Conversations in Nuance

[In the hours after Logan regains consciousness in the med lab, but before he leaves Westchester.]

Scott stared at the beer in his hand and the pile of ungraded exams on the corner of his desk. This midnight brooding of his was getting to be a habit. A bad one. And for once, he really didn't give a shit. He took a long pull from the bottle. It hadn't been this bad in a while, though. Not for months. And unlike that last time, he didn't feel like crying. No, this time he felt like breaking something.

Or someone.

It wasn't the kind of anger that one blew off in the Danger Room. Oh, no. It was the slow simmering variety. The kind that lingered despite all efforts to channel it elsewhere. The kind that bubbled quietly on the back burner and erupted at unexpected moments. The kind that put him in a black mood that most often took the form of dark humor, but had a tendency to turn ugly, like when the playful roughhousing between two powerful dogs suddenly became a vicious fight for no apparent reason.

Yeah, that was how he felt. He wasn't spoiling for a fight any more than those two dogs were, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. He sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples. He hated feeling this way – so unsettled, so out of control. Like he was being pulled in a hundred directions at once. Leader, teacher, lover, pilot, fiancé, role model… If he didn't get a handle on himself, he was headed for one catastrophic crash and burn.

The events of the last few days had not only added to the burden he carried on his shoulders, but fueled the forces that seemed to be pulling him in diametrically opposing directions. In addition to their tactical failures, there was also the matter of Logan. For a man who liked to understand things from all possible angles, Logan was the very definition of unquantifiable. A true wildcard in every sense of the word. And a true pain in Scott's ass.

He was torn between feeling sorry for a man who'd been through the worst kind of hell imaginable, and taking him up on the challenge clearly visible in his cocky, insubordinate gaze. And make no mistake, a challenge had been issued. As far as Scott was concerned, it was really quite simple. For as much as his heart ached for the things Logan suffered in that lab, and as much as he respected him for risking his life to save Rogue, he just didn't appreciate the way Logan was with Jean.

Scott wasn't clueless any more than he was naïve. He was a man first, and a leader second. He might seem to some to be so involved with work that he missed certain things, but a man always noticed when another man was interested in his woman. Always. Yes, there had definitely been an undercurrent of attraction there. Which in itself didn't amount to much, but this was the first time in years that Jean had been attracted back. Scott rolled the empty beer bottle between his palms.

Fuck.

His temper bubbled up without warning and he flung the empty bottle at the far wall with as much force as he could. It shattered against the wainscoting with a sharp, satisfying crash. The thousands of shards now covering the floor on that side of the room were going to be a bitch to clean up, but at least he felt better. Marginally.

A dark smile touched his lips. Sometimes it felt very, very good to just let go. To just be a man instead of the 'Fearless Leader'. He wondered what the kids would think if they saw 'Mr. Stick-Up-The-Ass-Summers' lose his shit. He certainly felt like it often enough. Hell, it would probably do his reputation some good. But then again, someone around here had to be the heavy. He sighed again.

As much as they hated it, he knew these kids needed the discipline and security his solid, unwavering presence gave them. No, it probably wouldn't be good for them to know he was just as wild as they were – and that the only difference was that he had bigger toys and was better at not getting caught. And fuck all if one day he didn't buzz the school just to give them something to think about.

But right now, it really wasn't his reputation with the kids or the stack of ungraded exams that had him brooding. It was Jean. Or rather, Jean and Logan. It wasn't that he disliked Logan, or that he was mad at Jean… much. He was aware that being in a committed relationship didn't suddenly make everyone else on the planet unattractive. Lord knows he'd struggled with his fair share of that himself. And there were times he was intensely glad his glasses hid the direction of his gaze. Like when 'Ro wore that scrap of white fabric she called a bikini.

He'd thought at twenty-five, he was beyond getting a hard-on from simply looking at a pretty woman in a bikini. So much for that theory. 'Ro, of course, had handled it with her usual aplomb. She'd given him the once-over and told him that was the nicest compliment she'd had in quite some time and that if his head whipped around any faster next time, Jean would be treating him for whiplash. And in typical Scott style, he'd flashed her the famous 'Summers' grin' and told her it'd be worth it.

Scott smiled at the memory. He'd always been attracted to powerful women. That didn't change because he was in a committed relationship, but he also understood there were limits to what was acceptable and what wasn't. He'd never crossed those lines. Been tempted? Sure. But never crossed them. Not once. Jean hadn't either. Of that, he was certain. But he also knew it had been a hell of a long time since she'd been that tempted… and if she ever crossed that line, it would be with someone like Logan.

The real shit of it was, he understood. His eyes might only see in shades of red, but they didn't miss much. Sure, Logan had looked at Jean. Had flirted with her. Hell, he might even go for a roll in the hay with her if she was willing, but that's where it ended. Logan might be attracted to Jean, but the looks he gave Rogue were altogether different. And it was her he'd risked his life for.

Yes, he understood all too well. The bottom line was, men liked to look at beautiful women whether they were in a committed relationship or not. Truth be told, there were a few times Scott had looked at 'Ro the way Logan looked at Jean. And if he were single, he'd have probably pushed her a little the same way. But there was a huge difference between lust and love, and despite whatever spark might have flared between Logan and Jean, it was Rogue he watched. She might be too young for him right now, but Scott knew that look. It was in his own eyes whenever he looked at Jean.

Goddamn biology.

Hormones and hardwired male/female behaviors. Jean was right. They really weren't all that far out of the cave after all… and at the moment, there wasn't much he wanted more than to remind both Jean and Logan just exactly whose woman she was. It might not be 'nice' or 'civilized', but he really didn't care.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Jean. He did. And he certainly didn't want to own her or humiliate her – and himself – with some sort of public pissing contest with Logan. That kind of juvenile behavior was beneath him. But he damn sure wanted to fuck her hard and rough so that there would never be any doubt in her mind – or anyone else's, for that matter – that they were a mated pair. That despite all the shit that went on around them, they belonged together.

And right now, he wanted Jean to feel that connection as physically as she did emotionally. He wanted her to feel his strength, his dominance. He wanted her to wake up beside him tomorrow and feel the sweet ache his touch left lingering on her skin. To feel fucked. Not hurt or belittled, just well loved. Most importantly, he wanted her to know in both her heart and her body that she was his and he was hers.

Scott managed to polish off another two beers before Jean's mental voice jarred him from his reverie.

{How's the grading going, fearless?}

Scott snorted at her little joke. One certainly did have to be 'fearless' to grade this crap. {It's not.}

{So come to bed then. It's almost one.}

{No.} No inflection. No heat. Just a flat denial.

That one little word told her all she needed to know about the current state of his emotions. She also knew he used sarcasm and humor as a way of dealing with his darker feelings, so she tried to lighten his mood a little. {Rough week?}

Down in his office, Scott grimaced. {Yeah, exploding campers, defacing the Statue of Liberty, and of course, giving the train station a new sunroof… Nothing I can't handle.}

Jean heard Logan's harsh words echoing in Scott's answer and her heart ached for him. Nothing like that had happened to him since his mutation manifested at his high school prom, and it made all those horrible memories come rushing back. The screaming, the gut-wrenching fear he might have hurt someone, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness as he flailed around blindly. He'd taken his failure at the train station hard. Harder than he should have. But that, too, was a part of his nature. He'd always been his own worst critic.

Jean also knew that it bothered him that Logan, someone he considered a potential rival for her affections, had in part witnessed what he considered to be a failure. It also bothered him that the things she'd seen in Logan's head had given her terrifying nightmares every single night since she'd looked into his mind. Nightmares that were so horrific and violent she woke up shaking. Nightmares he could do nothing about. Another perceived failure on his part. And she knew it ate at him that he now had a face to put with those pages of anonymous numbers they'd found in that remote lab. A face that not only brought all those demons back for him, but one he knew she was attracted to. {So this is about Logan?}

Fuck. There were times he hated that she could read him so well. {Yes! No. I don't know… Shit.} There was a long silence. {I don't like the way he looks at you, dammit.} More silence. {And I don't like that you look back.}

Jean's surprise skittered through his mind. Jealous. He was jealous. Lord how she loved this wonderful, frustrating man. {It's you I love.}

He said nothing.

{He dropped me on my ass in my own damn lab, Scott.}

{Yeah, but he also checked out that same ass not more than ten minutes later in Charles' office.} His words were still angry, but they also carried just a touch of amusement.

Well, that was true. But it hadn't escaped her notice that any looking on his part had happened only after he'd made sure Rogue was safe. If he'd projected his worry over her any louder, even a dead 'path would have heard it. Jean sobered a little. {Do you honestly think I'd risk what we have just because some guy checked me out?}

{No, I don't. I wouldn't give my heart to someone I didn't trust. You know that. But I also know you're attracted to him.}

{Yeah, so? How's that any different than you getting a hard-on over 'Ro? You know I was in your mind that day, just like I knew you were in mine the night I showed Logan to his bedroom.} Jean paused. {You didn't cross the line. Neither did I. We both know we wouldn't have, even if the other wasn't 'listening'.} Her soft laugher floated through his mind. {And I do have to admit; I loved what you said to Logan about me being your girl.}

Scott's cheeks heated and he was glad nobody was there to see it. So he did allow himself one minor pissing contest with Logan. So what? Nobody's perfect. {You are my girl, Jean.}

It was true, and regardless of the fact that she held a doctorate and was almost ten years his senior, he always thought of her that way. The pretty redheaded girl he'd finally convinced to go out with him. The sweet, shy girl he'd taken to the movies and romanced with picnics in the New England countryside and long walks on the coast. The not-so-shy, but still sweet girl who could make love so tenderly it brought tears to his eyes as well as the playfully naughty girl who liked to satisfy him in the shower before they went to work. All those things - she would always be that girl to him.

Jean couldn't believe that was how he saw her. 'That girl'? Girl? She hadn't been a girl in a long time. She was stunned - and pleased - that he still saw her that way. What a romantic he was. But she guessed in her own way, she had a little of that romantic in her, too. She imagined he'd still be her knight in shining armor – or black leather as the case may be – even when he was old and gray. Jean smiled as the last of his images faded from her mind. Scott always projected like that when he found things too difficult to say. Even like this, mind-to-mind, he had a hard time sharing his feelings. Especially the deep ones.

{I love you, you know.} She paused. {Always you. Only you.}

{I know that. I do. I just-} He broke off, frustrated.

{Just what?}

A little of that anger bubbling on the back burner boiled to the surface. {I just want you to feel it, ok? I mean really feel it. Physically. I want to fuck you so goddamn hard and deep that you feel in your body what you know in your heart, ok? Christ!} He could tell the vehemence of his outburst had shocked her. {Shit… Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out so…}

{Honestly?}

Scott was always so in control, so careful to measure every word, that he'd become an expert at keeping his true wants and desires hidden – except on the rare occasions he lost his temper. Most men said things they didn't mean when they were furious. With Scott it was just the opposite. In fact, unless one was reading his mind, the only time he ever revealed what he was really feeling, ever spoke without censoring himself, was when he was angry.

As a matter of fact, he'd flung, 'So why don't you marry me, then!' at her in a heated discussion that had started over a comment they'd overheard regarding the nature of their relationship and why on earth a man in his early twenties would want someone 'past her prime'. Of course, he hadn't meant it as a proposal, but she'd accepted it just the same because she knew in her heart of hearts that he meant every last word. Oh, he'd asked her again in grand form several weeks later – on bent knee with ring in hand, but it was his first proposal that she liked to remember, simply because it was filled with every ounce of the volatile passion and emotion he usually kept so rigidly in check.

When several minutes passed with nothing more forthcoming from him, she broke the thick silence. {Scott?}

{Christ, what to you want me to say, Jean?} He'd already apologized for the way he'd said it, but he'd be damned if he was going to apologize for speaking the truth, however visceral it may have been. He waited for a response and heard nothing. He didn't think that comment had shocked her into silence if the previous one hadn't, but then again, he'd never really understood the way a woman's mind worked, especially hers. Crap. {Jean?}

{Hmmm…?}

She sounded distracted. {Are you angry?} She didn't feel angry, but Jean rarely dropped out of a conversation like that. She might be cool and aloof to the others, but not so with him. And between the two of them, she was the talker and he was the one who tended to clam up in situations like this. It definitely warranted some investigation.

Jean snorted into his mind. {Stop analyzing me, flyboy, and come to bed.}

Now, he'd given some serious thought to the idea of really letting go with her, but being keyed up after a mission was one thing. This - this wanting to put his claim on her because of Logan was something else entirely, and he was feeling far too violent to give in to the desire to be so unrestrained with her. God, look what he'd done to the beer bottle. If that had been Jean- He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. {Just go on to bed, Jean. I don't want to do this tonight.}

There was a noise from her that sounded suspiciously like mental laugher. {Liar.}

{Dammit, Jean. I'm not in the mood to-}

This time there was no amusement, only raw heat. {Yes. Yes, you are.} The words got lower, more sensual. {And I am, too.}

Heat pooled thick and heavy between his legs, as much from her words as from the tone with which she spoke them. But before he could tell her he was far too close to the edge for her teasing tonight, a shadow fell across the frosted glass of his office door. His unique vision was instantly drawn to the motion. Shit. It was one thing to put her off from two floors down. It was quite another when she was here in the flesh. He should have known she'd come. Jean never made idle threats.

Scott reached for his beer, still never taking his eyes from the ceiling as Jean came in and closed the door softly behind her. His fingers tightened on the bottle and he had to forcibly restrain himself from getting up out of the chair, crossing the room, and taking her hard and fast against the wall. He shoved down his desire and tried to force a lightness he didn't feel into his words.

"Watch the glass."

Her mouth twitched as her gaze swept the softly lit room. "Hmm… Had a bit of an accident, did you?"

"You could say that." Scott was fully aware she knew exactly how that glass got there. And even if she didn't, the deep gouges in the wainscoting were a dead giveaway.

"You know, I really should leave that for you to clean up," she paused and grinned back at him, "But I don't feel like picking my way around it tonight." And with that, she made a graceful motion with her hand and the shards of glass rose into the air and deposited themselves in the trash with a soft tinkling sound.

"Hell, if I'd known you were going to do that, I'd have thrown the others." He smiled wider, but it wasn't anywhere close to pleasant.

Jean laughed. "Don't push your luck." Her fleeting amusement disappeared as Scott's head came down and he got his first good look at her. His jaw clenched and his fingers tightened reflexively on the bottle.

God, she made his blood burn. She was wearing one of his dress shirts. Oh, it covered everything and fell nearly to her knees, but the fabric was fine enough that he could see the shadows of her nipples beneath it. He made a masculine noise of appreciation deep in his throat. Jean might own a drawer full of sexy lingerie, but there was something about seeing her in his clothing that drove him wild – and she damn well knew it.

Scott's eyes slid over her appreciatively. Jean was an incredibly sensual woman although she wasn't overtly sexual. That wasn't her style. Even when they went out, she didn't wear short revealing clothing meant to catch a man's eye by exposing miles of leg or an overabundance of cleavage. Make no mistake, she dressed to please, but with a subtle sensuousness that was unique to her.

It was something in the movement of the material she chose. It flowed around her like a lover's caress, drawing his eye to wherever it clung. Silky fabric that begged for a man to touch it, to feel it slide under his fingers and over supple flesh. It was the scent of her skin, the fiery fall of her hair, the graceful way she moved, the hint of nipple visible through an elegant dress. It made a man wonder if he'd really seen it, given the obvious class of the woman in question.

Scott knew it was there, though. Jean might appear to be all culture and class, but she was quite a tease, and she'd always liked tempting him in public. His eyes narrowed. Or semi-public as the case may be.

Her style of seduction appealed to his intelligent, meticulous nature. Glaring displays of sexuality had never interested him because they did nothing to engage his mind. He liked that element of playfulness, of uncertainty. Puzzles had always fascinated him and he lost interest if the answers came too quickly or too easily. It was the same with women.

Jean shifted and his eyes were drawn to the way her body moved under his shirt. She was so different from the other women he knew. She was still sexy and seductive, but without being overt. A fascinating puzzle for him to unravel, even after all this time. Jean was attractive to him because she spoke to him on a different level. It was a conversation in nuance, in the subtle little details that engaged his mind as well as his body.

And that was what made all the difference.

Scott's eyes followed her as she unhurriedly crossed the room and came to stand between his parted knees – in that erotically charged space between his intensely aroused body and the solid, unyielding desk. His intense gaze missed nothing. On the surface, she might appear to be cool and composed, but the little details told a much different story.

It was in the way she moved. In the shadowy glimpse of auburn curls that told him she'd come to him bare underneath his shirt. In her breathing that was controlled, yet still not quite even. His eyes dropped from the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Her nipples were hard. He wet his lips, aware he did so because he was thinking about how they'd feel against his tongue.

Jean was just as conscious of him. The flush of arousal over his cheekbones. The tight set of his mouth. The erection clearly visible under the faded, worn denim. The way his fingers were touching the neck of the bottle in a way that made her body ache.

She turned from him under the pretense of seeing how the grading was coming along. The shirt slipped, baring the long line of her throat and one milky shoulder. Without her glasses, she had to lean closer with that little squint he loved so much, and as she did, her hair brushed forward along her jaw, hiding her face from him.

They were both acutely aware that neither of them gave a damn about the essays he had spread across his desk.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Jean shivered as she heard his chair creak and she felt him stand behind her. The blood pounding in her ears became a dull roar as he leaned in close and placed the bottle on the desk with the overly precise motions of a man clearly on the edge. She felt a prickle of fear that only heightened her anticipation. He'd never been this way with her before and the violent arousal he was projecting excited her. Without a second thought, she fully opened her mind to his.

His fierce, urgent need was electric, arcing immediately through their link, suffusing her body with the same urgent desire. The threatening masculine presence at her back would have terrified her if had been anyone but him. Jean shuddered. She wanted this as badly as he did.

{Jean.} He rasped the word into her mind, part warning, part desperate hunger, and part something wildly exciting she'd never felt from him before.

The shirt slithered into a pool at her feet in answer.

His breath caught in his throat. {Don't tease me, little girl.}

She shivered. Little girl. God, that's exactly how she felt. The little girl about to be swallowed up by the big, bad wolf. She was very aware of his physical presence, how much taller and heavier he was. How much more powerful.

His words came again. {Last chance.}

Jean nodded. She wanted what was about to happen – and she wanted it like this. Rough. Wild. Scott was an incredibly powerful man. It was a part of what made him 'Cyclops', and a part of what attracted her to him. There was no reason for her to be afraid of that power when it came to sex. She trusted him implicitly, both with her life and with her body. And right now, she wanted to experience that power first hand.

One minute ticked by. Then another. Her body trembled with anticipation. Finally she couldn't stand it any longer. {Scott, please-}

Scott was torn. One part of him wanted to embrace this experience fully, wanted to believe she'd embraced it as completely as he had, but he couldn't help but test her a little. To give her one last out. Just in case.

{Put your hands on the desk, Jean.} It was a clear order and his tone dared her to defy him.

Without hesitation, Jean pushed the exams from the desk and leaned forward, placing her palms against the cool, slick surface. She jumped when his hands pushed her hair aside and slid slowly, appreciatively down her back. They drifted back up and his body came with them, molding itself to her curves. His breath was hot in her ear and the feeling of his clothed body against her bare one heightened the awareness for each of them. It felt illicit. Exciting.

He smiled knowingly against her throat and slid his hands around to her breasts, kissing his way down her neck before he bit her shoulder sharply. She gasped into his mind at the unexpected sting, even as the warm rasp of his tongue soothed the ache and teased over the mark he'd left. An image flashed in his mind's eye and he chuckled darkly against her skin.

{I don't think so, sweetheart.} He pinched her nipples roughly for good measure. {This is about what I want, remember?}

{Oh, God-} His words caused an unexpected rush of damp desire. There was something incredibly arousing about the fact that her normally tender, attentive lover was suddenly touching her for his own selfish desires and that her pleasure was either incidental or for his own gratification.

His hands slipped to her hips and his long fingers stroked the hollows of her hipbones. Without warning, he grabbed them in a forceful grip and pulled them backwards, fitting her firmly against his erection. He panted in her ear as he ground himself against her. The rough friction was an exquisite torture and they both knew what was about to happen wasn't going to be slow or gentle.

Abruptly, Scott stepped back, taking his beer with him. {Turn around, Jean.} He drank the last swallow and watched her watch him. Jean didn't like beer herself, but he knew she loved the way his mouth tasted when he was drinking one. It was one of the weird little quirks that made Jean, Jean. It also happened to be one of the quirks he liked the most. He let his lips linger on the bottle for an overlong moment and noted with satisfaction that her eyes hadn't once left his mouth. He grinned darkly and flung the bottle at the far wall. She jumped at the sharp sound of the bottle shattering, but he only grinned wider and twisted his fingers in her hair as he covered her mouth with his.

The kiss was aggressive and demanding. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and groaned as she greedily suckled it. His body throbbed in response and he tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard. His fingers went to the buttons on his shirt. She moved to help him, but he shook his head. {Uh-uh. You stay there.} He licked the taste of her from his lips as he took a single step back. {I want to watch you touch yourself.}

Her face heated and the blush crept down her neck to the tops of her breasts. She might be blushing, but he could feel her arousal spike through the link. Her hands went to her breasts as his shirt hit the floor.

{God, Scott-} She felt wonderfully wicked. His lean, muscular body was the very picture of male tension. He wanted her. It was etched on every angle, every plane, as he watched her hands cup and tease. Muscle and sinew, blood and bone. Connected as they were, she could feel the heavy ache between his legs and his fierce desire to bury himself deep inside her. Her fingers teased over her breastbone and along her flat stomach.

{Do it. You know what I want to see.} His fingers made short work of his belt as he watched Jean's hand slip lower. God, he loved watching her. She was so uninhibited. So sensual. He tossed his belt aside and unbuttoned his jeans, pausing a moment as he lost himself in her intimately erotic display.

{Mmmmm…}

Her skin was flush with arousal and she leaned against the desk as her legs began to shake. Through their link, her pleasure swamped him. Pushing his jeans down, he slid his hand under the waistband of his boxers and blunt fingertips met moist aching flesh. Scott stroked himself roughly, milking a few more drops past his closed fist. A touch of amusement flashed through his consciousness as he wondered if she was as slick and as ready as he was.

With a smile of pure seduction, Jean stopped and held her hand out to him. Even in the soft light, he could see her fingers shine. Amusement fled in the face of raw naked desire. He closed the distance between them in one aggressive step and grabbed her wrist, bringing her fingers to his mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as his tongue rasped over her fingertips and he pressed her other hand to his erection as his husky whisper echoed in her mind.

{Suck me.}

She sank to her knees, trailing her wet fingertips down his body, leaving ribbons of fire in their wake as she slowly tugged his boxers down. Her breath stirred the dark curls at his groin and his mouth opened in a soundless shout as wet heat engulfed him. He slid his hands into her hair and cupped the back of her head in his palm to guide her where he wanted. With the link in place, it was unnecessary, but he liked the sheer physicality of it, liked seeing his hands on her and feeling his fingers threaded in her silky hair as her mouth worked him.

Through a haze of intense pleasure, he continued to watch her. Her eyes were closed and her long, slender fingers clutched at his lean hips as they began to rock forward. The contrast between her fiery hair and his pale skin never ceased to fascinate him. He groaned aloud as she suckled him, teasing him with teeth and lips and tongue. She moaned around him and her lashes fluttered as his fingers tightened in her hair.

{Look at me, Jean.}

Her eyes, nearly black with pleasure, opened and fixed on the red shades. Raw desire passed between them like an electrical current. There was something intensely intimate about holding his gaze while she pleasured him this way. He was thrusting harder now, watching her lips get fuller and wetter as she took his length again and again.

{Enough.} Scott roughly pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard as he pushed her back towards the desk. {I want more than that.}

Jean did too. She wanted to feel him over her, inside her. Wanted to feel his power in the most intimate way possible. She reached for him with body and mind as he positioned her none-too-gently on the desk. She could feel his urgency, and his frustration, as the material around his ankles restricted his movements, but it was far too late to stop now. He pulled her legs up around his hips and moved over her, the width of his shoulders blocking out the light as he leaned into her. He braced one hand on the desk above her right shoulder and slid the other between their bodies. There was no need to check if she was ready for him. He knew she was. It didn't matter anyway. He couldn't have stopped now, even if he wanted to.

He grit his teeth as the hard flesh between his thighs met the softness between hers. There was blunt pressure and then suddenly the overwhelming sense of being engulfed. A strangled groan left his lips and Jean panted against his throat. Her body arched up under his in the ultimate female gesture of acceptance.

{Oh, God-}

He wasn't sure if that thought had originated in his mind or in hers. At the moment, he didn't really care. He thrust again, enjoying the feel of her lithe body yielding to his stronger one. A frustrated growl left his lips. His glasses were distracting him as they slid against his sweaty, heated skin with the force of his thrusts. He curled both of his hands over the edge of the desk for leverage, and growled a single command into her mind as he began moving with rough, deep strokes.

{Glasses. Off. Now.}

Scott felt her mental query, checking to be sure his deadly eyes were closed before she removed his glasses and floated them to a safe spot on the shelf behind them. He could feel her eyes on his naked face and he knew she'd enjoy watching the play of emotions across his features. He almost never took them off when he was intimate with her. He liked to watch too much. But tonight he didn't want to see, or to think. He only wanted to feel. His world shrunk to the demanding ache between his legs and the soft female body yielding under him.

It wasn't slow or sweet. He moved because his body demanded it, with a violence that astounded him, even as he lost himself in it. Jean was just as wild, writhing under him and thrusting up against him as he rode her hard. The small spikes of pain only drove them both higher. One hand left the edge of the desk and tangled in her hair, pulling hard to secure her to him as he finished. He bit her where neck met shoulder, and pinned her down with the weight of his body as he forced himself as deep as he could go, and came with shocking intensity. His body pulsed rhythmically as he emptied himself with a wet rush of scorching pleasure.

Connected as they were through the link, his release triggered hers and she splintered apart under him. Some primal part of his nature took an obscene amount of satisfaction in holding her hips to his so she could feel his every last spasm as her body milked his. It took him a minute to realize that her hands were no longer clutching at him, but pushing at his chest. He was confused for a split second until an image of what she wanted flashed in his mind's eye.

Still feeling that dark desire to claim her as his, he slid out of her and pushed himself to his feet. He didn't need to see her face to know she was feeling it too, that urge to bind themselves to each other in a way that no words ever could. There was a soft sound from her as she slid from the desk and sank to her knees. Her fingertips skated over his sweaty skin and his fingers buried themselves in the wild tangle of her hair as she took his subsiding erection into her mouth and swirled her tongue over him. The sensation was exquisite on his sensitive flesh, and he groaned aloud as he held her to him.

She'd always liked tasting herself on him. It was another of her odd little quirks, and one he very much liked. He also knew it was another way for her to experience their togetherness, to reaffirm the strength of the connection they shared. She was the only woman who'd ever done this for him and it never ceased to move him. Though he normally didn't make a lot of noise when he was intimate with her, he could never quite keep silent when she did this, and especially not after what had passed between them tonight. It wasn't about sex or arousal, it was about intimacy, and as her soft gentle mouth cleaned his softening flesh, the world faded away and his low groans filled the small space as he gave himself over to her care.

Next up: Logan's got some things to say...