Title: Jet Lag
Summary: Jubilee returns home and promptly gets pissed off…but Logan has just the way to cheer her up.
Warnings: Full nudity!
Ratings: R for sexual content
Category: Romance
Setting: Non-specific
Characters: Logan/Jubilee, guest starring Hank, Bobby, Remy, and Jean
Note to readers: This was shaping up to be an X-Rated story, but the X-rated half won't be posted here due to the rating restrictions on this site. If you have an idea where I might post this in its entirety (and the other X-rated stories I've written!) please Email me or give me an address in your review. Thank you!—Jae
Jet Lag
Jubilee sighed as she dropped her suitcase on the bed. Jean followed, putting her other bag on the bed, and sat down as Jubilee started to unpack. "Where's Logan?" Jubilee said after a moment.
"Went off somewhere," Jean said. "Out on his bike. He'll be back later."
Jubilee sighed. "Well, at least he's not here. He hates it when I get back from a conference and I have jet lag. Makes me all snappy and irritable." She sighed again. "I hate snapping at him. He doesn't deserve it."
Jean chuckled a bit as she watched Jubilee unpack. "What's this?" she said as Jubilee laid a brown-paper wrapped package on the night table.
"Just a little something I got for him," she said quietly.
Jean was dying of curiosity, but she didn't ask.
Jubilee took the plastic bag out of her suitcase and went over to the laundry hamper to empty her dirty clothes into it. She opened the lid, paused, and reached in. Jean watched as she drew out a pair of long black jeans. "These aren't Logan's," Jubilee said, looking at them. "Too long. Jean, any idea whose pants these are?"
Jean looked mystified. "Beats me. Who would be dumping laundry in your hamper?"
Jubilee upended the basket and dumped its contents onto the floor. She kicked aside some dirty socks and picked up a large black T-shirt. Again it wasn't Logan's. She tossed them aside in a heap on the floor, and rummaged through the rest of the laundry. Several pairs of dirty socks, a blue T-shirt, a green sweatshirt, two more pairs of jeans, and a pair of navy-blue khakis and a white button-down shirt were the last items tossed out of the basket. Jubilee stood, staring at the clothes for a moment, then put hers and Logan's clothes back in.
She rooted around in the pile for a moment, then pulled out the black jeans. She shoved her hand in the pocket. Out fell a quarter and two pennies. She checked the rest of the pockets, but there was no clue as to the wearer of the pants. Jubilee tossed them aside and picked up the blue dress pants. This pocket yielded a one dollar bill and a sales receipt for a dozen roses from Mawry's Florist. Jubilee studied it intently.
"What is it?" Jean asked.
"A receipt from a florist shop," she said.
Jean snapped her fingers. "Remy said a few days ago that he was going to send Elise flowers," she said. "I bet the dress clothes are his."
Jubilee looked at Jean. "You're kidding me. He and Rogue had a fight again and she refused to do his laundry again?"
Jean nodded. "Now that I think of it, he did ask me if I would stick his clothes in the washer for him with some of Scott's stuff. I told him no, because I always get their things mixed up—they're both almost the same height, you know—and Scott ends up putting on a shirt that's too small for him."
Jubilee picked up one of the jeans. This one was quite plainly marked 'Robert' across the back of the waistband. Her lips flattened out in a thin line, and she gathered the clothes in her arms, opened the bedroom door, and yelled, "BOBBY!!! REMY!!! Get your blasted clothes out of my laundry hamper!!!" She dumped the clothes on the floor and slammed the door, holding a finger to her lips to shush Jean as she listened. Sure enough, several minutes later, she detected the sound of someone stealthily tiptoeing down the hall. The footsteps stopped outside her door, and she heard the faint susurrus of cloth rubbing against cloth.
She flung open the door, and caught Bobby in the act of taking his jeans, the blue T-shirt, and the green sweatshirt out of the pile. He looked up at her with the face of a child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Jean wanted to laugh.
Jubilee wasn't laughing. Didn't even think about it. Her blue eyes snapped fire at Bobby. "What were your clothes doing in my hamper? Hmm?"
"Uh…I thought maybe you wouldn't mind maybe doing them? Just like, real quick?" He smiled, trying to placate Jubilee.
Jubilee wasn't in the mood to be placated. "Couldn't even ask first? Huh? Well, Bobby, I'm not doing your dirty laundry for you. I do Logan's, I do mine, that's it. Yeah, I know I used to do yours sometimes when I was younger, but I'm not a free agent anymore. Think I don't have clothes to do? Logan puts out plenty of laundry. Go find someone else to do your dirty work." She slammed the door in his face, and heard him scuttle ignominiously away to his own room. She waited for a long time by the door for Remy as she tried to ignore Jean's hysterical laughter as the redhead doubled over on the bed.
Quite some time later, Jubilee caught the telltale psychic signature of a certain Cajun. She was surprised that she hadn't heard Remy come down the hall…then realized he was a former thief. He'd know how to sneak. Well, not in front of her. He flung the door open, and caught Remy in the act of bundling up his clothes and trying to sneak away.
"You and Rogue have an argument, and you think I'll feel sorry for you and you try to sucker me into doing your laundry, is that it?" she snapped. Remy stood there, with much the same look on his face that Bobby had, and then tried to smile. Jean wanted to laugh all over again. Jubilee made a face at him. "No, don't try that Cajun charm on me. It's not going to work this time. I got enough stuff to worry about without all of you asking me to do your laundry too. You wore them, you clean them." She slammed the door in Remy's face, and turned to Jean. "What're you laughing at?"
Jean stopped laughing and eyed the door, wondering how fast she could get to it. "Uh…nothing, just…uh...remembering the times when I had five guys asking me to do their laundry," she said.
"Well, those days are gone." Jubilee turned away from Jean and the door. Jean paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the sudden silence, then ran out the door, trying to get as far away from a jet-lagged Jubilee as possible.
Jubilee went back to her unpacking and was just finishing when there came a knock at her door. She turned and growled, "What?"
Hank opened the door. "If I may ask you for a favor, young Jubilee?" he queried.
"Depends on what it is," Jubilee said, crossing her arms.
Hank held up a wrinkled white tuxedo shirt. "Charles wishes me to accompany him to a formal affair tonight. The Governor's Ball, I believe. Might I perhaps prevail upon you to press the shirt for me this afternoon…" He stopped, because a minor thunderstorm was building up in front of him, and it was named Jubilee.
She exploded. "What is with you people! Think I don't have anything better to do than take care of everyone's dirty jeans, wrinkled shirts, and smelly socks? Go do your own stuff and leave me alone! I just got back from Tokyo, for gosh sakes! I'm tired, and the last thing I want to do is laundry!" She threw up her hands, flung her last folded shirt into the drawer, and brushed past Hank, heading for the stairs.
She didn't stop until she was in her favorite spot by the lake. She sighed as she sat down heavily on the flat rock and stared into the water. She hadn't meant to get mad at Hank, she really hadn't. At least he'd asked. But it was hot, she hated the crowds at the airport, and she was tired.
The peace and quiet gradually seeped into her, and she sighed and slipped out of her shirt. She'd worn her bikini under her clothes because she'd been intending to join the others in the pool. So much for that idea. She didn't want to go anywhere now. She just wanted to stay here, on the rock, in the warm sun…
She closed her eyes and was soon asleep.
* * *
Logan knew where Jubilee would be. She loved to stretch out on the flat rock by the lake, and tan. He checked her drawer real quick where she usually kept her bikini. Hoping he wasn't going to get snapped at like Jean had told him Hank, Bobby, and Remy had, he grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion and headed outside.
It was really hot. By the time he got to the lake he was sweating. Jubilee was, as he had guessed, stretched out on the rock, asleep, in her bathing suit. He smiled as he saw her, a gentle, tender smile that he saved just for her. No one else could bring that smile to his face.
He stripped off his shirt and jeans, and climbed onto the rock behind her. Grinning, he squeezed some of the suntan lotion onto his hand and began to rub it into her legs, starting with her tiny feet and working his way upwards with long, slow, gentle strokes.
Jubilee woke as she felt the hand on her ankle, but a quick telepathic probe told her it was Logan. She relaxed, moaning in sensual pleasure as he smoothed the lotion onto her skin, massaging her calf muscles as he went. She stretched lazily, groaning as his large hands found the muscles in her upper legs, in her thighs, and massaged them too. Then climbed onto the rock, letting his weight settle onto her legs as he let his hands travel over her backside and up her back, his thumbs making small circles on the skin on either side of her spine. He rubbed the lotion into her back, and moved up to her shoulders. "Tense here, Jubes," he whispered into her ear. His fingers slowly rubbed the tension out of her shoulder muscles, making her moan as he did so. Damn, she loved Logan. He could make her moan just by touching her.
"Ooooh, there," she groaned, shifting her shoulders just a bit to nudge his hands into the right position to ease the tension out of one particularly knotted muscle. "Oh, God, Logan, I love you."
"I love you too, darlin'," Logan said, kissing one shoulder. 'Now turn over." She did, and he was treated to a sight of her perky breasts pushing against the thin fabric of her skimpy bikini top. He rubbed the lotion into her chest, applying it in smooth, languid strokes from her earlobe to the shadowed valley between her breasts, then rubbed it into her upper arms, the inside of her elbows, and down her forearms to her wrists. He finished off with a light, feathery kiss to the inside of her wrist, then returned to her torso to apply the lotion to her ribcage, her tiny waist, flat, pale tummy, and stopped just under her navel. He skipped downward to her thighs, then down her shins to the arches of her feet.
Jubilee sat up, gave him a wicked grin he knew all too well. He didn't even have time to protest before her bikini top fell to the rock's surface. She wiggled her legs out from under him, stood up, and a moment later the bottom joined the top on the ground. "Jubes," he whispered, barely able to breathe.
She placed a finger on his lips, pushed him down onto the rock, and took the lotion from his nerveless fingers. He lay down and felt her hands slowly begin to traverse his body in the same way he had just explored hers. It felt incredibly sensual to his heightened sense of touch, and he almost shivered with the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling from those small hands rubbing him all over. She finished with his back, and he flipped over…but not before removing his shorts. Jubilee pressed herself against him as she started to lotion his front. "Jubes, he said, "I ain't gonna get a sunburn. Fergit the lotion an' jus' do what ya really wanna do, okay?"
"Sure, Wolvie." It was a childish nickname, but the distinctly husky voice she said it in was anything but innocent. Logan banished all other thought to the back of his mind as he lost himself in the wave of sensations that washed over them both.