Please Forgive Me If I'm Coming On Too Strong

Title: "Please Forgive Me If I'm Coming On Too Strong"
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jean knows what she wants; Charles doesn't know if he can give it to her; Erik is just along for the ride. A Charles/Erik/Jean Gray three-way (with implied Scott/Jean and Erik/Charles), set nebulously somewhere between "First Class" and the first original "X-Men" film. Title from Britney Spears' "Hold It Against Me." P.S.: Jean is of-age here, so.

There are many things that Jean Gray both does and doesn't know. She doesn't know, for instance, that Professor Charles Xavier, the man she trusts possibly more than anyone in her entire life, even more than Scott Summers, whom she'll probably marry some day, will, from time to time, dip into the furthest reaches of her mind and make sure that all of the secrets he keeps locked away from her remain, in fact, carefully compartmentalized. She does know that the professor cares about her safety more than anything, because he tells her so, and also because she can sense his overwhelming protective admiration, an unspoken emotion that flits through his mind whenever she reads it, and it makes Jean feel good to be so loved.

Jean also knows that Charles Xavier has secrets. She knows, for example, that he and Magneto, the most hated and feared enemy of the X-Men to whit, are not precisely enemies. It's something that Scott completely misunderstands, even when Jean attempts to explain it, though she leaves out some of the choicer bits of memories and feelings because she senses that Charles would want her to. "He could have been dead to rights several times over. I don't know what the professor is doing letting him go free," Scott tells her once, aggrieved after a mission and ranting as Jean calmly rubs his shoulders.

"I think they've spent their entire lives trying to get the other to come around to his way of thinking; and neither one will, so they have to keep pretending that there's a bad guy, but I'm not sure there is."

Scott shakes his head vehemently. "That guy tried to kill us, Jean; again," he declares. "He's nothing but trouble, but the professor won't just let us take care of him for good because they might have been friends once a really long time ago. It's bullshit."

Jean stifles a sigh. "I think they were more than friends, Scott. I think they really loved each other."

Scott frowns. "It doesn't matter. The things he's done are unforgiveable. The professor should be able to separate the person Magneto was from the person he's become."

Jean's hands still. Something about Scott's expectations nags at her, though she can't precisely say why. "If you had to choose to harm someone you cared about because they did something wrong, would it be so easy for you?"

Scott's posture is resolute, but he can't answer right away. "I don't know," he says eventually, and then his hands find Jean's, and he squeezes them in reconciliation. "Hey, let's shelve this conversation, huh?" he asks, and soon Jean is pressed against him underneath the covers of their shared bed, warm and happy and able to forget for a while that this is something the professor doesn't get to have, and if Scott could just understand that, maybe he'd take pity instead of banishing the sole source of Charles' happiness from existence.

Jean doesn't know the precise details of the professor's and Magneto's relationship, though the glimpses she does get are fairly telling. They were well more than friends, in fact; they were lovers in the most consummate way, and the emotions that swell inside of Charles sometimes when he happens to ruminate on the other man - Erik, Jean knows that he always thinks of Magneto as Erik - are almost painful in their intensity.

Jean knows it's of the utmost importance that nobody knows that Erik comes to the mansion sometimes, always ushered in via a secret passageway, and often when the professor is confident that he won't be missed for a few hours. Ostensibly, Erik is there to assist Charles with Cerebro, whose chamber is coded to open only for Charles. Jean, however, knows it's not just about the machine, not really about the machine, at all. When she works up the courage to corner the professor in his study before one of their meetings, she worries that this will burn a bridge, will alter their teacher-student relationship irrevocably. She needn't worry, though, because Charles' smile is genuine as he taps his temple.

"I can't keep much from you, Jean." He cocks his head, and Jean suddenly feels shy. "Would you like to accompany us today?" he continues. "Perhaps you can take over a few of the test runs, give me the chance to take a break between migraines." His tone is jovial, but Jean senses an underlying apprehension. She knows that it's taken a lot for the professor even to imply this much, and the notion that he trusts her with the information fills her with warmth.

"Okay, I'll come," she says, and lets Charles lead her, because, of course, she trusts him, too.

It surprises Jean somewhat that Erik is dressed in civilian clothing, jeans and a comfortable-looking gray sweater that seems to make his eyes appear even more piercing. It makes sense - when he's associated with Charles, he is always Erik, not Magneto, but the fact of the matter is that he looks so 'normal,' and Jean catches herself smiling about that a little.

"Hello, Mr. Lehnsherr," she says shyly. Erik gives Charles a quizzical look, but nods at her warmly. Another thing Jean hasn't, won't, tell Scott: There is something preternaturally comforting about Magneto to her. In her mind, he holds the same place of reverence and quiet fondness that she has for the professor. Scott doesn't like to talk about the past; it's painful, he admonishes, and his present and their future are the most important things, anyways. Still, though it's a bad idea upon impact, and though by all accounts, Jean has ample reason to believe otherwise, she knows that Erik being there that day, in her parents' house, calmly observing her and Charles while the other man smiled and watched her float a car and clucked that it "isn't polite to read Mr. Lehnsherr's and my minds without permission," makes all the difference. Erik is as much a father figure to her as Charles, and she knows this will never change.

Ostensibly, their shared session in Cerebro's chamber begins exactly as Charles hinted that it might, with Erik fiddling with dials and buttons, and Charles doing short test runs with the helmet. The conversation between the two men contains few words, but their camaraderie, the affection between them, is apparent, even for someone who isn't a telepath. Fortunately, Jean has the added benefit of hearing their thoughts, of feeling first-hand the emotions percolating in their minds. That they're coupled with Erik standing in close proximity to Charles' wheelchair, his hands coming out of their own accord to touch the other man, to rub his shoulders and bend over him while making quiet suggestions ("maybe try this setting, the fall-out will be less intense"), seems unnervingly intimate to Jean. In the same vein, neither man ignores her; in fact, at one point, Charles favors her with a sidelong glance and pats her on the shoulder affectionately. "Perhaps Jean would like a turn at the wheel," he says, and Erik nods in agreement.

Erik makes some final, slight adjustments to the control panel of the machine, and then Jean is off, her mutant brethren surrounding her in a dizzying swirl of mist and light. It's too much, it's far too much for her, at least right now, and perhaps it always will be, and she grasps desperately for something to anchor herself to, something to bring her feet back to the ground.

She finds it in Erik and Charles. The two men's combined presence in Cerebro is a light at the end of a tunnel, a stabilizing force that, as Jean gets closer, she finds herself enveloped in its steadily ebbing swirl of love, compassion, safety. She floats towards the source, not really walking, and then, suddenly, gentle hands are there to greet and catch her, to draw her close and assure her that she's made it through the void.

"A valiant effort, Jean. All the same, I think you've had enough for one day," Charles tells her, his eyes kind. Standing slightly behind them, Erik puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. Jean leans into the touch, drawn into the affection dancing between them, allowing herself to be used as a conduit, and finding that, in fact, she wouldn't mind being more.

*

The next time Erik comes over, nearly a month later to the date, Jean knows what she wants; has, in fact, considered it from several different angles and has found no part of her plan lacking. Scott, sweet Scott, has only noticed Jean's increased vibrancy, but doesn't understand the source. Jean is pleased that Scott seems to enjoy her own renewed vigor during their love-making, but allows him to remain pleasantly in the dark about its origins.

Jean is pleased with herself for keeping her plans secreted away from Charles; it's not easy when Charles can crack somebody open and know all of their secrets with but one brush of his finger to his temple, but Jean counts on her own slowly growing telepathic abilities, as well as the fact that Charles has many other students whose most shallow thoughts need skimming, to aid her in her squirreling away of facts; the biggest fact, of course, being that she wants to fuck Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, wants to know them and to have them know her, in the intimate way that she knows they already know each other.

Erik is once again waiting when Charles wheels himself into Cerebro's round, expansive chamber, Jean close behind him. "Jean," Erik greets her, "a pleasure to see you again."

"I suppose we didn't bore her enough the last time," Charles quips. He wheels himself over to where Erik is standing near Cerebro's control panel, and Jean follows, resisting the urge to fiddle with her hair the way she usually does when she's nervous, because she knows it makes her look like a little girl, and right now, that's the last thing she wants.

"I wasn't bored," she protests smoothly, and maneuvers herself where she's perched a bit between Charles and Cerebro, half-turned towards Erik, as well. She pastes a hopefully winning smile on her face. "In fact, I find everything about Cerebro fascinating."

"I'm glad to hear that, Jean." Charles reaches around her to pick up Cerebro's helmet, and their hands brush. "All right, let's pick up where we left off last time," he says, mostly to Erik, and Jean watches him position the helmet atop his bald head. She hears Erik query whether Charles is ready, and Charles nods.

Charles' mind is occupied in Cerebro for several minutes. When he pulls back, he's panting a little; though not nearly as undone as Jean was by the machine - Charles is much better versed with his powers, after all, and with Cerebro itself - he still needs a moment to collect himself. Erik immediately moves inwards as Charles comes to, and it's exactly as Jean has been planning for nearly 30 days. "Charles, all right, then?" Erik's voice is a low rumble, his hand coming up to cup Charles' jaw, his fingers lingering near the other man's temple. Jean licks her lips, the temptation unbearable now.

"Just kiss already," she says softly. The result is immediate; Charles looks up at her, stricken. Erik's expression is less shocked, but he still blinks.

"Jean, I beg your pardon?" Charles finally manages, and Jean knows that there's no turning back now. She turns so that she's facing both of them and hopes she looks coy and irresistible.

"There's so much power between you," she murmurs. "So much love. I know there has to be a reason why you've let me see it so often, why you've wanted me to be a part of it. I want to be a part of it, too. I want to be a bigger part if it now, though." On impulse, she begins to tug at the hem of her blouse, tugging it up, exposing her tummy and a flash of her bra, and Charles holds up his hands in protest.

"Jean, for God's sake ... I'm your teacher. For all intents and purposes, I could be your father ..." Charles looks very much as though he'd like for Jean to put her shirt back on, but it's already been tugged off and tossed away. He rests his hands against the arms of his chair uncomfortably.

"But you're not," Jean replies, because she's thought of this potential roadblock. "But you and Mr. Lehnsherr have been there for me, more than anybody ever has. I want to return the favor."

"That's not how this works." Charles' voice is firm, the same tone he uses for lectures and admonishments. Jean finds it to be an amazing turn-on. "Jean," he says eventually, "Though we're not blood-related, I think of you as my daughter. You're very precious to me; and to Mr. Lehnsherr, as well."

Jean takes the opportunity to move in for the kill. "You're both very precious to me, as well," she says softly. "I cherish everything you've done for me. You're the only ones who truly understand me, and I'm the only one who truly understands what you are to each other." She cocks her head softly, femininely. "I want to share this with you, too." She begins to unbutton her pants, and Charles makes a choked noise. Jean's worried that she won't be able to convince them after all, and then Erik steps in.

"Charles," Erik says, and he reaches out to touch the other man, hands on Charles' upper arms. "I believe Ms. Gray knows what she's asking for; and she's correct: She has always been a particularly special girl to us."

"Yes, but she's too young," Charles starts to insist, and Jean pushes out her chest a bit poutily.

"I'm old enough, Professor. I'm legally allowed to fuck whomever I want. I know what I want, what I like. I've had plenty of practice with Scott." She immediately regrets mentioning her boyfriend. Sure enough, Charles is wincing now. "It's my choice, Professor, she adds hurriedly; and then, emboldened by the fact that he doesn't interrupt her, "I choose to ask you to fuck me."

"Jean," Charles bites out, and Erik lets out a laugh. He leans in then and kisses Charles, and Jean watches longingly as their mouths seal over one another; Charles moans, and Erik cradles his head a bit, and when they both come up for air, the professor's eyes are somewhat glazed. "Erik ..." Charles says softly, warningly, and Erik shakes his head and smiles.

"Charles. She's said it herself: It's her choice. You don't want to take away her free will, do you, now?" There's something that passes between the two men that Jean doesn't entirely understand; something dark and unsure, something that makes Charles' eyes come back into focus and slip away from Erik's suddenly burning gaze. Then he turns back contritely, and risks a glance up at Jean.

"I suppose ... if this is really what Jean wants ..."

"It is," Jean says, overjoyed that this is going to happen, at last. She quickly clamors for a seat on a buttonless part of Cerebro's control panel, scant inches from where Charles sits, facing her, close enough that their knees brush. "Professor," she says happily, and wraps her arms around Charles' shoulders. His eyes meet hers, and she's transfixed suddenly by how tender they are. "Thank you, Professor," Jean murmurs, and moves in for a kiss. The professor's mouth is warm, in part, perhaps, because of his recent lip-lock with Erik, whom Jean feels watching them intently, and his eyelashes flutter before he finally closes his eyes, allowing Jean's tongue to brush against his. When he acquiesces to kissing down the column of her throat, his similarly warm hands reaching out to grasp at the bare flesh at her waist, she moans happily and arches her back.

She's nervous that saying too much will cause Charles to resist again, so instead, she sends both him and Erik a mental image of what she wants. Erik, for his part, chuckles lowly when it reaches him. Jean sees Charles shoot him a glare, but she takes the opportunity to shimmy out of her pants and, after a small moment of hesitation, her underwear, as well. She's self-conscious about the mound of bristly, red pubic hair that her de-robing has revealed, but her fears are quickly assuaged. "So lovely," Erik tells her, and then comes up behind her. Large hands go to her waist, and then steady her as she climbs atop Charles' lap, straddling him in his chair.

Charles watches her with a bit of trepidation, but drinks in appreciatively the sight of her creamy breasts as she unclasps her bra and lets it fall from her slender frame to the ground. She's not naive enough to think that any of her mental persuasions could really affect the professor, but she's inordinately pleased when her silent insistence that "you can touch them, touch me, touch, please" do not go unheeded. Charles' hands are softly calloused, but they feel wonderful on her tits, his fingers thumbing against her nipples, his palms cupping and lifting gently. To move things along, Jean risks reaching down between Charles' legs. Her mentor's cock is at least partially hard, she's gratified to find, and she starts to maneuver the zipper down (it's an awkward position for her wrist), when she feels a hand on her shoulder. "Let me," Erik tells her smoothly, and Charles watches him exasperatedly as his pants unfasten seemingly of their own accord. "That never gets old," Erik laughs, and Charles fights a losing battle not to smile.

"It really doesn't." Charles watches as Jean reaches down, tugging his cock out of his briefs, watches her slim, carefully manicured fingers wrap around the shaft, pumping up and down a couple of times experimentally. "Jean, this is really ... if you're absolutely sure ..."

"I'm sure," Jean says, and then she's lifting herself up and prying herself apart a bit with her fingers, hoping that this proves to Charles that she's ready, willing, and able. He surprises her by reaching down with one of his own fingers and rubbing around her clit once or twice. "Oh," she shivers, and Charles smiles. Slowly, Jean lifts herself up, repositioning herself incrementally, and then stops just before Charles can penetrate her. "Slowly," she murmurs, more to herself than to him. "We'll, aaahh, go slowly," and they do, Charles' face a myriad of emotions as Jean painstakingly impales herself further and further on his cock. She bounces once, to make minimal adjustments to the angle at which skin slides against skin, and then murmurs happily and wraps her arms around Charles' neck, her leg muscles quivering with anticipation. "Professor, please, fuck me," she begs softly, and Charles sighs.

The movement is slow for a while; Charles seems reluctant to press too hard, to hurt her, and so he holds off as Jean suspects he's always doing. He acquiesces to another kiss, and then seems to be watching a focal point behind Jean. When she swivels her head, she smiles beatifically at Erik. "Please let me suck your cock, Mr. Lehnsherr," she breathes, and Erik laughs, flattered.

"Oh, I like her, Charles."

Erik has fewer inhibitions about this, and Jean finds herself hurrying to tug his pants down, exposing his erection. She runs her fingers over it, brushing the pads of one digit over the head, and Erik's nostrils flare. Charles, too, seems to find this enjoyable, both the sight of Jean teasing her way around his long-time lover's cock, and the mental sensations that Jean can feel Erik giving off, because he thrusts up suddenly with some vigor. One of Erik's hands comes down and brushes a stray strand of red hair out of Jean's face. She leans momentarily into the touch, and then bobs her head, sucking Erik's dick into her mouth.

Erik grunts with surprised satisfaction, and his hand moves to accommodate cupping the back of Jean's head, his fingers lightly tangled in her long mane. Jean pulls back, and laps up the side of Erik's penis, mouthing over his ballsac, suckling part of it into her mouth, and then sliding her lips along it to lap at the rest. When she, at last, swabs her tongue up the underside of the length and mouths over the head anew, Erik lets out a strangled groan of pleasure.

Slowly but surely, a rhythm is established, Charles bucking up into Jean, his cock nestled inside of her cunt, his hands carefully gripping her sides, holding her upright. Less gingerly, Jean continues to suck Erik off, lips and tongue and, occasionally, the slightest use of teeth, working around his shaft, her fingers coming up and toying with his balls. She meets his gaze at one point, his adoring, overwhelmed gaze, and Jean is thrilled by his adoration, by the adoration from both men. Pleasure courses through her body, pooling in her nether regions. Eventually, she can't take not touching herself anymore, and snakes a hand down between her legs, slightly above where Charles' cock is sheathed within her. Her clit is moist and easy to locate, and she moans around Erik's dick as she flicks it with two fingers, her other hand still playing with his balls.

Erik comes first, and it's a bit unexpected with all of the sensations swirling around; Jean chokes a little, but swallows most of what follows down, smiling up at Erik while he wipes the excess off of her chin with the pad of his thumb. "Beautiful girl," he tells her, and then reaches down and cups one of her breasts, lightly pinching a nipple. "Come on," he coaxes. "You can do it."

The build-up to her orgasm is slow, almost painfully so. Jean's fingers begin to move more frantically, desperate to find just the right spot. Charles continues to pump into her, his eyelids low. Over her shoulder, Erik watches them both. "Perfection," she hears him murmur, and there's something so adoring in his tone, so utterly affectionate, and suddenly, she's found the exact spot and maneuvers her fingers around it frantically. When she comes, it rips a soft yowl from her throat, which Erik is then kissing, softly at first, and then with the barest hint of teeth. Jean knows that it's going to leave a bruise, but strangely, she can't bring herself to care much about that.

Charles is close, his body quivering, a light sheen of sweat lacing his face, and so Jean is surprised when Erik beckons for her to unwind herself from atop his lap. "Let me," he clarifies a moment later, and helps her stand safely, and then moves in himself, crouching next to Charles' chair and wrapping an arm around the other man. "Come for me, Charles," he murmurs, and Jean watches, rapt, as Erik's large palm wraps around Charles' dick, rubbing and creating friction. Jean hears Charles murmur Erik's name in return, and then they're kissing passionately, and Jean tries not to be jealous how there's absolutely no hesitation in Charles' technique now that it's Erik he's with. On the contrary, she can enjoy the love that courses through their bond, as well as the melding of their mouths and the soft moans and "oh, Erik, Erik"-type utterances that flow from Charles' mouth. When Charles does finally come, Erik muffles his verbal expression of it with yet more kissing, and then smiles and presses their foreheads together, waiting for Charles' heartbeat to slow.

Charles eyes Jean as he collects his bearings. "Jean, I do hope that we ... that this hasn't changed anything ... if you need to talk about this later, Jean, my door is always open."

"Of course, Professor," she responds automatically, but in truth, she's already wondering how she'll possibly get through another month without this. Her thoughts flit briefly to her boyfriend, and Charles must have glimpsed the image as well, because the corner of his mouth upturns. Erik looks at him curiously.

Charles coughs politely. "With all due respect, I can't help but think it might be auspicious to keep Scott in the dark about all ... this." He gestures, and Erik outright laughs. Jean feels the barest twitch of guilt, and then brushes it aside, because she knows that, in the end, this will change nothing between her and Scott.

"Absolutely," she responds, successfully confident. She looks back and forth adoringly between the pair of men, and they look fondly back at her. When she speaks again, it's to the both of them: "It'll just be our little secret."