Resizing Wasp

God, she was horny. Freaking soaked.

It started with blowing the biggest cock she’d ever seen. Then came indulging in her secret little exhibitionist kink, getting them both gloriously naked and teasing him with her body while she cooked. And then hearing about what Jon did, turning his teacher into basically a stripping, sexy playmate in the middle of class, Mystique’s filthy shapeshifter games, that deliriously brazen Maria Hill selfie, all while she’d trapped that massive, beautiful cock between her feet on the couch. Feeling its throbbing, meaty warmth pulse against her arches while she stroked him with her soles, it had her clit buzzing.

So she was about to have sex with Jonathan.

Not with her boyfriend, not with Hank, with his perfectly normal, perfectly human six-ish inches and very sweet, very safe pacifist scientist energy. She loved Hank. She still loved Hank. But Jonathan… Jonathan was something else.

Jonathan was the person she loved more than anything in the world. Her favorite person. Her sunshine. Her not-actually-a-brother who somehow lived inside the “little brother” slot of her heart. And sex, to her, had always just been another flavor of affection; she’d long since made peace with that.

That’s really all she needed but given the possibilities of fussy busybodies getting their panties in a twist, the justification snapped into place as naturally as breathing: those great big bullnuts he’d been blessed with were the real problem. “Young, dumb, and full of cum” wasn’t an insult. It was a diagnosis, a public-safety bulletin. If he didn’t have a safe place to put all that drive, he’d end up messing around with his powers in the wrong context and not that she thought power-sex was some moral crisis (most people were total prudes, in her opinion), but it could get him in trouble. So it was practically her responsibility as the big sis who loved him most to keep that tank properly drained. Give him an outlet. Keep him from doing anything he’d regret. Keep him on the straight and narrow by giving him the straight and narrow inside her.

And Jonathan was also a mutant with a dick that absolutely did not belong in the “perfectly normal” category.

This wasn’t “wow, he’s big” territory. This was weaponized. Like somebody had taken the concept of “dick” and run it through a Stark Industries R&D lab and then handed the prototype to the sweetest guy she knew.

It was the kind of size that made her, Janet Van Dyne -Avenger, fashion icon, woman who regularly punched supervillains in the face- feel, just for a heartbeat, very small. Like she was lining herself up in front of a living battering ram and telling it, with full enthusiasm, “Yep, right here, hit me.”

And the wild part was: she wanted it. All of it. Not in spite of who he was, but because of it. Because he was hers. Because she was his. Because sex was love and love, for her, meant giving him every part of her he wanted.

Janet held herself open on the couch, knees wide on the cushions, breath sawing in her throat as she felt him take her in hand. Jonathan’s palms settle hot on her ass and then his fingers flex, spreading her cheeks. She could feel his gaze. Sweet, shy, reverent… and definitely greedy, angled down the cleft as her butthole tightened under the exposure and her pussy glistened below, swollen and needy.

That big flared head she’d sucked earlier sat right at her opening, wide as hell and perfect for stretching.

He was hesitating, probably overthinking things, stuck in his head so she invited him, “You’re making me so wet, Jonathan. I want you deeeeeep inside my pussy.”

That was what he needed. Permission. Such a good kid.

He thrust inside. The sudden, immense pressure of him filling her made her entire world shatter.

He. Was. Huge.

The burning sensation was immediate and intense, followed by a shocking, stretching fullness she had never experienced before. His massive mutant spear of a cock speared into her, and a high-pitched shriek of pain and pure pleasure ripped from her throat, a sound completely uncontained.

Just the first few inches blew her circuits, thick, brutal, so much wider than Hank, and she was detonating before he was even all the way in. She squeaked, squirmed, and humped back on reflex as her pussy went wild, clamping and fluttering hard; her juices gushed and sprayed the couch cushion in a messy, shameless burst. “Holdhold- hold still-!” she gasped, throwing a hand back to his stomach to stop the invasion while she shook and spilled around him.

She eventually sagged down, breathless, slick with sweat and the proof of her immediate, overwhelming climax. She was still half impaled, still shaking, but the volcanic eruption was over.

“Just… from putting it in?” he sent, the thought laced with bewildered awe.

Janet laughed. She reached and grabbed him, slick fingers wrapping what was still outside, a bar of hot, girthy prick, “Oh, sweet boy. Don’t be humble. You know exactly what you’re packing. I know you made that teacher cum like that, in class!”

“No” he transmitted, honestly. “Janet, that was- this is my first time. With anyone. Ever. It’s just been blowjobs and handjobs mostly.”

Her blue eyes flew open, shocked by the confession. Her face softened into an expression of pure, radiant, overwhelming adoration.

All at once she saw the whole picture laid out, this boy she loved like a little brother, this man who’d trusted her with so much of himself, saving this for her, of all people. That blinding, effortless orgasm suddenly made perfect sense. Of course her body had gone off like a firework. Of course it had been so easy.

“Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered, her voice husky and wet. “You saved it for me?”

She pulled her legs free and scrambled off him entirely, a slick, glorious mess, leaving his enormous cock hanging wet and pulsing in the air. She came around and slapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, trapping its bulk between them.

Janet smiled against his neck, heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. “No wonder that felt like that,” she murmured. “Of course it was the best climax of my life. Look at us.” She pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in both hands. “That’s what happens when you mix mutant overachiever genetics with way too much love and affection.”

Janet kissed him hard, smiling, a little teary, then slid back and popped up to her feet on the couch cushions, one on either side of his hips. He’d slouched back against the cushions, cock still hanging heavy and glossy from her first quake. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder, grabbed him with the other, and aimed that fat cockhead straight up.

“Hold it,” she breathed, wicked and proud. “I’m climbing on.”

She rose onto her toes to get above the top of his cock, calves flexed, slick dripping off her inner thighs. With a tiny, greedy bend of her knees she found him, the broad head kissing her open, and then she sank. Slow. Hungry. Inch by thick inch.

“Ah! Ah- god!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders as the stretch returned, a hot, blunt insistence that opened her all over again. She paused halfway, panting, little aftershocks fluttering around him. “Look at me,” she said, grinning down, hair sticking to her cheeks. “First time and I’m already addicted.”

He stared up at her like she was a miracle, both hands bracing her hips but not forcing, letting her do the taking. She rolled her pelvis, lined the angle, and slid lower. The wet, obscene sound of it filled the room; her knees shook; his balls kissed her ass when she bottomed out and sat there, stuffed and smiling like a sinner.

“Deep,” she whispered, then laughed breathlessly. “Deeper than anyone.”

She lifted, slow, until a slick band of shaft showed, then dropped, thighs clapping, eyes flying wide as he hit that soft electric place. Again. And again. A steady pump, all control in her legs: up to show him what was still outside; down to swallow it and take the whole thing. He gasped; she shivered; she leaned forward to kiss him, quick, greedy kiss-kiss-kiss, and rode harder.

“Hands,” she panted, and guided them from her hips to her waist, then higher to cup her breasts as she bounced. “Yeah, squeeze. Watch me take your whole cock.”

He did, palms full, thumbs brushing stiff nipples as she used the cushion height to keep perfect leverage, thighs firing, stomach fluttering. Frothy juices ran down over his shaft to his base; her breath broke into happy, wrecked little sounds.

“Good boy,” she murmured, closing her eyes and dropping harder, the couch squeaking under the rhythm. “Hold me open and let me work it- oh- oh- Jonathan-!”

He let her run the show, and she realized that was exactly right: with a dick this huge he was best right now as a stationary orgasm bat, a fat, perfect post for her tight, athletic superhero-trained body to bounce on and milk at will. You’d probably need to be built like Thor to swing this mutant-grade jackhammer properly. Her bro needed to hit the gym and eat a sandwich once in a while so he could be the true lady-killer stud he was born to be!

Soon enough they switched positions and Janet was standing between his spread thighs while he sat sunk into the couch, her back to his chest, her hands braced on his knees as she bounced herself down his great big mutant orgasm stick. Every rise and fall made a wet, indecent sound that had her giggling breathlessly between moans, the head brushing deep in a way that made her toes curl. He held still when she needed stillness, lifted his hips when she needed more, learning her with that earnest, worshipful focus that made her feel cherished even as she used him.

She could ride him forever like this, choosing the depth and pace, about to tell him to keep his hands right there and- This sex is amazing! It’s so stupidly good she almost laughed, because of course it is; she was setting the depth and pace and he was giving her exactly what she wanted, exactly when she wanted it. Incredible, she thought, rolling her hips to keep that perfect angle, best she’s ever- Her ass looks amazing swallowing cock-so she arched harder to show him, bouncing deeper just to feel that fat head disappear while his eyes went glassy. Yeah, look at it. Watch me eat you. She rode faster, grinning over her shoulder as the wet smack of it turns into the only rhythm that matters.

She was about to tell him to keep his hands exactly there while she milks every last shiver out of both of them and- Let’s fuck against those windows, let the whole city see it!

Her idea is so perfect she didn’t hesitate even in mid bounce.

She popped off his shaft with a wet, lewd sound, turning and grabbing his hand. She practically dragged him off the couch and across the space to the towering glass wall overlooking the city skyline.

She planted her hands flat against the cool, sheer glass, her body bending. Her bare breasts squashed against the reflection of the distant city lights, her glistening, open pussy aimed directly at him.

He slammed into her from behind, his massive cock finding her in one, hard, deep stroke that drove her pelvis painfully against the window. She gasped, palms splayed, fingers leaving prints on the glass. City light climbed their naked bodies: her petite, athletic frame arched into a clean S-curve, sleek shoulders and narrow waist tapering to her round, high ass; her small, perky breasts flattened and slid, nipples leaving fog-smeared crescents as they dragged. Her short choppy pixie-cut stuck to her temples and his face was pushing through one of her stylish little ‘hair-wings’ rising up from her nape as his skinny body humped like crazy behind her.

She felt the rush of exhibitionism: the thought that anyone, even from a mile away, might see the Wasp being fucked by her brother, combining with the brutal penetration to send a fresh shockwave of ecstatic energy through her body.

The gentle, obedient boy she’d been riding had become an engine. One brutal, straight-through stroke welded their bodies to the window and ripped a ragged cry out of her throat. He drew out before she could fully feel it and hammered back in, deeper, the head kissing that electric spot that blanked her vision.

“Jonathan-” she yelped, forehead fogging a perfect oval on the glass.

He locked his grip, thumbs hooked just above her hipbones, fingers branding her waist and he set a relentless cadence that didn’t ask for direction. The burn turned to bloom; her own wet made the slide obscene; the pane thuds in time with his hips. He is so thick, so deep, so there she can’t do anything but plant her feet and take it.

“Too much?” he transmitted, not slowing.

“More,” she begs, laughing breathlessly, shocked at herself for how fast she wants it. “Don’t you-ah! Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. Not yet. He angled her left ankle onto the sill to tilt her pelvis and carved the same line, over and over, precision-drilling that sweet place until her knees start to give. He was faster than she thought a man could move, first time or not, he was all beastly mutant and focus, pistoning in and out so quickly her clenching can’t keep up, fluttering a beat behind the blur. The room filled with the machine-gun patter of skin on skin, his hips snapping into her, slap-slap-slap-slap, a staccato ricochet off her butt that made her bite a laugh between gasps. She gets wetter and wetter, juices running warm down her thighs; each impact makes her nipples rasp little crescents into the cold glass.

“God, yes, right there! There- don’t lose it! oh fuck-!” She came again without warning, a bright, hard snap that buckled her and wrung him in greedy pulses. He groaned at the clamp then shortened his stroke and rode the spasm, keeping her pinned to it until the quake broke and reformed into a second, sharper wave that tore a high, ecstatic sound out of her.

He laughed once and turned her without letting go, never slipping free. He lifted behind one thigh, stepped, and pinned her against the window harder. The angle was obscene. She shrieked as he fired a short, savage flurry at the new line, glass squeaking under her nipples, toes skidding for purchase, six, seven, eight piston shots that had them both laughing. In the giddy rush she delighted at the irreverent truth of it: the Wasp going splat on a windshield, her breasts flattened into shameless “window pancakes,” nipples spread and pressed in foggy ovals on the cold pane, and loving every second, until his breath shredded hot against her shoulder and his engine finally frayed, and then he eased off with a laughing, breathless, sent “Not that in shape” and settled into long, slow pushes.

“Hey, hey,” she panted, forehead to the glass, smiling wrecked and smug. “That was still incredible. First time and you almost put me through the window.” She reached back and patted his hip, rolling her hips to savor the slow glide. “And if cardio’s the only thing tapping out? Please. I can hook you up with actual world-class muscle-heads.”

In the gentler rhythm she felt a soft, steady plap… plap… plap kissing the backs of her thighs. She wasn’t quite sure what that was until she realized it was his balls! Not the little marble pouch she was used to on other guys, but a well-stocked bag hanging low, swinging like a playground seat with two VIPs bolted beneath that monster. The realization made her grin at her own reflection. Every slow slide came with that warm, heavy punctuation - atta girl, atta girl, atta girl- for taking him like a champ, and it was filthy and perfect. She reached back to cup them once. Soft, full, heavy, and moaned, “God, I love your balls,” then braced her palms to the pane again so he could keep nudging her open, the fat crown smearing slick at her rim while that plush plap-plap kept time and she melted into the glass, happy as sin.

Eventually they made it on to the kitchen island, her sitting perched against it as he leaned in and drove into her over and over again and I never want to stop. I want to keep fucking her all night long Yes. Don’t stop. All night. She hooked her ankles behind his hips on the edge of the island and dragged him in, greedy, the cool stone kissing her ass while his skinny engine redlined again. The overhead light painted his messy hair and open, wrecked face; his chest bowed into hers as his thick, veined length punched that perfect spot and the utensils in the drawer rattle with every slam.

“Just like that,” she panted, arms looped around his neck, pixie hair sticking to her temples. “All night if you can, sweetheart, give me every inch.”

He groaned and adjusted, hands wide on her waist, thumbs braced under her ribs, then set a tight, ruthless stroke: two-thirds in fast, a slow grind at the bottom to make her toes curl, then back again in a wet, obscene rhythm. A spoon skittered out of the drawer and clattered on the tile. She laughed, delirious, and met each drive with little upward pops of her hips, letting the fat glans stamp that sweet place until her vision fuzzed at the edges.

Want to fold her in half. Tight little Wasp package, yes. That would be so hot! So she made it happen and she grabbed behind her knees and hauled her legs up, hugging thighs to her ribs until her ankles brushed her own ears. The angle was primal. He bottomed out, gasped a curse, and pounded; she yelped and clapped a hand over her mouth, then dropped it, grinning mean at the ceiling. “There it is! Deep, baby, deep.”

I’m actually fucking an Avenger! Yes, this is Avenger-level good, she thought in a hot, dazzled rush; this must be what it was like getting railed by Cap or Thor, thorough and heroic and stupidly complete. “Don’t stop, hero,” she gasped, heels still hooked behind her head as he pounded her into the edge of the island like the tight little Wasp package she was, “give me the full treatment!”

They were halfway through wrecking the living room when a bright, amazing thought punched through her skull: Can change sizes, right. What would it be like to rub her tiny body all over my dick? Yes, god, yes. Her brain skittered through all the size-play she and Hank had sampled: her small dancing around his dick like a stripper-pole, him small and completely inside her. Fun, but Hank was such a worrying nancy about possible accidents that they never pushed it far, stopping just when it got truly chaotic. She’d wanted more, wilder, messier, less lecture, more yes. And right now she wanted it bad.

She got off of him with a wet gasp and spun to face him.

He blinked, “Janet?”

She grinned “Size play, baby.” And then she shrank and her bright yellow wings flashing out as she hovered, eight inches of smug, naked Avenger with slick thighs and a filthy smile.

He sucked in a breath, cock twitching and swinging huge above her like a goddamn monument. Delight and lust flooded his face.

She flew up and he snatched her out of the air with both hands, stunned and grinning.

”This is so awesome”

“Congratulations, hero!” she teased, sprawled across his palm like the filthiest action figure. “Your very own pocket Avenger…”

He turned her slowly, drinking in the tiny, perfect details: slick thighs, flushed belly, the wicked little smile. His thumbs slid to her hips and then lower, spreading her legs with gentle, deliberate pressure, posing her open with fashion-doll neatness. Her wings buzzed a happy trill; she lifted her arms over her head and arched for him.

“Yeah,” she panted, shameless. “Just like that. Open your toy.”

Lust and delight cracked over his face. Instead of bringing her to his cock like she really wanted he brought her to his mouth which was even more exciting.

His breath washed hot across her skin; then his tongue met her, just the tip, and at her scale it was the size of a fist: warm, wet, saliva-slathery, a soft, flexing pool noodle that nudged and slid everywhere at once. The rest of his tongue was half a wide surfboard filling the space between her legs. It’s broad, hungry pressure washing over her mound, rolling down between her thighs, bumping her ass before gliding up again in a slow, soaking pass. She squealed, tiny and obscene, hips snapping to grind on the slick pad.

“Oh oh fuck, Jonathan,” she panted, grabbing his upper lip for leverage while her wings blur. He adjusted, tilting the huge, warm wet tip so it scooped her up and lifted her a couple inches, then lowered her back through the hot, wet glide. Each stroke left her glistening; each return smeared a new shine on her skin. He pinned her lightly at the waist with one careful thumb so she wouldn't slip away, and kept nudging, broad, slow, everywhere, letting the slosh of spit and heat do the work.

“Just like that! Use me,” she cried, tiny pelvis grinding, belly sliding across the slick pad. “Rub me…oh god, There! Yes! Again!”

“Gonna- oh god! I’m gonna-”

Her wings screamed into a hummingbird blur; her hips jerked; she came hard on the tongue, a hot, slick pearl smearing under his careful, circling tip as she rode it out with helpless little thrusts. He eased the pressure and kept her there, licking slow and gentle until the tremors softened to shivers.

She flopped back in his palm, giggling breathlessly, chest heaving. Then she rolled onto her belly and hugged the bridge of his tongue, kissing it, smearing herself across it like lotion.

“Now put me on it,” she panted, shameless and bossy. “Jerk that monster off with me. I’m your Barbie-doll! Use me.”

His pupils blew wide. He lowered her to the cockhead, the shaft behind it was a monumental felled redwood log of a cock, and at her scale the head was a glossy, plum-dark boulder. She sprawled belly-down across it like a swimsuit model on a hot car hood, arms hugging the flare, tits and belly slick from his tongue. “That’s it,” she purred, grinding, wings a bright yellow blur. “Rub me in. Paint me.”

He did. One careful finger between her shoulder blades pressed her snug to the ridge while his other fingers stroked the shaft from base to tip, dragging her little body with the motion. It was like a slip and slide, the whole thing already wet, absolutely frothy with her juices. Up over the swollen flare, down along the thick vein, back across the slit where a bead of pre welled like a warm bath drop and glazed her front. He used her like a plush, living polishing cloth, slow at first, then longer passes, letting her tiny hips squirm and hump while he guided her. Saliva and foamy liquid turned the whole length into a shine; her wings tickled his skin; her thighs clamped the cockhead like she could ride the head itself.

“Harder,” she begged, filthy and delighted. “Press me! Yes, grind me on your tip, make me drip on you.” He obliged, whole hand cupping her against the wall of cock, gentle but firm, rolling her hips for her like a toy as he stroked. She left a gleaming trail with every pass, a doll-sized Wasp-shaped smear that slid from the slit down the underside groove and back again. The huge shaft throbbed under her; his breath broke over his teeth; her laugh went breathless and mean. “Look at me, baby! Look at your Avenger,” she taunted, kissing the gleaming crown between strokes. “Your doll. Your lube. Keep jerking with me.”

They didn’t stop at “polish.” He sat back and let her straddle the fat rim like a carnival ride, tiny hips bouncing on the cockhead while his hand stroked beneath her; he set her on his tongue to slick her anew, then pressed her to his heavy sack so she could hug a single warm globe while the other swung beside her as he walked. She belly-surfed the gleam from root to tip; she lay across his pelvis and let him flex under her, laughing; she planted her ass on the cockhead and teased the slit with her finger-tips, making Jonathan jump and shiver. By the time he couldn’t take another millimeter of tease, she popped full-size in a bright shimmer, wings vanishing, grin feral.

Soon enough he was the one doing the resizing.

He didn’t give her a beat; he scooped her up at the hips, lined that fat tip, and pushed. No Pym particles, no tricks. Jonathan did the resizing himself, prying her open and resizing her pussy with his huge cock, inch by greedy inch until she sat stuffed and shaking on the hilt. He started walking her backward in short, hungry pumps, mouth on hers, each step a fresh re-measure that made her leak down his shaft. She clung and laughed into his kiss, loving how every drive fit her tighter to him, how her body learned his width and held it, stretched and perfect around his size.

Eventually, they actually made it to the bed, finally, sheets kicked down, pillows everywhere, Janet tight beneath him in a full mating press, thighs hooked past his shoulders, ankles crossed behind his neck. Jonathan’s weight pinned her perfectly, driving her open, every thrust a deep, slick plunge that made the frame thud the wall in a frantic heartbeat rhythm.

“Janet-” he sent, pace breaking into those jagged, gorgeous stutters that told the truth. “I’m close. Where do you want-?” Even as his light airy ‘just communication’ thought passed through her mind, her own heavy completely Janet thought slammed down like an anvil Cum inside. I want to cum inside. Inside. Cum inside. Fill that Avenger pussy with my mutant cum. Make it mine. Fill it. Inside, inside

“Yes,” she gasped, laughing breathlessly as if she’d just had the smartest idea in the world. Her hands flew to his ass, yanking him deeper, calves flexing to pull his shoulders down. “Insideinside! Fill me, sweetheart. Give it to me. Put it in your Avenger’s pussy! Make it yours.”

He groaned like she’d opened a vein. The angle was obscene: her knees smashed to her ribs, pelvis tipped to offer the deepest line in her body. He hammered it, hard, helpless, the wide cockhead punching that soft, electric place over and over while she met him with greedy, rolling hips, voice breaking into happy, wrecked babble.

“That’s it! Yes… oh god, Jonathan! Claim me! Don’t you dare pull out! Fill me up, baby! Make a mess-”

I don’t want this to end. I want to keep fucking forever the thought sang, his and hers at once she could tell, and she nodded wild against the pillow, kissing at his cheek, his jaw, his mouth, every lick and peck a giddy yes.

“Do it,” she panted into his lips, eyes shining. “First time and you’re going to breed your big sis! Do it! Load me- show me how much you love me-!”

He locked her there, hands gripping her shoulders hard, pressing her in half and drove home, three, four deep, ruthless strokes that stole the rest of her air. The orgasm took her like a ripcord: she shrieked, clamped, fluttered in tight, milking pulses that tried to hold him captive. He broke with her, a raw, helpless sound spilling against her mouth as he buried himself to the hilt and poured: thick, hot warmth flooding her deep, deep center.

Yes yes yes fuck yes, cumming inside a pussy feels so much better! It's the best! Fuck! Always cumming inside pussy! Yes! That's where my cum belongs! Never outside! Never anywhere else! Yes! Fuck yes! fuckfuckfuckFUCKYes! …Yes, inside- her mind surged with it, so much better…keep spilling, fill me, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop- fuckfuckFUCKEDY- Fuck yes! Inside my pussy where it belongs! Yes! More, more…mine.

“Yes,” she sighed, trembling, ankles tightening behind his neck as if she could seal him in with muscle and will alone. “Yes, yes! God, that’s it. Give me all of it-”

He kept pulsing, shivering over her, and she rode the aftershocks, rolling her hips to milk him, feeling each hot rope of jizz shoot deep. The bed went quiet except for their ragged breaths and the slick, sticky sounds of their bodies. Warm cum pooled low in her belly; when he finally softened a breath, a thick, lazy leak squeezed out around the seal of her pussy and slid down the crack of her ass as she held him there, greedy for the mess.

Janet cradled his face, kissing him over and over. Soft, silly, kiss-kiss-kiss punctuated by little happy sounds. “That,” she whispered, smug and tender, still full, “was perfect.”

His eyes were dazed and sweet. ”Inside”

She grinned, rocking once to press him deeper into the mess they’d made. “Inside,” she agreed, proud as anything. “Where you belong.”

She cooed to him as he sagged down onto her, rubbing slow circles into his scalp until his head found the cradle of her shoulder. He was still buried, softening but not really shrinking, thick warm cum pulsing inside her while her pussy kneaded around him in lazy, aftershock squeezes. With Hank, she always felt him slip free, her body pushing him out; with Jonathan there was simply too much of him for that. He stayed seated, heavy and perfect, the warm weight of his big balls resting against the curve of her ass like a content promise keeping him there.

“Easy, easy,” she whispered, kissing the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “Breathe with me.” She hugged him in close, thighs still hooked high as if to hold every last drop, rolling her hips just enough to make him groan and settle deeper. A slow, satisfied sigh left her; she nuzzled his temple and spoke soft and certain, like vows.

“You’ll never be alone again,” she murmured. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you… and your mom, too. No more worrying, no more going without.” Another kiss to his ear, a smile she couldn’t stop. “You can have me always, sweetheart. My bed, my couch, my body whenever you need. If you want sex, you ask, or you just hop on and take what’s yours. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He shivered, pressed tight in the wrap of her legs as she pet his hair and the nape of his neck, her voice a warm blanket over the thud of their hearts. She rocked once, slow and greedy, loving the way he filled her even softened, loving the spill that seeped and the way her pussy clung to keep him. “That’s it,” she cooed, lips brushing his ear again. “Stay with me. Always.”

His breathing evened, the last soft pulse spent itself deep and warm, and his weight settled heavy and trusting over her. She kept him snug and sealed, stroking his scalp until his messy hair went still against her shoulder and the little twitches in his thighs faded to nothing.

A slow grin curved her mouth as she stared at the ceiling: mission accomplished.

Tomorrow’s Jean Grey doom-spiral? Neutralized by eight hours of sleep, skin-to-skin cuddles, and a very thorough fuck. She kissed his temple again, smug as a cat.

“Crisis averted,” she whispered, closing her eyes with him still tucked where he belonged, right alongside all that cum right where it belonged.