"You X-men seriously have a room that shoots at you and stuff?" he said as he nearly choked on his coffee, earning a smile from Jean.

"Yeah," she replied with a slight shrug and a flick of her fire-red hair. "But when you say it like that it sounds kind of strange."

"Right up there with mind reading, telekinesis, wall crawling and guys with four extra mechanical arms?" Peter said as he reached a hand out and lightly grasped hers. They where sitting in his mediocre apartment, enjoying a simple drink and a few laughs. It's kinda nice to have someone I can talk shop-talk and everyday stuff at the same time.

"It is kinda nice," Jean said as she looked around the apartment. "I like that picture," she said as she waved her hand towards the wall, and several inexpensive ornaments to fall off the shelf simultaneously. "Shit," she said as worry lines crossed her face, "I didn't mean to do that. I honestly didn't mean to.."

"No biggie," he replied, mimicking her shrug and earning a slight giggle. "That stuff was made in china anyway."

"You know, I'm pretty sure ninety-nine percent of guys would run as soon as I said I'm a telepath." Jean smiled as she returned his grip softly. A tiny shimmer of energy ran from her fingertips onto his as she smiled warmly at him. "Or the first time they saw me lift something without using my hands. Or when I said I had to run and stop a mad terrorist from his world domination plans."

"You're talking to the guy who fights living sand and a madman on a glider," Peter replied with a snicker. "Lets just go ahead and say we're both equally messed up when it comes to a social life. Except you've got a team of super-friends lined up behind you."

"I told you before.." Jean began.

"That I can move in if I want, I know..." he said as he looked out the window. "But a part of me tells me that if I did, I'd be abandoning the city, and the people who need help every day."

"Sounds like your life kinda sucks," Jean said before taking a sip.

"Well it's not all bad," he replied with a slight smirk. "A couple months ago this drop-dead hot redhead actually saved me from being shot."

"I actually have dropped dead before," Jean replied with a sarcastic laugh.

"So I'm a necrophiliac?" Peter shot back, earning a radiant smile in return as their fingers intertwined. "Because that sounds kinda...wrong."

"Shut up," she replied as they leaned in closer, allowing their heads to nearly brush one another. "I'm not a zombie or anything like that. "It's called a resurrection," she continued, letting her hot breath stimulate his cheek, "weird as hell," she finished.

"I think I know the feeling," he said as a tingle crept down his back. "I wrapped myself in a cocoon once while near death and came out perfectly healthy."

"Now that's cool," Jean said as she flicked a strand of hair out of his face as his eyes trailed down her toned body. He soaked in every detail of the moment, the feeling of her breath on his skin, her body's frame and curves. All stored up in his mind for later, when he was alone. I can hear your thoughts, remember? Jean said telepathically as she stroked his cheek with her fingers. He returned the favour by brushing aside a lock of her hair and gazing into her eyes. One of the many dangers of being around a telepath is that no secret is safe.

"Yeah," he replied, "like secret identities and shit. Hear anything you like?" he offered with a weak smile.

A little, she replied as they both shot their lips forward into a magical kiss. He felt her hands run up and down his shoulders as both meta-humans stood up out of their seats, continuing the passionate kiss as they did so. His hands roamed up and down her back as she pushed him against the wall. He reached down her back and gave her toned buttocks a squeeze, earning a moan of pleasure as he did so. Pushing away from him slightly, Jean pulled her blouse over her head. Peter marvelled at the sight of the firm, round orbs contained in a black lace bra that greeted him.

She pushed him from the tiny kitchen all the way to the bedroom door. They embraced once more as he groped for thee handle, turning it enough to allow the door to slide open, and the twisting bodies to enter. Turning a complete one-hundred and eighty degrees, Peter tossed Jean onto the bed before leaping on top of her.

You haven't said anything, Jean said as his mouth moved up and down her neck, and she stroked his chest.

"Well what do you want me to do?" he asked between kisses, "you want me to narrate us having sex or something?"

Do you want to spend the rest of your life thinking you're a six-year old girl? Jean mocked as she tore off his pants. Or not?

"Not really," he replied.

Good, Jean said as she turned around, it unclasps at the back.

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A/N: If you want this scene to continue after 'fading to black' tell me so in a review/pm and I might do a separate, more 'mature' series on (Because I don't think it's worth the risk to post that kind of stuff here and risk the ban-hammer)