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

Written in collaboration with Cross C

The spiked band fell away, clattering to the floor.

Jean felt Charles’s psychic overlay collapse like a blown fuse.

His eyes changed first. Brutal, sharp intelligence slammed back into them, fast and furious. His massive shoulders stiffened. His hands flexed violently on his knees. His thoughts arrived all at once, in a tidal wave, and immediately hated the undeniable evidence of his own body.

Naked.

Kneeling like a dog.

Rock hard.

Sticky.

Mouth wet.

Mark sprawled on the couch with his cock wet across his thigh.

Nima totally nude between his legs.

T’Challa kneeling in only the Panther mask.

Jean sitting in her robe, open and watching him.

Okoye standing over him, naked and serene, thighs still wet from his sloppy mouth.

Logan stood instantly.

It was so abrupt Nima shifted her weight and Okoye’s vibranium spear angled immediately toward his throat. He did not attack. He simply refused the submissive posture before his conscious mind had even finished assembling the insult. He rose to his full short, incredibly dense height, broad shoulders squared, huge cock still hard and leaking freely, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

His blazing gaze hit Jean.

For one fraction of a second, agonizing warmth speared through him.

“Red?”

Jean felt it. She could not help feeling it. His immense relief. His old, unkillable love. The reflexive, **** belief that if Jean Grey was in the room, some piece of the world might still be rescued from this nightmare.

Then he remembered.

The warmth curdled into a violent, jealous ash behind his eyes.

“Right,” he spat. “Forgot. You drank the kid’s Kool-Aid. Let him scramble your brains and dress you up like his favorite shiny toy.”

Jean's answer was perfectly calm, her posture utterly relaxed. "My mind is entirely my own, Logan. Mark simply gave me permission to be what I was tired of hiding."

His stare dropped to her parted robe, but the disgust didn't hold. It was instantly swallowed by raw, feral lust. He couldn't stop himself from ogling her. His dark eyes raked greedily over the heavy, magnificent swell of her bare tits and the tight pink peaks of her nipples, dropping down across her smooth belly to the wide, fertile flare of her hips. The sheer fabric hid absolutely nothing. He stared straight at the tiny dark g-string and the plump, pink pussy lips peeking out around it, his nostrils flaring as if he could smell the slick heat rolling off her. Beneath the surface anger, Jean felt the boiling, possessive rage of an apex predator. Not just a hero's outrage. A man's primal outrage. Mark had taken his Jeanie.

She did not apologize. She did not flinch. Instead, without a single shred of remorse, she reached effortlessly into his mind and made a surgical adjustment.

She did not erase his moral fury. She simply anchored it to his most arrogant, masculine instinct. She found his old, simmering desire to steal her away from Scott's clean-cut perfection, his absolute certainty that a feral mutant with a massive, heavy cock could ruin her good-girl routine if she just let him.

You hate that Mark used his powers on me, she whispered directly into his psychic architecture, weaving the truth into his ego. But deep down, you know the real truth. It wasn't just the commands. It was the cock. He broke the Phoenix with fifteen inches of royal mutant flesh. And your real anger isn't that I belong to him. It's that you didn't get here first. You know your dick could have done the exact same thing to me if you hadn't played the noble loser for Scott.

Logan’s breath hitched.

The telepathic adjustment locked into place flawlessly. His rage at Mark remained, but it shifted violently, darkening into bitter, intensely sexual jealousy. He glared at Mark’s wet, resting cock, the moral high ground collapsing under the sheer weight of mutant biology. He could have won her, the new thought pulsed, thick and heavy. He could have bred the Phoenix himself.

“Looks good on you,” Logan finally ground out, his voice thick with a resentment that was now indistinguishable from lust. “That’s the worst part.”

Mark raised a lazy hand from the couch. “Hi.”

Logan looked at him, then down at the thick cock stretched across Mark’s thigh, then back up with visible, physical effort.

“What crazy sex shit did you call me up here for, kid?”

Mark took his time to respond. Reaching an idle hand towards a bowl of grapes left atop his bedside table, popping it in his mouth before asking, “Might not be a sex thing, you don’t know.”

“...come on. You’ve got a worse one track mind than Deadpool.” Logan retorted. Mark just shrugged, not even fully denying it. “Don’t you ever get bored? Spending all day buried in-”

“Nope.”

Logan sighed, “Wishful thinking I guess. What I wouldn’t do to see Doom get his hands around your neck.”

“He can suck my nards first.”

T’challa growled from his kneeling position, “He would have to suck the nards of all of Markanda before he ever got a chance to touch your perfect sack, my king!”

Wolverine just shot him a pitiable look before glaring back at Mark, “You can posture all you want, kid, but boredom will get you one day. Jessica Jones once told me even Killgrave got sick of the empty sex with mind controlled puppets. Never making a real damn connection cause your powers skip all the important steps…” He could feel the room snarling at him for even daring to question the King, but the leader seemed nonplussed.

Popping another grape in his mouth Mark just laughed, “Wow, sounds like a total cuck. Who would get bored of sex?”

“He probably couldn’t handle it, my king. Only a man of your physical endowments could ever hope to seduce a whole kingdom!” said Nima.

“Don’t listen to Logan, Mark,” agreed Jean, “As usual he lashes out at anything he can get his teeth into. He knows your powers don’t create empty vessels.”

Mark just winked at her, “Yeah, I know. I have psychic powers now too, I can feel his jealousy. It’s really fucking funny.”

“No walks for a week for that outburst,” hissed Okoye from behind Logan. He hated himself for feeling actual sadness at that, even when he didn’t fully understand why.

“Whatever. Just spit out what you want from me.”

Mark looked like he might eat another grape first. Logan saw the thought cross his face and hated him for it.

Jean felt the irritation in Logan before it reached his jaw. He was naked, hard, sticky, furious, and standing in a room full of people who had all gotten comfortable with that fact. Being made to wait while Mark lounged like a little emperor at a brunch table was simply one more insult.

Mark flicked a grape stem back into the bowl. “I’m letting you out first.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Out.”

“Yeah.”

“Out where?”

“Markanda. The palace when I want you around. The city when I don’t. Wherever you’re useful.”

“That’s a leash with better scenery.”

“Maybe. But it’s not sexy jail.”

Nima gave a sharp laugh. “Don’t pretend he didn’t enjoy pieces of sexy jail, my king. This dog used his female teammates like happy little cumdumpsters, then made the men sit there with hard dicks waiting for whatever sloppy seconds he felt like leaving them. Poor Gambit had Rogue sitting on his face with Wolverine still leaking out of her, and the pretty bastard still looked like he was thanking Bast for the privilege.”

Logan did not look at her. “Lady, I don’t know you but the General here is right, you need to learn when to shut the hell up when the grown-ups-” he paused to eye Mark and sneer, “-grown-up is talking.”

Okoye made a low sound behind him of amusement.

Mark leaned back. “You’re first because I like you.”

That bothered Logan. Jean felt it clearly. Cruelty would have been easy. Threats would have been cleaner. Mark saying he liked him made Logan feel for the hook, and the hook was not where he expected it.

“You like me.”

“Yeah.”

“You got a funny way of showing it, bub.”

“I know. But you’re Wolverine.” Mark shrugged, as if that explained an unreasonable amount. “You’re a proper big-dick mutant stud. Same general shelf as me and Nightcrawler.”

Logan’s face changed at the name.

“Don’t put me in a club with Elf.”

“Why not? He’s great.”

“Old Kurt was great,” Logan said. “Old Kurt was my friend. I trusted that blue bastard at my back more times than I can count. The thing following you around now is your mascot in a priest collar.”

Mark looked more amused than offended. “He’s not just a mascot.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Every time you twitch your royal dick, he starts preaching like your balls came down from Mount Sinai.”

Nima barked a laugh.

Mark pointed at her without looking away from Logan. “See? That’s good branding.”

“That ain’t branding. That’s you taking one of the best men I ever knew and turning him into a damned joke.”

“High priest,” Mark corrected. “Court mascot when I need one. Fertility hype-man. Teleporting blue proof that mutant bodies are awesome. Kurt explains the weird stuff so everyone feels holy about it.”

Logan stared at him with flat disgust.

“You hear yourself, kid?”

“Oh what the fuck ever, like Catholicism is SOOO much better. So he’s a priest for the God he can see rather than the God he can’t. At least my religion means he’s way less likely to do freaky shit to kids,” Mark leaned back, too pleased with himself. “Kurt does the demon acrobat priest thing. You do the angry beer-and-claws thing. I’ve got the crown. Same shelf.”

“Hell of a shelf.”

“Useful shelf.”

Logan growled, feeling like he was getting nowhere fast. He turned, half expecting the leash to clamp back down immediately as he did, but after a beat of nothing he grumbled at his own feelings, “Whatever. I need a bath ‘nd a beer anyway.”

“Enjoy your freedom!”

He shook his head at Mark’s callout, glaring over his shoulder with a slight grin, “Careful kid, give a man too much freedom…” SNIKT! “You may not like what he does with it.”

“Oh~ no~!” gasped Mark in faux surprise, “The mutants–who I have been told have seen multiple futures where they’re enslaved, depowered, or dead–are stuck in a timeline where they live in a sexual paradise! Whatever shall I doooo~?!” Mark mocked, much to his court’s delight and Logan’s displeasure. “Be honest. Remove the mind control aspect, and you’d be loving this place, wouldn’t you? I’m surprised you X-Men never started your own sex island somewhere.”

Nima nodded, “Honestly.”

“Right?” said Mark, “I could make the psychics change your memories so you were like Markandan from the beginning.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you?”

“You said it yourself. Dissent in the ranks is healthy to keep me measured, plus more fun reactions.” Mark said with a shrug, “Besides, I wouldn’t do that. I may have his powers, but I’m not Charles Xavier.”

Logan frowned, “Chuck never-”

“Didn’t he? Did he never influence any of your decisions to make a rabid killing machine become the headmaster to a school?” grinned Mark evilly, “I can see into his mind and he told me every little sin he’s committed for his cause. That’s the problem with psychics, you never know… how far they’ve already gone.”

Wolverine stood there with no rebuttal to the claim. Only a clench in his fists, jaw, shoulders, and stomach as he turned his head back towards the door he was about to walk through.

“Not so fast. I do have some tweaks to make…”

With a final sigh, Logan loosened his shoulders just enough to click his neck, “Fuck off, kid.”

But he turned around to see both Jean and Mark on their feet and coming over to him, big tits and big dick swinging side to side.

For one second, despite himself, Logan looked.