Krakoan Council Meeting

This is a Commissioned Story

Year Three of Krakoa, Late Summer
Quiet Council Chamber, Krakoa
14:16 Local Time

The first person to look below Scott Summers's waist was Jean.

She had watched him enter the center of the chamber, taking in the shoulders broadened by seven resurrections and the dense weight packed into the front of his uniform. Even soft, his cock was too long to sit neatly in the reinforced pouch. The thick shaft lay diagonally along his right thigh, with the heavy mass of his balls crowded beneath it. The skintight blue fabric concealed skin and little else.

Warm appreciation moved through their psychic bond.

Scott felt it as clearly as if she had run a hand over him.

He set the recovered data wafer into the projection table. Six red points appeared across three continents, linked to the Santo Marco transfer station where a mutant extraction team had missed two check-ins before dawn. Scott had recovered all four members alive six hours later.

"Santo Marco wasn't built to hold prisoners," Scott said. "It was a transfer station. XENO identified useful mutations, took the first tissue samples, then shipped people wherever they had the equipment to copy their powers."

Shipping records, intercepted Orchis transmissions, and prisoner manifests opened beside each point. The Council occupied twelve living chairs around him. Emma watched from the Spring table in white silk and diamonds. Jean sat between Storm and Nightcrawler beneath the flowering canopy marking Summer, her lush body wrapped in a deep green halter dress.

Scott kept his attention on the projection.

"They're already clearing three sites. They know we found the network. They don't know how much we pulled before the purge. We have hours, not days."

"To do what, exactly?" Sebastian Shaw asked. "Send half our available combat strength after equipment they've probably burned?"

"To bring back the seventeen mutants on that manifest."

Scott enlarged the list.

Shaw stopped smiling.

"We hit all six at once. X-Force takes Alberta, the Marauders intercept the Mediterranean transport, and I lead the X-Men into Dakar. Regional teams handle the rest with gateway support."

Jean's attention dropped again.

This time Scott felt the desire behind it before he noticed where she was looking. It entered through their bond as a low, velvety pressure. The muscles beneath his abdomen tightened, shifting the soft weight trapped against his thigh.

He had emptied himself less than eleven hours earlier and fought through a detention compound since then. His cock remained soft. There was simply too much of him for the uniform to hide, even at rest.

Scott continued speaking.

"Once the first site is breached, the others may kill their prisoners. Cypher will route everything through Krakoa. Nobody moves until all six report ready."

"Human casualties?" Xavier asked.

"Alberta and Dakar have noncombatants. Both teams evacuate them before engaging. The Mediterranean crew is armed."

"And if they scuttle the vessel?"

"Lorna puts it on the shore whether the crew agrees or not."

Scott changed the projection. As he turned, the shaft dragged against the confining fabric and settled lower along his thigh. The blunt head made a distinct ridge beneath the blue, while his balls pressed forward in a heavy rounded bulge at its base. Scott caught a few glances at the edges of his vision, attention pausing before returning to the map. Krakoa was too accustomed to bodies and casual nudity for anyone to comment, but the uniform made privacy impossible.

Being watched should have embarrassed him. Instead, it produced a low satisfaction that felt natural enough.
Scott paused until the wandering attention returned to the red points.

The immediate correction pleased some crude part of him. A small contraction moved through his pelvis, making the soft shaft shift against his thigh. Scott ignored it and continued.

Jean felt it. Scott caught a flash of her imagination through their bond: the chamber empty, her dress around her waist, his uniform opened while she knelt between his legs. He nearly lost his next sentence.

Scott resumed the briefing. "Dakar has anti-telepath tech built from at least three psychics. Jean will shield us from Krakoa."

"I can go with you," Jean said.

"No. The site is designed to trap telepaths. Stay outside its range and work through me."

Her eyes lifted. Jean hated being protected, but a darker response unfurled beneath the anger. Scott had decided, given her a role, and expected her to follow it. Her arousal strengthened. The thought of taking that argument home landed low in Scott's body and made him shift his stance.

The movement rearranged the bulk inside his uniform. His soft cock rolled farther across his thigh, pulling the living fabric into a longer, thicker ridge. Scott saw Emma notice. Her pale brows rose a fraction as she looked from his body to Jean, and some silent communication passed between the two women. Jean's mouth tightened as though suppressing a smile.

Jean's pride, desire, and love warmed their bond. Scott let that explain the heat gathering beneath his skin.
Then Shaw looked again.

The Black King made no effort to hide it. His gaze traveled down Scott's torso and rested upon the thick outline laid along his thigh, appraisal plain in the small curl of his mouth.

A violent image entered Scott's mind.

He saw Shaw forced to his knees, beard brushing the swollen head while Scott clamped a hand around his neck and fed that curious mouth the veined bulk it had been staring at. The imagined resistance only made Scott grip harder.

The muscles at the base of Scott's cock contracted. The soft shaft rolled heavily against his thigh, moving enough for Shaw's eyes to follow it, but it did not rise.

The image vanished as abruptly as it had arrived. Men had never figured into Scott's desire, but Shaw's sex had mattered less than the assumption that his curiosity entitled Scott to use him. He classified the fantasy as an intrusive product of hormones, exhaustion, and provocation.

Shaw finally raised his eyes.

Scott held them until the man's faint smile disappeared.

"Do you have a question about the deployment?" Scott asked.

"Not at present."

"Then we're moving on."

He turned back to the map and finished the briefing. Scott answered objections and revised two extraction routes while the packed weight inside his uniform tugged with every change in stance. By the time Xavier called the vote, a dull pressure had begun to return deep in his balls.

The simultaneous strike was approved.

Chairs withdrew into the floor as Council members moved toward the exits. No one mentioned his body. No one needed to.

Jean remained at the Summer table.

Emma paused beside her. Her blue eyes moved once toward Scott's groin, then returned to Jean with bright, private amusement.

"Do try not to miss the deployment window," she murmured.

"Good afternoon, Emma," Jean said.

Emma's smile widened. She left without looking back.

Scott waited until the chamber sealed behind the others. The tactical projection collapsed, leaving him alone with Jean beneath the dim amber light of Krakoa's living walls.

"Something happened this morning," he said.

The humor left her face.