t wait up.

She gave him a look of disgust. Two could play at that game, she mocked. He thought he heard her snort of laughter in his head but dismissed it.

She’d left his mind again. Left him to stew.

He left her in their suite while he went downstairs.

He searched for Logan. He’d gone out, Kurt explained. Didn’t know when he’d be back. He passed by his room just to see it for himself.

His leather jacket was gone. The room smelled faintly of cologne and Jack Daniels. He’d medicated himself and spruced himself up before going out.

Jean was going out.

Scott’s skin suddenly felt too tight, and his temples throbbed.

“Jean…”

His fingers twitched and balled themselves into fists.


*

Scott’s car pulled out of the garage and rolled smoothly down the circular driveway.

The wind coming in through the large bay window gently stirred Jean’s long red hair.

“You came early.” Jean turned toward the voice and smiled.

“I couldn’t wait. So help me, I couldn’t wait.”


*

He paused about two miles down the road from the school’s perimeter, just far enough out that he could barely make out the gate’s iron bars.

He waited. Twenty minutes should have been enough.

More fool Jean. She’d shut him out again. The faint resonance of her psychic presence inside him flickered out. She didn’t acknowledge his building rage and disappointment as he trekked silently through the brush, back toward the house. His footsteps abused the gravel as the wind ruffled his hair.

He’d certainly had enough. What man wouldn’t have?

He’d been sincere. He’d been intimate, sharing everything about himself and opening himself fully to her.

He’d given her his soul. His body. His mind.

That beer swilling asshole wasn’t going to hide behind Jean, or Ororo, or the professor this time. He had to go.

Scott was taking out the trash. The light in the foyer reflected off his crimson lenses. He cracked his knuckles.

He ascended the first floor. Kurt paid him no heed, immersed as he was in old Errol Flynn movies. Robin Hood, this time.

Scott was in no mood for chivalry or charm.

What was she thinking?

He approached Logan’s room again. Silently, he pressed cold fingers against the door, giving it a light shove…

Nothing. Empty. He hadn’t come back to the house.

Scott shook himself. He hadn’t heard the bike. Stood to reason that she’d met him somewhere?

Scott headed back toward his suite. Their suite. It felt wrong. Violated…she’d betrayed him, for God’s sake.

Scott tore himself apart, bit by bit, looking for that one clue, that worst flaw that pushed her away from him.

He smelled her perfume. He rifled through the hangers in the closet, still open.

Oddly, her shoes were still beside the bed, sedately placed together as though she hadn’t even paused to put them on, or even picked them up?

“The hell?” he wondered aloud. The muscle in his jaw worked. He hadn’t seen her leave from outside. He knew she was in the house. His only comfort was that she hadn’t chosen their bed for a rendezvous. Scott grew sick at the thought of Logan atop Jean, desecrating their bed with his foul musk and the noxious scent of whiskey and cigars.

He wouldn’t let her shower this time, when he found her. She couldn’t just wash this away, even if she’d washed her hands of him.

He turned on his heel. His head ached slightly from the tension, as well as an empty stomach. Even after he found her, he didn’t think he could eat.

Ororo.

She could tell him where Jean went, or at any rate, she couldn’t lie. That much he knew. She was serene, stalwart and honest, embodying all the traits that made her a levelheaded leader. He could count on Ororo to show him the truth, and to confirm his suspicions.

She was her best friend. Jean wouldn’t have shut her out of the rapport that they, too, shared. Closer than sisters. Friends to the end, and back.

He was too caught up in his own thoughts, his angry thoughts reaching their fever pitch as he turned the knob. He didn’t hear the sounds behind the door until he crossed the threshold.

It made sense that Ororo would still be up. Puttering with her plants. She never brought home houseguests. Forge hadn’t called in months, not so much as an email.

“Don’t stop.”

The words froze him mere inches from the doorway, as well as the enticing scent of Jean’s perfume.

“Shit.”

“Scott! Oh, no. Oh, God.”

*

I knew this time would come. Goddess help me, I’m sorry for ignoring your warnings in my ear, but oh, how I love her. I couldn’t stay away, no matter how hard I tried.

She was reluctant to release me, even at the sound of his voice. I started to pull away, had already disengaged my mouth from her flesh…she’s so warm and soft. She tastes like strawberries.

I didn’t want to leave the safe refuge of my bed, or of Jean’s embrace any more than she did. But it was time.

I just looked into Scott’s face and saw outrage, mingled with confusion and disbelief. My stomach flipped, and my heart sank.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth, before my voice begins to work. “I’m sorry,” I say aloud. He closes his mouth and his lips thin.

“I’ll bet you’re fucking sorry. This is great. Just great. Too fucking much.” He gives us both a short laugh as Jean dashes from the sheets, still warm, and rummages through my closet for my robe. Of course she knows where it is. It’s her favorite.

“Scott, let’s talk. Please. I know you’re upset…”

“Sure. You know. You always know everything about me, don’t you Jean? You knew I was upset all these weeks, then, wondering if you decided to quit turning Logan – that asshole – down and actually fuck him? Do you know how long I’ve lain awake, wondering when you’d give in and crack? You tell me you love me. I think, well, hey, he hasn’t worn her down yet, she must just enjoy the chase.”

“No. I don’t. That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

I want to touch her in some way, but I settle for wrapping my comforter around myself like a kaftan. It still smells like her. Any contact with her will offend him even more.

I know what he saw as soon as he came inside. I can’t, won’t scold him for entering my loft without permission. I’m the one at fault, at this moment.

She was whispering my name into my hair, clutching it and running her fingers through it. Her legs twined with mine as I tasted her pulse. Friction and lust claimed me as I moved over her; I wanted to mold my body against hers as closely as I could without losing myself, but it was too late. I already had.

We’ve always been of one soul. From the moment we met and she confessed she’d read my mind, and saw the truth of my claustrophobia, I could deny her nothing. She didn’t pry the secret from me; she protected it. Embraced it as a part of me.

He saw my body rolling over hers, sliding against her slick skin as my tongue lapped at her neck. He heard her gasp and cry out as she came closer to her peak.

Sadly, he interrupted it just as it was getting good.

She’s watching him prowl my loft like a feral cat. If I didn’t know better, I could swear I just saw his hackles rise. Her eyes flit over him, tracking his movements and his hands as he flings them out.

“Why? Why, Jean? And why you, Ororo, you backstabbing bitch? How dare you? You call yourself a friend…do you know how this looks, walking in on you two? Are you a lesbian, Jean? If so, then…shit. You played me. I thought I knew you so well. You’re gay.”

“No!”

“The fuck you aren’t.”

“She’s not.” I try to make myself heard. He doesn’t want to listen.

“Did she fuck you good, Jean? Huh?” Goddess, he’s so hurt. I’m so ashamed. Jean’s arms are folded and she’s chewing on her fingernail, ruining a manicure we just had yesterday. She’s crying.

“No. She didn’t. She made love to me.” My heart just swelled with those words, but I know they are only making this worse.

“Made love.”

“Yes. Yes, she did, and I never felt so whole. I love you, Scott, but damn it, I love Ororo, too. I can’t explain it.”

“You have to, now. This can’t wait.” I can’t, either. Part of me still has to know. “Jean.” My voice is quiet but heavy with unshed tears. Hers flow down her cheeks and stain the satin of my robe from baby blue to sapphire. “This was different before. I need to know, like Scott does, of where I stand and what you plan to do next.”

“What?” She’s incredulous. I can’t back down.

“You can’t be serious. Like I won’t walk out of here, and you two won’t go back to whatever it was you were doing. C’mon, Jean, tell me the truth. Is she better at going down on you? Did she lick your pussy good? Make you scream and come better than I did?” His words are lurid. My cheeks feel hot, and my nerves are all tingling with unease, but also with the memory of the night before.

I had devoured her. Licked up every drop and still wanted more. There was no inch of her body that I didn’t cherish with my hands and mouth, and so help me, I wanted her again. He wasn’t wrong. I wanted to drag her back to bed, fling my door shut and make love to her until she collapsed.

“It’s never for lack of trying.” The words fled my mouth. Jean whipped around to face me. She was furious.

“Don’t make this worse! Not if you give a damn about me!”

“Why? You don’t give a damn about anybody but yourself.”

“You think this is all about me?” She fiddled with my sash. It’s a nervous habit. She also bites her lower lip until it’s a raw, dark pink. “I love you, Scott Summers. So much. But ever since I came back…you treat me like I’m a different person. Like you don’t know me.” He sighed.

“This proves that I don’t, wouldn’t you agree? I don’t know who you are anymore. It gets more vague every time you leave me, and every time you come back. You don’t know what it’s like for me every time I lose you, Jean, and I can’t live with losing you.”

I feel sorry for him, because suddenly I know exactly how he feels. I feel selfish and full of sorrow, knowing the wounded set of his body and the crack in his voice is my fault.

“You love me, but you love your power more, and this weird trip you have of pushing your boundaries and daring anyone to tell you you’re wrong. Phoenix can do no wrong, she’s invincible. ‘Fire and life incarnate.’ God, that’s such bullshit. You have a dark side, and suddenly that’s your excuse for throwing all of us aside like so much garbage and going off on a power binge. Just because you can bend and manipulate whatever you want, including destroying everything and everyone around you, Jean, that doesn’t mean you should.” He continued to pace.

“Who is it this time, Jean? Marvel Girl? Phoenix? Dark Phoenix? Black Queen?” He barked out a harsh laugh. “Goblyn Queen? Madelyne? That was a hoot. Did you happen to get her chicken taco recipe before you killed her?”

“That’s not funny.” Jean turns her back on us both and seems to shrink into herself. I won’t comfort her.

“Can you only love one, or love them all, Scott?” I ask him softly.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he repeats. He stalks up to the bed. I see my reflection in his glasses, looking calmer than I feel. His fingertip practically flies into my teeth. He’s shaking. “I’ve loved her since she and Charles found me. It cuts my heart out every time she leaves. Did you know I feel paranoid every time you even go to the store, Jean, and I wonder if you’re gonna come back? I feel like an idiot for it, but it’s hard seeing you walk away. You might not come back.”

“I always come back,” she pleaded. It pricks the back of my eyes, seeing her beg him like this.

I know she’s marshaling everything she has to keep him, despite what happened between us. I know I will sleep alone the rest of this night.

I want to scream and rail and cry and snatch her away from him. I want to guard her like a wolf does its mate. I’m so in love with her I’ve lost myself.

“I always come back. I love you. This wasn’t just about sex.”

“I wasn’t good enough!”

“No! Don’t say that. You’re sexy and a wonderful, wonderful man. You make me feel like a woman, and beautiful and wanted and needed and like I hit the jackpot. The first face I want to see in the morning and last thing at night is you, Scott, but it’s just not the only face anymore. I know you’re afraid of me now.”

“I’ve never been –“

“Don’t lie to me.”

“You’re the one lying here. Both of you.” He pins both of us in his glare more easily once she sits beside me on the bed. I won’t touch her yet, but she gathers my hand up, clasping it in her lap. I won’t stop it; I long for her touch.

“You can’t love what you fear. I can’t help who I am, and so help me, I’ve tried. Once upon a time, I was just Jean. I was just the younger daughter of two and my father taught at Bard. I was a Girl Scout.” Her voice shook, and more tears drip down the bridge of her nose as she bows her head. When she looks back up, her eyes beseech us both. “I’ve always tried to be good. Good, nice Jean. The only girl in your little boy’s club. I know you all thought it was big of you to let me swing at bat once in a while. You all wanted to protect me. God, what a joke. All I could do was pick things up with my mind and call you all to dinner without my voice. What fucking use was that? You all thought it was so big of you. Humored me. Patronized me. Especially you, Scott.”

“Of all the…”

“You did. Don’t deny it. When I became Phoenix – when she became me – suddenly you couldn’t save your damsel in distress. I was out slaying dragons.”

“Jean.” I don’t think I can take much more of this. They need to have this part of their talk without me. I’m unsettled enough already. I need time to process the revelations of this night. And I feel so much like a third wheel. Again.

“You think I always thought I had to save you? That wasn’t it at all!”

“It was a big part of the appeal. And every now and again, I think you feel that way about Ororo, too. You resented it when she blossomed so much here. She’s got control of her powers without having to use anything to restrain it except her own feelings. And you don’t know what it costs her to limit how much she feels.”

“Jean.” My voice is hard. Enough. Oh, please, my lover, enough. Don’t do this.

“When we make love, Scott, I’m holding Ororo’s powers in check, just like yours. That’s why we haven’t brought the house down around everyone’s ears by now or ended up in the middle of a tornado.”

“Stop it, Jean,” I hiss. “Just stop it.”

My weakness. She betrayed me. I feel raw. My breath just stopped, and I feel icy cold shivers running down my back.

I never want to feel weak in front of this man. I can’t. It’s always been about balance and control between us. Friends, yes, but rivals. Feuding siblings. Uneasy allies at times. Even when he’s returned home like the prodigal son, the sun rises and sets on Cyclops. He returns to lead and command attention. All of it. He leaves me in the dark, where I loathe to be.

“You’ve said too much.” I nod to her clothing on the floor, scattered about. “Go ahead and talk about this downstairs. I’m tired, Jean.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your little party.”

“You’ve already crashed it, Scott.” Jean rises from the bed. “Ororo, relax. I can take care of this.”

“No. Go. Get your things and go. I don’t care if you wear my robe, just leave it in the laundry basket downstairs.” I feel her shock through our link, which feels strained.

Of course. He’s here with her. Their own link is back, connecting them once more. I’m sharing her again. What else is new? But there isn’t enough of Jean to go around, no matter what lies she tells herself.

But she can’t lie to me.

“You don’t have to worry about this happening again, Scott. Just tell me that you love Jean. All of her. Then I’ll back off.”

“Are you kidding me? Give me one reason why I should stay here and listen to this. I love you, Jean, but damn it…I’m not taking sloppy seconds. Ororo, you can have her.” Jean trembled. His words feel like a slap.

“Don’t belittle her. I know you’re angry, Scott, but there was no need. You won’t call her such things. Not in my loft.” Thunder rolls in the distance. Jean, curse her, was right. My control feels shredded and nonexistent right now.

“She can have me. So that’s it. You’ll just hand me off like that. You don’t want me anymore?” She swings her eyes back to me. They’re red-rimmed and watery, and I long to take her, hold her and soothe her. No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I would never cast you out, I love you more than the air that I breathe. There’s no living or loving without you, Jean.

Scott’s watching her, still so hurt but less resolute. “What do you want me to do to make you happy?”

He’s floored us both. I swallow harshly and feel my heart stutter. What is he playing at?

“What do you want me to do to prove to you that I love you, Jean? That I’m not afraid of you. That I need all of you, even when you drive me crazy and make me doubt myself? I’m losing sleep, wondering why you’re keeping me at a distance. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I can’t stop listening to the voices in my head when yours isn’t there. Jean.” His voice is breaking, and a tear leaks out from behind his lens.

Oh, Goddess, what have we done? This destroyed him. My own lip quivers traitorously before I look away.

“Jean.” I draw her attention back to me. “He needs you right now.”

“You don’t need me?” Oh, how I want to shake her. Of course I need her. But I can’t take this anymore.

“This isn’t about me, or about us. Tell him, Jean. He asked you what you need. Tell him, and love him, because he deserves that from you. I…I want your h-heart. For myself. B-but I w-won’t –“ I’m undone. It didn’t take much. Lightning streaks across the sky. “I won’t try to take it from him if you’ve given it to him, and him alone.” I stalk toward my balcony door, fully intending to have a long, hard cry in the wind.

“Wait. Don’t.” My entire body freezes. Blast her.

Her hand’s outstretched and her face is pleading with me for forgiveness as she turns me around. She’s using her power against me.

“How dare you.” I feel my eyes pulse white, blazing hot, cutting into her. She doesn’t flinch.

“Jean, what are you doing? Let her go!”

“Listen to him, lover.” Now he backs off as though I slapped him.

“I won’t let you go.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t! I can’t! I’m in love with you, too, Ororo, and I won’t let you walk out on me! Christ, it’s your loft!” she points out, but she’s close to hysterics.

She said the words I crave, yet it feels hollow when Scott’s standing right there, looking so bewildered and tired.

I want to soothe him. I reach out my hand. “Scott.” I turn it face up, an apology to the extent that I can make one.

I receive another surprise. He actually takes it. Jean slowly lowers me to the floor.

“I won’t steal this from you.” I emphasize “this.” He remembers our duel. How it chafed him. Shamed him. “You have every right to hate me.”

“Except I can’t. That’s what makes this hard.” Jean’s mouth gapes. I want to laugh, but I’m too upset. “I can’t blame you.” He’s gently stroking my fingers with this thumb. I squeeze his hand in approval. “Look at her. Just look at her, Ororo.” I nod.

“She’s so beautiful. So warm.”

“And soft,” he adds quietly.

“Tender.” Each word is a confession. Each word buries me a little deeper.

“Don’t. I don’t deserve it. I was so wrong, and I just…I caused you both so much pain. I was selfish. I loved you both so much, and wanted you both for so many different reasons. Each one of you filled a different need, every time I turned around.” Her fists are pressed against her lips and she’s crying freely now.

I need to hold her, or I’ll break, but I want her to call my name.

“Scott!”

I’ve died. I’m in hell. This couldn’t hurt as much if I weren’t.

He doesn’t move.

“If you love me, Scott, accept that I love her, too. Accept that Ororo’s another part of me that I can’t live without. She’s my conscience and level head. She holds up a mirror to how vulnerable I am, even when I think I can take on the world. Or the whole fucking universe, for God’s sake. See…what I see.”

She rubs fire into the wounds when she touches me with her mind. Slowly, gingerly, she invades me and turns me inside-out.

And Scott’s there. Probing. Seeing. Questioning.

He’s observing me.

He’s feeling me.

He’s even tasting me, rolling me about on his tongue. Feeling Jean savor me. All of me.

He knows now, that I like to be stroked. How Jean washing my hair gives me voluptuous pleasure and makes me tingle. How loudly I cry out when she suckles me, and that I’m ticklish.

He sees my love for her glowing like a firebrand.

He hasn’t touched me. I’m still draped. But I feel thoroughly naked before them.

“How could you. How could you.” I chant it through my tears, first hot, then cooling and thickening on my cheeks. “How could you.” I turn from them and sink onto the bed, burying my face. “I just wanted to love you, Jean. It was all for you. How could you just…?”

“Because you already know how I feel about her. You’ve always known. Jean wanted us to be on equal footing.” He kneels by my knees. Has he lost his mind???

“When I lost her, you were there. Offering me quiet comfort. Calming me. Testing me. Reminding me of how vital she was to me when I wanted to close myself up. You wouldn’t let me.” He takes my hand again and laces his long, blunt fingers through mine. “Jean couldn’t make me understand this with words. I don’t want to even try to just accept words right now. She had to show me.”

“Ororo, please don’t hate me. Don’t push me away for doing that. Please. And please don’t leave me.” She’s focusing on Scott, then on me. Then back.

Scott nods. “It’s okay.”

Magic words. She drops to her knees and buries her face in my lap. Scott releases me and strokes her hair as she wraps her arms around my waist through the comforter. She sobs loud and hard.

I don’t know what to say.

*

I know this is killing Ororo, and it’s killing me too.

I’m not used to this. Seeing Ororo look flustered and helpless. She’s always cool hand Luke. Calm and collected.

Right now, she looks like someone just kicked her in the teeth and forcefed her a bottle of Tabasco sauce.

The words won’t come for her. Or for me.

Our hands bump as we both stroke Jean’s hair, smoothing aside tendrils of it that creep into her eyes and mouth. I flick away her tears. I hate seeing her cry.

We’re still linked. All three of us. It’s raw and hot and overwhelming, and I can’t tell whose feelings I’m feeling anymore.

There’s love. That one I figured out. No biggie.

Hate. Just a taste of it, but…it’s not as strong as it was half an hour ago. It’s…bitter.

Resentment. Check. Humiliation. Double check. Anger. Check. Fear.

Fear. Oh, God.

I’m more afraid than ever. Not of Jean. Not of the changes that always seem to threaten what we have. Not of losing her.

But of not really knowing her. Of not truly loving her, when it’s all I’ve given my life to do, again and again. Without that, what the hell do I have left?

I cover her hand that’s tugging at Ororo’s back and squeeze it. She won’t let me go. Ororo looks like she’s about to cry again herself.

“I want to tell you I know what needs to be done about this, but I don’t.” She strokes Jean’s back, and her voice sounds so lost.

“Don’t hate me,” Jean whimpers. God, she’s asking a lot. She knows my answer already.

Of course, I won’t. I can’t.

She’s done it again. There are those green eyes, like liquid jade, staring up at me and making her look like a kid who dropped her ice cream cone. She’s greedy. She shifts herself and nearly buries her face in Ororo’s chest. She doesn’t stop her, obviously; that’s where she wanted her before I walked in. But she’s holding onto my hand, pulling me closer. I flank Ororo because I can’t help it with the hold Jean has on me.

“What do you want, Jean?”

“Stay.”

“I can’t talk about this right now. I need to go think.”

“Don’t think. Just once, Scott, don’t think.” Ororo’s body feels warm, pressed slightly against mine within our little huddle. I want to say it feels awkward, but hell, after everything else that’s happened tonight, I don’t have a problem with it.

She feels good. She smells good. Jean’s perfume is wafting up from her skin and hair, along with her own unique scent that reminds me of sandalwood, with a hint of jasmine.

“Be reasonable.”

“I don’t know how.” She reaches up and strokes my cheek with the back of her knuckles. I tingle and shiver for a moment. She’s always had that effect on me.

I want to say that I can trust her again, now that she’s come clean. I want to be able to go back to how we were, but to make it better, because she isn’t hiding this part of herself anymore.

Her telepathy makes it difficult. It’s too convenient to say “well, heck, she can make me think what she wants, and we’ll all be happy. She can convince me that I’m happy, and everything will be fine.” But that thought falls away from me, because I’m looking into her eyes and feeling her draw me close, pulling me across Ororo’s lap to kiss me. I should fling her hands away. I should get the hell out of here and hole up in our room until the insanity stops, or someone jumps out of the closet to tell me April Fool’s.

She tastes like honey. Her voice is desperate and throaty as I drink it in with her kiss. I feel Ororo tense up beneath us, but Jean has such a hard hold on her that she doesn’t, can’t move away. My fingers won’t obey my demand not to touch her again. They twine themselves in her cool, silky, slippery waves of red hair, one of my favorite luxuries. She’s so sexy…

She breaks the kiss. I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she’s cupping my face, asking me for permission with her eyes. She turns to Ororo a moment. “Please. I want you so badly.”

Doubt flickered over Ororo’s face.

I can see her making up her mind. I can see which side’s won even before she inclines her head down those last couple of inches and kisses her. There’s so much sweetness in it, so tender and lavish the way she just…I don’t know how she does it, but Ororo makes kissing look like second nature with that mouth. Wow. No wonder…shit.

It’s a turn on. I’m getting hard. I’m breathing harder, feeling my hands twitch. I want to see more. I want to watch them like this. Getting off each other, feeding off each other. It’s just nuts.

I want to see what was so worth it for Jean to compromise what we’ve had.

*

I come up for breath and have three words to share in the darkness of my loft.

“Take it off.”

“Ororo…”

“Please take off my robe.” My voice shakes, but I have to be strong. I don’t know what I feel I can prove. To Jean. To Scott. That I’m worthy? That I’m in love? That they won’t just leave me in the corner, wanting? Needing?

“Ororo?”

“I need to see you.” I’m already tugging at the neckline where it’s gapped. Her cleavage and her shoulder are already slightly visible, begging to be touched. Absently her fingers untie the sash.

Scott’s not as patient as I am. He bunches his fingers in the sleeve and tugs on it, eventually dragging down the shoulders to expose her. It puddles around her knees. She’s naked, and she makes me want. Makes me hungry. There’s a small, raspberry love bite on her neck. I won’t apologize for it.

*

Jean felt the shock of cool air against her skin right before Scott’s clothing rasped against it from behind as she leaned into Ororo’s kiss once more. Her lover’s hands were reverently combing through her hair and cradling her face. Scott’s lips mapped out her neck, tasting her where it connected to her shoulder. Heat pooled between her legs, and her nipples hardened, pouting into the palms of his hands when he cupped them.

Jean peeled Ororo’s comforter from her, opening her like a present. She rolled her hips against Scott, pressing them back against his pelvis and burgeoning hardness, making him rise. She heard the discomfort and anticipation in his voice.

With each kiss and caress of her body, Jean telekinetically dissipated another article of his clothing, reforming them on the floor to mingle with hers. She gasped at the feel of his hot flesh against her bare back, even as Ororo slid against her chest and belly. They engulfed her, forming an uncomplicated, yet consuming sandwich.

Scott and Ororo fought for her attentions, though they wouldn’t admit it. Kisses were rained down on her face, neck, ears. Her hair was scraped aside and tugged back, tangled and breathed into. Both of her lovers’ hot breath steamed her, preceding the wet rasp of their tongues. She craned her neck back to receive Scott’s kisses while Ororo resumed her place at her pulse. All three of them knelt on the floor, communing as one.

Scott toyed with her nipple, kneading and pulling the stiff pink fruit. Ororo suckled the other, making sounds of contentment and rapture around her flesh. The vibrations of it thrilled Jean, turning her on so hard. Ororo teased her clitoris while Scott’s fingers slid up inside her warmth, plunging two of them deep. She was wet, coating him in her musky heat and slickness.

All three of their mouths gradually mingled. Jean couldn’t tell who she was kissing each way she turned. Both of them made love to her with so much fervor, and she felt complete.

“Scott.”

“Jean!”

“Let me show you why I love Ororo. Stay where you are.” She nudged Ororo back toward the bed. “Sit up there, baby.” Ororo obeyed, but she looked impatient. “Spread your legs and lay back.”

“Jean!” Ororo’s eyes flitted back to Scott. It was so personal, what she was asking her to do.

“We didn’t get to this part. I love this part.” The look on Ororo’s face was resigned by grateful, and full of so much longing. She fell back against the bed. Her long white hair fanned out across the sheets.

She nearly came up from the bed at the first touch of Jean’s mouth to her pussy. She breathed over it, tickling the mostly bare flesh. Ororo shaved it into a neat and tidy landing strip, offering easy access to Jean’s lapping, probing tongue. She licked her leisurely like a cat cleaning its young. Ororo felt a rush of tingles race over her body. It was so good. With Jean, it was always so good.

She tore small gasps and cries from Ororo’s mouth while Scott held Jean’s hips from behind. His fingers bit into her skin while his erection mounted against her smooth ass. Ororo’s face thrown back in bliss was undoing him, along with the eager sounds of Jean’s tongue and muffled voice buried in Ororo’s mound.

Damn, it was hot. He wanted Jean, and he wanted Ororo on board to watch, and to join him.

Ororo wasn’t hard on the eyes, either. Her body was as ripe as Jean’s but more voluptuous, her skin a luscious caramel pecan. Her curves were generous but firm, from her lush, full breasts crowned with mocha nipples to the slight slope of her belly and flaring hips. Her thighs were muscular, long and tapered, splayed wide open for Jean. One arm was flung back above her head. Her other hand clutched Jean’s hair, holding her close.

His dick was pressed against her and butting against the crease of her ass, sliding along it and dampening with precum. The thick, satiny head buffeted her, barely teasing her holes and nicking her swollen lips. It was always this way with Jean, satisfying, sure; but it was completely different watching her getting worked up with a new partner and letting him join in.

Her creamy ass was raised to him as she bent down, licking Ororo down and making her more worked up. He couldn’t stand it anymore. As Ororo looped and crossed her ankles across Jean’s back, she was bent enough for him to aim home. He grasped his throbbing dick and pressed the head against her sweet spot, then shoved himself inside, sheathing himself into her weeping pussy. She was so wet! What he could see of the deep auburn, crisp hairs of her pussy were plastered to her lips in damp little curls.

Her pussy sucked at him, molding to him and squeezed him tight as a glove. It was soooooo goooooood.

“Holy shit. Aw, man. Jean. JEAN.” He began to thrust. His body needed to thrust itself into that hot, sweet pussy and stir it up. She was agreeing with him, if the way she was moaning and whimpering into Ororo’s flesh was any sign. Her eyes rolled shut in ecstasy as she gave and received pleasure.

It took longer than ever before for any of them to peak, due to the concentration needed to move in sync and not to throw off the other’s rhythm. Jean didn’t mind. She drank up more of Ororo’s essence, kneading the swollen flesh with her face as her tongue speared itself inside. She slipped her fingers into the quivering tunnel and thrust, needing to penetrate her, to get closer. She lapped at her clit, teasing it before adding more pressure. It was hers. All hers.

Scott picked up speed and plunged faster, shunting in and out, in and out, feeling pressure build up inside him white-hot. Her breasts banged against her ribcage, jiggling and making her nipples pebble even harder with the impact. She assured him through their link that he was man enough, and hot, and felt so rock-hard and good. Harder, Scott. Faster, Scott. He slapped her ass sharply, stunned that he did it. He felt her laughter in his head. Baby’s been bad…

She came. Hard. And they weren’t finished with her. She rolled to her back, limp and shaking.

“Come to me.” Ororo moved out of habit, kneeling to straddle Jean’s head. Jean drew her pussy back down to her mouth and enjoyed her taste once more, this time with her psychic rapport open, telegraphing to Scott how good she tasted.

Their bodies made a startling, striking contrast, light skin ensconced within dark as Ororo’s thighs templed Jean. Jean’s body writhed on the bed as she enjoyed her partner, beckoning to Scott once more with her wetness as her legs fell open to him. He didn’t pause. They had scooted up the bed, giving Scott room to lean over it and crawl up her legs. He nipped at her ankles, calves, knees, licking and biting a path up to her juicy center before enveloping it with his mouth.

Ororo moaned and moved against Jean’s mouth, toying with her own nipples until Jean’s hand gently reached up to make her stop, relieving her of the task. She plucked at her, rolling one peak in her fingers. It was always this sweet and consuming with Ororo, as much as it was earthshaking and urgent with Scott.

Love me, their bodies screamed out to her, as did their minds. Their hearts. She heeded their cry and lost herself in the maelstrom.

She couldn’t not reach out to her lovers with her rapport. She needed their touch, whether it was with their hands or their thoughts. It nourished her. She was bereft and empty without them in her head. Adrift and lost.

Ororo came, falling slightly forward onto the heels of her hands, with Jean’s teeth lightly clamped around her clit while she sucked it nearly dry. Scott stoked her fire, raising her hips to his face while he feasted on her. He trailed and dragged his tongue between her lips for long, loving tastes of her before plunging deep. She whimpered up into Ororo’s heat but still held onto her thighs. Her fingers bit Ororo’s supple muscle. She groaned and cried for mercy, but for him to please not stop. Her lips landed on the sensitive places on Ororo’s inner thighs in entreaty.

He lapped. Paused. Nipped, then lapped. Nipped short and fast, then lapped long and slow. Swiveled around her nub, steaming it with his breath. Ororo released her, only to lie beside her. She tilted her face up and kissed her in contentment. Jean covered her hand that palmed her cheek, kissing her fingertips before Ororo dipped her head to her breast.

Jean’s breasts. Perfect. Tourmaline pink nipples crowned them, pouting over the loss of a mouth until it was covered once more, bathed between Ororo’s lips. She suckled greedily, grunting low in her throat as she kneaded its sister.

They competed to see who could make her come again, despite the maturity the concept lacked. She bucked when Scott’s finger probed her ass and pressed into the hole. She clenched around it and wiggled against his mouth. Ororo was still tugging at her breasts, spearing the canal of her ear and laving the whorls, nipping the lobe.

Scott couldn’t take it any longer. He took one last draw of her before climbing up her body again, kissing a trail along every inch. He slid between her legs, inadvertently – or not – bumping Ororo out of the way as he thrust into her once more.

*

She’s coming. I can feel it. I want her to need this as much as I do.

*

She’s close. Oh, so close. She loves how he feels.

*

“Please. Oh, please. Please.”

Her entire body rocked and shook with the impact of his lovemaking. Ororo watched, and touched, and waited. She rolled upright and approached her from a different angle. Scott was incredulous as her head bumped him while she bent toward Jean’s breast again, this time from the top. Her own nipple dangled easily within reach of Jean’s mouth.

They cross-suckled. It was enough. Scott came with savage jerks and cries, his hips spasming reflexively as she drained him. His face was drawn tightly. Stuttering breaths burst from his lips. It was the convulsing pulse of Jean’s walls around him, coupled with the sight of the women pleasuring each other that did him in.

They slumped together in a heap of heaving chests and sprawling limbs.

“Ororo…”

“I’m all right.”

“You haven’t…”

“I can wait.”

Jean was once again sandwiched in the middle, listening to their drumming heartbeats and Scott’s labored breathing as it slowed. He cradled her against his chest. Ororo spooned against her protectively at her back. Jean was petite and fit easily between the nook created by their bodies, since they both dwarfed her by a handful of inches. Ororo’s breathing stirred the hairs at her nape.

When Scott stroked Jean, his fingers grazed Ororo’s satiny skin. She didn’t mind.

“Scott?”

“Eh?”

“When did you two first fall in love?” The question flummoxed him. He chuckled under his breath, then covered Ororo’s hand with his. He peered down into Jean’s face and lightly kissed the tip of her nose.

“As soon as I saw her. That was all it took. She could have announced herself as King Henry the Eighth and told me she hailed from Pluto, and I wouldn’t have given a damn.” His smile was slow spreading as he contemplated her. Ororo squeezed Jean in agreement. “She had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing this little green dress and a red sweater. I thought Christmas came early. And her lipstick. She had on pink lipstick.”

“Mauve,” she corrected him. Ororo shook with silent laughter.

“Mauve,” he muttered, uncontrite. “Sheesh.” He peered over the top of Jean’s head at Ororo. “You?”

“Hmmm?”

“When did you love her?”

“When she took me shopping.”

“Which was when I grew to care about her so much,” Jean added.

“We had ice cream. And we tried to stop a mugger who took Jean’s purse.”

“And I saw Ororo naked. That made a difference.” Scott raised his eyebrows.

“She’s the first person who ever did, I think, now that I recall,” Ororo mused.

“Geez.”

“She’s right. The time by the pool that you mentioned didn’t count,” Jean pointed out.

“I didn’t have any clothes suitable for life in Manhattan. I met Jean at her friend Misty’s loft. She said to make myself comfortable.”

“And?”

“I’m most comfortable out of my clothes.” His chest shook this time in paroxysms of mirth.

“Scott…she didn’t know,” Jean scolded. “And that was all it took.”

“Jean turned red as a beet.”

“I was drooling. I thought it was MY birthday when she was standing there in her birthday suit.” Scott tightened his grip on Jean, allowing his hand to rest at Ororo’s waist. His fingers feathered over her skin, still warm from their exertions.

She generated the image before them, playing the hologram against one shadowed wall like a home movie.

Ororo. In the altogether, looking innocent and serene with questions in her eyes. Scott and Jean’s eyes gobbled her up, taking in the rich luster of her hair and skin, soft, intelligent blue eyes, and the melody of womanly curves that they itched to touch and savor.

“Was I really that fat?”

“ORORO!”

“I never knew how you saw me back then.”

“You were this beautiful, sensual person who didn’t have a clue how you affected everyone around you.” Jean rolled her ass against her again, bumping her playfully. She ground back against the raspy curls at the apex of Ororo’s thighs. Her nipples poked her back.

Jean was slowly becoming aroused again. Scott peered down at her, amused, but with interest.

“Again?”

“Until I hear Ororo screaming your name or mine. Or both.”

“Bright Lady help me…” Ororo was pushed back slightly in the scramble of Jean turning herself around and Scott reaching over them both to pull her close. “You can’t convince me you aren’t tired after…that…oh…” Her voice died on a silent gasp as they pulled her beneath them and began to devour her.

There were no boundaries between their kisses, even though the differences were noticeable. Scott’s was firmer and more forceful, with more taut lips, but his mouth marvelous as it nibbled the crown of her cheekbone or latched onto her ear. Jean’s lips were petal soft, caressing her in a slow glide. Ororo knew Jean’s needs, and her reasons for risking the loss of both of her lovers for the combined triumph of their encounter. Two different mouths lapped and sucked her nipples. They took turns with her mouth. They moved over her body and claimed it, marking it with heat and want. Scott gripped her jaw, skimming her teeth with his thumb. She drew on it only until Jean guided her back into her own kiss. They buffeted each other, testing the hold each one had. Fingers tickled and feathered over her. Jean linked all of them once again and divulged all of Ororo’s secrets.

Her anus craved the feel of two fingers thrust deep. She liked having her toes sucked. She liked to sixty-nine from the bottom. Rimming made her knees weak.

They strained each other and shifted, rolling and falling and lifting from one position to another, over and over, until Ororo came for them. She wrenched, cried out and sobbed in short, harsh bursts. Scott groaned in relief at the chance to relax stiff muscles, and his dick was spent and limp, but he was glowing and well-used. Blissful, dreamy smiles were plastered across all three faces. Their fingers were laced together and lazy kisses caressed skin wherever they landed.

“Jean?” Ororo murmured sleepily. “Can we go to bed now?”

“Promise you won’t sneak off in the middle of the night and stay angry with me?” She nodded up at Scott. “Either of you?”

“I will, if Ororo turns off the rain. I left the car outside, instead of the garage.”

“Ooh. Here.” The heavy, pelting showers drumming on the roof ceased like that. Ororo sighed, then snuggled back into Jean’s arms; Scott was spooning this time. Ororo nuzzled the pulse in her throat.

“This is nuts.” Scott felt worry creep back in. Frustration was about to join it and bring along myriad, negative feelings until Jean stopped him.

“This was fantastic.”

“Go to sleep, before you both ponder it to death and ruin it.” Ororo’s decree was final. Scott and Jean sighed, snuggling more closely and doing as she bade them.

The next morning, Ororo entered the kitchen and poured herself some juice. Logan peered up from his paper and rested his lit cigar in the ashtray.

“Yer wakin’ up late, darlin’.”

“I’m allowed to sleep in once in a while.”

“Empty sheets wouldn’t keep me in bed long-“ His jibe was cut off as she eyed him levelly over the edge of her glass. He caught her scent.

Jean breezed into the kitchen next, humming. Scott staggered in a moment later, stretching indolently.

Their scents. Mingled.

Ripe.

“Damn,” Logan muttered.

FIN.