Note: Thanks for all the reviews, everybody, particularly the most recent
hits by Key. : )
Rating: PG-13, for a semi-graphic depiction of sex.
Introduction: From the deranged lunatic who brought you "Dark Night of the Soul," "The Spurt," and "He Ain't Heavy," comes a new dimension in Jott (Jean/Scott) nastiness. But never fear, Kurt is here! In this universe, "Blind Alley" never happened, and Kurt is not with Amanda.
=== RED HOT ===
It was a muggy night in June when Scott Summers and Jean Grey finally cracked.
The pressure had been building for months --- about as long as they'd been dating. Nobody *knew* they'd been dating, which made it even more exciting. Jean's itches for mall-crawling, "Alone, thank you very much," and Scott's numerous "after-school activities," most of which were made up on the spot, had gotten them a lot of time together.
Every date was an adrenaline rush, with deep, embarrassing questions making their hearts race in-between the blushing and the smiles. Could they pull off *this* outing without anyone sensing something was amiss? And how much longer could they keep all this up without being discovered?
It added a sort of danger to their love life that Jean liked and Scott seemed to thrive on. After all, privacy, REAL privacy, at the professor's School for Gifted Youngsters, was practically nill. If anybody found out, they would never be left in peace again.
But school had just ended for the year. Finals were over. The night was balmy, the moon was full, and the two of them were still trying to come down from the stress. Both knew they were ready to take their relationship to another level, and maybe blow off a little steam in the process.
Scott had been eighteen for two months. Jean wouldn't be eighteen for two days.
Neither of them cared about this as they necked their way through the mansion's garage, stumbling into walls, kissing like they were trying to devour each other, sighing through their noses, giggling into each other's teeth, and letting their hands roam.
Finally, they stopped at a likely car. Jean suckered her mouth off Scott's, narrowed her eyes at the door handle, and the door swung open. He smiled at her, breathing hard, his ruby red glasses sliding a few millimeters down his narrow nose. He was sweating something incredible, as was she. She just pointed inside.
So he picked her up and set her down on the back seat. She giggled madly.
"Oh, Scott!" she cooed, as he climbed in and shut the door behind them.
The inside of the car was dark, which was perfect, because both of them were a bit shy about this. Not for long, though.
Clothes flew.
Bodies danced.
Sweat hit the steaming windows.
It was good, it was fun, and then it was over.
They lay there for a while, a pile of quivering, slippery flesh, cuddling in the back seat. It took a few minutes of sighs and small kisses for them to calm down.
"Wow," Jean said, finally. "That was great."
"Sure was," Scott agreed. "We should do this again sometime."
"Yeah. In a bed!" she said. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
The car rocked as they laughed and scrambled all over each other, finding their clothes. Scott grabbed the condom he'd used, and pocketed it. The wrapper was nowhere to be found, but he wasn't worried. After all, who would be looking for it?
A few seconds later, they stumbled out of the car . . . and got caught.
Someone had turned the lights on the parking garage. Jean shielded her eyes from the sudden glare as Scott shut the door. He started looking around, instantly on the alert. His shirt was untucked, his pants were practically undone, and he was holding his shoes and socks. Jean looked like she'd been in a twister.
"We're not alone," she muttered, stating the obvious, as usual.
* BAMF *
"Whoa!"
CLOMP
SPLOOSH
Jean and Scott whirled around to see Kurt. KURT, who they'd both forgotten would be staying at the Institute for the summer, rather than going home to Germany. He was standing there in torn shorts and an old tank top, and staring at them, agape. Between his blue fur, crouching, muscular body, whipping tail, and wide yellow eyes, the effect was very dramatic. He'd dropped a bucket of sudsy water on the floor, apparently something he needed to wash one of the cars.
"You . . . And you . . . And . . . Oh man!" he squeaked, pointing back and forth between the two of them and staggering backwards.
Jean tried to head him off. "Kurt, it's not what you think."
Scott didn't even try this tack. He gently pushed Jean aside.
"Kurt, you can't tell anybody. If you keep our secret . . . I'll . . . dude, I'll do anything. Just, come on."
The elf's curiosity was sufficiently piqued. He crossed his ropy blue arms, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Anysing?"
"Anything," Scott said firmly, even as Jean glared at him.
Kurt grinned, showing his fangs.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Half an hour later, Scott was taking a shower, Jean was cleaning herself up, and Kurt, having been promised breakfast at Pancake Village every day for a month, had completely "forgotten" about the incident.
Scott was satisfied with the deal. Knowing how much Kurt ate, it would probably be a little expensive. But knowing how trustworthy the guy was, and how seriously he stuck to a promise, it would be worth it in the long run.
XXXXXXXXXXX
The next evening, Charles Xavier sat in front of his desk, hands resting in his lap, looking calm as he waited. He'd asked all the students into his study, for a "heart to heart."
Everyone started filing in. Kitty grabbed an arm of the couch. Rogue, Evan, Bobby, Amara and Ray grabbed the seats. Sam and Ray stood, doing an annoyed little dance as Jamie and his "friends" swarmed around them noisily and took seats on the carpet. Kurt 'ported in and sat on the mantle. Scott and Jean were the last ones to come in, and they sat down on a wide chair near the door.
"Good evening, everybody," Xavier said gently. "I have a bit of news: it seems that some of you have grown up rather fast."
The kids looked baffled . . . until the professor produced something from his jacket pocket. It was a little purple square of paper, with a small horse on it.
"I found this in my van when I took it out this afternoon," he explained, turning the little thing over thoughtfully. "I was on my way to the grocery store. I turned on the air conditioner, and the air flow blew it right onto the passenger seat."
"What is it?" all the Jamies asked together.
"Uh . . . James, why don't you all go get some milk and cookies? I think this talk would bore you."
The Jamies didn't put up much of a fight. After all, they were only 12, and milk and cookies beat a grown-up's lecture any day of the week. They all nodded in unison and left. Xavier looked relieved as the door closed.
"For the uninitiated," he said to the room at large, "This is a condom wrapper."
There was a very pregnant pause.
"Now, granted, I've had a few people tell me I'm a 'dapper old gentleman,'" he continued, steepling his fingers at his students. "That said, I didn't get lucky last night."
Everyone giggled.
"I want to know who did."
The giggling stopped.
"I refuse to pry into your minds. But I expect whoever did this to come forward honestly and tell me. Believe me, if any of you were of age, I wouldn't even mention it. But as I am not aware of any of you seeing anyone else, and since only ONE of you is eighteen, this is serious business."
The room was just staring, by now. Kurt felt determined to protect Scott's secret, not to mention a little worried about the fate of his pancakes. He hopped off his spot on the mantle and stepped forward.
"Professor, I admit it. Eet vas me. I, uh, I got lahkee."
Xavier looked completely unconvinced.
"Kurt, not to adversely affect your self-esteem, but that's ridiculous. You don't have a girlfriend."
"No! Eet vas me! Eet vas me and, and, ah . . . Keety! Ja!"
"Eww! Like, NO!" Kitty cut in. "Professor, tell him to quit being a doof!"
"Eet vas us!" Kurt insisted.
"Yeah, like maybe in your DREAMS, Fuzz-face!"
"VEE GOT IT AAAHN!!!"
"Shut UP, you idiot!!!"
Kurt refused to shut up. He yelled "Hoo Mama!" and Kitty chased after him, looking murderous and trying to grab his spade tail. Five seconds later, the room was in chaos, Kitty and Kurt had bolted, and everyone else was laughing hysterically. The professor was a little annoyed. This had not exactly gone according to plan.
"You're all dismissed. Summer's here, so you can do what you like, as long as you don't destroy anything. I'll see you in the morning. My request still stands, though. A private meeting can be arranged, but I expect a response to my question."
There was a mumbling of "Yes, professor, Okay, etc." and everyone began to shuffle out.
But, casting a critical eye on everyone as they left, Xavier realized he had his answer. Jean and Scott had already slipped out --- probably during the confusion.
Something told him that Kurt's display was connected to it. So, as much as he didn't like it, he broke his promise and briefly scanned the young mutant's mind. It was easy --- Kurt was occupied with other things. He was scampering through the halls, laughing at Kitty, who was still shrieking like an aggravated doormouse and trying to catch him.
The professor listened quietly. He picked up some apprehension, a sense of weighty responsibility, a whisper of "shhh!", an image of two half-naked bodies, and . . . lots and lots of pancakes.
Xavier snorted. "So. They bribed him to keep their secret. Ingenious."
He considered calling Jean and Scott back in and just giving them what for. Jumping each other's bones, in the back of his VAN, of all places, was hardly acceptable behavior for members of the X-Men. Then again, Jean would be eighteen tomorrow. Scott was already "of age." And heaven knew, he'd been quite the charmer when he was at Oxford.
After all, he'd been young once, too. At 19, he countered his limp legs with dry humor and an uncanny ability with the ladies. His winking eye and quick wit were notorious on campus. All his friends on the debate team started to call him "Cheeky Charlie," and the affectionate nickname stuck. Forty years later, it still made him chortle.
Because "Cheeky Charlie" knew exactly what women wanted. And he scored. All the time.
His MO was to boldly chat up a girl at The Blue Lion, a pub just off campus. Then he would convince her to get into his lap, and give her a spin around the block in his wheelchair. This always got her to either screech in delight, or laugh, or both. And for the coup de gras, he would read her mind and tell her whatever she wanted to hear. It didn't take a telepathic genius to figure out what usually happened next.
Jerking himself back into the present, and blushing fiercely, Xavier realized that he was in no position to tell anybody what they could and couldn't do --- at least in regards to, well, *that.*
He smiled, and decided to put the matter to rest. Jean and Scott were obviously in love, and had obviously used protection. And Kurt had gone so far as to humiliate himself to keep their secret.
Surely, the professor supposed, he could keep it too.
THE END
Note #2: I have no idea if Xavier was indeed a charmer, or if he ever went to Oxford. That was bona fide BS, but DANG, it was fun to write! If you know the professor's back-story and want to share it with me, you can leave it in a review (hint hint) or e-mail me (just click on my name at the top of the story). Thanks bunches! ~ Kiki
Rating: PG-13, for a semi-graphic depiction of sex.
Introduction: From the deranged lunatic who brought you "Dark Night of the Soul," "The Spurt," and "He Ain't Heavy," comes a new dimension in Jott (Jean/Scott) nastiness. But never fear, Kurt is here! In this universe, "Blind Alley" never happened, and Kurt is not with Amanda.
=== RED HOT ===
It was a muggy night in June when Scott Summers and Jean Grey finally cracked.
The pressure had been building for months --- about as long as they'd been dating. Nobody *knew* they'd been dating, which made it even more exciting. Jean's itches for mall-crawling, "Alone, thank you very much," and Scott's numerous "after-school activities," most of which were made up on the spot, had gotten them a lot of time together.
Every date was an adrenaline rush, with deep, embarrassing questions making their hearts race in-between the blushing and the smiles. Could they pull off *this* outing without anyone sensing something was amiss? And how much longer could they keep all this up without being discovered?
It added a sort of danger to their love life that Jean liked and Scott seemed to thrive on. After all, privacy, REAL privacy, at the professor's School for Gifted Youngsters, was practically nill. If anybody found out, they would never be left in peace again.
But school had just ended for the year. Finals were over. The night was balmy, the moon was full, and the two of them were still trying to come down from the stress. Both knew they were ready to take their relationship to another level, and maybe blow off a little steam in the process.
Scott had been eighteen for two months. Jean wouldn't be eighteen for two days.
Neither of them cared about this as they necked their way through the mansion's garage, stumbling into walls, kissing like they were trying to devour each other, sighing through their noses, giggling into each other's teeth, and letting their hands roam.
Finally, they stopped at a likely car. Jean suckered her mouth off Scott's, narrowed her eyes at the door handle, and the door swung open. He smiled at her, breathing hard, his ruby red glasses sliding a few millimeters down his narrow nose. He was sweating something incredible, as was she. She just pointed inside.
So he picked her up and set her down on the back seat. She giggled madly.
"Oh, Scott!" she cooed, as he climbed in and shut the door behind them.
The inside of the car was dark, which was perfect, because both of them were a bit shy about this. Not for long, though.
Clothes flew.
Bodies danced.
Sweat hit the steaming windows.
It was good, it was fun, and then it was over.
They lay there for a while, a pile of quivering, slippery flesh, cuddling in the back seat. It took a few minutes of sighs and small kisses for them to calm down.
"Wow," Jean said, finally. "That was great."
"Sure was," Scott agreed. "We should do this again sometime."
"Yeah. In a bed!" she said. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
The car rocked as they laughed and scrambled all over each other, finding their clothes. Scott grabbed the condom he'd used, and pocketed it. The wrapper was nowhere to be found, but he wasn't worried. After all, who would be looking for it?
A few seconds later, they stumbled out of the car . . . and got caught.
Someone had turned the lights on the parking garage. Jean shielded her eyes from the sudden glare as Scott shut the door. He started looking around, instantly on the alert. His shirt was untucked, his pants were practically undone, and he was holding his shoes and socks. Jean looked like she'd been in a twister.
"We're not alone," she muttered, stating the obvious, as usual.
* BAMF *
"Whoa!"
CLOMP
SPLOOSH
Jean and Scott whirled around to see Kurt. KURT, who they'd both forgotten would be staying at the Institute for the summer, rather than going home to Germany. He was standing there in torn shorts and an old tank top, and staring at them, agape. Between his blue fur, crouching, muscular body, whipping tail, and wide yellow eyes, the effect was very dramatic. He'd dropped a bucket of sudsy water on the floor, apparently something he needed to wash one of the cars.
"You . . . And you . . . And . . . Oh man!" he squeaked, pointing back and forth between the two of them and staggering backwards.
Jean tried to head him off. "Kurt, it's not what you think."
Scott didn't even try this tack. He gently pushed Jean aside.
"Kurt, you can't tell anybody. If you keep our secret . . . I'll . . . dude, I'll do anything. Just, come on."
The elf's curiosity was sufficiently piqued. He crossed his ropy blue arms, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Anysing?"
"Anything," Scott said firmly, even as Jean glared at him.
Kurt grinned, showing his fangs.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Half an hour later, Scott was taking a shower, Jean was cleaning herself up, and Kurt, having been promised breakfast at Pancake Village every day for a month, had completely "forgotten" about the incident.
Scott was satisfied with the deal. Knowing how much Kurt ate, it would probably be a little expensive. But knowing how trustworthy the guy was, and how seriously he stuck to a promise, it would be worth it in the long run.
XXXXXXXXXXX
The next evening, Charles Xavier sat in front of his desk, hands resting in his lap, looking calm as he waited. He'd asked all the students into his study, for a "heart to heart."
Everyone started filing in. Kitty grabbed an arm of the couch. Rogue, Evan, Bobby, Amara and Ray grabbed the seats. Sam and Ray stood, doing an annoyed little dance as Jamie and his "friends" swarmed around them noisily and took seats on the carpet. Kurt 'ported in and sat on the mantle. Scott and Jean were the last ones to come in, and they sat down on a wide chair near the door.
"Good evening, everybody," Xavier said gently. "I have a bit of news: it seems that some of you have grown up rather fast."
The kids looked baffled . . . until the professor produced something from his jacket pocket. It was a little purple square of paper, with a small horse on it.
"I found this in my van when I took it out this afternoon," he explained, turning the little thing over thoughtfully. "I was on my way to the grocery store. I turned on the air conditioner, and the air flow blew it right onto the passenger seat."
"What is it?" all the Jamies asked together.
"Uh . . . James, why don't you all go get some milk and cookies? I think this talk would bore you."
The Jamies didn't put up much of a fight. After all, they were only 12, and milk and cookies beat a grown-up's lecture any day of the week. They all nodded in unison and left. Xavier looked relieved as the door closed.
"For the uninitiated," he said to the room at large, "This is a condom wrapper."
There was a very pregnant pause.
"Now, granted, I've had a few people tell me I'm a 'dapper old gentleman,'" he continued, steepling his fingers at his students. "That said, I didn't get lucky last night."
Everyone giggled.
"I want to know who did."
The giggling stopped.
"I refuse to pry into your minds. But I expect whoever did this to come forward honestly and tell me. Believe me, if any of you were of age, I wouldn't even mention it. But as I am not aware of any of you seeing anyone else, and since only ONE of you is eighteen, this is serious business."
The room was just staring, by now. Kurt felt determined to protect Scott's secret, not to mention a little worried about the fate of his pancakes. He hopped off his spot on the mantle and stepped forward.
"Professor, I admit it. Eet vas me. I, uh, I got lahkee."
Xavier looked completely unconvinced.
"Kurt, not to adversely affect your self-esteem, but that's ridiculous. You don't have a girlfriend."
"No! Eet vas me! Eet vas me and, and, ah . . . Keety! Ja!"
"Eww! Like, NO!" Kitty cut in. "Professor, tell him to quit being a doof!"
"Eet vas us!" Kurt insisted.
"Yeah, like maybe in your DREAMS, Fuzz-face!"
"VEE GOT IT AAAHN!!!"
"Shut UP, you idiot!!!"
Kurt refused to shut up. He yelled "Hoo Mama!" and Kitty chased after him, looking murderous and trying to grab his spade tail. Five seconds later, the room was in chaos, Kitty and Kurt had bolted, and everyone else was laughing hysterically. The professor was a little annoyed. This had not exactly gone according to plan.
"You're all dismissed. Summer's here, so you can do what you like, as long as you don't destroy anything. I'll see you in the morning. My request still stands, though. A private meeting can be arranged, but I expect a response to my question."
There was a mumbling of "Yes, professor, Okay, etc." and everyone began to shuffle out.
But, casting a critical eye on everyone as they left, Xavier realized he had his answer. Jean and Scott had already slipped out --- probably during the confusion.
Something told him that Kurt's display was connected to it. So, as much as he didn't like it, he broke his promise and briefly scanned the young mutant's mind. It was easy --- Kurt was occupied with other things. He was scampering through the halls, laughing at Kitty, who was still shrieking like an aggravated doormouse and trying to catch him.
The professor listened quietly. He picked up some apprehension, a sense of weighty responsibility, a whisper of "shhh!", an image of two half-naked bodies, and . . . lots and lots of pancakes.
Xavier snorted. "So. They bribed him to keep their secret. Ingenious."
He considered calling Jean and Scott back in and just giving them what for. Jumping each other's bones, in the back of his VAN, of all places, was hardly acceptable behavior for members of the X-Men. Then again, Jean would be eighteen tomorrow. Scott was already "of age." And heaven knew, he'd been quite the charmer when he was at Oxford.
After all, he'd been young once, too. At 19, he countered his limp legs with dry humor and an uncanny ability with the ladies. His winking eye and quick wit were notorious on campus. All his friends on the debate team started to call him "Cheeky Charlie," and the affectionate nickname stuck. Forty years later, it still made him chortle.
Because "Cheeky Charlie" knew exactly what women wanted. And he scored. All the time.
His MO was to boldly chat up a girl at The Blue Lion, a pub just off campus. Then he would convince her to get into his lap, and give her a spin around the block in his wheelchair. This always got her to either screech in delight, or laugh, or both. And for the coup de gras, he would read her mind and tell her whatever she wanted to hear. It didn't take a telepathic genius to figure out what usually happened next.
Jerking himself back into the present, and blushing fiercely, Xavier realized that he was in no position to tell anybody what they could and couldn't do --- at least in regards to, well, *that.*
He smiled, and decided to put the matter to rest. Jean and Scott were obviously in love, and had obviously used protection. And Kurt had gone so far as to humiliate himself to keep their secret.
Surely, the professor supposed, he could keep it too.
THE END
Note #2: I have no idea if Xavier was indeed a charmer, or if he ever went to Oxford. That was bona fide BS, but DANG, it was fun to write! If you know the professor's back-story and want to share it with me, you can leave it in a review (hint hint) or e-mail me (just click on my name at the top of the story). Thanks bunches! ~ Kiki
