A Day in the Life of Queen Marvel [pt. VII]

Written in collaboration with Cross C

Logan looked at Jean, trapped between irritation and the heavy, throbbing ache in his groin.

Jean met his gaze, her green eyes hot and heavy with a very specific, undeniable promise. For years, there had been a wall between them. Scott. Morality. The team. Now, that wall was obliterated. Her eyes raked over his feral face, communicating exactly what this new world order meant for their relationship. Mark owned her, yes, but Markanda meant sharing the wealth. Later, her look promised, wicked and completely unashamed. You're finally going to get your turn.

Her smile curved. Her fingers tightened firmly around his thick shaft, and instead of letting go, she used her grip on his rock-hard meat to literally pull him along behind Mark. The space flowed out onto a large balcony that looked out over Birnin Zana. As Jean and Logan stepped outside to join Mark at the railing, the full scale of the capital opened up before them. Far below, the city moved in brilliant sunlight: high-tech towers shining, skybridges busy, gorgeous gardens hanging from terraces, people streaming through streets that no longer belonged to Wakanda’s old modest, secretive silences. Markanda breathed beneath them, lush, advanced, sexually corrupted, alive.

Mark turned back to Logan.

“First order.”

Logan rolled his massive shoulders. “Already hate it.”

“Jump off the balcony. Go down into the capital. Fuck and creampie every single adult woman who throws herself at you until the party tonight.”

Silence held in the room.

Logan looked at the open balcony, then slowly over at Jean. He didn't complain. The new commands were already sinking deep into his adamantium bones, clicking perfectly into place with a dark, ugly truth he'd always carried. He’d played the civilized hero for decades, bought the drinks, nodded politely along to the modern empowerment speeches. But it was all just window dressing. Beneath the polite bullshit, he’d always known what women really were when they got around a real apex predator: mutant-dick milking machines. They always spread their legs for him. They craved the beast. They absolutely loved being taken and used.

Mark was just stripping away the civilized lie and making the animal truth the law of the land.

Logan's dark eyes raked over Jean. He really looked at her. She was standing there in that sheer, gauzy robe, hanging completely open. Underneath, she wore absolutely nothing but a g-string. Her big, perfect tits were on full, arrogant display, the heavy flesh rising and falling, the pink nipples pebble-hard. Logan stared at them, raw, feral lust thickening his blood. He’d spent years biding his time, hiding the urge to pin her to a shower wall and breed her until she whined for it. Now, she was just standing there, unapologetically flaunting exactly what she was.

It made his already massive erection throb violently in his fist.

“So that’s the play,” Logan grunted, his voice pure gravel as his gaze finally dragged up from Jean's tits to Mark's face. “Skip the small talk. Just jump off a roof buck naked and let the local trim milk my balls dry.”

Mark didn't blink. “Pretty much.”

Logan squeezed his own heavy balls again, a rough, measuring grip. His cock jerked upward, the thick head weeping a slick drop of precum. He found the kid annoying as hell, but he couldn't deny the ruthless efficiency of his game. No dinners. No pretending to care about their day. Just pure, unadulterated breeding.

“Gotta admit, kid,” Logan rumbled, a feral grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at Jean's flushed face. “Saves a hell of a lot of time on dinner dates. Don't tire her out too much before I get back.”

Then he ran.

No warning. No further argument. No dignity. Wolverine, completely naked and rock hard, charged across the balcony with his balls swinging and his claws still sheathed, a short, hairy, adamantium-boned missile obeying the dumbest royal command Jean had heard all week.

He hit the balcony rail with one foot and launched himself into the open air.

For one suspended, glorious second, he was framed against Markanda’s shining skyline: broad shoulders, corded muscle, wild hair, dangling sac, and the obscene confidence of a man who had just been told to go conquer the afternoon with his dick.

Then gravity took him and he plummeted twelve stories to the gardens below.

The impact of a man with an adamantium skeleton hitting African concrete would have been rather the pussy drying event, which is why Jean assisted him with her powers just enough to cause minimal chaos. Logan landed like a puma in a hen house. Snarling around with wicked glee close to the ground as the women of Markanda stumbled back in shock.

With a low rumble in his chest, Logan stood, “I got mutant seed to sow. Who wants some?!”

SNIKT!

There was a beat as he roared to the sky, claws out and dick high, where no one moved. But as the eye of the storm moved, the scramble for his cock began.

Mothers, daughters, aunts, and singles ready to mingle all leapt forwards to be the first on Logan’s dick. The ocean of black skin moving towards him, yet the Wolverine kept his grin wide. Grabbing the first hourglass figure he could, shredding her dress with an expert slash of his claws, before pushing her to the ground and ramming into her from behind.

The twenty year old called out to her mother in pure bliss. They had travelled far from their village on the outskirts to simply enjoy a look at the King’s palace. Never even considering they’d be blessed by a mutant from above. The mother knelt in front of her daughter, praising the man stretching her daughter with pure reverence.

He barely heard her over the crowd, holding only her waist with one hand as the other fingered the woman he was kissing.

It was a woman that ran an American style gift shop directly outside the palace. She had a bit of a reputation for being a con-artist, selling ‘I <3 Mark’ t-shirts to curry favour with the King’s outsider sensibilities, only starting up her shop for the chance of an orgy to include her. She so wanted this hairy big dicked man to take her she had stripped nude by the time she had reached him, fighting her way to the front and latching onto him with eager fervour.

Logan didn’t really care about their backstories. He was there to breed, and breed he would. Surely Mark would have already sired plenty of kids around the country already, which meant Logan had some catching up to do. He’d get Hank or Shuri to keep a tally of how many kids each of the guys had made. Regular bets or fantasy leagues could be made on the numbers. Fertility had suddenly become very important to him, so he was taking this already very seriously, and wondered how many of the men’s balls could even create enough sperm to make one girl pregnant, let alone multiple. That dumbass kid up there better be ready for the mutant boon he would make singlehandedly as he dumped his first load into the climaxing twenty year old.

He didn’t even let clean his dick from the juice and sperm before he began humping the next woman in line.

Up above, Logan had a bit of a viewing party.

“Is the claw thing… sexy?” asked Mark, “Like I get that it’s cool, but during sex?”

“Oh yes,” nodded Nima and Jean, much to Mark’s confusion.

“Seriously?”

“It’s that little bit of danger, Mark,” Jean explained, gazing down at the display below, “One wrong move could hurt you, but he’s a tempered beast. Only ravaging you because you turn him on so much, and will use his dangerous side to protect you.”

Mark put his hands up, “Alright, I get it. You just had to say it’s a girl thing. Do you find me dangerous like that too?”

Nima tilted her head awkwardly, “Um… would you like me to?”

Jean just chuckled at Mark’s frown, reaching over to hug her lover with a kiss on his head, “We find only safety in your touch, Mark. That warmth fuels our fire greater than a thousand knives pointed towards us.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” he said, somewhat wistful in the moment as he moved his gaze from Logan to his Kingdom, "Do you think he's right? With the advice stuff?"

Jean tilted her head towards Mark, "I don't see a scenario where you'd ever lend Hank money."

"No, not that one," Mark shook his head, "The two months of hell thing. Should I be worried about something?"

"Well... it wouldn't kill you to attend a few more strategy meetings," Jean lightly pressed, taking the chance to lean her body into his as he grumbled, "You're a mutant, Mark. Our cultural history is marred with those that hate and fear us. All our victories, our attempts to save everyone, no matter what are eventually twisted back to that fear. I'm sure some humans hate you, perhaps are even plotting against you, and we're doing everything that we can to stop them from ever reaching you."

Mark looked troubled, and Jean could sense that slight pang of fear when it came to discriminatory hate towards a fact about you that you couldn't control. Even with all that he had, the King still had youthful ignorance on his side, "So it's just humans to worry about? No other **** gods or cosmic horrors I should be worrying about?"

"I'm sure we can handle all of it, Mark," Jean reassured, lightly kissing the top of his head, "Just focus on today for now. You still have more of my closest friends to convert to your will."

"That I do," he nodded, giving her ample rear a squeeze as thanks before turning away from the balcony. As he headed towards his chamber doors he began rubbing his mostly empty belly, "I'm thinking... lunch. Maybe something Southern with a side of Cajun seasoning. You coming?"

Jean had lingered by the balcony as he waltzed, giving a quiet dismissive wave, "I have a meeting with Wanda soon, so I'll catch up with you later."

As Mark and his entourage left, Jean turned back to Logan's rampage once more.

She transported her mind down there. Taking a chance to feel the Canadian's huge womb splitter for herself by sensing the mind of the gift shop owner he was ramming into. So much jiggling flesh, manly smells, and pure unadulterated devotion. Logan really was a one man erotic army, his many years of life providing him with a deep understanding of the female form beyond any man could hope for. Such a complicated beast, it was no wonder she... once upon a time...

Scholars would one day try to pinpoint the original ‘reason’ for Markanda’s rise to power.

Some would claim that Mark was simply too strong for the world to handle, a logical endpoint for Homo Superior’s rise. Others would blame the X-Men or the Wakandan government, that they should all have had better protections in place to protect them, perhaps blaming T’Challa’s psychics, or Ororo’s first few minutes with Mark… but if you asked Jean, deep down she knew that her lust for Logan was what caused it.

Whenever Scott failed to please her–to give his wife what she craved–her mind reached out. That frustration whipping out around the mansion before she could stop herself. Sometimes Piotr, sometimes Kurt, but oftentimes her powers latched to Logan, scanning his mind so very lightly to psychically frisk his senses. Mentally patting him down… and lingering in the crotch area, imagining that it was that multi inch monster inside her nutting and not Scott’s. Before Mark she would curse herself every time she did it.

Scott had no clue, but the frustrations were just so frequent for her libido that it just kept happening. Scanning Kurt and Piotr never caused them to ever react, they had no idea that she’d analysed their dicks in a moment of need…

But Logan knew.

The morning before she met Mark, she had seen Logan smirk knowingly at her.

It caused her to blush, unable to even look at him without giving more away of why he’d been scanned.

Jean was so thankful that Ororo had called her and Scott to Mark’s house. That need for a distraction clawed at her. To stop drowning in her guilt, her embarrassment, her frustration. She needed that distraction so, so badly. So much… that the need for a distraction distracted her.

In the one moment she should have scanned the young mutant’s mind for a reason why Ororo called her and Scott, for why he looked so hungrily nervous to shake her hand, it was all over.