Jean and Scott [pt. I]

Jean crossed the empty chamber and stopped in front of Scott. Up close, the outline beneath his uniform was impossible to ignore. He was still soft, yet the thick shaft lay diagonally down his thigh while the heavy weight of his balls crowded the fabric beneath its root. She kept her attention on his face.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Scott looked past her toward the chamber doors. He waited until the last footsteps had faded from the corridor.“Something happened at the house this morning.”

Jean moved closer. “Tell me.”

“I woke up with an erection so hard it hurt. I tried to ignore it. I stood under cold water until I was shaking, but it kept getting worse. My balls felt like they were going to explode.”

Jean remained quiet.

“Eventually I touched my cock. Once I started, all I could think about was cumming. I stopped caring where I was or who might see me.” Scott lowered his voice. “I left the bedroom, went downstairs, and jerked off in front of the living-room window.”

“Why downstairs?”

“I have no idea. I remember walking there, but I don’t remember making a decision. The window was in front of me, so that was where I stopped.”

“Anyone could have walked in.”

“Rachel did.”

Jean’s eyes went to the doors again, despite already knowing they were alone. “Did she catch you doing it?”

“Just afterward. I had finished, but I was still standing there naked. The towel was beside me. I knew it was there, but I didn’t reach for it.”

“What did she say?”

Scott hesitated. “Did you know Rachel’s a lesbian?”

“Yes, of course.”

He turned his face toward her. “Everyone knew except me?”

“I thought you knew.”

“Apparently Rachel didn’t. She chose that moment to tell me, while staring at my dick.”

Amusement escaped through their bond before Jean could contain it.

“You’re laughing directly into my brain.”

“I’m sorry, but that is an absurd way to find out.”

“Wait until you hear the rest.” The faint possibility of a smile disappeared from his mouth. “She asked if she could touch it, and I let her.”

Jean searched his face. “You actually said yes?”

“She asked, and in that moment it seemed like an ordinary request.

Jean reached for his arm. Scott caught her hand and pressed it flat against his chest. His heart beat rapidly beneath the thin fabric.

“That’s not all,” he said. “I wanted to… bend her over the window. She heard me think it.”

Through the bond, the memory reached Jean with feverish, undeniable clarity.

She felt the sudden surge of uninhibited heat that had flooded Scott the second Rachel’s finger touched him. In a single, overwhelming pulse of imagination, he had pictured stepping forward, grabbing Rachel by the hips, and forcing her upper body down against the wide window ledge. The fantasy was crude and sudden: yanking her shorts down to expose the bare, round curve of her ass, her pussy lips peeking out between her firm thighs as she was pressed against the glass with Earth hanging in the void beyond her. In his mind, the mental image of stepping flush behind her and driving his cock deep inside carried a sharp, intoxicating rush of possessive heat, a flash of raw desire so heavy and explicit that it sent a quiet spike of arousal through Jean as she felt it echo through their link.

The thought carried none of the revulsion now tightening Scott’s chest. In that moment, his mind accepted it as the next obvious thing he wanted to do. Rachel heard enough to understand. Her expression changed, and the sight of her face finally broke through.

“I grabbed the towel and covered myself,” Scott continued. “She left before either of us knew what to say. By the time I was dressed, I felt like myself again. I told myself the pain and the release had scrambled my judgment.”

“You should have called me.”

“I know. I was ashamed, we had the Council meeting, and I thought it was over.” His hand closed around hers. “Then Shaw started staring at me.”

Jean remembered Shaw’s attention drifting repeatedly toward the thick shape pressed down Scott’s thigh.

“He looked at my lap for half the meeting,” Scott said. “For a few seconds, I wanted to drag him out of his chair, put him on his knees, and shove my cock down his throat. I was already working out how to get him alone afterward.”

The image accompanied the confession: Shaw kneeling between Scott’s legs, Scott’s hand buried in his hair as he forced that smug mouth open. A brief pulse of heat moved through Jean before the urgency beneath the fantasy pushed it aside.

Scott’s cock twitched under the blue fabric. He glanced down, visibly annoyed with his own body. “It did that during the meeting too.”

“What pulled you out of it?”

“Xavier asked me about Dakar. One second I was deciding where to take Shaw, and the next I was answering a tactical question and wondering what the hell I had been thinking.”

“Rachel said your name. Xavier gave you something else to focus on.”

“Exactly. I remember every second of both incidents. What scares me is how reasonable they felt while they were happening. I didn’t fight either impulse because I saw no reason to fight.”

Jean could feel the memories sitting openly behind his words. The shame belonged to Scott now, but it had been absent when Rachel touched him and when Shaw stared. Both urges had entered his thoughts as naturally as any ordinary decision.

“What do you need from me?” she asked.

“I need you to look through my mind properly. If something changed, or if someone put something there, you’ll know what belongs to me.”

Jean’s gaze dropped to the outline beneath his uniform. She had participated in the quiet requests that accompanied his resurrections, each one nudging his body toward greater size, sensitivity, stamina, and sexual drive. Emma had helped refine those changes, and both women had taken Scott’s pleasure in the results as permission after the fact. He had never known how deliberate the pattern was.

The confession gathered behind Jean’s teeth. She held it there. A careful scan would tell her whether their alterations had caused what happened that morning, and she wanted that answer before she tried to explain her part in it.

“Of course I’ll look,” she said. “Come home with me. I want privacy and enough time to do it properly.”

Scott nodded, and relief moved through their bond. “Whatever you find, tell me the truth.”

“I will.”

They left the chamber hand in hand. The corridor had gone quiet since the Council dispersed, and Scott stayed close enough that his shoulder brushed hers as they walked toward the nearest gateway. Jean tried to organize the scan in her mind, but her gaze returned to the heavy shape running down his thigh.

“You’re looking at it again,” Scott said.

“The suit isn’t hiding much.”

“I’m soft.”

“I know.”

A trace of his usual dry humor returned. “You don’t look entirely worried.”

Jean met his eyes through the visor. “You’re my husband. I can be worried about you and still want you.”

Scott’s hand moved from hers to the small of her back. He drew her against his side, kissed her temple, and guided her toward the open gateway.

By the time they reached home, Jean had decided where to begin. She would remove the uniform, open their bond, and follow his responses as she touched him. The thought of his naked body came more readily than the details of the scan, and she carried that anticipation through the gate with her.

---

Year Three of Krakoa, Late Summer
Summer House, Blue Area of the Moon
16:03 Lunar Time

The Summer House was empty when they arrived. Rachel had combat drills, Alex and Gabriel were with Corsair, and Nathan had left no itinerary.

Jean led Scott into their bedroom and sealed the living door behind them.

Earth filled the lunar window above their pale living bed.

He reached for the collar release of his uniform, but Jean caught his hand. "Let me."

Scott raised his arms without argument.

Jean peeled the Krakoan fabric over shoulders and arms thickened by resurrection, then down the dense ridges of his abdomen. The blue material clung to the thick outline along his thigh.

Jean hooked her fingers into the loosened material and pulled it down.

The shaft fell free.

It swung once and settled heavily along his thigh. Jean knew its size. She had watched it harden in her hands and taken as much of it as Scott allowed more than once since his last resurrection. Seeing the full weight of it hanging soft in the Earthlight still made her catch her breath. His cock descended thickly from its broad root, the circumcised head heavy at the end, while the enlarged sac she and Emma had designed pulled low beneath it.

Jean placed one hand around the middle.

Her fingers did not come close to meeting.

The warm weight began to thicken in her hand. Scott exhaled and rested one hand on her hip as the cock pulsed against her palm. Veins lifted beneath the skin, and the head rose slowly away from his thigh.

"Tell me what you're feeling."

Scott glanced down at her hand. "You."

Jean raised an eyebrow.

"I'm feeling you touch me," he said. "I'm getting hard. There's some pressure, but nothing like this morning."

"Any pain?"

"No."

Jean moved her hand slowly from the broad root toward the head. The shaft lengthened through her palm, growing hotter and heavier as it rose. Scott's fingers tightened once on her hip. He did not pull her closer, but the impulse crossed their bond clearly enough that Jean felt it in her own body.

"Anything you can't control?" she asked.

"At the moment?" His thumb pressed into the soft curve above her hip. "I don't want to control this."

"Scott."

"We're alone. You're my wife, and you have your hand on my cock." The corner of his mouth shifted. "I'm not going to pretend I don't like it."

The plainness of it eased something in Jean. This was how close they were. He had come to her because he was worried, but worry did not turn them into a patient and his doctor. She knew the shape of his body, the cadence of his thoughts, and the particular way his desire warmed their bond before he admitted it aloud.

She also knew she should stop moving her hand until she understood what had happened to him.

The thought failed to hold.

This was Scott. Her husband. Whatever else his new body had become, wanting her was not evidence that something was wrong. The certainty settled easily into the same place where her caution had been.

Jean's thumb passed beneath the broad ridge. A bead of precum rolled over it.

Scott drew a measured breath. "Are you checking me or starting something?"

"Both."

"Good."

She laughed softly. "You sound very sure of yourself."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Then I'm sure."

Jean looked up at him. The dry challenge in his voice was familiar, as was the affection beneath it. The heavier hunger moving through their bond was new.

She closed her other hand around the thickening shaft.

"If it hurts, tell me," she said.

"You'll feel it."

"I want to hear it from you."

Scott bent and kissed her, slow and warm, one hand moving from her hip to the back of her neck. When he lifted his mouth, his forehead rested briefly against hers.

"Then stay in my head," he said.

"Of course."

Jean Grey had both hands wrapped around her husband's cock when she entered his mind.

Scott stood naked before the lunar window with his legs spread and one hand resting on her shoulder. Blue Earthlight traced the heroic lines Jean had known for most of her adult life: dark hair above the burning ruby band of his visor, a square jaw, a strong neck descending into broad shoulders, and a deep chest tapering through a ridged abdomen to a narrow waist. Seven resurrections had added mass without spoiling those proportions. His pectorals sat thicker and squarer across his chest, his lats widened the upper half of his torso, and heavy muscle followed the long bones of his arms and thighs. Naked except for the visor, he remained unmistakably Cyclops.

Then her gaze reached his groin. His erection rose between them, too thick for Jean's fingers to meet around it and long enough that her upper fist could slide past the midpoint without reaching the swollen head. Dark veins stood beneath the flushed skin. Precum glazed the slit, gathered beneath the broad ridge, and ran down onto her knuckles as she worked him slowly.

The enormous shaft had been soft when she peeled away his uniform. Three strokes had changed that. Now it projected from his pelvis like a solid length of heated muscle. Beneath it, his balls hung in a heavy sac already tightening with fresh pressure. Each testicle formed a separate, oversized weight beneath the loose skin, large enough to fill her palm by itself and visibly shifting whenever his cock flexed. Scott had emptied them that morning with enough force to paint the Summer House window. His seventh body had spent the hours since replacing everything he lost.

From the waist up, Scott looked like the man who should have been standing at the front of an X-Men poster. The immense cock and animal weight hanging between his thighs changed the rest of the image. They made his powerful body look obscenely virile, as though the resurrection process had rebuilt a heroic commander into something that could still lead an army but had also been bred to mount, fuck, and fill whatever woman those huge testicles demanded.

Jean knew exactly how he compared to Logan. Their arrangement had put all three of them naked in the same bed often enough that memory required no guesswork. She had knelt between their spread legs with one cock in each hand. She had ridden Scott while Logan stood at the edge of the mattress and fucked her mouth. She had taken Logan from behind while Scott held her face, kissed her, and watched every rough stroke move through her body. Logan had always been the obvious spectacle below the waist: twelve blunt inches, nearly as thick as her wrist, with a pair of low, heavy balls that struck her ass like weights when he fucked her.

That was no longer true. Scott's new cock was longer, broader through the root, and more heavily veined. Even his balls were larger than Logan's now, each swollen testicle shifting visibly inside a sac that hung with enough weight to pull the skin taut at his pelvis. The satisfaction Jean took from that fact was stupid, primitive, and impossible to deny. Logan's size had never made him more important. Scott had never needed to win a comparison. Still, it felt right that her husband had become the biggest man in their bed. It felt wicked too.

She had already begun looking forward to their next threesome. Logan would undress, see what resurrection had done to Scott, and look from that enormous cock to Jean with narrowed eyes. Scott would tell Logan not to make it weird. Logan would make it weird immediately. Jean wanted to kneel between them, wrap her hands around both shafts, and feel Scott's swollen head rise above Logan's. She wanted to see whether Logan laughed, growled, or treated the difference like a challenge, and whether Scott's new body would let him dismiss that challenge as easily as his old one had.

Jean felt the rebuilding happen under her palms.

She lifted one hand long enough to touch two fingers to his temple and deepen their familiar psychic bond. Scott opened to her without hesitation. He had come home frightened by his body and trusted her to tell him what was wrong. Decades of love, sex, arguments, shared thoughts, and repeated deaths stood behind that trust. He did not tense when her mind descended through his sensory cortex. His thumb simply moved against her bare shoulder while she followed the swollen map of his arousal down his spine and into his pelvis.

The nerve density inside his cock had increased far beyond the changes she and Emma had placed in the resurrection template. Every stroke of Jean's hands arrived in Scott's brain with the intensity of a mouth closing over him. Enlarged blood vessels drove heat through the shaft, and new endocrine loops tied arousal to aggression, stress, denial, and the growing ache in his testicles. His body did not merely enjoy release. It had begun treating ejaculation as a physical requirement.

Nothing inside him felt foreign. Every impulse carried Scott's own psychic texture: discipline stretched too tight, possessiveness he rarely admitted, the satisfaction he took from being obeyed, and the rough sexual hunger he had spent years reducing to something safe for Jean. She found no intruding mind for him to fight. She found her husband with all his buried appetites connected directly to the largest and most sensitive organ in his body.

"Tell me what you're feeling," Jean said.

Scott looked down at her through the ruby visor. "Your hands. No pain."

She tightened both fists and pulled them upward together. The head pushed between her breasts, smearing warm precum across the deep neckline of her green dress. Scott's abdomen clenched. His fingers moved into her hair, gathering the red waves at the back of her head without pulling.

"And now?"

"More of your hands."

"Very clinical," Jean said.

"You asked me a medical question." His thumb brushed her cheek. "I can give you a less clinical answer."

Jean glanced at the cock filling both her hands. "I think I'm getting it."

She sank to her knees, bringing his cock down with her until the shaft lay across her cleavage. Deep red hair spilled around her shoulders and over the green halter dress as she loosened it. Her breasts dropped free with their full natural weight, huge and soft above a waist narrow enough to make the breadth of her hips more pronounced. She settled her round ass onto her heels, pushed both tits together, and enclosed as much of Scott as she could between them. His erection disappeared between the pale mounds without coming close to being contained. Several inches of veined shaft remained exposed below her breasts, and the swollen head rose beyond them toward her mouth.

Jean pushed her breasts together and began sliding them along his cock. Her skin dragged over the wet shaft, spreading precum into a glossy film while her nipples rubbed against its sides. Each upward stroke made the head emerge beneath her chin. She opened her mouth over it, sucked the ridge, and used her tongue to collect the fluid leaking from the slit before letting the cock glide back between her tits.

Scott's hips followed her rhythm. At first the movement remained small, the instinctive response of a man enjoying his wife's mouth and breasts. Then his hand tightened in her hair. His next thrust drove the broad head several inches between her parted lips before her jaw stopped him. Jean gagged softly around the girth and looked up.

Scott immediately eased back. "Too much?"

Logan would have treated that gag as encouragement until Jean slapped his thigh or dug her nails into his ass. Scott heard it as information and adjusted before she had to ask. That difference had once been the entire appeal of moving between them. Tonight it only sharpened her desire to see Scott stop thinking first.

Jean licked a thick string of precum from the underside of his head. "For my mouth."

His cock flexed between her breasts.

"Good thing I have other options," she added.

The humor left Scott's face beneath the visor, replaced by a hungry concentration Jean knew well. He drew her upright by the arms and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. Jean's bare breasts flattened against his chest. His cock rose between their bodies, sliding over the soft underside of her left tit and leaving a wet streak nearly to her collarbone. One of Scott's hands settled on the generous curve of her ass and squeezed hard enough to spread the flesh between his fingers.

The humor left Scott's face beneath the visor, replaced by a hungry concentration Jean knew well. He drew her upright by the arms and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. Jean's bare breasts flattened against his chest. His cock rose between their bodies, sliding over the soft underside of her left tit and leaving a wet streak nearly to her collarbone. One of Scott's hands settled on the generous curve of her ass and squeezed hard enough to spread the flesh between his fingers.

Jean felt his desire before he moved. It struck through their bond as a blunt need to have her naked, open, and full of him.

Take your wife.

Scott accepted the thought as easily as he accepted the woman kissing him. He hooked both hands beneath Jean's thighs and lifted. She wrapped her legs around his waist while the green dress bunched between them. He carried her toward the bed, kissing her deeply as her breasts moved against his chest and his erection dragged along the cleft of her ass.

He laid her on the living mattress and pulled the dress down her hips. Jean opened her legs before it cleared her ankles. Naked beneath him, her familiar body looked indecently available: red hair spread across the pale bed, enormous breasts settling outward over her ribs, a soft stomach narrowing between her rib cage and wide hips, and a full, rounded ass pressed deep into the living mattress. Between her thighs, dark red curls clung around a pussy already swollen and wet enough that the inner lips shone. Scott knelt between her legs. His broad shoulders forced her knees wider as he lowered his mouth to her.

Jean caught his hair. "Scott."

"You were sore for two days last time."

Jean gave his hair a warning tug. "You say that like you weren't pleased with yourself."

"I was concerned," Scott said, which was not a denial.

He ran his tongue through her slit, and the argument collapsed into a breathy, "Mmm... right there." Jean's hips rose against his mouth. Scott held them down with one forearm and pushed two fingers into her, then a third, curling them against the soft ridged wall while his tongue circled her clit. "Ohhh, Scott," she moaned as the third finger spread her. He knew precisely how to open her. He had even done it for Logan during their threesomes, stretching her with his fingers while Jean sucked the cock that would follow. Scott knew by touch when her pussy had relaxed enough to take Logan's girth. The obscene irony that he now had to prepare her more carefully than he ever had for Logan made her clench around his fingers.

"I still asked for more," she said, breathless. "You remember that part?"

Scott looked up from between her thighs, his mouth shining with her arousal. "I remember you limping to breakfast."

"I wasn't limping."

"Rachel asked if you were injured."

Jean pulled his face back to her pussy. “Then you’d better make all that smugness worth it.”

Scott's laugh vibrated against her clit and became a low groan when Jean wrapped her telekinesis around his cock. She did not stroke him. She held the shaft gently in the air behind his shoulders, feeling its weight with a hand that had no fingers. The erection jerked inside her power, impatient and slick, while his heavy balls drew closer to his body.

Scott made her come with his mouth before he moved higher. Jean's thighs closed around his head as pleasure rolled through her, her pussy contracting around his fingers and releasing another hot spill across his palm. He stayed between her legs until the last pulse passed. Then he rose over her, planted his forearms beside her head, and settled the broad head of his cock against her opening.

Even after his fingers, the difference in scale looked obscene. The head covered her exposed pussy from clit to perineum. Scott rubbed it through her slick lips, coating the underside in her arousal, then pressed forward. Jean's opening stretched around the blunt crown. The ridge caught for a moment before slipping inside with a wet pop that made both of them groan.

Scott stopped with only the head buried.

Jean's breath escaped in a broken, "Nnnh... God, Scott."

"Still ridiculous?"

"Completely ridiculous."

Jean felt him monitoring the bond. Her breathing, the strain in her thighs, and the sharp line where pleasure met pain all passed beneath his attention.

"I'm going slow," he murmured.

"I know." She pulled him down until his mouth covered hers. "I'm not asking you to stop."

Scott fed the shaft into her by inches. Each advance forced her pussy wider and pushed the thick internal pressure deeper. Whenever her muscles seized around him, he stopped and worked short strokes through the tightness until her body loosened enough to swallow more. Jean breathed through the burn with a low "nnnnh" vibrating against his mouth, let her thighs fall farther apart, and rolled her hips down to meet him. Raised veins dragged across tissue still fluttering from orgasm, but Scott's hips remained infuriatingly careful.

He reached the depth they had managed before and stopped. Several inches of cock still gleamed outside her, wet with a mixture of her arousal and his precum. His balls hung heavily below, close enough to brush her ass whenever he shifted.

Jean dug her nails into his shoulders. "Not this time."

"You're shaking."

"I know." She tightened her legs around his waist. "I still want more."

Scott pushed. Another thick section of shaft disappeared into her. Jean's cry sharpened. "Ahh, fuck. Hold there."

He froze immediately. A hot line of pain traveled through her pelvis and brought tears to her eyes, but it eased into pressure once he held still. She could feel the immense shape of his cock inside her, the ridge of the head, every vein, and the hard column connecting them while three inches still remained outside.

"I've got you," Scott murmured.

"I know. Just give me a second." Jean breathed until the strain stopped climbing, then flexed her thighs around him. "Okay. Move."

He began fucking her there.

From beneath him, Jean could see nearly all of the naked man moving over her. The red visor was the only thing Scott still wore. Below it, his jaw was tight and his thick chest hung over her breasts, every shove making the square muscles jump beneath sweat-bright skin. His abdomen tightened with each forward drive. The sharp V of muscle at his hips stood out above her spread pussy, and the long, powerful lines of his thighs fed every controlled stroke into her.

With his old eight inches, this same rhythm had carried him to the root on every thrust. Now several inches remained outside her, yet Scott still fucked her with exactly the same timing, as though the new mass between his legs had changed nothing that mattered.

The first strokes were long and steady. Scott withdrew until the head threatened to slip free, then pushed back through her stretched lips, making her pussy swell around him. His chest pressed her tits across her ribs whenever his hips came forward. The heavy muscle of his ass flexed beneath Jean's hands, driving each controlled thrust while his balls swung forward and tapped the underside of her ass.

"God, Jean." His mouth moved against her throat. "You feel incredible."

"Then stop looking so serious," she panted, another soft "ah... ahh" escaping as he continued to fill her.

A rough breath of laughter left him. "I'm concentrating."

"That's the problem." Jean dragged her nails down his back and tightened both legs around him. "Harder."

Her body agreed. Pleasure gathered with every drag of his cock and tightened around the pressure filling her. Jean still felt his control more clearly than his hunger. He was giving her exactly as much force as he considered safe, stopping at the same depth, preserving the same angle, and using their bond to catch every change before she could turn it into a request.

Scott obeyed without losing the rhythm. His hips struck with greater force, spreading her ass across the mattress and making her tits jump beneath his chest. The cock inside her remained on its selected track.

Jean hooked a foot behind his thigh and rolled them using her telekinesis to actually make flipping her heavy muscled husband possible.

Scott landed on his back with Jean astride him. His cock stayed buried as she sat upright over his pelvis, her thighs spread across his hips and her breasts hanging full and heavy above him. The change drove him deeper under her weight. Jean moaned, planted both hands on his chest, and began riding.

Scott watched Jean turn herself into a lewd spectacle on his cock. There was no mistaking the woman above him: damp red hair clung to her neck, green eyes watched him through half-lowered lashes, and her huge breasts bounced heavily with every movement. Her stomach drew tight above the soft curve of her lower belly. Her wide hips rolled over his, while her round ass spread across his muscular thighs and her stretched pussy formed a wet, swollen ring around the shaft disappearing into her.

She lifted until the swollen head remained inside, then dropped her hips. Her ass struck his thighs with a wet slap, and "Unh! Oh, fuck..." burst out of her as the huge shaft plunged upward through her pussy. Her belly tightened around the intrusion. She did it again, faster, using the strength of her legs and the full weight of her hips until her tits were bouncing hard enough to slap against one another and every descent punched another helpless sound from her.

Scott gripped her hips. His hands looked brutal against their soft flare, fingers spanning from the front of her pelvis to the round meat of her ass. He let Jean choose the speed. He still kept her from descending the final inches.

"Let go of my hips."

"You're at your limit."

"I'm sitting on your cock, Scott. I know where my limit is."

Scott's mouth tightened. "You're trying to prove a point."

"I'm trying to fuck my husband." Jean rolled her hips against his grip. "Stop turning it into a debate."

She tried to force herself down. His arms locked, holding her suspended above the thick root while the exposed inches shone between her spread lips and his body. Jean ground against his restraint, fucking the length he allowed and growing angrier each time his strength stopped her.

The cock inside her shared that anger.

Make her take it.

Scott's fingers sank deeper into her hips. For one stroke he pulled instead of resisting. Jean dropped hard, taking another inch with a startled cry. Her pussy convulsed around him, and the pleasure that burst through their bond drove Scott's hips off the bed.

Then his discipline returned. He caught her hips and lifted her away from the root.

Jean bent over him, red hair falling around their faces. “Don't start.”

Scott knew exactly what she meant. “Jean.”

“No.” She kissed him once, hard, then ground herself deliberately back down against the pressure of his hands. “You finally stopped treating me like glass for half a second. Don't ruin it by thinking.”

His jaw tightened, but there was heat behind it now rather than hesitation.

Jean smiled against his mouth. “There you are.”

Scott stared up at her. His cock throbbed deep inside her, each pulse heavy enough to move her body. Jean kissed him before he could turn her words into a problem to solve. She kissed him until his grip shifted from restraining her to kneading her ass, then whispered against his mouth, "Pick me up."

Scott sat upright with her still impaled. One arm crossed her back while the other cupped her ass. He stood without pulling out, lifting Jean until her feet hung above the living floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her breasts crushed against his chest, and the weight of her body drove the cock another fraction deeper.

A breathless laugh broke through Jean's moan. "Show-off."

"You told me to pick you up."

"I didn't say I objected."

He carried her to the immense lunar window.

The cold glass met Jean's back. Earth filled the sky beyond her shoulder, blue and white against the black. Scott planted his feet, held her beneath both thighs, and thrust upward.

The steeper angle brought the full strength of Scott's legs and back into every stroke. His cock drove up into her while gravity pulled her down to meet it. Jean's ass flexed in his hands. Her breasts bounced between their bodies, nipples dragging through the hair on his chest as he fucked her against the window.

Wet slaps filled the bedroom. Scott's balls swung beneath the buried shaft and struck her ass with growing force. Her arousal ran down over them, coating the tightened sac and the insides of his thighs. Every time he withdrew, Jean felt the thick shaft pulling at her lips; every return packed her full enough to make the glass tap behind her head.

"You're going to break the window," Jean panted, the warning spoiled by a sharp "Ah!" when he thrust again.

"I checked the tolerances when we designed it. It can take more than this."