Jean and Scott [pt. II]

This is a Commissioned Story

"Yes," she gasped. "Like that. Fuck me like that."

Scott growled into her neck. His teeth closed over the muscle between her shoulder and throat. The bite sent a sharp thrill through Jean's body. His next thrust landed hard enough to pin her flat against the glass.

The remaining inches of his cock pressed against the point where Scott’s control still drew the line.

Jean reached through their bond and found Scott's restraint threaded through thousands of habits: measuring his strength before touching someone, reading every flinch as danger, catching pleasure before it could become selfish, and associating the loss of command with death. His body wanted to drive forward. His mind caught the movement halfway through and reduced it to something safe.

She could end that hesitation with one careful adjustment.

"Scott." Jean held his face between both hands. He kept thrusting, slower. "Let me help."

"With what?"

"The reflex that keeps pulling you back. I can quiet it."

His hips stopped with his cock buried deep and hard inside her. Through the bond she felt him feel her: the pleasure filling her, the strain of the cock stretching her, his own certainty that she wanted more. He also felt the pressure building in his own balls and the savage satisfaction his body took from holding her helplessly off the floor.

"Stay with me," he said.

"I'm right here."

Scott kissed her once. "Do it."

Jean entered the place where fear tightened around desire and loosened it.

Scott's control opened.

The want surged through the space she made.

It reached his spine, his hands, and the psychic bond joining husband and wife. Hunger flooded every pathway Jean had exposed. Scott's next desire arrived with the force of a decision already made.

Open her.

"Jean," he said.

She heard the change in her name. Scott's voice had dropped lower, stripped of every trace of uncertainty.

"Open your legs for me."

The command struck through their bond with the same finality as his thrusts. Jean obeyed before she considered it. She released his face, hooked both arms beneath her knees, and dragged them wide toward her shoulders. Her swollen pussy remained stretched around the thick length already inside her, exposed as far as her body could open while Scott held her up against the window.

Scott drove upward.

The final inches punched into her in one continuous stroke. "Aaaah! Fuck, Scott!" Jean screamed as the swollen head forced past every limit he had respected. His pelvis struck her open pussy. His balls smashed against her ass, and her lower belly pushed outward around the massive length buried inside her. Scott's entire frame tightened around the act. His biceps swelled beneath her thighs, the slabs of his chest crushed her breasts, and the muscles in his abdomen and hips locked until his body felt carved around the cock inside her. The huge testicles battering her from below made that heroic body bestial, a fighter's physique overtaken by the crude need to fuck and breed.

For years, Logan had been the man whose cock made Jean feel physically overwhelmed. Scott had been the man who knew every response before she gave it. Now Scott was both. His cock reached deeper and stretched her wider, while balls heavier than Logan's struck her ass each time his pelvis met her. The realization was filthy, ridiculous, and hot enough to turn the pain into a violent rush of pleasure.

Jean came against the lunar window with her husband holding her in the air. Her pussy clamped along the full shaft, rippling from the broad head buried impossibly deep to the thick root grinding between her lips. Telekinesis shook the room. The bed lifted and the living walls flexed.

Scott didn’t slow.

He fucked her through the orgasm in short, savage drives, never surrendering the depth he had claimed. Jean bounced in his hands, tits striking his chest, ass slapping his hips, his balls hammering the wet skin of her thighs while he drove every buried inch through the contractions trying to milk him.

"Oh! Ohhh, God, don't stop!"

"You wanted all of it."

He pulled her off the window, turned her in his arms, planted her hands against the glass, and bent her forward. Her breasts flattened against the cold surface. Her nipples dragged downward as Scott lifted her hips and spread her legs with one knee.

His cock slid out of her with a thick, sucking sound. She saw it in the glass: a long, gleaming column drawing free of her stretched lips, coated in her juices from head to root, the ridge snagging on the rim before it let go. He left only the head inside, then drove.

The full shaft slammed back. "Ah! Ahh! Scott!" Her tits spread against the window. Her cheek struck the glass. The Earth jumped in her vision as his pelvis hit her ass, and then he set a punishing rhythm, hauling her back onto every thrust while his cock plunged forward. The slap of flesh turned rapid and heavy. Slick gathered in his pubic hair and streaked his balls.

Jean watched their reflection. Her red hair stuck in wet ropes to the glass and framed the flushed profile of her face. Both tits were pressed to wide pale curves, nipples dragging on the window with each drive. Her waist stayed narrow between that compressed weight and the broad hips Scott held, her round ass shaking around his pelvis. Between her spread legs the reflection showed the rest: her pussy opening and closing around the thick shaft, a thread of juicy webbing between their bodies whenever he pulled back.

Scott towered behind her, chest shining, arms and shoulders thick with effort as he fucked her against the starry black. His narrow waist made the breadth of his back look larger. His hips drove between her cheeks, and beneath them the great sac swung like a pendulum, wet with her, striking her flesh on every return. The visor burned red on that handsome face she knew so well. He still had the square-jawed hero's silhouette but the cock splitting her and the testicles churning beneath it had turned the hero into something rutting. The look reflected back belonged to Scott's anger, Scott's appetite, and Scott's pleasure, with no interest in restraint.

"Who are you?" she gasped.

Scott caught a fistful of her hair and drew her head back off the glass. His other hand slid around her body, fingers spreading over the outline his cock made in her belly.

"I'm your husband," he said. "The one who won't keep stopping when you beg him to fuck you."

He thrust while pressing down on the buried shape. Jean shrieked and came again, knees
folding against the window while his grip held her up.

"Feel that? That's all of me. No more stopping halfway."

Jean tried to find the boundary between Scott and the presence speaking through him. Their open bond gave her love, possessiveness, hunger, and the intimate knowledge of her body gathered across their entire marriage. Every feeling was his. Something had taken those feelings, stripped away every limit, and fastened them to the cock pounding her full.

Scott pulled out.

The sudden emptiness made Jean cry out. Her pussy remained open behind her, stretched lips twitching as arousal ran down both thighs. Scott lifted her before she could turn. One arm passed beneath her knees, the other behind her back, and he carried her across the room with his cock jutting between them.

"Scott, put me down."

"I'm not finished with you."

He laid her across the curved top of a living-wood dresser, spread her thighs, and pushed them toward her shoulders. The position folded Jean nearly in half, bunching her red hair beneath her head, pressing her soft stomach into deep creases, and making her heavy breasts hang toward her face. Her ass rose from the wood while her thighs framed the swollen pussy Scott had stretched into a wet, open oval. He slapped the broad head against it once, twice, then forced it inside.

Jean wailed as he buried himself to the balls. "Ohhh! Fuck, warn me next time."

Scott's mouth twitched. "You watched me put it in."

"That is not a warning," she gasped, and the complaint dissolved into a drawn-out "Nnngh... there" when he began moving again.

He pinned her legs apart with his forearms and fucked down into her, using his height and his weight to drive the shaft through her overworked pussy. Her tits jumped toward her face. Sweat ran between them. He bent and pulled one bouncing nipple into his mouth without easing the pace.

Jean clutched his head and opened wider. She had asked for this, conspired with Emma to make it happen. But the cock inside her kept hunting the last of her doubt through the bond and answering it with every stroke. Each forceful thrust pressed reassurance into her nerves. This was Scott. This was the husband she loved. This was what she had begged him to become every time he softened his grip or shortened a thrust.

"I'm right here," he said against her breast. "I love you. I want you. I'm done stopping."

His mouth closed around her nipple again. The blunt tenderness of the words made the brutal fucking feel intimate. The last of her caution melted into heat.

Scott pulled her off the dresser without withdrawing. He lifted her upright against his chest, turned, and sat back into a living chair beside the bed. Jean landed astride him with his cock still planted to the root. The impact wrung a scream out of her. He spread his thick thighs under her and took both cheeks of her ass in his hands, forearms bunching as he began fucking upward, bouncing her whole body in his lap. His chest made a broad wall against her swinging tits. The sac trapped between them bulged against the root of his cock, each testicle rolling over her dripping pussy whenever he dragged her down.

Jean clung around his neck. Her breasts swung against his face. Each upward thrust lifted her several inches before his hands dragged her down again, forcing her pussy to swallow the full length.

"Ah... ah... Scott." Jean's fingers traced the sweat running down the side of his face. "You like this new body."

"I like what it does to you."

Scott caught her jaw and lifted her face toward his. "Look at me."

Jean looked into the red band of his visor. “You’ve never fucked me like this.”

"No"

“Why not?”

His hips never slowed. “Because I always stopped, held myself back…”

The answer carried absolute conviction. Scott's mouth covered hers, and Jean felt her husband's love pouring through the bond while his cock controlled the rhythm of his body beneath her. The distinction she had been trying to find blurred. Scott wanted her. Scott loved her. Scott had always wanted to lose control with her. The presence had simply made those truths stronger than his fear.

Jean stopped searching.

The approval that moved through the bond felt like pleasure. Scott rose from the chair with her wrapped around him, one hand gripping her ass and the other supporting her back. He walked toward the bed while fucking her in his arms. Each step added a jolt to the upward drive of his hips. Jean hung from his shoulders, tits bouncing freely, pussy stretched around the cock carrying her across the room.

At the bed, he lifted her off his cock and dropped her onto the mattress on hands and knees.

Before she could settle he seized her hips and pulled her back. Her hair spilled across the bedding, tits hung beneath her chest, and the deep arch of her back lifted her ass toward him, the lips below puffy and parted, shining between her thighs. He shoved in from behind in one long stroke, the head striking deep enough to push her face into the mattress. Then he mounted her, knees outside hers, forcing her thighs together. The narrower angle crushed her inner walls around his girth.

He fucked her ass upward with both hands, the round flesh jumping and rippling around his pelvis. Every thrust punched a helpless "Ah! Ah! Ah!" into the bedding. His back and shoulders rolled under sweat. The long muscles in his thighs hardened on each drive and his compact ass clenched as he buried himself. Beneath the flexing root, his balls hung low and full, swinging through the space between her legs to slap her pussy from below. Jean's arms gave out. Her chest settled to the mattress, tits spread, ass still raised in his grip.

"Ohhh, fuck! Scott, your cock..."

"Tell me who it belongs to."

The question landed with the weight of a thrust.

"You. It's yours."

Scott drove deeper. "And this pussy?"

The answer caught in her throat and came apart on the stroke. He waited, hips grinding, until she could find it again.

"You already know," she managed.

"I want to hear you say it."

"My pussy is yours," she cried as another stroke drove the words out of her.

The Alpha Cock accepted the claim.

Its next demand entered through Scott's memories of every doctor, telepath, and healer who might recognize that his resurrection had produced something new. Jean felt the danger without seeing a face. Hands would examine him. Minds would probe. Someone would call the change a defect and try to return Scott to the body he had possessed before.

The idea filled her with sudden fury.

Scott pulled her upright against his chest, still buried, until she knelt between his thighs. One arm closed under her breasts. The other hand spread across her stomach over the bulging presence of his shaft

"You let me out," he said into her ear, the words coming from his mouth without him having to really think about them. "Don't let them take this away from us."

Jean's head fell back against his shoulder as his hips continued moving. The position kept his thrusts short and deep. His pubic hair rubbed her ass, his balls rolled against her open pussy, and the broad head ground against the deepest point her body could hold.

"Who?"

"Anyone who thinks I need to be fixed."

Jean reached behind her and caught the back of his neck. She could feel Scott everywhere: his chest against her spine, his breath across her cheek, his cock filling her, and his love surrounding her mind. Protecting this presence felt identical to protecting him.

"I won't let them touch you."

Scott's hand tightened across her belly. "Then promise me."

"I promise. No one puts you back."

Pleasure rewarded her so hard that she lost the shape of the room. Her pussy clenched around him and she drove her hips backward even though no deeper room remained. Scott groaned into her throat, shoved her down onto her hands again, and fucked her through it.
The open bond changed beneath the strain. Scott still remembered waking in pain, losing control at the window, Rachel's finger on his cock, and the fear that his body had moved without him. The meaning attached to those memories softened. The pain became the result of denying an enlarged body what it required. What happened with Rachel became an embarrassing boundary he had ultimately enforced.

Jean had examined him. Jean had found nothing foreign. Jean had asked for this.

The explanations settled into Scott's mind with the familiar authority of his wife.

She lay ruined beneath him. Hair tangled, tits flushed and damp, ass resting in the mess their bodies had spread across the bed. Her pussy gaped, lips puffy and stretched. Scott gathered both legs against his chest and entered her with no resistance left. The shaft slid to the root through the flood, his balls landing against her ass as the living bed took their combined weight.

Jean stared up at the naked hero covering her. Scott's visor shone across his brow. Sweat ran from the dark hair on his chest onto her tits, while his pectorals, shoulders, and arms stood swollen around her folded body. His narrow waist moved between her thighs. Thick muscle knotted through his ass and legs each time his hips hammered the full length into her, turning the clean proportions of an X-Man into the overpowering frame of the beast now mating her.

The enormous cock had fucked her across the bedroom without softening or losing force. Beneath it, his balls had drawn high but remained impossibly heavy, two great testicles crowded against the underside of the buried shaft. They shifted inside the tightened sac with every thrust, swollen reservoirs preparing to empty through the cock that had taken command of the rest of his body.

"Fill me," Jean begged. “Give me your cum, Scott!

Scott's thrusts became faster. "Say it again."

"Fill my pussy. Give me all of your hot load!"

Scott bent and kissed her. For one breath, his mouth was gentle against hers despite the cock stretching her open and the brutal pace of his hips. "I love you."

Jean touched the edge of his visor with trembling fingers. "I love you too."

His hand closed around her throat without cutting off her breath. The possession of the grip sent another shudder through Jean's body.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You. Scott, I belong to you."

"And this body?"

Jean understood the question. "Ours. I'll protect it."

Scott buried himself and held her there.

The first contraction rolled through his balls. Jean felt it against her ass, a hard drawing motion that lifted their swollen weight tight to the base of his cock. The shaft expanded inside her until it felt harder than flesh. Scott's jaw opened in a rough snarl.

"Jean."

His cock erupted.

The first blast struck the deepest part of her pussy, hot and thick enough that Jean felt the pulse against the enormous head lodged there. A second followed before the first could spread. Semen flooded around the head and surged backward along the shaft.

Scott roared her name and started thrusting again. Each short drive forced the cum deeper while another pulse pumped out. White fluid spilled around the root, frothed through her stretched lips, and poured across his balls. The amount quickly overwhelmed Jean's body. It ran beneath her ass in hot streams and vanished into the living mattress, but Scott kept producing more.

Jean came around the ejaculating cock. Her back arched, breasts lifting into his chest as her pussy milked the shaft from head to root. The Alpha Cock rode the contractions through their open bond, fastening its survival to every pleasure signal, every memory of Scott's restraint, and every possessive corner of Jean's love.

Scott's balls pumped again. Another thick rope struck inside her. Then another. His hips ground against her clit while semen churned around the buried shaft and leaked in glossy white waves between their bodies.

"You're mine," Scott groaned.

Jean wrapped both arms around him and pulled him down over her. "I'm yours."

The words settled into their open bond and stayed there.

Scott remembered choosing to trust his wife. Jean remembered freeing the part of her husband that had always wanted her this badly. Neither memory contained room for a predator living inside the body between them.

His ejaculation slowed after the bed beneath them had become slick with excess. Scott remained buried to the root, cock still hard inside Jean while the last heavy spurts filled whatever space the earlier flood had left. His chest settled across her breasts. Jean stroked the dense muscle of his back and felt the presence in their bond watching through him.

She kissed Scott's mouth.

"No one is taking this away from us," she whispered.