Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Scott was a great guy. Really, really great. The type of guy that every little girl dreams of marrying. In fact, he was almost exactly the man that Jean had fantasized about as a child. Strong, handsome, kind, funny, thoughtful, gentle, loving. In young Jean’s dreams, this perfect man would be the one to finally make her happy. He’d sweep her off her feet and fly her away to paradise. Scott had done all that and more. They were married on a blissful June morning, and that very night they’d conceived their child. All their friends spoke with jealous awe whenever they talked about Scott, and how lucky Jean was to find such an upstanding guy, especially these days. What a great couple they made. How happy she must be. And Jean would laugh and nod and thank them for all the well-wishes. Only they were wrong about one thing. She wasn’t happy at all.

She knew she was supposed to be happy. There was a little voice in the back of her head constantly reminding her of that. Like an overbearing mother it reminded her to smile, to keep her back straight, to be grateful for what she had. Sometimes she even believed that little voice. But other times she’d wake up in the middle of the night and just stare into the darkness for hours, listening to the steady breath of her husband beside her, and a numb apathy would take over. It wasn’t like she hated Scott. He never hurt her, was never rude or arrogant, never cruel. He was still that handsome, perfect guy she'd dreamt of as a girl. Flawless pearl of a man. She couldn’t even bring herself to dislike him. She just felt nothing at all. An emptiness that even the child in her stomach couldn’t fill.

Still, she was very good at hiding it. She kept smiling and waving as her belly began to grow. Her friends started to treat her differently. Rogue began fixing her double portions at meal time. Beast gave her a whole stack of books on the best parenting practices. Gambit followed her around just so he could fetch chairs for her to sit on, and Jubilee so she could hold open every door. Even Logan softened up a little, building her a crib out of fresh timber. Scott was most supportive of all, working himself ragged to make her comfortable. Even though she was the pregnant one, he was the one who seemed to be glowing. Jean had never seen him happier. She’d never seen any of them this happy, honestly. They all seemed to share his glow. Everyone except Storm.

Not that Ororo wasn’t supportive. She was just as helpful as the rest, summoning a cool breeze whenever Jean would get hot flashes. She still smiled and congratulated Jean at every step of the journey. But there was concern behind that smile. Like she could see through the façade. At first Jean tried even harder around her. Making her voice even chirpier and her smile even wider. It didn’t work. Ororo knew better. She’d always known Jean better than the rest of them. In some ways, Ororo knew her better than Scott. Jean found herself wishing that Ororo would call her out, expose the lies so she could finally stop smiling. Get it all over with. But Storm was too nice to do that, of course. Jean’s pleading glare was met with silent concern, but no more. Soon, when Jean would lay in the dark, she’d find herself thinking about Storm.

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They’d always been close. From the first moment they met. Jean could recall the memory with perfect clarity. Two lonely girls, without a childhood between them, awkwardly sitting at opposite ends of the room, both too afraid to talk to the other. It was hard to imagine Storm as awkward and afraid, so strong and confident now, but a lot was different back then. It had taken so much courage to talk to that strange-looking girl with the funny accent, but she was so glad she did. Those first few years were magical. They became the best of friends almost instantly. They had sleepovers every night, chatting much more than they slept, to Xavier’s eternal dismay. They would sit together in every class, share their lunches during every break, braiding eachother's hair every evening.

There was one night, hours after curfew, when Storm finally convinced her to sneak out of the mansion and camp out in the forest together. Jean had never done something so rebelious before, never felt that rush of terror and excitement. It was so freeing, out there in the wide open world, with no adults looking over their shoulders. Just eachother. They drank beer, stolen from the pantry, and danced around in the falling leaves. Ororo drew up balls of lightning in her hands and tossed them into the air where they floated like paper lanterns. Jean remembered laying in that makeshift tent, staring at Ororo in the dim glow, and thinking she was most wonderful thing in the world. A girl who could conjure stars brighter than the ones in the sky. Absolutely breathtaking.

Scott came into her life about a month afterwards. She was immediately drawn to him. Not as a friend; they didn’t really have much in common. It was something else. At first she tried to ignore it, not wanting to jeopardize her friendship with Storm. But she was 17 now, and there was something new inside her body. Something that craved more than friendship. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew that she couldn’t get it with Ororo. She wanted to, far more than she wanted this arrogant visored boy, but she knew that was impossible. Girls could be friends with other girls, but they could only go further with boys. That was just how the world worked. So, against her hearts wishes, she started spending more time with Scott. She didn’t have to push Ororo out; she willingly stepped back, seeming to just be glad that Jean was happy. Maybe she'd seen through the lies even back then.

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Jean sighed as these thoughts drifted through her mind. Sometimes she wished her memory wasn’t so photographic. Maybe it’d be better to forget. She turned back onto her side, finally attempting sleep. Drifting into darkness, slowly. Dreams beginning to form in her weary brain, warm happy images of-

*GRGRGRGRGRGRGR*

Thunder. Jean bolted upright, immediately turning to the window. Heavy grey clouds just-barely lit by a distant flash of lighting. The clock on the wall said 3:02am. She took a deep breath. She knew it wasn’t good to stay up this late with the baby. But something compelled her to look closer. Tearing off the covers and getting to her feet. Peering out. No-one was there, at least not in the courtyard. She pressed a hand up to the glass. She considered getting back into bed, though she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep now. She sighed.

In a daze she slipped on her coat and shoes, creeping downstairs. She opened the door and the freezing wind let her know this wasn’t a dream. The yard was still empty. Anyone else would assume this was a natural storm. But Jean had grown up with this thunder, and knew it’s unique growl better than her own heartbeat. She needed to see her. Without thinking she began walking into the trees, and then jogging, running, faster than was safe, jumping over branches and ducking under logs, heading for that beautiful clearing in the very middle of the forest. She heard her voice before she saw her.

“Jean! What are you doing out here? You should be in bed!”

Storm, floating above the trees, began to descend. The maelstrom above slowed, fading, clouds melting into the night. Jean opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m… I…”

It was only after she started to speak that she realised she didn’t have an answer. It wasn’t unusual for Storm to practice out here at night, to preserve the sunny blue skies during the day. Jean had slept through countless nights like this. She really wasn’t sure why she’d run out here with such urgency. She tried to cough up some excuse, but exhaustion caught up with her and she started gasping for breath.

“Goodness. Come sit down over here.”

Storm wrapped an arm around her shoulder and lead her to a nearby tree, helping her sit down against the base. Jean slowly caught her breath as Ororo crouched next to her, that same look of concern on her face. She felt tears begin to form underneath her eyes.

“Ororo, I…”

“You’re not happy, are you?”

Jean lurched forward and buried her face into Ororo’s chest, letting the tears flow. Years and years worth.

“N-no… No I’m not… Not at all...”

Jean wept, and Storm ran gentle fingers through long red hair, so soft and warm that Jean fell asleep right there in the clearing. She woke up in her own bed, next to a still-sleeping Scott, entirely unsure if last night had been a dream after all.

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“Let me get that for you, Jean.”

Storm pulled back the chair and invited Jean to sit. Usually one of the boys did that, but this morning it seemed Ororo had beaten them to the punch. Most of the others weren't awake yet. Jean obliged her, and Storm served up some breakfast before sitting down herself. She sat where Scott would usually sit, but he hadn’t come down yet. Ororo spoke with a smile.

“Are you feeling alright? No morning sickness?”

Jean nodded, looking down at the plate. It wasn’t the usual breakfast that Rogue cooked for her. In fact, it seemed like Storm had made it herself. Jean began to eat as Storm watched. It tasted great, but Jean was still a little dazed. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. She turned in her confusion, gazing upwards.

“Ororo, last night… was that..?”

Ororo nodded, grinning. Her smile was different from all the others. It wasn’t simple glowing happiness; there was an edge to it. Confident, almost cheeky. Even with Jean’s powers of empathy, she still had a hard time deciphering the expression. As she was studying it, Ororo suddenly took hold of Jean’s hands, squeezing them in hers.

“Jean, you know you can always come to me, right? I’m here for you.”

Many people had said these exact words to her in the past few months. But Jean sensed something more in Storm’s voice. Not just friendly support, not just household chores, but a promise of something else. Jean wasn’t sure why she blushed, but she did, looking down at her plate in embarrassment. The sound of footsteps rang out from the hall, and she instinctively tore away her hand, but Storm wouldn’t let go. Staring her dead in the eyes. Not even turning around as Scott waltzed into the kitchen.

“Morning honey! You’re up early!”

Storm kept holding on for a few seconds more, smile turning into a smirk for just a moment, before getting up and floating away without a word.

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Scott stood back and put two fingers up to his chin.

“Hmmmmm…”

Across the wall were a dozen wallpaper samples, although each one looked almost identical. Variations on the same pattern; one with footballs, one with baseballs, some with dinosaurs and some with rocket ships, all of them repeating on navy blue backdrops. Jean couldn’t care less, but Scott was studying each design as if it were a life-or-death decision.

“I don’t know, honey, I’m not sure if any of them feel right for Nathan.”

Jean wanted to tell him that Nathan wasn’t going to care, and these patterns would be just as meaningless to him as they were to her, but she didn’t want to start a fight.

“What about the one of I pointed out in the store? The one with the butterflies.”

Scott made a face.

“He can’t have butterflies on his wall, Jean, he’s a boy.”

“...Right.”

There was a moment of quiet, with Scott staring at the wallpaper and Jean staring at nothing in particular, until suddenly Scott turned to her. There was an urgent concern in his voice.

“Oh god I’m sorry honey, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jean was confused. She wasn't that upset. It was just wallpaper. Then she realised what the issue was; she’d forgotten to smile. Her face had returned to its natural resting expression. Glassy-eyed and apathetic. This was the first time she’d slipped up in-front of him. She quickly fixed the problem, beaming happily once more.

“It’s alright, Scott. Let’s go with the dinosaur one, okay?”

He still frowned for just a moment, before quickly putting on a smile of his own.

“Alright, sounds good.”

Jean could tell Scott’s smile was genuine. Another annoying part of being an empath. If she could sense even a little hesitation in his heart, just a tiny bit of disinterest, she’d feel so much better about her own doubts. But, as always, Cyclops was the paragon of virtue. Frustratingly pure of heart. Jean wanted to get out of here. She faked tiredness, leaning against the wall and holding her belly.

“Do you mind if I go sit down?”

“Of course you can, my love.”

Jean gave him a kiss, trying to inject as much passion as she could muster, before making her way out into the hall. She meant to go down to the living room, but couldn’t help looking over towards Storm’s room. The door was wide open. Again, she felt compelled to walk towards it. She peered in and found Ororo floating, meditating in the air, still smiling. As if she’d been expecting this. She opened her eyes.

“How is the room coming along?”

“It’s… y’know…”

Jean tried to think up a positive spin on the situation, but Storm’s mere presence seemed to disarm her. Something about the cool breeze that followed her everywhere never failed to calm Jean down. Her fake smile faded, and she let her face slump back into its natural grimace.

“I’m so tired, Ororo.”

She stepped into the room and a strong draft blew the door behind her shut. Jean collapsed onto the bed, holding her head in her hands. Storm floated over and sat beside her.

“Did he say something?”

Jean sighed, exhaling for a couple seconds too long.

“No. Scott’s just… Scott.”

Ororo chuckled, knowing exactly what she meant. She seemed to think for a moment before speaking, her voice softer than usual.

“He loves you, you know.”

Jean tilted her head backwards, sighing again.

“I know. I know.”

There was quiet for a while, almost silence, only broken by the steady rustling of the wind. Storm began to get up, but something inside Jean desperately wanted her to stay. Without thinking she leant her head on Ororo’s shoulder, almost nuzzling her, shifting all her weight onto her side. Storm was shocked for just a moment, then that confidence returned and she sat back down. Jean almost started crying again, but managed to hold back the tears. There was so much she wanted to say right now, but she wasn’t sure how to say any of it. As fingers once again began running through her hair, she sent out a telepathic message. Thinking words she couldn’t speak.

“I missed you.”

Storm smiled, replying in her mind.

“I never left.”

Jean pushed herself further into Ororo’s chest, so much that they both fell onto the bed. Head against her heart. Lulled by the steady rise and fall of her chest, like a tiny ship upon a great big ocean.

“I know. I know.”

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Jean felt like she was 16 again. It was like no time at all had passed, and she and Storm were best friends once more. Just as close as when they’d met. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t have to fake her smiles. They came naturally, at least when Ororo was around. The rest of the X-Men still tried to support Jean in any way they could, but they found doors pinned open by the breeze and special meals already cooked. Most of them hadn’t known Jean and Storm when they younger, and were confused by the sudden outbursts of schoolgirl giggles. But, if they didn’t approve of the change, they certainly didn’t say anything. Scott, who knew that they'd been close, seemed very happy for them. That made Jean feel even more guilty, but she tried not to think about it. She still loved Scott, that wasn’t changing. She was just taking a little break.

Before, when everyone would begin training for the day, Jean would be left alone. Pregnancy limited the amount of activity she could safely engage in. She’d tried to keep herself active with reading and light exercise, but she’d mostly been bored during those few hours of training. She could have, and probably should have, watched Scott train. She’d done that the first few days, but quickly grew tired of it. It was just dull. But now, she began watching Storm train every day. Sneaking into the danger room and sitting at the sidelines. Gazing upwards as sentinels dropped like flies, lightning arcing between them in huge leaping volts. Ororo had always been impressive to watch, but this was different. Jean found her mouth agape at all the incredible stunts witnessed, enraptured as Ororo weaved between blasts like it was nothing. It almost seemed like she was showing off. Much more interesting than watching Scott stand in a corner and pick off targets from a distance. This was genuinely exciting.

But the best part of all was after training was over. She and Storm would head for locker room together, and Jean would sit there as Ororo towelled off. At first she just snuck little glances out of her periphery. Glimpses of polished ebony. But her eyes grew bolder over the days, enticed by sweat-covered abs, until eventually she just stared the entire time. Ororo certainly didn’t seem to mind, even subtly flexing for her. She’d grown so much from when they first met. The skinny outcast was gone, and her wiry limbs were now packed with tight muscle. Her frame seemed perfectly aerodynamic, built like stealth bomber, every part of her maximised for speed and strength. Breathtaking. Not like Scott, who was all bulk and brawn. Scott who, when he’d hug her, would squeeze too tight even when he was trying to be gentle. Scott who couldn’t help but hurt her whenever they made love, just from the sheer size of his body and his hands. Ororo’s hugs always felt amazing, with the cool breeze sweeping upwards to enveloping both parties. As for love making, well, Jean could only guess...

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Jean had been prepared for many of the hormonal oddities that came with pregnancy. Beast’s many parenting books had covered most of the side effects: the moodiness, the binge eating, the bizarrely specific cravings. But none of them had warned her about just how unbearably horny she’d be. She'd never been a very sexual person. She and Scott fucked maybe once every week, but that was it. It just wasn’t a big part of her life. Now it seemed like it permeated everything she did. Soaking through her every thought like hot sweat through bedsheets. She started fucking Scott more, now asking for it every night, but she was never satisfied. Scott had never been able to make her cum, which hadn’t been a problem until now. The intimacy was enough for her back then. Seeing Scott happy was all she needed. That would no longer cut it. It just left her aching. He’d cum inside after a few minutes, and she’d wait until he fell asleep to finish herself off. Hand between her legs in the bathroom, her other hand stifling the wild moans erupting from her throat. But soon even that wasn’t enough. She needed more.

Her rekindled friendship with Storm wasn’t motivated by sex. That was before the heat had truly set in. Jean told herself that it was all just a coincidence. It didn’t mean anything that Ororo’s face was in her mind whenever she fingered herself in the bathroom. Jean was sure she wasn’t into women. She was into men. She was into Scott. It didn’t mean anything that Ororo’s name was on her lips as she came, legs smacking against the toilet seat. Her hormones were just playing tricks on her. And when she’d fall asleep, pussy still raw, and proceed to dream of Ororo fucking her into submission, waking up even stickier than before; that was all just coincidence. It didn’t mean anything. Jean made that her mantra. It was the only way she could cope. She just had to wait a few months and then she’d be back to normal. She’d raise her child with Scott and they’d live happily ever after. She was sure of it.

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Sunday was movie night. The one time of the week that everyone gathered together, no matter what was going on, and all watched a film together. Usually something old and boring, but it was tradition, so no-one ever complained. There wasn’t a strict seating plan, but they’d been doing this for so long that an order had naturally formed. Jean sat in the middle of the couch, cuddled up to Scott on her left whilst Beast squeezed in on the right. But, with Jean now 7 months pregnant, Beast couldn’t fit comfortably without accidentally elbowing her. The space was vacant now. Such a mundane thing, yet everyone stared at that couch cushion like it was made of solid gold. There was silence. And then-

“Gambit’ll sit ther-”
“I shall sit next to Jean.”

Storm and Gambit both stepped forward, looking at eachother. Jean began to sweat, eyes wide as everyone turned towards her. It wasn’t a difficult choice at all, but she still hesitated. Her heat was so bad now that even thinking about Storm made her horny. She’d had to distance herself, declining to join her in the locker rooms the past week, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore. Sitting next to her would completely devastate her focus. Gambit was obviously the safer choice. Especially with Scott right next to her. She made up her mind. She’d let Remy sit next to her. That would keep her mind off it. She opened her mouth and spoke:

“S-Storm can sit here.”

Stupid mistake. Brain was too busy thinking about Storm that the name just slipped out. She instantly realised the error, but it was too late now. Gambit sat back in the armchair and Storm floated forward, half-smile on her face and glint in her eye, and nestled herself into the cushion. Everything returned to normal, Morph shoved the VHS into the player, and the movie started to play. Jean immediately began dissociating. So out-of-it that she didn’t even catch the name of the film. She stared straight ahead but the screen looked like a mess of colours and shapes. The voices and music all muffled, like it was playing in another room. Her entire brain, psychic powers and all, was entirely focused on NOT getting turned on. Keeping her breathing steady, keeping her hands from shaking. All of it was in vain. In fact, it almost certainly made things worse.

During all of this, Storm sat with her usual upright posture at the very centre of the cushion. She seemed to be focused on the movie, mostly, but Jean could sometimes catch her glancing towards her. She tried to ignore it but every time she caught that flickering gaze she felt her legs twitch. She wondered just what Ororo was looking at. Could she tell how worked up Jean was? Did it make her uncomfortable? Or was she just as horny as Jean was? Was Storm gazing at her body? At her breasts, once petite, now fat and heavy with milk? At her perfectly round stomach, jutting out past her shirt? At her thighs; plump and wet under her skirt? Jean desperately hoped so. She hoped to all heavens that Storm was just as turned on as she was.

She tried her best to entice Ororo in. She put her shoulders forward so her breasts were in full view, adjusting her top to show more cleavage. She spread her legs wider, her skirt lifting up, too-tight underwear clearly visible. Storm didn’t notice. Eventually even the glances stopped, as she seemed fully absorbed in the film. Jean tried to follow her lead, trying her absolute hardest to focus on the screen, but she was too far gone now. She needed the attention. If Ororo wouldn’t come to her, she’d have to come to Ororo. As casually as she could, she yawned and stretched, using it as an opportunity to stop cuddling Scott. He didn’t seem to care, engrossed in the movie. Film night was always his favourite. Slowly, very slowly, Jean began to edge away from him. Looking over every few seconds to make sure he hadn’t caught on. Eventually she was right in the middle of the two. Ororo hadn’t noticed either. Jean took her hand, trying her hardest to stop the shaking, and placed it gently in Ororo’s lap. Storm turned, about to say something, but Jean quickly sent a telepathic response instead.

“Move closer. Please.”

Storm was shocked for a moment, then a wicked grin crept across her face. Jean suddenly understood exactly what all those smiles had meant. Storm had known the whole time. She must have. Jean’s legs involuntarily clamped shut, causing a stir from Scott. Both women acted natural, looking up at the screen, and he turned back as well. Once the coast was clear, Storm shifted in her seat and moved closer to Jean. Only a few inches closer, but that was enough to make Jean squirm. She wanted to rest her head on Storm’s shoulder, just like before, but that would be far too obvious. Still she found herself leaning over, just slightly, and that’s when it hit her.

Ororo smelled incredible.

She hadn’t been prepared for this at all. Scent was not something she tended to notice in a person. She wasn’t exactly in the habit of sniffing people. But now, with these crazed, primeval hormones pumping through her body, her sense of smell was transformed. Heightened. Like a wild animal in rut, one sniff was all it took to completely wipe her brain. She inhaled again, leaning even closer, trying to breathe in as much as possible. The scent itself was rich and complex, like opening the door to a spice shop, that very first moment when every aroma hits your nose at once. Almost overwhelming, and that was from about a foot away. Had Storm always smelled this incredible? Why hadn’t she been desperately sniffing her every time they’d embraced? She inhaled again, and again, and again, forgetting to exhale, shutting her eyes, light headed, falling, until she was startled awake by a firm hand on her should. It was Ororo’s. Jean sat upright, realising she’d been about to topple into Storm’s lap. Dangerous. Still, she needed more. She sent another telepathic message.

“You smell so good.”

Storm smiled, laughing silently under her breath, before moving back slightly. Jean was confused, until she saw what was happening. Storm faked a yawn and stretched, raising both arms high up into the air in a clearly deliberate motion. Jean was transfixed. Peaking out from her black tanktop, she could see Storm’s armpits in all their glory. Thick white fur, the same bright shade as her hair, covering every inch of her pits. Glistening with sweat. Jean sniffed again, louder than she meant to, leaning again closer, again lost in that wonderful scent, wishing she could bury her face in there. Storm’s arms eventually lowered and left Jean even more desperate than before. She needed to be touched. Without thinking, without even looking around, she grabbed at Ororo’s hand and moved it to her thigh. Pushing down until the fat of her thighs squished between Ororo’s fingers, letting her feel just how soft and warm she was, just how fertile and wet she’d become. Storm pulled her hand away, but her eyes kept on burning. Still connected by telepathy, Ororo sent a message.

“Wait. Give me just a second.”

Jean couldn’t wait a second. She needed it now. But she trusted Storm, and so she did as she was told. Ororo closed her eyes, and soon after the room began to chill. Just enough to be noticeable, but not so cold that anyone would suspect anything. Storm faked a shiver. Making a cartoonish “brrrr” sound with her lips. Finally, after 30 more agonising seconds, her performance was enough to catch the attention of Scott. He whispered.

“Cold?”

Storm whispered back.

“Rather. Could you grab the blanket?”

“Sure”

The whole couch shifted as Scott sat up, turning around and reaching for one of the quilts. Jean was shivering too now, but not from the cold. He draped it over the three of them and went back to watching the film. As soon as her arms covered, Storm’s hand shot back to Jean’s legs. Her fingers sank into the flesh without any effort at all. Jean tried in vain to disguise her gasps as regular breaths. Her heart raced as Ororo moved her hands inward, fingertips sliding against the wet mess of her inner thighs. Down further, under her skirt. Jean couldn’t help but squeeze her legs closed, trapping Storm’s hand, but that didn’t stop her advance. Further and further she went, until nails brushed against soaked fabric, grabbing the little bow and pulling down, just enough space to slide a finger inside, down past untrimmed bush, closer and closer, about to make contact, and-

And then Scott put his arm around her.

Jean’s whole body tensed up, almost jumping out of her seat. Eyes like a rabbit ensnared. Scott looked over, concerned, and she somehow managed to force a smile. He went back to the film, bicep still curled around her neck. Storm’s grin was now even wider. She was enjoying this. Jean was breathing heavily, whole chest heaving. They needed to stop. This had gone too far already. But Storm kept going, and Jean didn’t stop her. She could have messaged her at any point, should have, but she didn’t. In fact she spread her legs wider, just so Storm could get better access. Sliding the fabric aside and pressing a finger against her clit. It had gotten so much bigger during pregnancy, and even more sensitive. Just a single light touch was enough to make her eyes roll back into her skull, and make her legs tremble under the blanket. It also made her inadvertently lean closer to Scott, trapping herself further in his embrace. He squeezed her a little tighter, still completely unaware. Jean’s heartbeat sped even faster. Every breath a gasp. She heard Storm’s voice in the back of her head.

“Get up so I can take them off.”

Jean gulped, her throat dry, body shaking, but she did as she was told. Shifting in her seat, lifting up her ass so Storm could pull the panties down between her legs. The whole time looking at Scott, terrified that he might notice. His visor made things so much harder. She couldn’t judge where his eyes were. They could be staring at her right now. Ororo didn’t waste any time, as if trying to draw Jean’s attention back to her, pushing two fingers up into her swollen cunt. Slick squirting out between them, leaking out onto the couch. Jean choked on her own breath. Her whole body felt like it was burning. Storm began to move her wrist, sliding deeper inside, hitting that magic spot that Scott could never reach, forcing her fingers upwards, making Jean’s whole body vibrate. Scott held her tighter, as if trying to contain the spasms, whilst Storm tried to make them worse. Using the side of her thumb to massage her clit, pressing hard as she rubbed from right to left, a motion so practised that she must have done it thousands of times before. She was able to do with a single hand what Scott couldn’t achieve with his entire body.

“F-fuck… Ororo… I’m…”

She very nearly spoke out loud, only remembering at the last very last moment to send it telepathically. This was too much. She couldn’t hold on much longer. She was going to slip up, going to moan or gasp too loudly, her legs were going to spasm hard enough that everyone would notice. Scott would notice. She needed to tell Ororo to slow down, tried to between stammering whispers, but she couldn’t. So Ororo didn’t slow down; she sped up. Slipping a third finger inside, as deep as she could, moving so fast that slick sprayed out everywhere, fast enough that Jean worried the glllk glllk glllk sound would be loud enough to hear. Jean gripped the couch cushions for dear life, digging her nails in as hard as she could, the only thing that could stop her from moaning, from screaming out loud, from spreading her legs wide and squirting right there in the open. She couldn’t take much more.

“Ororo… s-slow down..!”

But it was far too late now, and both of them knew it. Ororo sped up, pushing even deeper, knuckles flexing, playing rough with her clit, thumb now spiralling, tornado-ing out of control. Jean starting panting like an animal, tongue almost lolling, with shallow, rapid breathes. Every part of her focused on keeping quiet. Storm had one last trick. She switched hands and, with a careful agility, took her free arm and hooked it around Jean’s waist. Barely an inch away from Scott. Whilst he held her shoulders, Ororo began fondling her breasts. Squeezing them, kneeding, her thumb circling puffy nipples just like it circled her clit. Jean squeaked, a moan caught in her throat. Her nipples were so sensitive that even bras hurt to wear, and Storm’s hands felt like a trillion volts. Fingers quickly returned to ravage her cunt. Scott’s arm still hung from her neck. And now milk began squirting from her breasts, flowing out into her shirt. She didn’t have to look at Ororo to know she was smiling. This was exactly what she wanted: Jean leaking from every hole. Her body tried to get away but she was held from every angle now, pulled from both sides. There was no escape. She was going to cum. She couldn’t hold it. Everyone would see. Scott would… Fuck… She was… She…

“ Ahhnn! ”

As soon as the first syllable rang out from her lips, Ororo stopped. With speed only a mutant could achieve, her hands were back in her lap, above the blanket, before Jean could finish her moan. Everyone turned around, including Scott, to find Jean panting and sweating and confused.

“Jean, are you okay?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Somethin’ wrong, bub?”

“What happened? Should I hit pause?”

“Is it the baby?”

Jean gazed at their concern with the slackjawed expression of a recent amnesiac. She looked over at Storm, but she was pretending to share in her friend’s worry. Jean took a few seconds, trying to calm the pounding in her cunt, before speaking to the crowd.

“I-I’m okay, really. Just a headache. I-I should go lie down.”

Morph spoke up, holding out the remote.

“Want us to pause and continue the movie another time?”

Jean had almost forgotten they were supposed to be watching a film.

“N-no no, I’m fine. You guys keep watching.”

She began to get up but Scott stopped her, grabbing her arm.

“Honey, you’re covered in sweat…”

Then, turning.

“Beast, could this be a sign of something..?”

“As long as someone keeps an eye on her, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

Scott sat up, beginning to stand.

“Alright I’ll…”

“I shall look after Jean, Scott.”

Jean flinched at the sound of Storm’s voice. Even this, such a simple command, made her aching pussy twitch. Ororo’s voice was so powerful, her word was so final, and Jean found herself turned on by that more than anything else. Pregnancy had changed her brain. Decimating previously held beliefs. Reduced to a simplistic, paternalistic truth; that she was weak, and needed someone strong. An ancient impulse to be protected from predators by someone big and powerful, and in return devote herself entirely. She needed it more than air. And it was only now, hearing Ororo’s command next to Scott’s withering reaction, that she’d realised the intensity of this urge. Scott was weak, and Ororo was strong. He spoke again.

“But, I…”

“It is quite alright, Scott. You should stay here and enjoy the movie. I have already seen this one.”

Scott just looked at her, slight twitch at his lips, then turned expectantly to Jean. Storm was already helping her up as she spoke.

“I-it’s alright, Scott…”

Her voice was a mixture of guilt and insane glee. The look on his face, the twinge of sadness, only made her cunt even wetter. She had to awkwardly waddle past him with her legs tightly shut, otherwise he’d have seen her dripping onto the floorboards. She felt the same exhilarating buzz from when they were kids, sneaking out after dark. The thrill of a lie. The juvenile bliss of knowing something is wrong and doing it anyway. Everyone went back to watching the film as they made their way upstairs. Scott’s head was the last to turn.

As soon as they made their way around the corner, Jean shoved Ororo against the wall and kissed her. Her tongue was long and dexterous, just like her fingers, and her taste just like her smell. Ororo leant into it, pushing forward as she grabbed Jean’s ass, completely overpowering her. Strong and demanding. She pulled away, drool still bridging their lips, and looked Jean dead in the eyes.

“Bedroom. Now.”

They started towards Storm’s room, door ripped open by the wind, but Jean stopped them halfway.

“Let’s…”

It was hard to say it. She still felt an immense guilt inside, a pressure that she knew would devastate her once it was finally released. But the sin of it all was so enticing. She couldn’t help herself. The words came not from her mouth but somewhere deeper.

“I… I want to fuck on his bed.”

Storm was shocked, and then suddenly hornier than ever. She swept Jean off her feet (literally) and carried her to the bedroom. Kicking open the door like a conquering warrior. Carrying her bride. Laying her down on the bed, both of them stripping off as fast as they could. Storm with her rock-hard abs and pierced nipples. Jean with milk-stains dripping down her breasts. Storm with her musclebound thighs and wild, untameable bush. Jean with her plump thighs and pink, spread-open pussy. Ororo dived onto the bed, almost drooling with anticipation.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so damn long…”

Jean didn’t quite know what she meant, but quickly found out as Storm’s began lapping at her cunt, sucking on her clit as she did. Scott had never gone down her before. Jean hadn’t even know that was an option. But she knew that, even if he had, Ororo’s tongue would be so much better. She squeezed her legs against Storm’s head, stifling another moan, before realising she could now be as loud as she liked. She made up for lost time, whining and gasping and mewling as Ororo worked her tongue. Her eyes rolling back as Storm slipped her fingers back inside, back where they belonged, her tongue now dedicated entirely to her clit. Rolling it around, teasing it, sucking it, grasping it between teeth. Drinking up the slick as it sprayed out every few seconds, another burst with every flex of her knuckle. Ororo sped up and Jean could feel a tidal wave coming. She gripped the bedsheets so hard that she felt like she’d tear right through them, but she didn’t care.

“FUCK… FUCK!!!"

Cum sprayed everywhere, splashing across Ororo’s face like waves upon the shore. Her hips lifted up into the air and her legs shook, trembling, walls clenched around Storm’s fingers until she managed to wrench them out, floodwall bursting, another torrent gushing out onto the bed. Storm grinned, eyes closed as she wiped her face clean, licking her lips. Jean lay there for a moment, panting hard, before sitting back up and returning a hand back down to her clit. Masturbating as Storm watched, genuine shock on her face.

“You… are not done?”

Jean was still so mindlessly horny that she didn’t quite understand the question. She wasn’t sure why Ororo had stopped licking.

“O-Ororo… I ne… I need more… I’m so…. Fuck…”

Shock turned to admiration. Ororo got up from the bed, and for a second Jean was worried she was leaving, but instead of her clothes she put on one of Scott’s dressing gowns and floated out the door. She was back 20 seconds later with something in her hand. It looks almost like a microphone, but when Storm flicked a switch the whole device began to violently shake. Jean quickly guessed what it was. She’d never used a sex toy, because she knew Scott would be weird about it if she ever bought one. Storm began to position herself in the same position as before, but Jean stopped her. She had an idea.

“L-let me try something.”

She grabbed Ororo’s wrist and began to focus. Channelling all the psychic power she could muster, condensing empathic energy into a single point, and sharing that energy with Storm. She’d never done this before, but she knew it was possible in theory. And, through the power of overwhelming lust, she somehow did it. Jean opened her eyes and smiled. Storm initially didn’t notice a difference, until her hand brushed against Jean’s thigh and she jumped backwards. Their bodies were now linked. Any sensation that Jean experienced, Storm would experience to. Mental and physical. She experimented a little, squeezing Jean’s breasts and gasping as she felt her own tits being grabbed.

“This is incredible…”

“Y-yeah… Now fuck me already…”

Ororo was more than happy to oblige. Jean sat up and Storm slid behind her, legs on either side, and immediately began fondling her tits. Both hands squishing and squeezing, marvelling at just how heavy and full they were, even after leaking so much. The slightest pressure caused jets of milk to squirt out, making both women moan in unison. The link worked in reverse, too, and whenever Jean leant back she could feel the cold pinch of Storm’s nipple piercings. She could have cum again just from this, but she needed more. She picked up the vibrator and pressed it against her cunt. She moaned but Storm practically screamed, not used to such sensitivity, such painful soreness. Her voice was higher-pitched than Jean had ever heard it.

“Oh goddesses, you’re so sensitive!”

Jean, rocking her hips against the vibe, spoke between gasp.

“I’ve… I’ve been fingering myself raw every day for… for the past two weeks.”

Storm’s grip tighten on her breasts, pinching the nipples, speaking through gritted teeth as she winced.

“You’ve been that desperate for me to take you, huh?”

She put extra emphasis on the word "take", her lip curling into a snarl.

“Y-yes… yes!”

Storm growled and Jean’s legs tightened even more. She opened her eyes and saw the large picture on the wall. Wedding photos. Her and Scott. He was watching her. Her husband, her perfect man, was watching her get fucked. His pure, chaste, faithful wife was now panting like a dog in heat. She wished he could see. Wished he could see just how much she was fucking loving it. The fantasy sent another shockwave through her crotch, cum splashing all over his expensive bedsheets. The guilt just made her hornier. Ororo must have felt this too, as she moved her lips right up behind Jean’s ear and whispered.

“You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you?”

Jean gulped, voice weak, but there was no use lying now. She couldn’t if she tried.

“Y-yes…”

She instantly felt a wave of pleasure; not from the vibrator, but from Ororo’s mind. It gave her another idea.

“I… I was thinking about you when I touched myself… Always...”

Another wave, right on cue. This time it was Ororo’s pussy that twitched, her calves slapping against Jean’s thigh. Jean could feel her biting her lip. The sensation was addicting, and she immediately went for another hit.

“Wh-when we fucked, I was… I was picturing your face…”

Ororo’s legs now tightened into a grapple. Grinding into her ass.

“It was the… the… it was the only way I could cum.”

Storm’s body convulsed with pleasure, and that pleasure poured deep into Jean, and the satisfaction of causing such pleasure poured onto that, with the guilt of cheating and the forbidden joy of taking a man’s wife, fucking her in his bed, mixed together by the steady thrum of the vibrator, all blended into a wonderful ambrosia of sin. Storm’s hands moved over to Jean’s stomach, rubbing the taught skin around her navel, as if to prove that she owned this too. She owned everything.

“You’re mine.”

Sharp teeth brushed against her earlobe as she spoke.

“I-I’m yours!”

She could hear Storm’s breath begin to quicken, pulsing fire in both their cunts. She turned her head and kissed Storm again, needing so bad to taste her tongue. Ororo growled between kisses.

“Who do you belong to?”

Jean cried out into her open mouth.

“Y-y-you! I belong to you!”

Storm smiled, showing her fangs.

“Don’t say it to me. Say it to him.”

With two fingers she grabbed Jean’s chin and pointed it forward, back towards the photos. The guilt forced another moan, and another happy growl from Storm. She saw herself there, in that $10,000 wedding dress, and in the reflection of the glass she could see herself now, hair messed and makeup ruined, transformed beyond recognition. Her body shivered at the sight. She looked like such a slut, such a filthy whore, betraying her vows for a chance to cum. Storm’s grip on her swollen belly tightened.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you!”

Both of them gasped as the wave crashed over them once more. Storm’s kept grinding, rubbing herself against Jean, against the pillow sandwiched between her legs. Soaking it in cum and sweat. Voice from the very depths of her throat.

“Who, who do you belong to!”

“S-Storm!”

Ororo’s hands moved downwards, flicking the wand onto its highest setting as she went, spraying cum with even more fervour, before finally reaching her own clit. Wincing as her nail brushed against, but still pushing through. Growling through the pain.

“L-look into his eyes and say it.”

Jean trembled as she obeyed, gazing into Scott’s visor, into the red silhouettes of his eyes. She could barely speak, her words more like the cries of an animal, shouted at a volume far too loud to be secret.

“Ss-Sscott, I’m… I bel… I belong to… to Storm now… t-to Ororo… I belong to herrrraaaHHH!”

Words devolved further as Ororo plunged fingers into her own cunt, heading right into her g-spot, made 100x more sensitive now. They both screamed, voices hoarse, not caring if anyone heard; let them! Let everyone in the house know! Even through the wall of sound, of grunts and gasps, Ororo still gave command.

“M-more, more!”

Jean could barely keep her eyes open, pupils rolling back into her skull, only enough vision to see Scott’s visor. She couldn’t think, her brain was gone, but she still spoke. She spoke from her soul, words she’d had trapped inside her for years, all spilling out.

“I l-love her, Scott, I love her so mmmuch more than you! So much more!”

Storm’s body twisted against her, writhing, both their contractions in sync, so fucking close. She grabbed Jean’s wrist and forced the spasming wand even harder onto her clit, crushing her bruised, reddened clit against the head. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but it hurt so good. Every nerve exploding. Pain only increasing as Storm bit her tongue, knuckles tightening until they were white, whole body vibrating just as fast as the wand, both of them shaking, drenched in eachother's sweat. Jean could feel something huge building up. Entire ocean surging behind one rogue wave. A force that nothing could survive. Yet words were still flowing out, errupting from her throat.

“Y-you could never satisfy me, Scott. Never never never! O-only Storm can!”

Ororo was fucking herself at full speed now, ramming as many fingers inside as she could fit, her thumb smacking hard against her clit, hitting over and over again, each jolt more intense than the last. Jean’s words were barely recognisable as English, twisted succubic language of lust, screaming.

“Evveveveevery belongs to her! I give her everything! I… I gi…”

She clenched her legs around the vibrator and found it slipping inside; her pussy so loose, so ruined, that even the thick head of the wand could slide inside. It’s buzzing turned into a gushing, splashing mess of a noise as she shoved it further inwards. It hit against her g-spot and she yelled, louder than before, at the very top of her lungs. Storm’s wrist sped up, both women fucking themselves as hard and fast as they could, sharing in the pleasure, overwhelming for one but completely devasting for two, ruinous, Storm suddenly grabbing with urgency, too much for her, and Jean, with one last screaming cry, one last vow to break.

“I give her the… the… the… the baby! The baby! The baby, I… it’s… It’s hers! It’s hers it’s hers! I give it to you, Storm!! I give it to… to… FUCK!!!”

The vibrator shot out across the room, force of a thousand hurricanes, intense unbroken stream of cum squirting out, soaring through the air, coating their wedding photos, their walls, their open closet, the books, the desk, the babies’ crib, everything. Storm convulsed like a woman electrocuted, limbs spasming, violent, fists balled, raising herself up off the bed, eyes pure white, lighting crackling, as her pussy sprayed its juices all down Jean’s back, into her hair. The torrent wouldn’t stop, raining down in huge plumes; only after a minute did it slow, still coming out, now like garden water-features, utterly ruining the bedsheets and the mattress below. Spilling out onto the carpet. The whole room stunk of it, and of sweat, with Storm’s scent clearly recognisable. The guilt, sans horny, began to fill Jean’s mind, but sleep seemed to fill it even faster. She tried to get up but her body was made of lead, her limbs concrete at the bottom of the ocean. She opened her mouth.

“Ororo, I… what are we gonna d-”

Storm was already up, towelling herself off. She was still panting, and her body was still shaking, but she was up. Forcing herself to clean up.

“I shall take care of it, Jean.”

Jean tried to object, trying again to get up, but the look in Storm’s eye finally dissuaded her. There was such immense strength in that look. Even after what was undoubtedly the most intense orgasm of her life, she was still strong. Still able to care for her. That sent another wave through Jean’s tired body, but it was a different kind of pleasure. It made her feel very warm. And in that warmth, that overcast bliss, she fell happily asleep.