Swing for the fences

Percy needed to have confidence in his work. If he made it so Emma would come here every day, he'd have a chance to make her fall in love with his drinks. He moved the Mai Tai from her frozen lips and put it on the counter. He grabbed her by the chin and turned her head to face him. God, she was beautiful. She wasn't a natural beauty like some of the demigods of sex prancing around the island, but Percy didn't care about that. She was hot, even if it was more plastic than Marvel Girl or Rogue. He rubbed his knuckles up and down her cheeks. Such soft skin, yet cheekbones were sharp enough to kill. He drew circles on her silvery puckered lips with his thumb. They were so memorizing. He leaned in and gave them a peck. He could stay in this world forever. Just him and this busty frozen statue.

Percy put his hands against Emma's top and squeezed. Whoever did her surgery was a genius. He kissed Emma again. If he wasn't so afraid of what would happen if he came in this weird frozen world, he would've whipped it out right now. He pulled back. Instead, he'd save that for later, when he could fully enjoy the White Queen. He stared into her piercing blue eyes. Golden bubbles appeared behind them, with looping memories encased inside. Her past. He could see everything that made the great Emma Frost great. He peered deeper into the void and saw her futures. Her potential. Everything she could be and would be. But he didn't need all that.

"Got it," Percy said as he snapped back to reality. Well, a version of it. He walked out from behind the bar and nuzzled his head into the crook of her shoulder. He moved his hands back to her perfect chest, but this time slipped them between Emma and her top. Percy whispered into her ear as he kneaded her breasts like dough. "You got your start stripping for the Hellfire Club, right? That's where you got all the confidence to build this Queen Bitch persona?" Percy knew he didn't need to do this, but he liked the idea that behind the golden tint of his little world there was a version of Emma that would remember this. A version that was screaming right now and trying to fry his brain with a psychic blast. A version that after he was done would have lived in both worlds and knew exactly what Percy took from her. "Well, back when you were just a little guppie in the club, terrified of the older girls, you could barely bring yourself to go. But you needed the money. So you made a mental compulsion, deep in your own brain, to **** yourself to strip every night, despite your paranoia and your greenness. Now though, decades later, you're an entirely different woman—a powerful woman—and you don't need to strip." Percy licked the back of her ear and dug his nails into the soft flesh of her breasts. "But despite all your power, you can't for the life of you figure out to remove that psychic compulsion you rooted so deep in your subconscious back in the day. Despite the fact you run a country and raise five daughters, you still have to sneak out and shake your ass for morally repugnant men in the seediest strip clubs you can find. It's your greatest source of shame as it's your biggest failure as a telepath. If someone found out you'd do anything for them to convince them to keep your secret safe." Percy grabbed her earlobe by the teeth and bit hard. He took a hand off her tit and raised it in front of her frozen face. He pulled her off the barstool with his other arm until she was sitting against his hard groin. He grinded against her miniskirt-clad ass for a moment. "Oh, oh Emma." Percy couldn't wait until the real Emma would be doing this for him. "You're going to be my favorite slut," Percy said into her ear as he pulled her head against his neck. "Just you wait." Then, he snapped his fingers.